“I sit here looking out at the Port of Skulls, so close yet so far and wonder what it would be like to be a seagull. Let the South wind carry me in over the canyon, high above the ships unloading their cargo, high above the men sweating and toiling for coin to spend at the taverns. On inward passing under the Great Arch, that connects the halves of the city, one rich, one poor, and one sane, one corrupt. Which is which, I can never tell. Circle back away from the reek of the slums and the tanneries back over the great stone circle that is the Colosseum. Perhaps to land a moment and watch the men as they train. Perhaps see the free spice and herbs brought in by the caravans and swoop in for a bite and when the merchants chased me away off over the river into the jeweled palaces and High Court. The soft sound of men toiling in the prison and the wailing of the mad in their tower carried on the winds. Passing high above the University where I sit writing and landing in the shadowed gardens of Noble Estates. What would I see? Men and women scuttling about trying to keep things going without giving an advantage to another, like the jerk talking when I’m trying to write. Doesn’t he know this is a library? Oh he’s one of Them. Maybe I should just….”—Unknown

City of Rhun