King’s Landing is a city of contrasts, where splendor and squalor intertwine. Perched on the edge of Blackwater Bay, it sprawls chaotically across three great hills, crowned by the imposing Red Keep. Its narrow, winding streets pulse with life—a cacophony of merchants hawking their wares, beggars pleading for coin, and the ever-watchful gold cloaks keeping uneasy order.

The stench of the city is unmistakable, a mix of salty sea air, roasting meat, and the foul reek of open sewers. Nobles in gilded carriages pass ragged urchins in Flea Bottom, their worlds separated by thin walls but divided by a chasm of wealth and power.

Above it all, the Iron Throne casts its shadow, a seat of ultimate authority forged from the swords of a thousand vanquished enemies. In King’s Landing, ambition is the lifeblood, secrets are currency, and the faintest misstep can lead to ruin. It is not just the heart of the Seven Kingdoms—it is a living, breathing testament to the glory and decay of Westeros itself.