The Cities
Teton
Teton was a chaotic symphony of bartering merchants, clanging workshops, and airships hauling precious cargo. But Arty knew that beneath the bustling surface, desperation simmered. Terraces climbed the mountainside, a chaotic jumble of merchant stalls, workshops, and airship docks. Teton pulsed with life, a testament to human ingenuity and resilience. Airships buzzed overhead like great steel floating whales, ferrying cargo across the city’s towering skyline and beyond.
The Tetonians themselves are hardy, energetic souls, born into a legacy of survival and enterprise. From an early age, they are taught that progress isn’t a privilege but a responsibility. To trade, to innovate, to create, this was their mantra. For trading and negotiating, a mixture of Japanese and English was the course. Through this language, community bonds in Teton were strengthened, forged in the bustling markets and a quick way to flush out mishiranu hito, strangers.
Walking Teton’s streets is like standing at the intersection of history and possibility. There is warmth in the air, a kinetic energy that hints at untapped potential. Yet, even here, survival carried a price, and progress often overshadowed reflection.
The cities’ coexistence is precarious, and every interaction was a fragile diplomacy carrying the weight of distrust. Trade caravans are heavily guarded; their routes negotiated with the precision of military campaigns. Armed escorts ensured that rival factions did not interfere, while neutral zones along Austere served as makeshift marketplaces where exchanges could occur without open conflict.
Grant
If ambition were sound, Grant would be the roar of molten metal in forges and the frenzied chatter of marketplaces. The city thrives on tension, its veins coursing with the Turok, its currency embedded with microchips that enable instantaneous, untraceable transactions. “To Want is to Endeavor” was the guiding principle etched into Grant’s soul. Wanting, whether it be wealth, power, or influence, was seen as an act of courage, and to strive toward it was the highest form of living.
The architecture of Grant mirrors its chaotic ethos. Skyscrapers of mismatched heights and angles jostle for dominance, their surfaces wrapped in blinking advertisements that promise luxury and prosperity. Normally, the streets below were alive with the symphony of ambition: merchants barking prices, power-suited executives darting between glass towers, and shadowy dealmakers in whispered exchanges.
But beneath the glimmering neon façade, there is rot. Factories belch plumes of toxic smoke into the air, turning the sky into a gray haze. Narrow alleyways wound between looming towers, their shadows hiding both crimes and the lives of those left behind in the race for success. The people of Grant were not born equals; they were born competitors, forced to prove their worth or be consumed by the system.
To walk Grant’s streets is to feel the weight of expectation pressing against the chest, the constant thrum of desire that drives its citizens forward, even if it crushes them in the process. Ambition didn’t guarantee triumph here, but it defined existence.
Glaician
To speak of Glaician is to speak of perfection. Nestled amidst icy plains, the city stands like a crystalline jewel, its symmetrical skyline gleaming under the pale sunlight. Here, everything was measured, calculated, and pristine. “Order Is Strength” was not a mere motto but a commandment, and every aspect of life in Glaician adhered to its immaculate design.
The streets of Glaician are silent compared to the cacophony of Grant or the bustling vibrancy of Teton. They are broad and lined with identical, glass-paneled buildings, each reflecting the city’s flawless symmetry. Glaicians moved with quiet efficiency, their faces calm and purposeful, their steps precise as though choreographed.
The people of Glaician are born into discipline, their every action guided by an unwavering commitment to structure. Individuality was a curious notion here, viewed as a potential flaw in the city’s otherwise seamless operation. To excel was mandatory; to falter was unacceptable.
Yet, beneath its polished exterior, Glaician harbors a quiet desperation; the weight of expectation pressing heavily on its people. For every achievement, there was a shadow of fear of failure, of disrupting the perfection they had worked so hard to maintain. To live in Glaician was to walk the tightrope of excellence, forever balancing success and scrutiny.