t has always been my pleasure to visit in the realm of Farad, the King of Arland. Of all the monarchs I have treated with, while in the service of Tarant, I have always found his company the most congenial. Indeed, I have often told him that I will buy a villa in his capitol, when I am at last permitted to retire from public life! If and when the yoke of duty is lifted, I think my heart will always lead me to Caladon.

This is not to say that Caladon is a quiet place by any means, fit only for old men in their dotage; indeed, in recent years it has become one of the busiest places in Arcanum. Visitors to the city will find a thriving, striving, energetic metropolis, which in some ways offers the best of all possible worlds: the benefits of Tarant's Technology, but without the terrible cost. The people of Caladon have embraced the steam engine and all its wonders, but this power is used selectively and behind closed doors whenever possible; never will you see the ugly exposed pipes so common in Tarant, or factories pouring a vile flux into the ocean. The standards of the city flutter always in a wholesome blue sky.

Farad's palace guard are armed with rifle and bayonet, but the ceremonial saber is still worn at every man's hip; the King, despite his love of new ideas, is not prepared to abandon entirely the ancient traditions of his city. In this, I think, he is wise; I see in Caladon what Dernholm might have been, were the city less proud, and even what Tarant might have been, had its people not been so consumed by the love of gold. Farad does not allow his people to build their own factories; he encourages instead the growing of silk and spices, the farming of pearls and the mining of salt in the northern reaches of his kingdom. These are the things which his people trade for the finished goods that Tarant provides; their industry leaves the white walls and towers of Caladon unstained by coal, and the waters that lap the beach in summer time innocent and bright.

The citizens of Caladon are a rich mix, with many races and creeds mingling always in the city streets. Technology does not hold supreme sway over Magick; there is still a Wizard's Quarter, and even a small Academy of Arts. In the interplay of diverse peoples lies the energy and passion of the city. There a thousand temples and shrines, each offering to a different god, goddess or power. In the parks at noon, the students of many schools and colleges gather in the shade of the trees to eat the midday meal, read their books, and argue their own opinions while sheltering from the hot sun...