Verdant Proper (Patreon)

the capitol city of Verdant
alt. the capitol or the Proper

Along the northern coastline where the golden sands transform into the dark soiled of the farmlands, where the towering cliffs are kissed ferociously by frothy blue waves; there is a city. It hugs the expansive inlet that forms Queen’s Bay, the mouth of which is framed by the powerful archways of the aqueduct that flows into an underground tributary, allowing the water to be filtered before it is released into the city wells. To the west one of the inlet one can see the great sandstone lighthouse of Pranesi, commissioned by a queen of Verdant’s past, maintained by a queen of the present, and unfailingly guiding ships into the docks for as long as there has been a record kept on its history. To the east, sitting high above the rooftops and expanding ever outwards until the base of its towers climb like ivy up the cliffs and into the sky is the royal household and the palace estates. Only the Queen and her family may reside there, perhaps with some favored members of her court. It is flanked, or perhaps surrounded, by five towers, each representing one of the Five Houses of Verdant and headed by a member of the Queen’s council. Beyond the well-guarded gates and flowing down the hillside lies a sprawling neighborhood of protruding villas and manor houses of the noble and moneyed families within the capitol, most if not all of which bare the mark of a Citizen and all the privilege that implies. They like to remain close to the palace when conceivable as currying favor is much more difficult from afar.

Down in the basin where most of the people live and work one may find themselves drowned in the cacophony of sound and color that is Verdant culture. From the House of War and its barracks filled to the brim with the nations elite warriors to the Guildhall with its many interconnected branches, spreading outwards from the docks, recently renewed with imports and guests from foreign lands all the way through the cobblestone streets that form into the varies shops and stalls of the marketplace, resplendent with variety. In the center of the city there is a magnificent fountain from which anyone is free to come and drink their fill, and behind it stand the royal grain houses, where each bit of barley is accounted for and dispensed to the people in fulfillment of Verdant’s promise that no one who lives within her nation will ever go hungry.

From the crack of dawn till the last throws of sunlight, there is nowhere in the Proper that is not bustling with activity. Shopfronts set under tidy second-story homes are filled to the brim with their customers, barkers standing at the door and inviting people in to sample the wares or see what has just been delivered from the newest shipments. Taverns open the doors and windows wide, ensuring they let in a breeze while folks drink amber ales and wine so dark it is almost black. Food vendors stand at the grill, slicing dripping meat onto flatbread with thick sauces and peppers to suit the pallet. Children run about screaming in delight as their fathers try to wrangle them in while the mothers do business. Minotaurs stand tall above the crowd with their brass-capped horns as they make deals for the freshest produce from the Farmlands and shout orders. With their heads half shorn and their faces downward to avoid unwanted attention, thralls jump to obey, serving their time for crimes or debts unpaid with the promise of going home to motivate them. Entertainers bedecked in their mismatched clothing stand about on every street corner, offering a song for a few coppers or charming the crowd with juggling or sleight of hand tricks. The city guard keeps a watchful eye over the happenings, but they rarely have much to do besides breaking up a tavern brawl or perhaps nabbing a cutpurse in the act. Beyond the walls is a footpath of stalls and nomadic carts displaying the works of the gabelin folk, their dyes and embroidery a highly valued commodity if one is willing to haggle with them at length. Their bright yellow eyes rarely blink and their large, bat-like ears seem to catch every hesitancy or fib with startling accuracy. Everywhere there is the motion of lives being lived with intent.

Note: I literally wish I had the cartography skills or artistic ability to draw this out. I can see it in my brain but I can't translate that to paper/screen.