And the Seven Lands have thus been locked in war.
Once upon a time, seven people -- leaders weary of eternal warfare -- resolved to meet each other at the Great Circle of Stone. They were: Kahmei the Alcuadrian, with a slender ceremonial sword and a gun that shot light; Opephina the Corunni, in a beautiful dress and with a snake-skin whip; Quarkson the Arkford, in a conservative business-suit and with a briefcase; Araman the Kongol, in traveller's clothes and with a pack-mule; A'Innai the East Etherican and A'Kituzo the West Etherican, who arrived on the opposite sides of the expedition and a day apart; and Okhog the Mogh, in a leopard-skin tunic and a large club over his shoulder. All came to beg Father Dragon for advice: Which Land is the greatest? Which Land should stand triumphant, and which lands must reduce their cities to ashes and their fields to graveyards?
The skies split in half with lightning and thunder, and Pangeria bled with molten stone.
Arose before them then the crimson form of Father Dragon; his wings choked the moonlight and his roving tail razed wayward villages. His breath raised devastating waves. His countless minions spilled forth from the pit in Pangeria's flesh, and gorged on the many cities of the Seven Lands -- but their seven heads were prepared to make this sacrifice. Without it, countless more will die.
Roared Father Dragon, "Why do you bring me forth now, my shameful children?"
Replied the Council of Seven, "We tire of fighting, Unholy Father. It is costing us people, which we need for building our castles for us and growing our fields for us. We wish to know which of us is worthy of your service and which should be reduced to ashes."
He swept the Council with his unbearable gaze, blew a great pillar of fire into the sky, and answered:
"Nae, making ruin unto all but one of you aligns not with my plans. But not all of you are fit to survive, either."
Saith he to the Alcuadrian, who bowed his head and lay his hand on his sword in reverence, "Your sense of honor is child-like. Your people have grown too old to be changed now. Yours is a disease that must be culled to ensure others' survival."
Saith he to the Corunni, who twirled her whip uncomfortably at the male form of Father Dragon, "You have learned to oppress your men. Suffering births spirit and rebellion, and perhaps yours is not a civilization to last but a chrysalis for something much stronger for the distant future."
Saith he to the Arkford, who adjusted his glasses and swept back his hair, "You have learned to lie to your brother as if he were a mortal enemy. The art of deceit will grant you edge over the weak of mind."
Saith he to the Kongol, who looked as if he were about to bargain a question, "You are not as driven as the Corunni nor as clever as the Arkfords, but you combine the two into great personal gain. Never will you confront a customer whom you won't cheat out of half his money."
Saith he to the Ethericans, who glared at the other from the opposite sides of the Great Circle, "You have sundered your country and turned on your fellow man. Yours is a destructive conflict, but conflict is the driver of progress and life. You are a symbol to all of Pangeria."
Saith he to the Mogh, who looked menacingly at Father Dragon and patted his club, "Your innocence is also child-like. You are numerous, overwhelming even the mighty Alcuadrian armies and robbing Kongols of their caravans; and you are cancerous, living on land stolen from your peers. You will not defile this land any longer."
Father Dragon roared again, and his minions returned to their home. He swept the Council of Seven off their feet and feasted upon them before Pangeria swallowed him again. That night, Oracles of five of the Seven Lands received omen to band together, and the other two - to pray.
Thus the Seven Lands became the Five Lands.

