Ǣdyihòzh (/æːdʲihɔʒ/) refers both to a city on the Abethine Coast, and to the state that centers upon it.

Ǣdyihòzh the city is positioned near the southern tip of Ordeth's Claw, the long peninsula that helps separate the Inner Sea from the Outer Sea. The tip of the Claw being separated from the nearest point on the Jade Coast by but a scant few miles, all sea traffic between the two halves of the Gulf is forced to travel through this relatively narrow space, known as Giants' Gap. Ǣdyihòzh is well positioned to take advantage of this due to its location, and is notorious for charging fees from throughgoing ships in a procedure that can often only be distinguished from extortion by being practiced by a government rather than a private individual.

Ǣdyihòzh is named for its unusual location in and around a sinkhole. It is composed of two elements, both from the Uzhidan/Ǣdyihòzhn language: ǣdyin 'well, storage pit', and hòzh 'town'; cognate to imperial kar 'colony, settlement founded by official action'.

People and things originating from Ǣdyihòzh are called, both singular and plural, Ǣdyihòzhis.

The city's main language, by contrast, is called Ǣdyihòzhn, an Abethine tongue. It is functionally identical to Uzhidan, from which it is derived, differing only in some non-core vocabulary. Uzhidamis and Ǣdyihòzhis are generally capable of carrying on a conversation with minimal difficulty, should they choose to; given the history of the two cities, however, they prefer to emphasize their differences.

The possibilities suggested by control of Giants' Gap were apparent to Abethine states for a long time, but the cliff-faced coast of Ordeth's Claw, and the equally difficult coast opposite, made siting a suitable base difficult, leaving the cities to send ships from further afield, generally without success. The breakthrough came when the city of Uzhidam, having captured a smuggler, learned from her about a cliffside cave she used to store contraband. In exchange for clemency and favorable treatment, she was convinced to lead them to the cave - which, when followed to its end, led to the base of a wide, deep sinkhole several tens of meters inland. The location did not lend itself to extensive construction, but the Uzhidamis felt that it could possibly be a good location for a hidden resupply station.

Uzhidam founded Ǣdyihòzh as a village in the base of the sinkhole, and initially a resupply station was all it was; the sinkhole had a pit of water at the bottom that was capable of hosting a dozen large ships if they could only reach it, but the cave joining it to the sea was only wide and high enough for the passage of small boats. Supplies were therefore kept in storehouses in the village and rowed out to Uzhidamis ships waiting at anchor a safe distance from the cliffs. But eventually the ruling matriarchs of Uzhidam, realizing that having an actual harbor - an easily defensible one, at that - near the Gap could be the key to their dominance of the Inner Sea, expended considerable resources and lives to widen the passage so that ships could pass through.

While their logic was not entirely flawed, it suffered from some issues of logistics. An appeal to lower-class families to take up residence in a brand new colony was mostly successful in providing a ready source of labor for the effort, and the shortfall was made up by exporting virtually the entire population of Uzhidam's undesirables (both groups were severely unhappy with both their living conditions and their new neighbors, but once there were refused transport back home).

But other issues were less easily tackled. For instance, although a nearby spring provided water, the location was not conducive to agriculture, so food had to be shipped in. Laborers frequently died while working, requiring replacements (volunteers for which became scarcer as suspicions blossomed back home). The site also had to be defended, as it became clear that such an undertaking could not be effectively hidden from the other cities of the Gulf; most of whom had a vested interest in destroying or seizing control of the colony.

The military power of Uzhidam kept external enemies at bay, but Ǣdyihòzh increasingly became a focal point of internal pressures; the conditions at the colony, though depicted rosily by the government, could not be entirely concealed from the colonists' friends and relatives left behind, and rumors ran wild about death and misery there. More pragmatically, the ballooning cost of developing and protecting the colony - and the taxes and fees needed to compensate for it - stoked agitation even among those who cared nothing for the colonists' fate.

