The capital of Roule sprawls along the northeastern coast where the Arins Plains meet the sea. White stone buildings with red tile roofs climb gentle hills, and the harbor is a forest of masts. This is where the Honey Lords meet, where colonial policy is made, and where Roule's wealth accumulates in counting houses and vaults.
The city is beautiful in the way wealthy places often are—clean streets, manicured parks, impressive public buildings. The Parliament of Flowers convenes in a domed hall at the city's heart, though real power rests with the merchant councils that meet in private clubs nearby. Halfling society here is elaborate and status-obsessed, with subtle gradations of rank indicated by hat styles, flower pins, and seating positions at public events.
Fozyader's darker business happens in the Harbor District and the warren of streets behind the main markets. Slave auctions occur in private courtyards. Captains can be hired for any cargo, no questions asked. The city watch is efficient but selective about what it sees.
Foreign visitors find Fozyader welcoming on the surface—good food, comfortable inns, polite conversation. But there's a coldness beneath the hospitality, a sense that outsiders are being assessed for usefulness. The halflings smile, and the smiles don't reach their eyes.