~The whisper of waterfalls is heard in the distance, as the smell of fresh flowers fills the air. Peasants, crowding markets, planting their crops, talking nonchalantly, wander throughout the cit. Towers, nearly one thousand feet high, fly flags bearing the seal of Valadyr upon their face, and the symbol of Anatolia, the Crested Eagle, on their rear.
Soldiers stand at the gate, armed simply with daggers, watching those who enter and exit. Sentries patrol the walls, staring out at the valley beyond, and the woods, so filled with thieves.
A light mist falls over the city, not enough to wet anyone, but enough to keep the temperature at a steady level. The massive waterfall, falling behind the palace, roars quietly, enchanted by ancient spells.
Resting at the base of the falls, the sparkling white marble palace, seems a relic of the ancient past, its walls only placed around those rooms that would have need for such, and the rest of the rooms left open to the seasons. The throne room is no more than a small garden, with a single, ornate chair situated among the flower beds, beneath two tall cherry trees.
Sitting in this chair, Dhulyn, clad in a black suit, listens to petitioners as they ask him for favors, land grants, and whatever else tehy require. His eyes often drift to the image of his uncle, Govannon, painted above the gate to the city beyond, and yet he seems to never lose track of what his peasants ask.~
Subject: Anatolia 
Fri Oct 05, 2007 9:23 pm
