Merchants, priests, beggars, bakers, knights and more fine folk than you could even name. The list goes on. All these folks surround you and make you wonder where such a social tapestry emerged.
How these people live here is a question. Before this forest, there was but abject wild; meadows, hills, barren rivers. How do these people make a living? How could so many congregate in such a small space? Then, you notice something, a force has been pulling on you. You try and resist but you are no match for it.
You are put into a kind of daze. Almost like a hallucination. Swaging around like an intoxicated bandit, you see a great tension materialized before you: to the right, a majestic tower upon a hill bathed in innumerable colors; to your left, flashes of a twisted dungeon filled with shrieking horrors beyond your mind’s eye’s comprehension. Stuck in-between is the townsfolk and this impromptu ramshackle city.
As suddenly as the vision came, it fades, and you are left again in control of your body. You have been returned to the hidden city you found in the woods, the imposing and mysterious structures of your vision no longer lording over the hamlet like an ogre ready to strike.
Finding your way into a modest dwelling that appears larger on the inside than out, you encounter a king. Finely dressed, he is not in the garb of a luxuriously ruler decked head-to-toe in jewels, but rather of an esteemed politician in possession of a well-made suit. In contrast to his subjects, he is head-and-shoulders above those masses which surround him; you feel a kind of class pang in looking at so many workers milling around a figurehead.
And yet, as you settle in on a corner chair, you notice something—it is not the king who provides for his people. Rather, it is another entity, someone—something? —otherworldly.
Listening to the dialogue, you see a creature known as Native Wit console the king on matters of society and justice.