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Beourjen was built on desperation as much as ambition. In theory, it was a grand idea. Its founders were intelligent and cunning people. They destroyed a tyranny, and ended the reign of their archaic gods. They molded a new dominion on the principles of strength and justice, and of science and wealth. They told their people that out of such tragedy would be born a nation of prosperity and brotherhood; that it would be nothing like the old empire because they had the righteous, beating hearts of men.   But the hearts of men are quick to strain. They stiffen from the roots of aristocracy, and they shudder at the temptation of greed and power. And in the few centuries since its birth Beourjen has grown too quickly, too boldly. Strength has become an army slathered in classist corruption. Justice is a legal system with loopholes for its rich and nooses for its poor. Science is a secret they deal in blood and disguise in their histories. And wealth is the gold that has calcified over their very hearts.   Outside their borders fares no better, either. In the north, the divine Empress has risen once more to reclaim her throne, stretching her reaches even further in her revived empire. In the west, a more modern lineage of monarchy rules. Between the two, the once-free orvon race struggles not to drown from its own long-carved evolution, and far-off in the Isles unknown horror rises up once more.   Yet Beourjen is still a young and eager nation too, as are its people. In its capital, a prophecy has been revealed. Its history and politics are unraveling. And a revolution is brewing.