The upper City The upper city, where the rich dwell apart from the poorer classes and nobles call their home. Streets paved in white and banners in the royal purple flutter everywhere. To one used the squalor outside it's walled perimeter they might think they had stepped into heaven. Even with nothing but the moon to light it bright colors bled through, grand houses surrounded by lavish gardens, closed shops full of luxuries and finery worth more than the average citizen outside saw in a year. One of the smaller houses close to the wall belonged to the Windsell family, Once knights serving the royal court for generations they were elevated to nobility and granted lands outside the city. Now they were much like any other noble family. Gileon Windsell, a young nobleman raised on the stories of his grandfather was no knight, but wanted to be. Young enough to dream and yet old enough to have the determination of an adult he was restless, and often wandered the halls of the house at night, looking at the collections of heirlooms, armor, and weapons he was forbidden to get near during the day. On this night in particular he was i a room where the spoils of wast wars were kept on display. Leaning over the crown of a long dead king.