In the current era, the Condors remain a recognizable presence across the known world, but they are no longer the polished, continents-spanning institution of legend. As civilization has withered into something closer to a new dark age, the Condors have become leaner, hungrier, and far more desperate. Their caravans still arrive, their ledgers still circulate, and their seal is still respected in many places… but the organization now feels less like a pillar of society and more like a scavenger bird circling a dying empire.
Where once the Condors thrived in stable cities and thriving ports, they now cling to fractured trade routes, ruined roads, and half-starved settlements. They are still everywhere, but they are everywhere in the way rats are everywhere: surviving.
The Condors no longer possess the near-mythic unity they once did. Their central authority has fractured, and many Condor houses operate as independent “wings,” loosely aligned under the old name. Some remain honorable traders and archivists. Others have become ruthless opportunists who hide behind tradition.
In modern society, the Condors now commonly serve as:
• caravan masters running guarded supply trains through bandit lands
• grain-hoarders and ration brokers, controlling food access during harsh winters
• debt collectors, enforcing loans with muscle rather than contracts
• black-market traders, dealing in relics, contraband, and stolen heirlooms
• fence networks, quietly laundering goods taken from ruins or battlefields
• mercenary financiers, funding militias in exchange for future “rights” to land or mines
• refugee recruiters, offering “work contracts” that resemble indenture
• salvage brokers, buying scrap, metal, and old-world artifacts from scavengers
Their old reputation as neutral scholars has decayed. In many regions, they are now viewed as necessary parasites - useful in the same way a leech is useful: unpleasant, but sometimes the only thing that keeps the sickness from spreading.
Despite all this, the Condors endure.
Their caravans still roll through ruined roads. Their traders still set up stalls in half-burned market squares. Their scribes still tally debts in neat Inklan script while wolves howl outside city walls.
They are weaker than they were.
But they are also more desperate.
And desperate Condors are often at their most dangerous - because in a world that is starving, the Condors are no longer merely merchants.
They are predators of opportunity, living off the dying remnants of civilization, and waiting for the day the world becomes stable enough for them to rebuild their empire of ink, coin, and contracts.