Dec 2, 2015 10:38 am
The world of Mistborn is Scadrial, a blasted, desolate planet bathed in the rays of a red sun. Its lands are harsh and brutal — mostly arid, cloaked in thick volcanic clouds, and dusted by falling ash. The earth is hard and barren, and great labor is required to nurture even pitiful crops. The brackish mire of the seas, if that’s what you care to call them, are as dangerous as they are devoid of life; their broad, stormy expanse swallowing ships whole in a matter of seconds. At the edges of the hospitable world are the appropriately named Burnlands, where temperatures rise so high that only the hardy, desperate, and foolish dare to tread.
The only protection against the cruel elements is the Final Empire, a nation encompassing the whole civilized world in one vast territory. It is an oppressive and brutal regime, unrelenting in its domination of the people and unforgiving of dissent. At the head of the empire is the Lord Ruler, the "Sliver of Infinity" — an immortal god-king who a thousand years ago defeated the dark all-consuming force of the Deepness and Ascended to the throne, thereafter dominating all the world and its peoples. It was the Lord Ruler who brought new order to the world through great military might and implacable magic, who gathered a fractious collection of warring nations into a unified domain he’s ruled ever since. Today the Lord Ruler is both head of state and religious icon, as revered as he is feared. His name is muttered as a curse and recited as a prayer. His every word is law, and his absolute dominion is cast in unyielding steel.
Keeping the Lord Ruler’s laws are agents of the Steel Ministry, a state- sponsored priesthood and also the Final Empire’s government and central bureaucracy. Ministry cantons keep careful vigil over every aspect of life in the empire: the Canton of Orthodoxy ensures the Lord Ruler’s laws are followed with religious fervor; the Canton of Finance confirms and grants trade contracts, maintains mercantile routes, and levies taxes against the nobility; the Canton of Re- source catalogues and rations the dwindling stores of food and other provisions; and the Canton of Inquisition hunts down rogue Allomancers and other enemies of the Lord Ruler. Through these bodies, the Ministry makes itself an integral part of every business deal, every marriage contract, every prayer, and every word whispered, written, or even thought by Scadrial’s hapless inhabitants.
The Ministry’s omnipresent eyes and ears are called Obligators, and they’re found nearly everywhere, from dazzling balls in the largest noble houses to streets winding through squalid slums. Obligators keep the Lord Ruler’s peace through quiet intimidation. Their shaved heads, ashen robes, and the intricate tattoos ringing their eyes are their badge of station, and the mere sight of their ilk is enough to put everyone in the area on high alert. Obligators speak with the voice of the Lord Ruler, an eternal reminder nothing and no one is beyond the reach of his law.
Those who defy the Ministry face its most dreaded operatives: the Steel Inquisitors. These looming, savage giants are known for the steel spikes driven through their eyes and jutting from the backs of their skulls, and the rasping voice one hopes never to hear. The Inquisitors may once have been Obligators but are now something else entirely: inhumanly fast, able to tear a horse in half with their bare hands, and wielding magic power beyond imagining. Many believe the Inquisitors are as unstoppable as the Lord Ruler himself — and those who’ve witnessed them in battle (and survived) speak of them casually tearing a dozen men apart and surviving wounds that would kill a man twice over.
The Inquisitors hunt criminal Allomancers and Feruchemists. They murder half-breeds born of nobles and slaves, break up thieving crews and organized crime syndicates, and head the armies that march against upstart nobles and self-appointed kings. Steel Inquisitors are the Lord Ruler’s dreaded and brutal blade, cutting away rebellion and heresy with bloody fervor. They’re also the last thing any hero of the Final Empire ever wants to see.
The only protection against the cruel elements is the Final Empire, a nation encompassing the whole civilized world in one vast territory. It is an oppressive and brutal regime, unrelenting in its domination of the people and unforgiving of dissent. At the head of the empire is the Lord Ruler, the "Sliver of Infinity" — an immortal god-king who a thousand years ago defeated the dark all-consuming force of the Deepness and Ascended to the throne, thereafter dominating all the world and its peoples. It was the Lord Ruler who brought new order to the world through great military might and implacable magic, who gathered a fractious collection of warring nations into a unified domain he’s ruled ever since. Today the Lord Ruler is both head of state and religious icon, as revered as he is feared. His name is muttered as a curse and recited as a prayer. His every word is law, and his absolute dominion is cast in unyielding steel.
Keeping the Lord Ruler’s laws are agents of the Steel Ministry, a state- sponsored priesthood and also the Final Empire’s government and central bureaucracy. Ministry cantons keep careful vigil over every aspect of life in the empire: the Canton of Orthodoxy ensures the Lord Ruler’s laws are followed with religious fervor; the Canton of Finance confirms and grants trade contracts, maintains mercantile routes, and levies taxes against the nobility; the Canton of Re- source catalogues and rations the dwindling stores of food and other provisions; and the Canton of Inquisition hunts down rogue Allomancers and other enemies of the Lord Ruler. Through these bodies, the Ministry makes itself an integral part of every business deal, every marriage contract, every prayer, and every word whispered, written, or even thought by Scadrial’s hapless inhabitants.
The Ministry’s omnipresent eyes and ears are called Obligators, and they’re found nearly everywhere, from dazzling balls in the largest noble houses to streets winding through squalid slums. Obligators keep the Lord Ruler’s peace through quiet intimidation. Their shaved heads, ashen robes, and the intricate tattoos ringing their eyes are their badge of station, and the mere sight of their ilk is enough to put everyone in the area on high alert. Obligators speak with the voice of the Lord Ruler, an eternal reminder nothing and no one is beyond the reach of his law.
Those who defy the Ministry face its most dreaded operatives: the Steel Inquisitors. These looming, savage giants are known for the steel spikes driven through their eyes and jutting from the backs of their skulls, and the rasping voice one hopes never to hear. The Inquisitors may once have been Obligators but are now something else entirely: inhumanly fast, able to tear a horse in half with their bare hands, and wielding magic power beyond imagining. Many believe the Inquisitors are as unstoppable as the Lord Ruler himself — and those who’ve witnessed them in battle (and survived) speak of them casually tearing a dozen men apart and surviving wounds that would kill a man twice over.
The Inquisitors hunt criminal Allomancers and Feruchemists. They murder half-breeds born of nobles and slaves, break up thieving crews and organized crime syndicates, and head the armies that march against upstart nobles and self-appointed kings. Steel Inquisitors are the Lord Ruler’s dreaded and brutal blade, cutting away rebellion and heresy with bloody fervor. They’re also the last thing any hero of the Final Empire ever wants to see.