The forest covering most of northeastern Allemance is known as Glasrún (GLAZ-rune). While a part of the royal domain, it exists without noble oversight or intervention. This independence is a centuries-old agreement between its people and the noble family who once laid claim over it.
When the Unknown was created in 367, not even a footpath broke the dense treeline. Frustrated by what he saw as worthless land, Unknown the First sought a way to rid himself of its tax burden without embarrassing his family in the eyes of the queen. He relinquished everything north of the river to any willing settler, while abdicating his responsibility to it. Meanwhile, he named the border the “Queensriver,” and gave other bodies of water similarly ostentatious titles in his sovereign’s honor. The Gocaire family claims the land in the Alley court to this day, but they continue to honor the Glasrún Pact.
The Free Allemagnians
Glasrún has flourished in the thousand years since the pact. Its original settlers took pride in their wild new home. They built cities in its forest and ports on its shore. They kindled a distinct culture with hard work and love shared through it. Their tenacity drove a trade road once thought impossible from their former barony to this new sovereignty.
Alley culture still influences Glasrún’s people. Today, most of them call themselves Allemagnian (albeit with a wink), but more people speak Glasrúnish than Old Allemagnian, as most of the kingdom has forgotten the latter tongue in favor of Common. These two Allemances maintain a cordial relationship.
But royal wolves keep a watchful eye on the treeline.
Céilí
The Glasrúnish céilí (KAYlee) is a festival unique to the region, held whenever the town throwing the party chooses (about once every three months). Céilís are an evening social gathering in which a town and its neighboring communities fill any building large enough to hold them. Some are centered on an occasion, such as a birthday or coming-of-age party, but anyone willing to organize one can call it on a whim.
Dancing and the céilí go hand-in-hand. The beasts and brethren in attendance line up, then a “caller” describes an easy dance they’ll perform. Musicians and singers perform throughout the dance, which lasts long into the night. Outside, attendees tell stories and recite poetry.
Throughout the céilí, everyone drinks wine and eats food they’ve brought to share. Local cooking enthusiasts use the crowd as eager judges of their best recipes, and brag about their skills. Wine is much the same; pairs of amateur winemakers sometimes compete by insisting that attendees compare generous servings of their best vintages.
Such céilís are either disasters or the best ones in history. It depends on who you ask.