Situated in mid-west Anarkand, Kumantarakis is a land that thinks in centuries and acts in careful steps. Vast, heavy with history, and culturally layered, it stands as one of the continent’s most consequential powers. Its capital, Kuma, rises from the plains like a clenched fist of stone and steel, a city built to last rather than to impress.


Kumantarakis is often misunderstood. To some it is rigid, suspicious, and slow to trust. To others it is dependable, formidable, and brutally honest. Both views are correct. Kumantarakis stretches across immense territory, marked by broad steppe-lands and rolling plains, dense boreal forests rich in minerals and mountainous western reaches that shield the nation from coastal threats


The people of Kumantarakis are multi-cultural, shaped by centuries of expansion, consolidation, and migration. Numerous ethnic groups coexist under a shared national identity, bound together by language policy, civic obligation, and military service.


Storytelling, epic poetry, and sombre music dominate cultural life. Public monuments commemorate sacrifice, survival, and unity rather than individual glory. Hospitality is sincere but reserved. Trust is earned slowly and, once given, is rarely withdrawn.


Kumantarakis operates under a centralised federal authority, led from Kuma by the High Directorate, a ruling body composed of senior military leaders, industrial heads, and regional governors.


Elections exist, hinting at a strong democracy, but power is stabilised through long terms, continuity of leadership, and a strong internal security framework. The state places high value on order, predictability, and internal cohesion. Dissent is tolerated within boundaries. Movements perceived as threatening unity or sovereignty are curtailed swiftly.

Kumantarakis is a giant of heavy industry. it is famed for its armoured vehicle production, aerospace manufacturing, and its Red Hex stabilisation engineering. Its armed forces are among the largest on Anarkand, built around layered defence, overwhelming deterrence, and strategic depth rather than rapid expansion. Compulsory national service reinforces social integration and loyalty to the state.


Relations and the 12e Alliance

Historically wary of eastern powers, Kumantarakis has watched alliances form and dissolve with cautious eyes. Recent geopolitical shifts prompted a strategic decision: entry into the 12e Alliance, following extended and productive discussions with Marrakis.

This alignment provides Kumantarakis with:

Trade security

Shared military doctrine

Political leverage within global forums

While some within the Directorate question reliance on alliances, the majority view the move as a necessary adaptation to a changing world.


Foreign Policy Outlook

Kumantarakis avoids ideological crusades. Its foreign policy is pragmatic, grounded in defence of territory, stability of borders, and preservation of influence. It maintains guarded relations with eastern powers who they view as unpredictable. They respect but don't fully trust Radamis, and they continue to monitor The Union of Kabal due to instability in the region.


Kuma – The Capital

Kuma is vast, disciplined, and austere. Wide avenues accommodate military parades and mass transit alike. Architecture favours permanence: stone, reinforced alloys, and restrained ornamentation. It is a city of ministries, archives, and command centres rather than spectacle. Decisions affecting millions are made quietly within its walls.


THE FIRST MIRROR CRISIS

A historical account, compiled by the Archivists of the Temple of Anark, 8th Era

In the centuries since, scholars have argued whether the First Mirror Crisis marked Anarkand’s ascent to the stars… or the moment it nearly devoured itself.

What is not disputed is this:
Anarkand did not first meet another world. It first met its own fear.

The Discovery

The event now catalogued as Deep-Sky Contact 1 ( DSC-1 ) occurred quietly.

There were no alarms, no celebrations. Just a stream of numbers bleeding across long-range arrays, resolving into orbital scaffolds, artificial energy bands, and cities that had been old while Anarkand was still divided by borders and blood.

The planet did not announce itself.
It simply existed.

Within a single rotation, the data was in the hands of every major power. And within that same rotation, unity collapsed. Kuja moved first, as it always did.

Publicly, its broadcasts spoke of vigilance and planetary security. Privately, the Aegis First Doctrine had already been authored, approved, and activated. Stealth probes departed Kuja space before the Anarkand Council had even convened its emergency session.

Kuja’s position was unambiguous:
Any civilisation capable of hiding itself for this long had learned to survive by conquest.

Kvatch did not challenge this assumption. Their analysts reached similar conclusions through colder mathematics. Control, they argued, reduced variables. Reduced variables preserved civilisation.

Together, the eastern powers framed dominance as prudence.

History would later call it fear wearing the mask of logic.

Kumantarakis responded differently.

Its Directorate invoked ancient records, some predating even the Temple of Anark. Records of first encounters that ended not with enlightenment, but extinction.

Their message to the Council was measured, almost tired:

“If we approach the unknown with weapons drawn, we teach it the only language we expect to hear.”

They demanded restraint. Multilateral oversight. A unified voice.

When their words failed, they prepared for what they believed was inevitable.

Not war with DSC-1.
War with their own neighbours.

The Anarkand High Council met for eleven cycles.

No mandate emerged.

The eastern bloc demanded pre-emptive dominance.
The stabilist bloc demanded collective restraint.
Smaller nations watched the giants argue and began quietly choosing sides.

Deadlock became doctrine.

And doctrine, as history shows, is merely indecision formalised.

The crisis shifted from ideological to immediate when a Kuja stealth probe ceased transmission near the outer edge of DSC-1’s influence.

Kuja accused the planet.
Kumantarakis accused Kuja of provocation.

Then the message arrived from DSC-1 itself, encoded in sequences older than Kuja’s probe designs. The transmission was translated by Temple mathematicians within hours. It contained no threat. No coordinates. No demands. Only a sentence:

“You are not the first to look at us with weapons.”

Panic followed. Not among civilians, but among leaders.

For the first time, Anarkand understood it was not unseen.

No shot was fired.
No order was given.
No fleet advanced.

Temple mediators, invoking emergency authority older than any empire, suspended all outbound operations beyond Anarkand space. Kuja withdrew, publicly furious. Kumantarakis lowered interdiction fields, their point made and their position weakened.

The Temple of Anark records conclude:

“The First Mirror Crisis taught us that the greatest danger of the unknown is not what waits beyond our skies, but what rises within us when we believe ourselves entitled to survival.”

To this day, DSC-1 remains unsolved, unknown and uncontacted.