The project itself also proved to be somewhat overambitious. Creating a tunnel high enough and wide enough for ships to pass through a cliff and rock formations all subject to heavy erosion would be a challenge even for modern human engineering capabilities; that the laborers got as far as they did was a testament to their fortitude, to numbers and brute force, but also to the fact that the ranks of the undesirables sent to work on the project included a number of witches, many with a specialty in shaping rock. But, as may perhaps have been inevitable, the inability to shore up the weight of the rock above the expanding tunnel led eventually to the collapse of its roof, filling the water channel beneath with debris.

Dozens of workers died in the accident, but the presence of the elementalists prevented the figure from becoming hundreds. Using their powers over stone, they were able to prevent many of their colleagues from being buried, and to take the lead in the search for those who already were. For the colonists, the event and the frenzied rescue operations afterward were a catalyst; it dramatically raised their opinions of Chosen and of each other, and it dramatically lowered their joint opinion of their Uzhidamese overseers, whose efforts to help seemed halfhearted and more focused on salvaging the tunnel than its builders.

Unrest in Ǣdyihòzh continued to build, even as the workers were driven to clear the debris from the channel. Though Uzhidam maintained order for some time afterward, mainly through the threat of withholding supplies, eventually local patience broke and the workforce stubbornly refused to continue their operations. The Uzhidamese government, despite reservations about the cost, prepared to send a large portion of its fleet to deal with the rebellious colony; but the cost of the operation and the drafting of people into military roles in turn sparked riots in the home city itself. Fanned by agents provocateurs from rival cities - who also saw to it that most of the militarily useful ships in the harbor were burned in the process - the riots grew and merged into a general revolt. The leadership of Uzhidam was overthrown, and the new government was formed under the influence of rival cities, who through both diplomacy and military threat induced them to abandon Ǣdyihòzh and their other colonies and refrain from attempting any further extension of their influence.

Once the people of Ǣdyihòzh realized that Uzhidam was in no position to provide either supplies or reinforcements, they deposed their overseers, obtained the cooperation of the local garrison, and proceeded to seize the ships stationed nearby. While this equipped them with a small naval force, it was still badly outmatched by the combined fleet of Uzhidam's rivals sailing toward the colony, and while the blocked channel prevented them from sailing directly into the lagoon, the possibility that they could unload troops that could just fly in was more than enough of a threat.

The invasion was only averted through the action of another witch, one Rayik, who was a mentalist. Suspecting that the allied cities would all be harboring ambitions concerning the possession of Ǣdyihòzh, Ravik sailed out alone in a one-takma boat, where, captured by the fleet, she manipulated the thoughts of the commanders of each contingent; by the time they were in a position to attack Ǣdyihòzh, she had convinced them all that they were in imminent danger of betrayal of one or more of their allies, and they proceeded to turn on each other. Though Ravik lost her life in the battle, it saved the colony from capture; the alliance fell apart when news of the battle reached them, and as general war raged throughout the Inner Sea, Ǣdyihòzh managed to carve a reputation for itself as neutral territory, where money could still be made despite the unsettled international situation.

At first, the rise of Ǣdyihòzh was benign and low-key, despite what others considered an unsavory habit of tolerating witches, pirates, thieves, and other ne'er-do-wells. Its people seemed content to make money, to buy food with it, and to otherwise be left alone; the other Abethine states were happy enough to have reasonably sane partners to trade with who didn't interfere in their affairs. Quietly, however, Ǣdyihɔzh began building up its power; it was not until after the wars had died down that the other cities became fully aware that it had established logging camps and shipyards on relatively empty stretches of coast, by which time its navy had been considerably expanded. Unlike the far-flung operations of Uzhidam, the outposts of Ǣdyihòzh were relatively close by; and also unlike them, they had been staffed with individuals who, seeking prosperity, were obtaining it.

By the time the Inner Sea cities had recovered sufficient to attempt military operations against Ǣdyihòzh, it in turn had become strong enough to resist them. After fending off attackers in several wars of minor to moderate intensity, Ǣdyihòzh seized on the excuse of self-defense to claim formal control of Giants' Gap - aligning itself with what, by that point, had become the de facto situation on the ground - and to build facilities in the Gap itself to enforce that control and levy tolls on ships traversing the vital route. Thus was the dream of the city's founders realized - though in a far different manner than originally planned.

