Windmere

The city of Windmere, on the southern shore of the Sea of Stars, is much older. The name stems from the wicked storms the batter the city, particularly in the winter months. Warm air rising from the lake is pushed against the mountains and, with nowhere else to go, merely spins above the city and spends its fury. The result is a seaside metropolis that can batten down into a fortified settlement in mere moments. Unlike Far Water, Windmere grew organically, without any planning, rhyme, or reason. The streets are narrow, dark, and mercilessly crooked, with the upper stories of wooden buildings piled precariously upon those below. Locals navigate by instinct, while visitors rely on a series of signs. In every open area, meaning wide enough to stretch your arms apart, the walls are painted with arrows pointing to landmarks near and distant. Some are obvious, such as "docks" or "woods," while others are completely cryptic, such as "professor's, "the high place," or "not for Jimmy." After a week or so, most people can navigate a few familiar neighborhoods well enough to get around.
Windmere is ruled by a Lord High Mayor. This position is appointed by the Emperor, and is considered a plum placement. A huge amount of commerce moves through Windmere, and the city's chaotic structure offers plenty of opportunities for graft. That means lots of ways to line one's pockets, both legal and not. The result is that every few years, the Lord High Mayor is executed for smuggling or embezzlement, then replaced by a new favorite, who milks the city, and the whole cycle is repeated when a new Emperor takes the throne. One would think that the long list of previously executed mayors would deter would-be office seekers, but greed can blind men to a whole host of things, not least among them common sense. In fact, the current Lord High Mayor, Vasa-Tel Cisto, has lasted an astounding 12 years, through a combination of guile, charm, and (it is assumed) sharing the spoils.
Cisto has even instituted a few improvements, and this includes the first citywide post system. Each and every dwelling in the city can be reached by sending a message to the Central Office; even the hovels of the invisibles. Each address has a rope to which packages and letters are tied by post wardens, who charge those receiving the delivery. If they fail to pay, the rope is painted red, and no further deliveries are made until accounts are current. Ropes are then painted white or replaced. Tampering with post ropes is an executable offense. The effect of the city's claustrophobic alleys, covered with cryptic painted signs, lines dangling down everywhere, is more than many civilized folks can stand.
The University of Windmere is located inside an enclosed area surrounded by ordinary buildings. One enters through a home, shop, or market, using the back door. Past the buildings of the University proper is an enormous courtyard, representing the only truly open space in the entire city. Trees, flowers, and singing birds make this a pleasant place, but it's completely impossible to see from outside. This secrecy dates back to when a less enlightened administration banned the practice of magic, burning practitioners alive. The students here excel at charm, illusion, and conjuration, as well as elementalism. The bardic college is large, legendary, and entirely untrustworthy, being closely tied to the city's very active Thieves Guild. Their token is a fish.
The Thieves Guild is large and diverse, but their upper ranks are nearly all populated by halflings who lead otherwise respectable lives in daylight. The master thief, Chupa Dayspring, has been the master of house for the Lord High Mayor for decades. If the Mayors are thieving swindlers, their take pales in comparison to that of their trusty steward. Cisto's unprecedented success may be in part due to a close relationship with Dayspring. Cisto is well aware that Dayspring is more than he appears, and Dayspring recognizes that Cisto is much more canny than most humans. Truth be told, each is so deep into fooling, using, cheating, and double-crossing the other that they may have lost track and inadvertently become allies.
Without question, the most bizarre part of the city is the Lord Mayor's house. Originally a modest dwelling, over time each successive mayor used their money and position to buy up adjoining buildings. In the crowded conditions it made more sense to renovate them than build, so they would leave the buildings in place and simply knock doors through to enlarge the residence. Nothing quite matches up right, so ramps, shims, awkward halls, and short flights of stairs make up the difference. Given the short tenure of residents and their typically hasty departures, no two rooms are decorated alike. A guest moves from a hall done in white marble, through a drawing room all covered in lace and crystal, to a study filled with hunting trophies, which from outside all looks like any other row of buildings.

Type

City