Avendale! The "City of Coins." A fitting name for a city whose heart beats to the rhythm of clinking gold pieces. I remember a time, ages past, when the Sellen River was choked with pirates and cutthroats, but even then, Avendale was a beacon of sorts... for those with enough steel in their spine and coin in their purse.
The city itself sits proudly on the northern bank of the Sellen River. Unlike some settlements that grow from a tiny hamlet, Avendale was born from a very specific and pragmatic need. It was founded not by some great king or conquering hero, but by a collection of weary mercenary captains who simply needed a place to rest, resupply, and, most importantly, get paid without having to worry about a treacherous ruler suddenly deciding to confiscate their hard-earned spoils. And so they created a city where a contract, signed and sealed, was a sacred bond.
Its government, if you can call it that, is not a crown or a council of elders, but the Guild of Iron. It is a council of the most successful and powerful mercenary companies that call the city home. Think of it as a gathering of grizzled war veterans who have seen enough blood to know that a stable economy is far more profitable than a power struggle. They rule not through divine right or noble birth, but through reputation, battle prowess, and a truly impressive amount of gold. They have a strict, if simple, set of laws, and a surprisingly efficient way of enforcing them.
Walk its cobbled streets, and you will not see the ornate statues of old kings or the spires of grand temples. Instead, the skyline is a jumble of fortified barracks, sprawling inns, and robust market halls. The air is thick with the scent of blacksmiths' forges, the savory smell of roasting meat from a dozen taverns, and the quiet, metallic scent of coin. The great central hub is the Mercenary's Rest, a massive structure that serves as a grand meeting hall, a place to sign contracts, and where a bard can earn a silver piece just for knowing a good, rousing battle ballad. I once saw a dwarven warrior try to settle a dispute over a contract there—with a mace—but the other party simply pulled out a second contract that had been notarized, and the dwarf, after grumbling a great deal, simply paid him. A contract is a contract, even in a tavern brawl!
Avendale's existence is a testament to its location and its peculiar culture. It sits at a crossroads: the Sellen River providing passage to the south, and the untamed Echo Wood to the north, offering timber, game, and a host of dangers that enterprising adventurers can be paid to handle. To the east and west are the ever-shifting territories of the River Kingdoms, which means there is always a need for a hired sword, a sharp bow, or a clever rogue.
The city's stability is not in its walls—though it has them—but in its very nature. It is a place of business, not of politics. It is a haven for those who live by their wits and their strength, and as a result, it is one of the more dependable settlements in a region known for its complete lack of dependability.