Ǣdyihòzh city is located near the southern tip of the peninsula of Ordeth's Claw, only a short distance from the Giants' Gap that separates the two halves of the Abethine Sea. For the most part, the area consists of rocky, barren headland edged by cliffs and prone to forming sinkholes. It is in one such sinkhole, with a lagoon at its bottom connected to the Inner Sea by a greatly enlarged natural channel, that Ǣdyihòzh is centered. The location is not a natural one for a thriving city; its site was chosen for its strategic importance rather than ready access to resources, and its only native commodity of any great importance is stone, mostly limestone and marble; even its food, aside from fish, must be imported from elsewhere.

Despite this nominally unfavorable position, however, Ǣdyihòzh has prospered and continues to do so; it is an astonishingly wealthy city, due to the tolls it collects from ships traversing the Gap, and that wealth pays not only for supplies and goods - both vital and nonvital - but for the city's fleets of ships, its art and architecture, and its colonies. Aside from this, the city is itself the destination for a considerable amount of trade, from which it derives yet more revenue.

The city was originally founded as a village at the bottom of the sinkhole, on the narrow gravel beach that lay between the shores of the lagoon and the sides of the sinkhole. In the modern era, however, both village and beach, as well as chambers carved into the rock wall behind them, have long since been replaced by docking facilities, along with the usual accompaniments: warehouses, shops, inns and taverns, the more plebeian sorts of temples, and so forth. Similar arrangements have also extended into the channel as well due to the city's expansion, the lagoon itself no longer being large enough to contain the desired traffic.

The walls of the sinkhole have been fashioned into multiple levels of columned galleries looking down on the lagoon and channel, generally increasing in elaborate decoration and socioeconomic class as one goes up: the working classes occupy the floors immediately above the docks, the more prosperous merchants and artisans above them. The houses of the wealthiest and most powerful, by contrast, are not carved into the rock, but constructed - often of marble - on the ground level above; this includes the Principal Palace, which serves as the seat of government. Also on the high ground are the city's landward defenses, including walls, towers, and barracks for the city's garrison.

Although those close to the sinkhole and channel, on any level, can relatively easily move to another level by means of a short flight, this is not always convenient - especially for pregnant females, or the elderly, or those with children or heavy burdens - and therefore, aside from stairways scattered throughout the city, there are also crude elevators, lightweight wooden platforms operated by rope-and-pulley arrangements, as well as long ramp-tunnels for heavier loads.

Ǣdyihòzh is the hub of a maritime empire that is one of the major powers in the Abethine Sea. This empire consists not only of the city itself, but of a number of cities, towns, and facilities throughout the Sea. These can be loosely divided into two groups: colonies and vassals.

The colonies are under the direct control of Ǣdyihòzh, and most are settlements founded either directly from the city or from one of its other colonies; some of them were founded specifically as outlets for population growth, though most were originally intended to support Ǣdyihòzh itself. Many were bases for resources: logging camps, mining camps, agricultural towns. Others were garrisons, fortresses, or naval bases. Over time, however, the oldest ones have become prosperous towns in their own right.

A scattered few colonies were originally independent cities that voluntarily joined themselves to Ǣdyihòzh. Additions like these are rare; few cities are willing to surrender their sovereignty to another, even in exchange for economic benefits, and Ǣdyihòzh, for its part, views the admission of such a city as a mixed blessing; on the one hand, a ready-made base of operations and source of revenue is made available, but on the other, it introduces a colony with its own previous loyalties, possibly its own culture and language, and - if the colony is of a sufficient size - a possible rival power base within the empire. Generally, those cities that have been allowed colony status have been small, nonthreatening, and with a previous history of friendly relations.

While colonies are ruled from Ǣdyihòzh, usually though local magistrates, the memory of Uzhidam's heavyhanded approach to governance has not faded so much that its rulers are unaware of the need to keep its colonies happy. By and large, the colonies receive substantial funds and investment from Ǣdyihɔzh, the tribute and taxes collected from them are relatively modest, and despite their geographic separation from the main city they are considered legally contiguous: that is to say, they are all units of the city itself. The laws of Ǣdyihòzh, with only minor variations, apply in all colonies, and the residents of the colonies are all subjects of the city in exactly the same manner as those of the city itself, with the same duties and privileges; said privileges, especially economic (see Government) are one of the major attractions of colony status.

