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Four: Grofen

Grofen, the exact opposite of Spifa in almost every way, still manages to be breathtaking. Spifa, with it's very strict building code, nearly identical buildings and uniform colorings, gives a very polished, refined look to the city.

In contrast,Grofen is as colorful as an overgrown field of wildflowers, and just as haphazerdous looking, to those unaccustomed to the look. If there is a building code at all in Grofen, it's that the house or shop can't look, in any way, like any other structure in the city.

And seeing as Grofen sprawls over much of the valley, that would be extremely difficult to regulate. What's more likely is that if someone painted their house any l color already featured on their street and incorporated less than ten different styles of architecture, their neighbors would shun them, on grounds that they're boring.  Looking down from the top of the mountain, we're far enough away that the city resembles a pointillist painting, except there is no big-picture image, just millions of tiny colorful dots.

As we grow nearer and nearer to the city, I have to say that it grows less impressive. From the top of the mountain, the contrasting neon houses add to the character. Down here, they're just too bright and overwhelming.

As we wind through the streets, heading for the address stamped on the envelope we're carrying, Twila's reaction to the town is similar to how she reacted in Spifa. If given the choice, she would stand and gawk at the quaint little yellow cottage with the victorian wrap-around porch and flat spanish roof on the corner all day. She would immerse herself in the town, entirely forgetting the task at hand. But I'm here to prod her along; we have to please our customers.

It doesn't take us long to deliver the Message. Unlike most other things in Grofen, the addresses are fairly straightforward. Quadrants are numbered and each house has its own letter, which follows the block number on the house sign. ith our experience in finding delivery sites, locating the message's delivery site doesn't take more than an hour.

Meandering back through the city to find someone in need of a Message delivery, we get ensnared by a swarm of people gathering in one of the randomly placed squares. In the middle of the intersection is a wiry man in Grofenite government clothes, standing on what seems to be a foldable pedestal.

"We just got word back from Spifa on our last Message. They have declared war!" He shouts in a voice that carries over the heads of all the crowd members. As he says it, the Grofenites around us alight with fury.

"What do they think they're doing?"

"This has been a long time coming. Finally someone's doing something about it!"

"Them declaring war on us?"
"Let's take em' out!"

"Yes, yes. We will be finally getting revenge for all these years! Ever since they stole Princess Drafia twenty years ago, the whole of Grofen has been waiting for this day! We know we are ready, but they do not! This way, we have the upperhand. If we had declared war, they would surely not underestimate us as they might now. Grofenites shall unite to overtake Spifa, even if it our last act as a nation!" His overly animated arm strokes made him seem almost laughable, had he not been talking about all out war between the two largest kingdoms in the area.

"The draft will begin tomorrow, any able bodied man between the ages of fourteen and thirty, living in Grofen or the surrounding provinces, shall serve Grofen in the war against Spifa," he continues. That's Reed, a little voice in the back of my head says. Our hometown is just outside of Grofen, and the draft overrides even Messenger jobs.

I take Twila by the forearm and beckon for Reed to follow. Bumping constantly into angry Grofenites, we weave our way out of the crowd and, eventually, out of the city.