text:  A tick of a city, fat and happy, with his head buried in a tortured child? My accounting of Amhalad is an homage, true. But there's nothing for you to fear, friend. And so, how does Amhalad exist? How can such a city possibly survive, let alone thrive? Wealthy with no poor, advanced with no war, a beautiful place where all souls know themselves beautiful? It cannot be, you say. Utopia?