• Giant's Gate

Unlike colonies, vassals are legally distinct from Ǣdyihòzh proper; they are not part of the city, merely subject to it. They have their own laws and rulers, but are supervised by resident viceroys, who are tasked with ensuring that the vassal does not attempt to stray too far from Ǣdyihòzh's wishes. In some cases, the vassal is compliant and has an amicable relationship with the city; in others, they are reluctant, and the viceroy's authority is backed up by various promises and/or threats.

Ǣdyihòzh has generally attempted to entice other cities into willing vassalage, and the prospect is not always unattractive. What is asked of them is a willingness to align themselves with Ǣdyihòzh in its foreign policy, a regular but usually modest tribute, and military aid to the city in times of war; in exchange they receive Ǣdyihòzh's protection, greatly reduced tolls through the Gap, and assorted other favorable economic considerations. In this sense the arrangement could be viewed as a sort of club membership, and a number of the other Abethine cities have accepted it, although usually with the understanding that said membership cannot be abandoned; Ǣdyihòzh will happily employ retaliation of various kinds against vassals with buyers' remorse. As a result, there are many cities that prefer to remain free if they have the means to enforce it, especially since association with what is seen as a morally degenerate city carries its own internal and external stigmas.

That said, occasionally cities with some strategic position or resource have been more heavily persuaded into vassalage; though this usually stops short of direct military action, it may include, for example, blockade or non-passage through the Gap. Vassalage obtained by war is usually reserved for previous enemies of the city that were defeated and forced to submit as the price of peace; the only exception was, and officially will ever be, the city of Uzhidam, from which Ǣdyihòzh was founded. A resurgence of the old elite in that city - the same class for whom Ǣdyihɔzh had served as a prison colony - was seized upon as a useful pretext for Ǣdyihòzh to “liberate forever the homeland of our foremothers from its eternal oppressors”, and a fleet was sailed there to remove the elite from power permanently. The success of the move, though only dubiously accepted in Uzhidam itself, was vigorously celebrated by the people of Ǣdyihòzh as the destined redress of an ancient wrong.

• Uzhidam

The city and colonies of Ǣdyihòzh are ruled formally by the Grand Princess. The ruling family of Ǣdyihòzh is descended from one of the privateer captains who entered into the service of the city soon after its independence; her daughter subsequently became immensely rich through a combination of overt commercial savvy and covert piracy, and leveraged a place in power for her family after outright buying up most of the city's docks and warehouses of the time. The current Grand Princess of Ǣdyihòzh is Èdnam, who despite projecting a simple, amiable exterior has a reputation for shrewdness; the merchants of the city tend to say of her, with the self-mocking pride that is characteristic of locals, that she is a better swindler than even her most underhanded subjects.

The authority of the Grand Princess is, while ultimately supreme, not absolute; out of a combination of spirit of inclusion and stark realpolitik, there has developed a system in which substantive decisions are made in concert with a Council of Magnates, composed of representatives of the city's most powerful merchant houses together with several military advisers. Certain decisions of national import, and which are judged to have a potentially significant affect on public opinion, are submitted to the people in a sort of national referendum; all adult female (and married male) citizens of the city and its colonies are permitted to vote, though the value of each vote is weighted according to wealth and status. Such votes are considered festive occasions, essentially holidays, with families gathering in the public places for food, drink, games, and relaxation in addition to casting their ballots, and in recent cycles their popularity has led the Council to also call votes on somewhat more frivolous grounds.

The everyday management of Ǣdyihòzh, by contrast, remains firmly in the paws of the Grand Princess, who heads a hierarchy dedicated to that purpose. Ǣdyihòzh proper, as well as each colony, is managed by a chief magistrate (whose actual title may vary) appointed by the Grand Princess, who carries out the directives of the government and, where a situation is not covered by said directives, fills in the gaps under her own authority, sometimes (in the case of larger settlements) with the assistance of lesser magistrates. Provided that a colony is viewed as sufficiently loyal - which is true of most of them - and that it hosts a qualified candidate, a magistrate will generally be appointed from the local population. This serves the dual function of negating any perception that the colonies are being excessively dominated by the home city, and of providing, should something go wrong, a scapegoat whose mismanagement (real or imagined) can be remedied by the actions of the government.

