THE DISTRICTS AND ENVIRONS OF KELTOKEL

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Keltokel, the City of Cities, that glorious and mysterious conurbation where the whole of the Known Earth meets, has seen many rises and falls stretching back to shrouded eras before recorded history. Protected by Stone and Water, it welcomes travelers and promises riches, fame, and wonder beyond imagining. Enigmatic magics and strange phenomena infuse its antediluvian streets and the impossible can seem commonplace! However, Stone casts long shadows, and Water hides many dangers, and dark are the fates that can befall the unwary in this metropolis. This humble treatise describes Keltokel as it stands with the Gate War a painful yesterday and a new age of prosperity dawning.

A visitor entering Keltokel from the Sea of Riches, as did the iaret of old, will see the Stone first. Black, imposing, reaching to a point at the western edge of the entrance to the harbor, this natural bastion looms over the seaward approach to the city. No ship enters the harbor, and no army approaches the southern roads without the notice of this great sentinel. Since the Suzerainty founded their own city upon the primordial ruins, the Stone has been surmounted by fortifications which in the modern era feature the powerful bombards and other siege weapons of the Battery. To take the Battery, as the soldati did in the first days of the Gate War, is to take Keltokel. The Stone is shot through with caves and tunnels great and small, some natural, some carved in unknown antiquity. Despite opportunistic settlement in surface level caves, their full extent has never been plotted, and some say that the soldati emerged from deep within them at the start of the Gate War. Much of the Stone that faces Keltokel is ornamented with clinging scaffolding and cranes, built by those who have made their homes there. The Loop, a broad set of caravan rails which enters Keltokel from the southwest, was carved into the side of the Stone and emerges over Pumptown on an arc down into the New Station.

As the ship bearing one into the harbor cruises beneath the Stone’s watch, the evidence of the ageless city greets it. Time-worn stelae, unrecognizable monuments, and broken tower-tops jut from the waters of the bay to hint at the ancient structures beneath the surface. While the harbor waters are clear and offer startling vistas of the sunken past, the depths can be very deceiving. It is said that a ship never travels the same harbor twice and once-safe routes might unaccountably feature a deadly obstacle the next day. Most ships will take on a muruch harbor pilot to guide them safely though the hidden stonework to safe landing. These ruins, as well as their less-flooded counterparts on the immediate shoreline are Yaskel, the Old City. The harbor waters encroach on the city, and the district is full of deep canals that flood with the tides. Little border exists between water and land, and the smell of the sea pervades the air. Eroded, green-stained stone makes up the streets and buildings, and odd slit-windows and overly-tall narrow doors bespeak strange inhabitants in forgotten eras. Many of Keltokel’s muruch find lodgings here, as well as coveys of ptak nesting in roof top shanties. Others crowd any dry upper floor that can be found. Dive bars and hathore cater to the tastes of wilder or less-moneyed sailors than similar establishments in Apsu Shining. Fishers and relic hunters hawk their catches along the streets, retreating when the rising tide forces them from their favored spots.

Chugging engines and the sound of metal upon metal replace seagull cries and the lap of waves as one leaves Yaskel and enters so-called Pumptown. The stink of fish mixes with machine oils and smoke filling the air from the district’s mills and workshops. Foundries and machinists support the grand mechanisms which prevent the rest of Keltokel from flooding. The ancient stonework seen in Yaskel has been remodeled here, reinforced with rusting iron and shot through with pipelines and pneumatic runs. An air of the makeshift and jury-rigged hangs over the streets. Iaret and beastkin apprentices hurry on errands from their mentors, plugging gaps with rags and tightening down turnbuckles to keep steam from choking the narrow streets.

The tall piers of Apsu Shining await the richly-laden ships of the Jewel Cities. Constructed in multiple layers, the piers are almost 100 feet in height and stretch many times that out into the harbor. The result is a district almost completely on the water: workshops, warehouses and eateries can all be found sandwiched between layers of pier, with bazaars, brothels and bars besides. Despite the dominating architectural feature, the district takes its name from the glittering waters between the long docks: Apsu clasping hands with Geb in this auspicious place where earth and sea share their bounty. Residents of Apsu Shining are well-to-do: prosperous merchants, factors for caravan families, skilled carpenters, weather magi, and the like. It is a cosmopolitan district otherwise, where apkallu in fine water silks rub elbows with Jewel Cities marines, nouveau riche Baltine humans exchange greetings with smiling and sharp-toothed muruch and swaggering sailors square off with barbaric Islanders.

