Crown of Winds
Where oaths ride the air, and silence is never empty
High in the central ridgelands of the Skyward Compact lies a plateau where the wind sings through stone arches and banners whip in every direction — a natural amphitheater carved by centuries of erosion and reverence. This place is the Crown of Winds, the sacred meeting ground of the Council of Peaks and the symbolic heart of Compact unity.
The plateau rests at the crossing point of three ancient Skypaths, narrow highland passes used for trade, pilgrimage, and messenger travel. Though difficult to reach, the Crown of Winds is carefully maintained — its stone stairs kept clear, its walkways reinforced by engineers from the cliffside holdfasts, and its shrines tended by the silent wind-priests of the High Watch. No walls enclose the Crown. It is open to the sky in all directions, ringed only by weather-worn monoliths and delicate columns chiseled from the native starstone, each bearing the emblem of a member hold. Suspended between the columns hang hundreds of wind-chimes — some shaped like feathers, others like bells or crescent moons — each representing a vote cast or an oath sworn. When the Council meets, the air is never still.
At the amphitheater's center lies the Stone Circle, a smooth, flat surface of pale granite where the Voices of the Compact gather and speak. A raised speaking-stone stands at the Circle’s edge, where a Voice must stand to address the others and sing their proposal into the Records of Wind, a ritual that binds a matter to formal consideration. Every word uttered here is magically etched into a scroll of woven cloudleaf vellum, kept by the Windbinders, the Compact’s record-keepers and oathscribes. Ritual and symbolism govern the Crown, where no one draws weapons within its bounds. No one interrupts another’s address unless the wind chimes fall completely still — an ill omen said to mark either a lie or a breaking oath. Meetings may take hours or days, with Voices sleeping on the windward benches in their cloaks and eating simple mountain fare from communal hearth-pots. All decisions, even contentious ones, must be made in this exposed place, beneath open sky, in full view of the gods and winds alike.
Though peaceful in purpose, the Crown is not defenseless. Hidden guardposts and skywatch towers perch along the cliffs above, manned by the Mistwardens — a cadre of archers and scouts drawn from every significant hold, sworn to protect the sanctity of the council ground. Few threats have ever reached the plateau, but those who tried were never seen again.
To the people of the Compact, the Crown of Winds is more than a meeting place. It is a manifestation of their creed: that power should not be centralized, that every voice matters, and that truth must be spoken where it can be heard by the wind itself. Here, the Compact's oaths are not just declared — they are borne aloft and scattered across the sky, remembered by the mountains and the silence between gusts.
“The mountain keeps your name. The wind keeps your word. Be sure neither forgets.” — Inscription carved into the speaker’s stone at the Crown of Winds
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