Your head spins when you walk these streets. So many sounds, colors, voices--it's too easy to get caught up in it all. One may expect the senses to dull in death, but you've long come to learn the opposite is true. Your vampiric nature has brought forth an acute awareness of your surroundings, an ability crucial in your deduction of secret knowledge. This sight is to your detriment here, however. It's like you're being flooded with information, every twist and turn in the tightly-packed city streets offering thousands and thousands of new points of interest at once.

You have to focus on the things that don't move in order not to feel dizzy. You observe the architecture: massive blocks of wood and stone, with sharp roofs of red-brown with walls of white and gold. Stunning plazas lined with perfectly-pruned trees. Great arches and columns of marble. You bring your awareness to the city's foundation. You see the constant changes, the way the buildings are built and rebuilt and destroyed and renewed, all to the whims of the people. Like rings on a tree marking the years of its life, the very ground upon which you walk, the many places you visit made in different times, mark the decades of changing tastes.

Yet, you know this city is truly young. Its layers only go back a few millenia--maybe 30,000 years at best. Ancient to most, but you know that's only scratching the surface of this land's history. What lays beneath this stony foundation…?

You're shocked it's taken so long to make it to this city. Reiteldeniens seemed to always have the most to hide, always ending up the target of your watchful eye, and gods, the secrets you've seen! This place is a breeding ground for corruption and greed. From secret stashes of forbidden texts, to underground smuggling rings, to assassinations and plots, there's always something afoot here.

You can get whatever you need here. If you need supplies, manpower, or information, you know the best person to go to is Ronan. He runs a night club somewhere nearby the coliseum, and happens to be the biggest contraband smuggler in the Strait. It may be worth trying to cash in a favor if the need arises.

The enchanted lands of Reitelden! You've always been curious to see this city. Each summer, you found the simple joy of eating a Honey Cloudbloom after a difficult session of training, a fruit treasured for its muscle-soothing properties and sweet, tart taste. They say the delicate tree can only florish on the magically fertile Reiteldenien soil.

You recall as a child, one of your personal guardsmen, Emil, telling you about his trips to Reitelden. He spoke fondly of the Tournament of Harvest, an annual celebration of the Cloudbloom trees sprouting their delicious fruit. Mighty warriors would take to the coliseum and fight a glorious battle, a gift of entertainment to the gods as thank you for their gracious gift of food. When witnessing this event, it was customary to wear elegant bright-colored outfits for the pre- and post-battle ceremonies--huge, elegant parties where all the city's high society can mingle. Emil would describe the battles with perfect drama and heroism, as the great swordsmen fought with graceful flourishes and elegant swings. The good guys always won, of course. You always pictured yourself in those fights.

You feel uneasiness walking these streets. The amount of love in this city is palpable, yes. You feel a burning passion, a raging fire of emotion in the souls of these people. But it's… empty. Unguided. Moving in too many directions at once. They build their worlds around their vices and turn their heads down from their ancestors.

The people here hold no memory of the Flood. Not in their minds, not in their blood.