The great thoroughfare known as the Scales of Gold runs from Apsu Shining into the center of Keltokel. Polished golden marble gleams underfoot, and statues of the Dynasts tower above, dazzling and overawing newcomers. Along the busy street, merchants sell curiosities and commodities from all over the Known Earth and, as some claim, beyond. The various side streets each have a particular specialty, from wands to weapons to wines. At the center of this district stands the Sunrise Arch. Its graven stonework matches none of the surrounding architecture, and dawn breaking over an unknown vista is always visible through it, even such that morning light spills from it in the dark of night. Those bold enough to step through the arch merely find themselves standing in the street on the other side but there are persistent legends of some who simply vanish into that strange daybreak. The aroma of cooking from a thousand different cuisines tantalizes the nose and every spoken language bombards the ear. Rarely does the traveler leave the Scales of Gold with a purse weightier than when they arrived. The Harbor Guard, which maintains order on the streets of Keltokel, is headquartered here and now has more of a focus on protecting commerce and wealthy merchants than it did before the Gate War when it was based in the Battery.

The Glory of Stone and Water stands proud as the heart of Keltokel, with the golden way at one end and the Regard of the Southern Horizon as its other border. Monumental temples, built from red stone quarried in the heart of Akhet, give homage to the gods. They share spacious plazas with and rival the grandness of the ancient black ziggurats which now serve as centers of city government. The iaret founders took possession of these imposing sable mastaba as they found them but in the centuries since have catalogued many anomalous properties. Rooms are cold or warm without explanation, or subtly larger inside than they should be, but Geb had given this world to iaret dominion, and thus the monoliths remain in use. As in the Suzerainty, the priesthood dominates the municipal bureaucracy, with gods waxing and waning in authority. During the Gate War, the priests of Neath administered Keltokel as much as the soldati allowed, for Neath’s hearth welcomes and nurtures, even as she defends it so fiercely. The destruction the war brought was seen as her tempering fires as well, something that the city was weary of by the end. Neath’s star has fallen, and now the other priesthoods vie for ascendancy, with the servants of Geb and Apsu chief among them. Alongside the palatial temples and monuments of forgotten ages the embassies of the nations of the Known Earth declare their own temporal power, each grasping for influence in the City of Cities. Sonorous bells wreathed in clouds of fragrant incense ring the hours for the gods, and voices are lifted in praise in languages new and old throughout the day. The iaret inhabitants of the Glory of Stone and Water are a proud, officious lot, from the high priests down to the lowly street-sweepers. The Regard of the Southern Horizon is the ancient wall first built by the iaret to protect the city. It is low by modern standards, and vulnerable to bombards and newer magical siege weaponry, but still divides the core of the city from the newer and less prestigious outskirts.

Any discussion of the heart of Keltokel that failed to mention the Bauble would do a grave disservice to the attentive traveler. Indeed, one might come to injury by gazing up in surprise and wonder whilst walking, and thus trip and fall into a canal! Suspended above the city like a glistening soap-bubble, the spherical Bauble has historically housed adept theosophists and archmagi from around the Known Earth. It was created by eccentric and magically puissant iaret nobility in the first century following Keltokel’s founding, but some histories tell that it was a recreation of a much earlier artifact. Though insubstantial-seeming, its glossy surface encompasses a city district in its own right! Lavish parks full of impossible vegetation, endless perfumed waterfalls, domiciles unhindered by physical law, all have been constructed in this playground for the mystically gifted and fabulously wealthy. The Bauble drifts in an erratic arc around the Glory of Stone and Water, only remaining above a district for a few days, and never straying outside the Regard. Within each district there are magical lifts which can transport one to its heights, but they only function when the Bauble is overhead. Otherwise, only those possessed of some means of flight might intrude upon that demesne of magi. The inhabitants and their pastimes are as eclectic as the decor: some are master artificers who welcome those in search of their services, others are reclusive and devoted purely to their own research, while still others are merely rich and too jaded to reside on the surface of Geb. Strange as it might seem, the Bauble has been abandoned a number of times throughout its history, the most recent being the disappearance of all its residents on the eve of the Gate War.

Tshering University adjoins the Glory of Stone and Water, but is distinct from it in its narrow, quiet streets and cloistered classrooms and auditoriums. Founded by apkallu natural philosophers, the school is the oldest institution of higher learning south of the Sea of Riches. At the time of its founding, it was distinctly different from the grand amphitheaters of the Suzerainty where the teachings of the gods were declaimed. The smaller classes, secular teaching, and emphasis on research and experimentation set it apart in that era and would become the model for the modern lyceums of Balt and the exclusive salons of the Jewel Cities. Small but impressively endowed libraries are dotted throughout the district and while research can be a scattered affair, there is little doubt one will leave unenlightened. The surrounding neighborhoods cater to the day to day needs of the students, researchers, and professors with a profusion of intimate eateries and small shops for educational sundries. If Ranute’s Gifts celebrates physical arts, the visual arts are fostered here. Painters, sculptors, even writers are instructed according to their talent, and tradition demands that graduates beautify the district as part of their attainment of recognized status in their art. Thus, murals abound, excerpts from epic poems adorn walkways and remarkable statuary can be found secreted in shaded cul de sacs throughout this area of the city.

