"Huwdone House dates back to the early 1000's, to the great construction project which built the heart of the Cities. Christoté was still young and was viewed as a unique experiment - seven nations voluntarily merging together simply because it was the sensible thing to do. The capital seat reflected the novelty as well as the peaceful intentions of the federation. Huwdone House is a single great structure, broad and six very high stories tall. It forms an approximate square but its corners are rounded and the walls curve gently throughout their length. The exterior of the walls are thickly lain with marble, gleaming white but shot throughout with vivid pink veins. The windows, in contrast, are of a blackened glass which is almost opaque from the outside. The absence of almost any other form of decoration is one feature often commented on. The apparent absence of a roof is another. The four walls slowly curve towards each other and, from the ground, seem to meet high above. In fact a flat roof lies about twenty feet below their tops, and on it stands a hidden garden which is the Chancellor's private retreat. Public opinion was said to be in a quandary when Huwdone House was first built. Eventually people decided they liked it; and because it generates extreme reactions, they then declared it to be great and wondrous, a fabulous symbol for the new federation. Even today the building, if not necessarily those who work there, is held to epitomise everything which is right in Christoté."
(from A Shining Light)
"Over the years Huwdone House has expanded from a single building into a rather sprawling annex. Various buildings have been erected around the back, existing ones on either side have been incorporated into the overall complex and a hundred years ago, to great outcry, a new and ugly wing was tacked onto its northern end. However, from Parliament Square which lies outside the main entrance, Huwdone House still holds true to its original form. That is, a huge and unnerving slab of marble which appears a creation of neither man or nature but something carved in the heavens and dropped down to earth. Its walls, well over a hundred feet tall, form a great white oblong, stark and severe but ever so subtly curved along their length so the sides bulge gently out between its rounded corners. No roof is visible, just a dip where the walls end, and the absence of almost every architectural commonplace is part of the unearthly appearance of Huwdone House. No guttering lines its walls, no chimneys protrude up, no carvings adorn the marble. There are no eaves or sills, columns or frescoes, balconies or arches. Almost the only decoration is the veins of the marble itself, pencil-thin scarlet lines which run wildly across the building. Originally shot into the stone by magic, the veins seem to squirm and pulse when the light is right and leave the disturbing impression that the house has a living, alabaster skin. Starkly contrasting the walls are the windows, tall, narrow and apparently black, made with a special glass resistant to both light and force; only close inspection reveals the dark pains to be stained with sombre pictures. Another break comes from the main door itself, a great black iron portal which is quite unnecessarily grim given the peaceful nature of the government it protects. Above the door hangs a long line of flags and pendants, the central one being the seven stars of Huwdone which represent the seven states of the federation. The impact of Huwdone House from Parliament Square is enhanced because the building runs almost directly onto the flagstones, surrounded merely by a low chain fence. It leaps out on passers-by, towering high over them, casting an air of dominance which is less overt than the aggression of a fortress but is, in a way, more unsettling. Huwdone House looks eternal and it looks invincible. Its rulers can proudly boast that in all the years it has stood, it has never been singed by the touch of war. They also say that the first hint of a siege would crack it open like an egg; and that is rather the point.
The main body of Huwdone House was completed in 1021. In the ceremonial opening of his new seat of government, Chancellor Rudanc Masterson proclaimed it to be "A radically new epicentre for a radically new nation. This beautiful and grand building will become a symbol... which epitomises Christoté." They were arguably the only true words which Chancellor Masterson ever uttered in public. The like of Huwdone House had never been seen before and its audacity dumbfounded the world. And while it has been a clear, even runaway, success, no-one has ever dared imitate it."
(from City Hobgoblins)
Pascar's Quorom
"Pascar's Quorum is Huwdone House's main reception chamber and offers a sight of the government at its most grandiose. Though the room is not large its ceiling is as high as that of the adjacent Parliament Hall, which is immensely so, and the sheer scale is initially disconcerting. A threatening chandelier drops down an unimaginable distance to lurk over the room. It lights up the chequerboard floor tiles, the long rows of couches circling the walls and, behind them, the great statues nestling in the alcoves. Virtually all the past rulers of Christoté glare down at newcomers to Huwdone House. From Tars Tukas himself to Rudanc Masterson, whose divisive rule prompted the Garreday Uprisings, to Casp Hianthi, assassinated in the Second Civil War, to Myers Lianti, emblem of the 1200's 'golden age,' to Elzerbeth Cooper, the first woman to be elected Chancellor; all watch impotently as the country they once governed slips further beyond their recognition. In 1331 a statue was even being made of Piers Acrippa, Tatel's hapless predecessor, though presumably not capturing his characteristic expression of senile complacency."
(from The Innocents)
Chancellor's Office, 6th Floor:
"The Chancellor's Office has always been the subject of great interest, and one of his regrets about his old arrangement with Lord Brightson was that it prevented him seeing what Tatel had done with the room. Some of the permanent features he already knew about, from various paintings and etchings. There were the tall tinted windows which took up most of the southern wall and offered inky but panoramic views of the rooftops of Jalkin, the Brulos curling away to the left and the towers and arches of Dorlaf Avenue just visible to the right. There was the huge mural which filled the shorter east wall, depicting Tars Tukas' first meeting with the other six kings of the countries which would eventually form Christoté; the encounter stylised to resemble a scholastic seminar, rather than the tense pact between a bunch of warlords which it actually was. There were, on the other walls, more murals illustrating every major event which had befallen Christoté; the formation of the Confederacy, the Garreday Uprisings, the Civil Wars and, tacked on the end, the Labbish invasion, all basically portrayed as being lots of men shouting at each other in various costumes. And there were the triple-chandeliered ceilings, the golden window seats, the purple velvet carpet and the rest of the paraphernalia used to unsubtly hammer home the importance of the room.
