The Brass Coast leadership

The Freeborn are traditionally cautious when it comes to the idea of authority and control. They value loyalty and even discipline, but they are an informal people who have little regard for titles and status and even less for those who think such positions make them more important than their fellows.

By tradition, each Freeborn family is represented by a Dhomiro. Their role is to represent their family's interests to those who seek to deal with the family as a whole. Choosing a dhomiro is not a political decision, most families simply select the most suitable individual. They are usually chosen on account of their ability to organize or communicate, and they have great influence but little formal power. Any dhomiro that put on airs or graces would be ridiculed and dhomiro that are not effective in furthering their family's interests are quickly replaced.

The reality of this loose-weave community is that towns, villages and trade wagons are effectively governed by the wealthiest, most influential family who dwells there. This can lead to fluid but infrequent shifts of power as familial fortunes wax and wane. When more formal agreements are needed, the dhomiro of each family involved will negotiate a formal contract.

Freeborn society is not so much controlled as ‘nudged in a beneficial direction’ by the families with the most power and influence. There is little leadership beyond the dhomiro. There is a presumption of cooperation between different families that are part of the same tribe, but this presumption only makes the inevitable rivalries more fierce. When this rivalry threatens to get out of hand, it often falls to the Hakima – the magical custodians of the Freeborn tribal legacy – to step in and try to mediate some sort of peaceful conclusion. While the Hakima have no formal authority over the dhomiro, their advice and magical support can help turn a strong family into a truly great family. The Hakima stand outside the traditional Freeborn family structure placing their tribe above all other loyalties. Their official role is to guide the decisions the families of the tribe make. This neutrality makes them an essential part of the political structure and most are highly respected.

To outsiders it is a chaotic and unstructured form of governance, but to the Freeborn it is as natural as breathing. When an outsider finds themselves frustrated trying to work out who is in charge, the traditional Freeborn response is “the wind”. A less metaphorical response might be to ask “why does someone always have to be in charge?” When a decision needs making that affects a number of families, the Hakima and the families gather to ‘discuss’ the issue. To outsiders this a wild affair of drink and revelry, but the informal atmosphere of the gather in no way undermines the severity of the discussions. The exchange of coin, scripts of trade and goods eventually leads to a common opinion and subsequent decision, usually formalised through a contract.

Freeborn Senators

Despite this, Imperial rule requires that the Freeborn select Senators. The Freeborn solution is simple; wealth and influence dictate many things in Freeborn life and they see no reason why senatorial seats should be any different.

When Senatorial seats become vacant, individual families present purses of money to the Civil Service in an effort to secure Senatorial positions. The family that presents the richest purses gets first choice of available seats and so on until all available seats are allocated. The choice of who claims the Senatorial seat is left to the victorious dhomiro. Those who are not successful in claiming a seat reclaim their purse, and the money paid by the winners is pooled and distributed between all families present who have not gained a senatorial Seat – in proportion to their numbers present.

While outsiders may be offended by the way in which the Freeborn auction off important Imperial positions, it is a matter of pride that there is comparatively little duplicity in the political achievement of the Freeborn Senators. To the Freeborn way of thinking their approach is honest - while the politics of other nations can be devious and underhanded, the Freeborn are forthright and open in the methods employed.

From “Jonquil and Aramaste; the Battle of Wills,” a somewhat hyperbolic treaty on the political debates between two of the Empire’s greatest senators and bitterest rivals.

Jonquil got to his feet, smoothed his robes and clasped his hands behind his back. Around him the usual murmur of the senate fell quiet, eagerly awaiting the next great clash between the two orators. Clearing his throat, Jonquil gestured to where Aramaste sat atop a magnificent silk cushion, nibbling daintily on a candied sweetmeat.

“My friend…” he smiled, but not warmly, “I have heard it said that the Brazen – my apologies, the Freeborn – will put a price on anything. Is that true?”

Aramaste chewed thoughtfully before answering, “It is the custom amongst my people, yes.”

“So, in the spirit of enlightening this august body,” Jonquil leaned in, sensing blood, “Just how much, exactly, would an enemy of the Empire have to pay you to betray your oaths of office?”

Indrawn breaths, muttering and gasps of outrage circled the chamber. Jonquil’s smile stretched larger, yet was none the more pleasant for that. Aramaste’s eyes glittered as he slowly brushed the crumbs from his hands and rose to his feet. “Ordinarily we Freeborn would say something like 'Every Coin in the Empire', or some other suitably dramatic and impossible sum.”

Jonquil interrupted, “But surely, once you have set a price, we are merely haggling over details? You’d agree that you would betray the Empire for coin? I would submit that the amount is immaterial.”

“For you, Lord Jonquil, I choose a different price. I choose all the money your mother can earn in a year of whoring on the docks of Siroc.”

Jonquil’s smile quickly turned to a deep scowl, his face becoming an ugly puce.

Aramaste grinned. “With one small caveat, of course, I would prefer it changed into larger coins; I doubt I’d want to carry around that many pennies…”

With a cry of rage the Highborn senator leapt at the smaller man, ready to tear out his throat with his bare hands.

“Order, order!” cried the speaker as the senate guards moved to deal with the encroaching riot…