The Principles of Coral

"Rumpled convolutions of coral fill the water, glimmering with silvery light. The harder you look, the more you see shapes amid the chaos, almost as if they were sculpted. This one could be a crenellated castle: that one, a horse's head."

The Principles of Coral is a massive coral reef in the Unterzee. Its primary port is Port Cecil.

A Dying Reef...

"Beneath the beckoning light of the Impostor Moon, the shining body of the Principles of Coral is being chased beyond the waterline. The old peace of Port Cecil has been transformed by the push and pull of tide and industry."

"Used to be the reef itself would rise up against thieves, but the Principles ain't wot they were. ... Happened all at once. One day, someone breaks off some coral without gettin' their eyes all burned out. The next, London's maw opens on our doorstep."

"A bright crag of silver coral. Once, a sleepy Imperial outpost. Now, a new piece in the great game of industry and capital."

Today, the Principles of Coral are abuzz with industry, causing Port Cecil to be notorious for its queues and competition for moorings. But until recently, there was only a small Rubbery population at Port Cecil, and a similarly small community of coral-encrusted humans; other factions from around the Neath merely gathered here to play chess and hold diplomatic meetings. The past several years have seen a wave of settlement across the Principles, as Iron & Misery Company has begun mining its coral, and has built refineries to extract valuable scintillack.

A lamp-cat. Art from FL.

A new animal arrival on the reef are the lamp-cats, foraging felines with gills and glowing lures on their heads. They are emissaries of the Light-in-Exile, the giant anglerfish that dwells under the Magistracy of the Evenlode. They work alongside the Rubbery locals to claim the silvery coral for themselves, stopping the miners and preserving the reef.

The reef is lit by the mysterious Impostor Moon, which is seemingly a sentient creature.

...And a Dying Art

"There are some things we were not meant to know, they say. But you wouldn't be down here if you took that seriously." Beyond this point lie spoilers for Fallen London, Sunless Sea, Sunless Skies, or Mask of the Rose. This may include midgame or minor Fate-locked content. Proceed with caution. You can find out more about our spoiler policy here.

"A sourceless silver glow. A haven for players of games."

"You don't often look at chess-pieces: not really look. The Bishops, with their hooks. The Night, with its mane and teeth. The Kin and the Cream, white mingled with red. The Roots that pin the corner of the board down, to keep you safe from your opponent. You lift a Paw to toy with it: touch its velvety pads."

"Checkmate. Look too closely, did we? You need to be careful with scintillack chess-sets."

The Disillusioned Grandmaster. Art from FL.

Once upon a time, the Principles was bathed in a dreamlike soft silver light. Its few inhabitants were strangely fond of chess, playing obsessively as if under a hypnotic spell and watching as their pieces seemed to enact their own individual agendas. Their games mirrored the power struggles of the Neath, between the Lorn-Flukes, the Echo Bazaar, Mt Nomad, the zee-gods, the Fathomking, the Khanate, the Surface. For the reef was the true center of the Great Game - and it still is yet. Though it remains a microcosm of the Game, chess is now a rare art in the reef, though the Disillusioned Grandmaster stubbornly hangs onto her chess club, the Poisoned Pawn.

An Apocyan Chess Piece.

Chess played in the Principles (and by very specific agents of the Game, as well) is quite dissimilar to the game familiar to those from London, as the pieces seem to take on slightly different, but still recognizable, forms. The pieces are typically made of the scintillack that covers the reef, though it may be substituted for other materials, perhaps for the sake of symbolism or practicality.

• Nights are said to have manes and sharp fangs, and may wound those who move them. The Principles considers them ornamental, but such ornaments are, after all, vital in chess.
• Bishops appear to take on a spiraling shape and possess sharp hooks. The Principles of Coral uses its Bishop as a counterweight for its descent down the Great Chain of Being.
• Roots are the corner pieces of the chessboard, and serve as protection from a player's opponent. The Principles uses its own Roots to protect against its troublesome, but incurable, fear of its own impending descent.
• Paws are considered relatively safe pieces to move, and the Principles seems to use Paws to represent the works of its servants, such as the Rubbery Men.
• The Cream is described as a "terrible" piece, implying its great power but saying nothing of its purpose.
• The Kin is the most important of the chess pieces, and its victory or defeat can determine the outcome of a chess match. The Principles of Coral seems to use its Kin as a representation of what it once was.

The Shining Mind

"Are you quite sure you want to know this?" Beyond this point lie major spoilers for Fallen London, Sunless Sea, Sunless Skies, or Mask of the Rose. This may include endgame or major Fate-locked spoilers. Proceed at your own risk. You can find out more about our spoiler policy here.

"Between stars. Descend the chain. I rest here. I forget."

"The game soothes the pangs of dissolution in. But I want so to be less. I am tired of thought. Will you help me? Sleep will not enough. I desire no dreams. Will you help?"

The Principles of Coral itself is actually a sentient, chess-loving being, that is also called the Fading Mind. Once waited on by Rubbery Men with glowing scars, and formerly called the Shining Mind, the Mind is the source of the silver glow that once lit Port Cecil from beneath. It would rarely speak, almost telepathically, to certain visitors that drew its attention.

The scintillack pebbles that dot Port Cecil are broken bits of the Mind, and they are as alive as their host, with none of the experience or weariness that once troubled the Principles.

The Fading Mind was once a (likely very ancient, if not primordial) Fluke, but it grew exhausted as time went on. To free itself of its sentience, it strove to descend a few rungs down the Great Chain of Being, and by 1887 it was already much of the way there; hence why it appears inanimate, but is still very much alive. To continue its descent, the Mind had to lose a chess game, with the Nacreous Outcast serving as its surrogate; it also had to provide a second creature, acting as a "counterweight" of sorts, with an ascension, thus satisfying the Chain's arcane rules and weakening the Principles significantly. The Mind was supposed to have been destroyed, but in the Fallen London timeline, this was not the actual result.

Perhaps most importantly, the Mind never, ever felt regret. Not even when it left Axile with its fellows on the behest of the Bazaar; not then, and certainly not as it willingly sank into near-oblivion.

In its weakened state, the lamp-cats have preserved the Fading Mind's memories of Axile.