Vassals, as previously mentioned, are supervised by viceroys; these, like the magistrates, are appointed by the Grand Princess, but have a far more sharply limited remit, as they are meant to steer native governments in a particular direction rather than to rule themselves.

As is the habit in the Gulf, Ǣdyihòzhis ships tend to be junk-rigged. The rigging is therefore easy to handle and simple to construct, and performs well when sailing with the wind, but suffers problems sailing into the wind; its topheaviness also requires particular attention to ballast when the ship is not otherwise heavily loaded.

Ǣdyihòzhis ships typically do not range as far as those of other Abethine cities; the city's interests lie mainly in the Sea, and it depends on local tariffs and trade for its prosperity. The stereotypical pattern of Ǣdyihòzhis shipbuilding is to have large warships but fairly modest merchantmen. That said, long-distance shipping is not completely unknown, although the antipathy of the other Abethine powers toward Ǣdyihòzh and its ambitions makes it more dangerous than usual for shipping that travels too far from the city; away from prying eyes, accidents have a way of happening.

While the Abethine cities have a reputation for being friendly to enterprise and personal endeavor, Ǣdyihòzh is, even by these standards and even more so those of takmar in general, a freewheeling society. Though not particularly anarchic, and only marginally democratic, there is nonetheless a strong undercurrent of feeling - even among the city's rulers - that unnecessarily interfering with someone is harmful to everyone in the long term.

(It could be said, in light of the above, that there is then a certain hypocrisy in Ǣdyihòzh's approach to foreign relations, which leans very heavily on interfering with others; but tasked with this, an Ǣdyihòzhis would likely respond, quite reasonably, that they rarely force anyone into anything. Other cities, they would respond piously, are not required to respond to economic sanctions, or to blockades; they are not required to pay the tolls at the Gap. If they do so, therefore, it must clearly be by their own choice. This also relates to broader societal attitudes toward economic warfare - see below.)

This attitude extends not only toward the relationship between government and governed, but also between individuals within the community. This is not to say that the Ǣdyihòzhis population is non-judgmental; they frequently, and vocally, bemoan those things that displease them, whether in their own lives or those of others; stoic acceptance is generally not considered a virtue. But it is considered extremely bad form to suggest restricting someone's actions unless they prove actively harmful to the community. As a result, the Ǣdyihòzhis are, for practical purposes, a tolerant people; they may tell you to your face that they disapprove of who you are or what you're doing, but so long as you're no more than infuriating will not actually impede you.

Ǣdyihòzh is notorious for its attitudes toward wealth and commercial activity. While it would be utterly wrong to say that bloodline and inheritance are not important to the Ǣdyihòzhis, it nonetheless remains generally true that they are not as much the focus of their measure of status and success as wealth: the humblest origins in the world cease to matter when one is rich, and a noble family fallen on hard times may as well not be noble anymore. Descent is merely a useful vehicle for conveying prosperity from one generation to the next, and a self-made merchant princess gets as much respect as an heiress to a fortune - more or less.

Material wealth being the primary signal of status, then, the making of money is a well-regarded activity, a trait shared with many of the other Abethine states. Ǣdyihòzhis, however, have a more inclusive attitude toward what they consider legitimate ways of making money, and those in commerce accept, if not approve of, tactics in getting it that other takmar might consider morally dubious. Attacks or plots upon one's person or loved ones are of course reviled, and direct attacks upon reputation are considered bad form, but attacks upon one's business are acknowledged as the price of playing the game. Thievery, forgery, swindling, buyouts, embargoes, engineered boycotts - all are part of the arsenal, and their use increases with the wealth of the participants, because the stakes only rise. (Even as the members of the Council of Magnates cooperate in governance, they constantly and cheerfully attempt to knock each other out of power.) Done properly, however, the object is considered to be to humble an opponent, not to ruin them; it is one thing to force someone to sell their mansion, and entirely another to make them sell everything they own. It is not unknown for particularly unfortunate victims of the process to be offered a basic pension by a victorious opponent, or even - if the contest was deemed worthy - an actual position.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Ǣdyihòzhis have a reputation for competitiveness and are fond of competitive games of all sorts; even activities that are not formal games, but present a competitive aspect, can be viewed through this lens. Debates both private and public are often started for the enjoyment of trying to win them; haggling while shopping is practically the norm, to the point that failing to haggle tends to prompt concerned remarks from the the one making the unchallenged offer.

