The jewel of Kauhedl

The weather is agreeable and the Road runs wide and smooth over flat grassland. Urged onward by Orthos, who seems to be beholden to some deadline, the travelers push themselves and reach Freybourne in just under a week.

Though Mercurio jokes and shares ribald tales, and Laurie’s lute makes the journey seem less long, there is little in the way of meaningful conversation between the members of the party; Orthos is preoccupied with reaching the city and makes little time for banter, while Salbadore still struggles under the weight of his recent losses. Nibben turns the riddle of his kinsman’s captivity over and over in his mind while scribbling notes furiously, and Varel finds that she misses her grove and her woodland friends more than she anticipated.

Freybourne is truly the jewel of Kauhedl, unrivaled in its architecture and civilized wonders. Magical lanterns light the streets, while His Excellency’s winged corps keeps the skies safe day and night. A complex system of aqueducts channels water from the Siannan River, while subterranean tunnels funnel the city’s waste into the sea. Apothecaries offer a variety of expensive potions and panaceas that are widely coveted by country-folk, who are often willing to spend all they have to secure a curative for whatever ails.

Though overwhelmingly human in its demographics, small bands of Gnomes and Halflings are also known to visit the city to peddle their wares, as do foreigners from distant duchies such as Qulaun and Ucidab, bringing exotic offerings of food and other cultural exports.

And, of course, there is the College of High Summoning, the gilded spires of which tower over all other structures in the city. It is not uncommon to see a learned wizard running errands about town with creatures conjured from who-knows-where to do any heavy lifting that may be required.

Life here is hurried, but orderly, and the Duke’s constabulary make their presence strongly felt to deter unlawful activity. Members of His Excellency’s infantry and navy also frequent the city, such that persons seeking to circumvent the law by necessity have to be much more clever and more subtle than most criminals in order to do so successfully.

This fact first becomes apparent at the front gates of the city, which is manned by Ducal Constables who demand to know the identities and business of all who pass through them: “Who are you? From whence do you come? Wherefore do you seek to enter His Grace’s city? Where will you be staying, and for how long?”

As the travelers attempt to come through the gate and provide satisfactory answers to these inquiries, one of the officers wearing a set of thick green spectacles stops them in their tracks. “That box!” He exclaims at Salbadore, accusatorily. “Who are you to possess such a thing, and what are your intentions for bringing it here? Present your permit!”