Ngaiyen

The softness of the southland grass is precisely why the Lanle people refuses to torture their capital with rough roads. Part because the silken emerald-turquoise leaves are each like silk to the paw, and part because they do not need it. Theirs is a capital built for noses, as much as it is built for eyes. Navigation is as simple as following the trails of scent left behind the people making between the various areas, where the most efficient path was eventually instinctively and unamiously agreed upon, rather than built.

It is a philosophy that crawls into all things Lanlen. Whilst stores harbour beautifully crafted signs with complicated symbols on them implying their name and image, it is the unique combinations of flowers or scented waters that hang in a pot under the sign that steers familiar or curious customers towards it. Depending on the nose, one can almost feel bombarded coming to Ngaiyen – unless one is Lanlen, for theirs is a nasal filter without equal.

You won't have traveled far along grass-paved streets before you notice the sheer amount of benches and couches, cast out under the colourful shade of canvas stretching between the orange gold trees of the land. Stools or chairs are entirely absent from outdoor areas and dining places. To an outsider it might imply laziness or a concern for comfort, but to the Lanlen it has never been anything else but tradition. Here it is a sign of civilisation to be lying down as you socialise, and being sat squarely on a stool may at times seem ginger and out of place. You stand or you lie when you're mingling by tables, and sitting is a position reserved exclusively for the ground, or working places.

Between the wide, well-kept stretches of grass streets one can often find busy stalls. Wooden, tiled or canvas roofs cling to the wagons all held together by bamboo often covered in posters beckoning street-goers closer with wares decisively Lanlen. Scent-vases, containing expertly harvested smells from all over the world held captive in beautiful white porcelain with an explosion of blue ink lines through its cold surface. Brushes of various densities and sizes for fur maintenance and spoilage for significant others. Herbal oils made to put a shine in feathers, often coming in wide varieties complimenting particular colours and styles.

Food cannot go unmentioned, and here Lanlen exceed particularly in servings of ox meat, rice and fish - most of which are of course served in mouth-watering packings of dough, crisp and crunchy walls holding in tongue melting spills of well spiced meat and vegetables. Many of their treats come slathered in sauces that range from pear sweet to apple sour, and particularly fine sauces provide a surprising gradient between the two. Pastry came to the capital since humans and Lanlen set aside their differences many years past, and though very popular, it is still a work in progress. Yet despite the wide range of tastes, not a single steaming stall seems to come with poultry on the plate.

Certainly it can not be for a lack of birds. Whether colourful, small variants that flutter between tower tiles and jagged leaves, or larger and clucking sorts scurrying between the streets, Ngaiyen – and nigh all other Lanlen settlements – are always inhabited by avians. They appear to live in relative harmony with the citizens that feed them regularly to keep them from going in the stocks. For the most part, anyway, at which point most Lanle traders won't shy away from chasing off the otherwise revered birds. Statues near the larger temples in the city will reveal that every important Lanle in history has been depicted with a bird nearby, favouring most of all the chicken or rooster, both of which are held in highest regard amongst birds.

Of temples there appear to be five. In truth there is only one. Djaodu Hon-Tau, the first temple, serves as the warrior's home here in Ngaiyen. Huge training grounds spanning several farmer's fields are prepped with racks of spears, swords and glaives in long rows of elegant yet cold, efficient steel, handles often draped in colours red and jade. Here you will meet the Hon-Tau the temple carries its name after, the Lanlen elite. The tallest and broadest of Hon, raised into their role as protectors of the Yalanlan family. Theirs is an art of war that comes with precise, calm and collected movements, often executed from a single ready stance – though they have come to be known as shieldtails for their swift, protective maneuvers protecting their front and flank all at once. While they serve as a nigh unshakable front line, most other Lanlen fall into fighting styles that can almost look like dancing from afar.

Prrihijijaio mi Mlao-Ani, the second temple, seems in a constant state of disrepair, even for being as high held as it is. Many commoners can claim to have collected a brick from this temple – lodged deep into their own garden in the other side of the capital. Here, inventors follow the ways of Mlao-Ani, the First Builder. Sworn to never tamper with magic, the Lanlen sought instead technology. Steam-driven contraptions armored with bricks, curving tiles and sturdy wood are crafted here. The temple itself stretches up along the length of one of the tall bluffs Ngaiyen is built around, stairs encircling the rock for for a twenty minutes walk between the top and bottom. At the very top you will find the temple expanding into the Ngaiyen capital's skydocks where some of the most advanced airships in the world are made.

Soujun ai Kakuran, the third temple, is dedicated to the practice and teachings of Lanlen beliefs.

Soujun mi Tsuu-Lin, the fourth temple, holds the public libraries and seems to contain all historical knowledge the relatively young race has amounted for itself.

Fifth Temple, under construction. No one is quite sure what for.

Despite appearing seperate, all temples are connected by secret underground hallways going towards the center of Ngaiyen. Here, in the lowest chamber of the Yalanlan palace, the members of each temple closest to the royal family meet to discuss courses of action, strategies and consequential decisions. The secrecy surrounding the union of the temples is held strong by the supposed rivalry between them on the surface – while their ideas truly battle in this room lined with tall chairs and ancient scrolls of agreements and laws.

This cautious and efficient secrecy is precisely what the city was built upon, when it first started flourishing, and has survived on for years on end - most of all because it keeps the royal family and nobles in a position of power. Not many Lanlen understand the unity that binds them, because many of their ideals are invented to keep them in disagreement, giving off an air of a disorganised yet highly efficient societal structure amongst the fox-lynx-like people.