The Expansion of House Liao's Illusory Realms
The Dreaming Veil: House Liao and the Rise of the Illusory Realms
In the ever-twisting theatre of the Succession Wars, where blade, spell, and spy all hold equal weight, no House has turned misdirection into an empire quite like House Liao. Renowned for their calculated ruthlessness and obsession with control, the Capellan Confederation turned inward during the mid-war decades, emerging not with greater armies, but with a new weapon—crafted not from steel, but from shadow and dream.
This weapon came in the form of the Illusory Realms, vast and elaborate magical constructs designed through an unparalleled fusion of illusion, enchantment, and subtle divination. More than simple glamours or battlefield tricks, these were living illusions—self-sustaining arcane environments capable of mimicking cities, courts, landscapes, even entire border provinces. Populated by autonomous figments and wrapped in powerful wards, the Illusory Realms blurred the line between reality and ruse.
The rise of these phantasmal domains began with the research of Minister-Warlock Shu Fei Liao, a visionary arcane tactician who had grown disillusioned with conventional warfare. Drawing upon ancient Capellan dream theories and recovered League-era projection spells, Shu Fei pioneered what became known as The Dreaming Veil Doctrine: the use of high-magic illusions not only to deceive enemies but also to influence diplomacy, manipulate morale, and protect vital infrastructure.
Their first major test came during the Siege of Kor's Delve, when an entire Liao garrison was believed destroyed—only for the "fortress" under attack to dissolve into moonlight as the real defenders struck from the flanks. From there, the Veil expanded rapidly. Soon, diplomats walked through illusory courts crafted to evoke reverence or fear. Rebellious governors were shown visions of their own executions should they defy the Chancellor. Even allies were kept guessing whether the Liao envoys they spoke with were real or merely projections.
Some illusions were subtle: phantom couriers delivering real messages, glamoured nobles whispering in rival courts. Others were grand, like the Thousand-Pavilion Court, a sprawling illusory palace used to host peace summits without ever revealing the true location of House Liao's high command. A few whispered that even parts of Sian itself—the Confederation’s capital—might be entirely fabricated, their opulence crafted to mask a hidden rot.
The strategic effect was profound. While other Great Houses strained their resources to hold territory, House Liao held perception itself. Enemies began to second-guess troop movements, treaties, even memories. Whole campaigns faltered as commanders chased ghosts or lost confidence in their own scouts.
The Order of the Astral Scribes raised formal objections to the Veil Doctrine, citing dangerous tampering with magical perception and irreparable truth drift in diplomatic memory. House Liao responded with silence—and another illusion, this time in the form of an exact replica of the Scribes’ own emissary, sent to negotiate terms already made.
And yet, there is danger in overreliance on illusion. Within Liao’s borders, some nobles now struggle to distinguish truth from deception. Children raised in phantasmal estates awaken to gray stone walls. A rebellion in the eastern provinces was sparked by rumors that the Chancellor himself is an illusion, a construct masking the rule of a hidden council. Whether this is true or merely a deeper layer of deception, no one can say for certain.
House Liao does not simply fight its wars—they stage them. And in the Confederation, what you believe may be more dangerous than what truly is.
“Reality is a throne, not a truth. Sit upon it long enough, and all others will kneel.” — Minister-Warlock Shu Fei Liao
