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.