Tucked between Tshering and the Regard lies the small district with the outsized character, Ranute’s Gifts. Long has dancing served in glorifying the gods with titillating the senses being a secondary consideration. The beauty and skill of movement is appreciated for its intrinsic merit in the dance halls and theaters of the Ranute’s Gifts, however. Mournful lays of beastkin, philosophical declamations of apkallu monks, even the strange dirges of soldati and whistled epics of the tylwyth, all accompanied by the skirl of flutes and rattle of sistra, can be heard here to rival the prayers of the temple district. Many famed thespians have felt their first brush with acclaim in this district, sweating for modest audiences beneath smoking torchlight. When night falls Ash is ascendant and the entertainment grows more bawdy, with the risque and burlesque on display. Colorful lanterns and illusions light the streets until replaced by the Ranute’s own resplendence at dawn. While the district welcomes all with coin, the entertainers and troupes are famously insular even to the point of disruption and violence toward outside performers. Residence is only the first step in “paying one’s dues'' toward acceptance. Below the streets of the district lie catacombs that once served to hold the bones of the common folk of Keltokel. Long have infamous and wild rites of ekstaticalia been held among these humble graves and now full-fledged hathore can be found operating in the cool darkness of the tunnels.

When the traveler regards the east of the harbor they would be remiss in failing to notice the smaller promontory guarding that edge. A less grand fortification known as the Mortuary supports the might of the Stone’s Battery here. The secondary purpose of this fortress was to stand watch over the House of Beauty. These tombs of ancient iaret satraps and worthies of the era before the Retreat dot the rocky hills east of Keltokel. Rumor holds that some of the tombs hide tunnels which extend throughout the city, linking Ranute’s Gifts, the Stone, and even the ruins of Vaerrane. Grave-robbing was endemic throughout much of Keltokel’s history, and persists into the modern era as tombs are uncovered during new construction. It was so pervasive that the garrison of the Mortuary was complicit, and those who wished their bodies to remain undisturbed would hire mercenaries to ensure their tombs were sacrosanct. Just as importantly, the presence of armed and adept guards protected the city from mutu or other undead. To this day, the House of Beauty remains a district catering to mercenaries, explorers, adventurers, and other such vagabonds. Untidy streets are crowded with inns, taverns, casting houses, petty armorsmithies, diviners, and hiring halls, all circling about the hills of tombs. A late-rising community, the streets of the House of Beauty remain less-traveled during the day, but burst forth raucous in the evening. Carousing here has an edge of tension, with the reminders of death all about, and the traveler is advised to be wary when partaking of the nightlife.

Beyond the House of Beauty lies the Place of Assessment where the disarmed soldati were held following their capitulation at the end of the Gate War. This was originally a sprawling prisoner of war camp surrounded by a timber palisade and administered by a rotating garrison of known earth forces. In recent years however it has fallen into disrepair. The walls do little to keep anyone out or in, and the garrison forces are used more to influence politics in Keltokel than to keep watch on the invaders. The Place of Assessment has few permanent structures other than the scrap buildings assembled by the former inmates themselves. The dismal, rocky ravine is barren and dry and was selected for containment and punishment rather than long-term habitation. Here, the soldati largely adhere to their militarized lifestyle and still regiment themselves according to rank and unit. This informal district maintains a roughly stable population, shedding deserters but gaining those unable to survive alone in a rightly suspicious and hostile world. The smell of cookfires, the sounds of harsh cadence calls, and the tramp of marching feet hangs over the stony camp. While the interned soldati are officially disarmed, this has not been enforced in at least two years, nor is there political will to interfere with the camp unless more sinister developments are detected.

