Zazriel Res Publica
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Standing alone on Haven is the Zazriel Res Publica, a great power on the fringes of habitable land. Farther north than most of its neighbors, the Res Publica stands alone both in a spatial and metaphorical sense.
Originally, the lands of Northern Zazriel were a place of constant warfare dominated by the city of Yurette. This powerful city, populated by the elite "Yurites," had used its armies for centuries to extract as much as possible from the rest of the continent. With ships sailing to the four corners of the earth, mages unrivalled on the continent, and even reaching deep into the frozen continent of Ruhiel, Yurette was a formidable power. There was more gold, silver, platinum, and metals whose names were lost within Yurette than the entirety of Zazriel as recently as 500 years ago. Such an entrenched and powerful city could not be removed through normal means.
The immortal father of all Yurites, Conditor, was a hulking being. With grey skin and blood that shone like silver, Conditor had become a religious figure. He mindlessly ambled through the streets of Yurette, never bothering to pay anything much mind. All of his children were dead, his one true love died two thousand years prior, and he had no will. The purposeless goliath would have remained in this fugue were it not for the reemergence of lucidity for a single moment. No one knows what caused him to wake up, but from the moment he did, he entered into a rage. The monstrous man gathered every single powerful person he could, drowning them in molten rose gold. He left them writhing until the metal solidifying; the wretched statues left behind are still on display to this day.
It would be futile for him to do just this. Some centuries prior, Conditor obliterated the original city of Yurette. This did not stop them from oppressing the people once again, nothing could. The giant bit off his little finger and fashioned it into a hammer, channeling the overwhelming emotion of two millennia into it.
Each time he brought the hammer down on himself, he ruptured nearby eardrums with his cries. The largest of his bones could not bear the power of his strikes, fracturing with a crack louder than even his voice. He spent the next few days in the center of the city, crafting various parts of his body into all kinds of tools. It was on this day he created the 12 weapons, the foundation of the modern Res Publica. After shattering the arm he used to wield the hammer, he managed to create the final two before falling unconscious.