A guard huffed in mild boredom, rotating his arm to stretch his shoulder before leaning against the wall not far from where Keenan was sneaking about.  

Jenga glanced back in faint amusement, but did not slow or turn on his way through the throng to the Tower, the House of the Marshalls.  
It was a tall tower, amongst the several sets of barracks, hangers, and garages that made up the Grey District.  It was grander then the other buildings, and consisted of 49 floors in recognition of the 49 known City states that had first risen up after the collapse.  Of course there were fewer then that left but Basin's architects had been sentimental and had seen fit to acknowledge that number.  
Only the Marshalls lived in the tower though, each with their own set of private quarters and personalized locks.  Privacy was worth more then gold in this day and age, and the Marshalls had it in abundance.  Their dragons though, being to large and unpredictable to keep in the city walls, were kept out of the dome and to the East of the city where they could soak up the sun and warm their scaley hides in dens and a monitored environment when not on missions.