Where the Stone gives way to the southern plains sits the district of Westend. Before the Gate War, artisans and trading families made their homes in this tidy community just beyond the Regard of the Southern Horizon. Half of the district was razed by the soldati to make a killing ground, and the other half was left in ruins during the battles to liberate Keltokel. It was swiftly rebuilt after the conflict, thanks in part to the sponsorship of the Khalq Assemblage, and some of the architecture now bears their hallmarks. However, this generosity was the start of an influence campaign on the part of the Assemblage, and now some even call the rebuilt community “the Watan.” The streets are clean, fresh sand is strewn daily to soak up seepwater, and petty crime is quite low, but imposing Khalqist banners now festoon buildings, roving bands of Sarandoy unofficially enforce laws, and civic business including court proceedings are carried out in Flag Square in open defiance of the official municipal authorities. The Watan thus has the feel of a city inside the City of Cities with its own laws, customs, and atmosphere. If the day arrives when Khalqist saar are able to traverse the Keizai passes, there is no doubt Westend will be the first of their possessions on this side of the mountains.

The staid square stonework and peaked timber rooftops of Southreach used to welcome travelers entering Keltokel via the Causeway. Built during the boom times between the Mercantile Wars, the Polto architecture reflected the unassuming wealth of its newly-prosperous inhabitants. The prestige of living within the Regard was eschewed for a carefully-planned grid of streets and comfortable, familiar domiciles. During the 2nd Mercantile War a modest defensive wall was built to protect the city, and though it lacked the height and sturdiness of the Regard, it helped the district escape some of the damage inflicted during the Gate War. Southreach’s suffering had only begun however, as it was choked with refugees from Bracken, Polto, and Dovenhead. The district was decimated in the years following by a succession of diseases both natural and magical that saw a hasty quarantine enacted. Now known colloquially as Southretch, or Southwretch, this once genial part of Keltokel is rife with poverty and crime. When the wind blows from the south the sour stench of sickness and rot is carried over the entire city. The disease-stricken refugee population is kept contained by the walls originally meant to protect its pleasant neighborhoods, and the wise traveler with coin in their pocket bypasses it entirely on their way into the city proper.

Hrakel is the newest district of the City of Cities, built atop the pulverized ruins left behind when the forces of the known earth laid siege to drive out the Soldati. Once called Vaerrane before the Gate War, it was a dense community of fine townhouses held ancestrally by Dovenhead Constabulary. Atop the rubble, wealthy Baltine magnates erected the New City, smoke belching factories, counting houses and trading offices of tall, shining steel and glass, all clustered around the core of the New Station. This burgeoning switching yard centralizes all caravan rails in Keltokel, and the great machines rattle in and out at all hours. A new sort of commerce is arising here, with merchants trading bits and pieces of companies, or the promise of goods, rather than the goods themselves. Vast fortunes trade hands in a day, represented by little more than ink on paper or chalk on slate, only to vanish just as quickly on the rumor of a ship lost at sea or a factory strike by Khalqist agitators. Sharp edged, brusque, and hurried typifies life for the humans, ozrut, and beastkin of Hrakel. Indeed, the lattermost have found surprising upward mobility for the long hours put in building Balt’s showcase. Some see the district as a direct challenge to the lingering influence of the Suzerainty: the newest city, built upon the bones of the old, by the latest successor to dominion over the known earth. For all its pretensions of demonstrating Baltine futurism, the past haunts Hrakel. The thousands slain in the desperate fighting through Vaerrane to exploit a gap in the Regard rest unquiet, and tales of specters and ghosts of fallen soldiers are commonplace.

A twisting sea of silk ribbons and colorful tents blankets the plain to the south of Keltokel where the tylwth have made their encampment. The staked canvas curtain of the Cantonment ripples in a near-constant breeze which shows that perhaps the wind has not abandoned the tylwyth in their exile. Despite the privacy afforded by the cloth barriers there are frequent mortal visitors and most of the district’s inhabitants go about veiled, if only lightly. The Cantonment is outside of the control of the city authorities and order is kept by the tylwyth themselves. What commerce exists mostly serves the needs of the tylwyth, but crafts and curios of this mysterious people are also a draw for outsiders. The district’s inhabitants live in tents or small caravan wagons, and there is a feeling of impermanence to the Cantonment, as if it might be gone one morning. For now, however, its neatly arranged layout and profusion of colors are a bright spot along the Causeway.

The open plain south of Keltokel has been kept clear of settlement by ancient law, and it gently rises and grows more broad as one travels away from the city. Construction is not allowed on the plain within a half-day’s travel of the Regard. It is another day’s travel south from there to reach the now heavily-patrolled borders of Polto. The hillsides to the east and west are heavily terraced and were owned by many of the original families to settle and administer Keltokel. Because of the prestige of living within the Regard, the manor houses on these lands were never so lavish, and most of the farms were administered by minor relatives or even beastkin caretakers. The waterways that would normally drain into the valley were rerouted in ancient times to irrigate the terraces, and now only carefully controlled canals reach the city.