Desari was part of a loose confederation of city-states that bordered and surrounded the immediate west and northwest of the Elven Forest. It wasn't a large territory, relying mostly on trade for its income, nor was it a very wealthy city.
But it was gorgeous.
It stood like an artist's dream, sparkling white marble against the sun, like a giant ice sculpture melting into towers that reached for the sky.
The flat plains around it were covered in farmland, feeding the city's inhabitants, and giving them the freedom to pursue their true passion.
"Desari, City Of Poets." Miss Rita breathed, her eyes sparkling. "The paintings did it a disservice."
"On the surface perhaps," Severen replied, "the stories don't tell the truth very well. Slums, relegated to the far ends of the city, servants treated no better than slaves, worked to the bone all to support their masters' useless projects."