The sexual and family life of Ǣdyihòzhis is, for most, not extremely different from those of other takmar, though attitudes toward alternatives may be.

Females are still the dominant sex, and are considered stronger, sterner, less emotional, and more dependable than males; females are stereotypically leaders, guardians, and providers, while males are doers, nurturers, and assistants. Males in positions of formal authority are rare, although they frequently have authority delegated to them by a responsible female. Families are headed by a female, who is often the most consistent breadwinner, while males watch over and care for children and the home; for females with multiple husbands, some will work while others remain at home, but who does which and how they are scheduled is specific to each family. Elder daughters move out upon reaching majority, but frequently remain near their parents; males may remain somewhat longer, but almost universally leave after a sixth of a cycle is past, either having left of their own accord or having been pushed out to make their own way.

The phenomenon of male bands finds a different expression in Ǣdyihòzhis and other Abethine societies, since the nomadic tendencies of unattached males can be effectively harnessed by joining them to ship crews. As a result, bands, while still having a reputation as rough and untamed, are not quite the public nuisance they tend to be in more land-focused societies; their need to see new sights with companions is wedded to doing useful and profitable work among comrades in a relatively (but not overly) disciplined environment.

Same-sex relationships between males are generally unremarked upon, if not exactly approved of; those exclusively between females are less so, but those who participate also with males are overlooked. Since same-sex marriage per se is not permitted, this frequently leads to arrangements in which a set of females will partner with a set of males in the same situation and enter into a marriage of convenience, although increasingly males instead will go before a magistrate and enter into a contract with many of the same implications as marriage, resulting in what is effectively a sort of civil union.

Pure prostitution is tolerated, though how much and in what forms depends on who one talks to. Male prostitution is widespread, and the clientele are mainly lower-class females, as upper-class females are generally spoiled for choice in partners; they generally acquire enough husbands over time to fill their various physical and emotional needs, though they may dally before then. Female prostitution is looked down upon, but nonetheless lucrative, as the gender imbalance means there is no shortage of male clients seeking satisfaction, and there is a certain amount of social acceptance for more courtesan-like operators, though these are frequently more expensive. A major exception, in a sense, are the Attendants common to Abethine ships.

Ǣdyihòzhis toleration has led to what is, from the point of view of other takmar, an especially troubling facet of local life, in that Ǣdyihɔzh is one of the few places in the civilized world where witches - the Chosen - are openly tolerated, and even have a degree of acceptance. Indeed, the vital aid of local witches during the rebellion that resulted in the city's independence cemented their place in society, and remains well-remembered up to the present. The name of Chosen is not known in Ǣdyihòzh, and while they are sometimes referred to with the positive euphemism 'wonder-workers', most often they simply call themselves witches, and do so with pride.

Ǣdyihòzh is not a city run mostly on magic as the Citadel is; there are not enough witches to do so, and the demand for their services is high enough that they generally cannot be spared for all the kinds of mass menial effort that would be possible in the Citadel. In Ǣdyihòzh witches tend to occupy a middle rung of prosperity; they are artisans and specialists and directors of effort. There is, for example, a long and fairly prestigious tradition of stone-shaping elementalist witches: the subterranean chambers of the city are hollowed out by them, deposits of marble and limestone are located by them and frequently shaped into art and architecture by them; indeed, the facilities at Giants' Gap, on which the city's toll-collecting depends, were largely made by them, with the fortresses being shaped from the cliffs and the moorings for the sea-chains being called up from the sea floor. Even a relatively unskilled witch is usually able to make a decent living, and a very skilled one can, under the right circumstances, become rich; at least one witch family managed to leverage its wealth to obtain a seat on the Council of Magnates, though their participation in government is by no means common.

