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The Cursed Blue Rose
Nothing shelters Melekes. The grass runs unbroken to the lake and past it, the wind crosses without hindrance, and the town stands exposed in the middle of all of it because that is where the seam is. Everything the work requires arrives on wheels: props and pit-timber, roofing, charcoal, bread. Everything the town produces leaves the same way, or goes down to the water and out by boat. Raised in the second wave of expansion, later than the older foundations of this country, Melekes has never had cause to become anything but a mining town, and has not tried.
Its households are Ashanar, plain-spoken and short of leisure; a family's standing is a matter of which workings it holds and how many of its men come up at the end of a shift. Melekes gives its allegiance to Mazarka, the trading city that gathers this grassland's produce, and stands with the rest of that country inside the bloc named for Kerevoz. It is a small place in a chain of larger ones, and its worth is counted in what it sends out.