The capital rises from the central archipelago on wooden platforms and stone foundations driven deep into the muck. Buildings stand on stilts, connected by walkways that flood predictably with the tides. The Alekroin designed it this way. What looks like poor planning to visitors is actually architecture optimized for ambush—the water beneath the walkways is never empty.
The Palace of the Six Jaws dominates the city center, a sprawling complex where the King and the six noble houses conduct their slow, deliberate politics. Royal succession follows an ancient ritual: an egg is selected from the King's brood, incubated at precise temperatures in isolation, watched by keepers who will never see it hatch. The chosen heir grows larger, stronger, and more cunning than any other Alekroin—a process the Alekroin do not explain and outsiders do not understand.
Vila Bonsa's markets trade in swamp goods: cured hides, medicinal plants, bioluminescent algae harvested from the deeper channels, and shellfish in varieties found nowhere else. Metal is the primary import—the swamps offer little ore. Merchants who trade here learn quickly that the Alekroin do not haggle. They state a price. You accept it or you leave.