Marriage between Chosen and Unchosen is not frowned upon, at least not in the city proper, but is less common than same-type marriages. The possible challenges of someone without magic sharing their life with someone possessing it are viewed timorously by the Unchosen majority, although those able to make such an arrangement work are viewed highly by society and a successful match to a witch husband or wife is considered lucky. All this said, over the long term mixed-type relationships are becoming more common, as the children of previous such relationships, already accustomed to the intricacies involved in that kind of family life, grow up comfortable with the idea. That the government now quietly offers a small financial incentive for each of up to five Chosen children born to a family is another factor.

By and large, immovable property can only be inherited by or through the female line. The distribution of the property depends on how much there is, how many daughters there are, and the wishes of the mother; but unless significant property is involved, all or most of it generally goes to the daughter that is closest (either before or after) to the age of majority. The theory is that elder daughters will have already moved out and established households, and younger daughters will be yet too young for the responsibility, while a daughter at or near majority will still be present and yet old enough to take over management of the household and provide for any remaining fathers and siblings (not to mention future children). This system tends to favor youngest daughters, but if a mother dies early, may result in a middle daughter inheriting.

By default, in the absence of daughters, a female's property passes to the next closest sister to the age of majority; should all sisters die without offspring, to the mother's sister or her heirs by the same qualification. Because males generally do not inherit immovable property, and because, if married, any such property they may have acquired also becomes their wife's, there is generally no separate case for what happens to male-owned property. The few examples that exist suggest that an unmarried male without daughters will pass on such property to his sisters and their offspring, or other female relatives, by the rules above. Ownerships of, and stakes in, companies and businesses and their assets are customarily inherited the same way, but unlike immovable property this is not necessarily so and can be altered by the will of the mother. Personal property, if it is not willed to specific recipients, is generally divided up more or less evenly.

The stereotypical Ǣdyihòzhis attitude is one of pride in achievement mixed with cynicism and humorous mockery; a good Ǣdyihòzhis recognizes the bad as the reasonable price for the good, and makes light of both, as in, “We're the greatest people in the world, everyone knows that. Everyone else is just jealous of how much better we are at taking money off them than their own leaders are.” Like many Abethines and unlike the takma domains of the interior, Ǣdyihòzhis tend to have a consciousness of themselves as a nation, and to identify with it, rather than as inhabitants of a particular place or vassals of a particular matriarch.

Other nationalities, if they are charitable, consider the Ǣdyihòzhis to be gleaming-eyed rogues, reckless but confident, defiant in the face of disaster. More commonly, however, they are seen as degenerate and amoral, only one step above pirates and thieves, disrespectful of tradition and dishonorable, and - worst of all - knowing and being proud of all this, to the point of arrogance.

Although the Abethines generally share the same central pantheon as the core of the former Empire - albeit frequently with different names - there is a considerable difference in emphasis. The Sixfold Eminence and Her Court are seen as real, but not extremely relevant to everyday life, and their worship tends to be done in single, consolidated temples, or - as in Ǣdyihòzh - is done in the temples of Their Children, which are much more common. Particularly popular are Siathar that align with national interests:

• Orika the Merchant, known in Ǣdyihòzh as Dyēsham (/dʲeːʃam/), a goddess prayed to for wealth and material success.
• Tarishaar the Wit, known in Ǣdyihòzh as Òkhyil (/ɔxʲiɮ/), a male god, of no fixed occupational portfolio but depicted as making his way in the world through cleverness and trickery.
• Nyèlik (/nʲɜlik/) the Mariner, an exclusively Abethine goddess not considered equivalent to the god Hadim the Fisher seen on other coasts. She lends ship crews, both naval and merchantmen, skill and luck on the seas.

In addition, worship of the lamnar is popular, particularly the gods of the sea and wind. uvuun, as usual, is not worshipped; but, against the tendencies of other takmar, Adyihòzhis at sea consider it possible to bargain with Him for their lives and souls in the face of imminent death away from places near land.