Noogle

Overview
Noogle is the capital city of Spauria, and is the center of all commerce, trade and travel throughout the Empire, as well as the home of Spaurian royalty and the most prestigious school of arcana in the nation. The city itself, with its fortified walls and ever-flourishing metropolis, is a proud testament of Spauria's strength, wealth, and undying honor. It is the oldest remaining city in the realm, and it has been proclaimed that as long as the empire stands, so too shall its capital.

History
After winning the Goblin Wars, the settlers of Glaun Encaru flocked to the rich flatlands of central Spauria, which were perfect for farming and virtually untouched by the crudities of goblin or orc society. There they erected the fortified city of Noogle, as a testament to their victory, and a bold declaration that a new kingdom had been born. This marked the beginning of the First Age of Spauria, and as the realm grew, the city of Noogle would quadruple in size, quickly becoming the proud capital of the dawning empire.

Guilds & Factions
Being the capital of the Spaurian Empire, many large factions, both royal and otherwise, find themselves based in Noogle.

Ranks of shining Crownsoath paladins can be seen patrolling the streets of Noogle, promoting justice and order wherever they tread, and acting as personal bodyguards to the empire's elite royalty and government officials. Such knights can often be seen preforming mass healing rituals, relieving the diseased of their ailments, and offering magical regeneration to the wounded.

The Spaurian Mages Association operates from it's age-old headquarters within the Monarch Academy of Arcana. From Noogle, they oversee the balance of magic and arcane knowledge throughout the empire, and fund Spauria's public education systems. For centuries to come, the Mages Association will continue to push the boundaries of magic and unravel the secrets of science and the cosmos, all the while teaching and training new generations of arcanists and researchers.

The Druidic Circle of the Land is well known in Noogle, holding regular gatherings in the city's forest reserve, which is also a hiding place for the sacred Circle of Elders. There, druidic Elders from across Glaun Encaru gather on a regular basis to discuss matters of nature within the ancient ring of sacred stones. Within the city proper, druids can often be seen administering food and minor acts of healing, whilst outside, experienced members of their circle tend to the surrounding crop fields in order to bring a bountiful harvest to Noogle.

The monks of the Shou Lung Monastery mostly keep to themselves, ready to give themselves to the call of action at a moments notice. However, when they are not training themselves, the monks can be found aiding cityfolk with common tasks, as a service to the everyday Spaurian citizen. This earns the Shou Lung Monastery good favor amongst the people, and allows the organization's eyes and ears to infiltrate Noogle's everyday life.

The most noteworthy factions in Noogle, besides royalty and the Blue Knights of Chyziss, include those of the Monarch Academy of Arcana and the Spaurian Mages Association, as well as the Druidic Circle of the Land, the Shou Lung Monastery of the Open Hand, the Merchant's Guild, and the Crownsoath.

"Secrets"
Paladin Adran marched on down the streets of Noogle in a huff. This is what he got for trying to do something nice. Extra work. What could they have possibly found in that old building that would be worth him making the trip across the city to see it?

Reckless behavior and smart remarks aside, Daskrin had saved lives in the Blizzard Incident. The people of Spauria's capital owed him many thanks, but all that the sneak had received as a reward was property damage, before he fled Noogle on that "contraption." Adran thought that it was, indeed, the least he could do to fix up Daskrin's shop while he was out of town. But evidently, like it's owner, there was more to that dark old building than met the eye.

. ..

"Dragon scales, Pureblood daggers, a holy symbol of theirs... " A copper dragonborn dressed in silvery platemail motioned to the piles of items, now sorted on the floor of the shop's interior. "Plus all nine of the Symphony weapons he recovered from the guild."

"He made them himself," Adran replied as he stared through the hole bored in the ceiling. "They are surprisingly effective. He gifted me with one of his latest models. And if this is about the discrepancies in the paperwork for the building, I told you, I'll take care of it."

"He took more than that from the stronghold," the dragonborn said, ignoring Adran's last remark. Taking a cloth-bound object from one of the servants bustling about, the paladin set it gently on the table before them and unraveled it. A small collection of letters and a dark, leathery tome stared back at them.

"I detected the presence of magic within the building," he said. "It took some time to locate the source, but when I did, I found this. It seems your friend didn't want anyone else finding it."

Adran inspected the tome curiously. Finally, something noteworthy. "What's inside?"

The paladin beside him paused, and scowled. "Nothing good," he said grimly. "But it confirms what the priests told us during our interrogations. This is Steth's journal, and it's powerfully cursed."

Adran's eyes flickered. The wild claims of the Pureblood elite's were true. "Then that thing really was Steth..." he said aloud to himself. "A fitting fate."

"There's more, I'm afraid," the dragonborn said, this time with a confidential hush in his voice, quietly unfolding one of the envelopes, and handing the yellowed letter to Adran.

Taking it in metaled fingers, the high elf examined the letter while his compatriot glanced over his shoulder at the servants. As he pored over the elegantly written note, seized from the bowels of the Pureblood dungeon and tucked away in the cobwebs of an adventurer's dwelling, his interest sharpened; no longer was he thinking about Daskrin, nor the shop, nor the inconvenience of coming all this way. Now, at last, he had before him a rare piece of paperwork that was actually interesting.

More than that. It was...

"'To the High Priest Sarvoldis Ilifiel,'" the dragonborn whispered in Draconic, concealing the book in cloth once more. "It's the first time we've heard his full name from any of the Purebloods. I trust it is familiar to you."

Adran stared at the letter for a long moment, examining something, before folding it again and tucking it in his pack. He breathed a deep sigh. "It's not the name that worries me, Aprax," he said grimly.

"...It's the signature."