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[color=f9ad81]From the Bay of Benamina, Isamanca at dawn was a sight of unrivalled beauty.

As ships entered the bay, they beheld a vista that inspired awe in even the most seasoned travellers. Blue-tiled rooves slanted heavenward and ascended the city’s smooth, marble-walled tiers. Various ornate churches could be spotted interspersed across the city, azure domes almost shimmering like mirages as their spires reached for the clouds. However, the crowning centrepiece of Isamanca was the Palace di Chavarra, itself a tiered demonstration of the region’s master architects. At the right angle, one could observe its various waterfalls glistening in the rising sun as they spilled into an oblivion that one could not discern from the deck of a ship.

Isamanca touched the sky. To those who embraced the vista from the bay, the city appeared as if it were one large wave preparing to devour them in its ceaseless darkness.

The River Vissuna wove through the hillocks the city rested on, its foamy waters guided through its lowest tier by a winding marble canal from the harbour and into the foothills beyond the city, to the mountains where the river took life. The harbour sprawled across the hilly coast, home to many hundreds of ships of all makes, upon which many people were milling around conducting their business. Fishermen were preparing to head out into the bay in their daily contest for the best catch, while strong-arms carried crates of goods into the various warehouses lining the docks. The captains of ships were shouting orders while whores with painted faces and tight corsets in all kinds of autumnal hues enticed sailors into investing in their trade.

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The Aquila drifted along the bay’s crystal blue waters like a child’s fingers gliding across velvet. It was a large vessel, one built to accommodate two things: the precious cargo of a rather exuberantly-dress merchant, and the merchant himself.

As the ship prepared to dock, the merchant emerged from his quarters in a buttoned burgundy overcoat, his boots scraping across the wooden deck. He waved his hands triumphantly, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear, almost relieved. “Ladies and gentleman, we are finally home!”

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It was morning now. The sun had taken its heavenly throne, bathing the Revosso Peninsula in the easy warmth of the region. A fresh wind blew off the bay, carrying with it the smell of salt and a gentle chill that was no bother to anyone. Pale clouds lingered in the skies, though they promised no rain or trouble. It was the perfect day for the autumn equinox, and the celebrations of the Carnevalla.

The Carnevalla lasted for an entire week; a week of reverie, wine and food, culminating at last with the equinox and the Festival of Love & Beauty. It was a moment of pride and celebration for the prosperity of the duchies and their peoples, one where the entire peninsula would erupt into spectacle and extravagance. Here, maidenheads are given freely, and rivers of wine flow through the inns and taverns and out into the streets. Bards and poets line every street corner, regaling gathering audiences with tales of days gone by, and mummers gather in open spaces to perform the tragedies and comedies of playwrights and storytellers. While the streets roar, the gallerias of the wealthy are opened for public scrutiny, their pieces of art, sculpture and culture naked to the eyes of critics of all walks of life.

Most importantly, it was the yearly Mass of the Dukes. Every year, the dukes and duchesses of the Revosso congregate in a city selected in the previous year to meet with the Alta, High Priestess of the Nymphs of Love & Beauty. This year, it falls to Isamanca to host the most powerful people on the peninsula.

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On the harbour, the frigate known as the Yzharva docks in one of the city’s many piers. The voyage from Suuma was smooth, and the cooling climate was welcome relief from the heat of the principalities. They had arrived before dawn, prior to the sun’s ascent, but the crew are kept on board until the city’s dockmaster could see the ship’s captain. Now, its crew and passengers are free to do as they please in Isamanca.[/color]