Sector XII of the Urbs Roma is a realm of rugged practicality and no-nonsense vigour. The air carries the acrid tang of sweat and smoke, as blacksmiths hammer at anvils and soldiers drill in tight formation, their commands echoing off the worn cobblestones. The buildings here are constructed with thick, undecorated stone, marked strictly for purpose rather than elegance, and the streets are made up of narrow alleyways topped by low-roofed barracks that crowd together. The few public fountains that break up the rigidity are simple, utilitarian affairs without the pomp that engulfs much of the rest of the city, and leather awnings stretch over the few stalls that set up here: usually blacksmiths touting their goods to the barracks. The sound of metal against metal is common here as soldiers train in the various grounds that fill the area, lined with gnarled olive trees that have long since lost their fruit. The few non-military residents that reside here are equally hardened, unbending to the refined arrogance that is commonplace elsewhere.