"But the character of the office has varied according to the Chancellor, and its precise appearance is said to hold clues as to how the incumbent wields their power. Under 'Mad' Myers Lianti, a deceptively eccentric Chancellor who ruled in the middle of the last century, the office had been filled with clockwork toys, illusion paintings and miniature magical artefacts which spouted tiny flames. Visiting Emissaries would stare at them and realise the old boy really had gone senile, until they discovered they'd distractedly agreed to support his proposed bills to raise Federal Tax, plough more money into poor relief and open up the last remaining professions to women. Later under the brilliant but meglomanical Sebastin Tannerz, the office had been turned into a courtroom of Old Kingdom of Dorlaf proportions. Tannerz had thrown out the existing desks, bought a huge and baroque chair to sit in and gave grand audiences flanked by henchmen and fawners. During the reign of Sebsen Acrippa, Chela Tatel's predecessor, the office had been almost deserted, with Acrippa preferring to roam the country or, later on, just potter around his country estate while the power centres shifted to the residences of the likes of Lord Brightson. Rumours said that the office's doors had rusted shut, that moss covered the carpet and that strange beasties lurked and bred in the corners, though they possibly weren't true.
"And then came Chela Tatel, and the Chancellor's Office became a simple office again. Papers were rustled, pens were scratched, minds hummed busily in attempted thought. Three men in the scruffy apparel of Jalkin Town Councillors poured over maps spread across one table. A cherubic faced girl in a bright yellow dress had trapped a perspiring Emissary in a corner and was audibly trying to pin him to an appointment date. Two Human Foreheads worked just under the Tukas mural, one sorting parchments into piles and the other slotting them into a huge black filing cabinet. Making one of the window seats creak was the ample frame of Lord Fortraine - Kenner had to double-take to check it was really him - the Baron of Dorlaf and third most powerful man in the country, a'draped in all his splendour and earnestly scribbling in a leather tome. There were small tables and desks everywhere, and books, bookcases, filing cabinets, inkpots, ledgers and above all paper, paper, at least half a converted forest. And though it was doubtlessly efficient, the appearance was as much an artifice as Sebastin Tannerz' quasi-throne or any past gimmicks. Chela Tatel, despite her regal appearance and manners, was following the strong Christotan tradition of running a prosaic, anti-monarchical government. That saying again - the Chancellor isn't something which you are, it is something which you do.
"Tatel had jettisoned the huge chair. Thinking back, Kenner remembered she had forced the Tannerz clan to buy the ghastly object as a family heirloom and given the money to poor relief; a nice slap at the memory of the late Sebastin, who wasn't the most egalitarian of fellows. She had installed a desk of equally epic proportions, however, and promptly filled it with - well, have a guess. She had also hung a vast map of Christoté on the wall behind her, not the Here-Be-Dragons type often used for decoration but an instrumental Guards-issue model packed with tiny writing labelling every hamlet and hillock.""Technically a portico ever since the northern extension wing enclosed it from the open air, it is a long and richly carpeted walkway running alongside the great hall where Parliament sits. It was new territory for Kenner, who usually clung to the back walls when passing through Huwdone House and wouldn't enter the Bennett Alcoves if you paid him handsomely. Under its arched ceilings, around its ornate columns, illuminated by the soft light of its hanging soulster lanterns, it is reckoned that up to sixty per cent of the Cities' plots, betrayals and machinations are planned. Though Parliament was in recess so close to Garreday, shady groups of Emissaries and other wrongdoers could be seen vanishing into the gloom."
(from City Hobgoblins)"The rear of the 'House of Marble', closed to the public, is a less edifying sight. The great inspiration had ran dry by the time the back of the complex was planned. And a characteristic of the Cities is that if things aren't done properly the first time around, it can be centuries before they are remedied. The back door opens onto a dirty paved courtyard, its sole decoration a lonely statue of one of the nation's less memorable rulers. Miscellaneous ramshackle buildings, stables, storerooms and the like, surround the courtyard, nestling onto the high compound walls for support. In context, the tall, gleaming wall of Huwdone itself which dominates the western end looks incongruous rather than stirring. More in character is the building facing it, the ugly stone structure Kenner had seen from the office window. Alone of Huwdone House's buildings, it appears capable of withstanding a siege of more than twenty soldiers. Fittingly, it is the barracks for the Huwdone Guardsmen."
(from A Shining Light)
"...everything about the interior of the Huwdone House barracks smacks of the rich and easy life, in stark contrast to the grim, utilitarian appearance of the exterior. The low roof of the main entrance hall draws attention to vivid ceiling murals depicting scenes of battling Gods, ostensibly and ostentatiously held up by two parallel spiralled colonnades. Tapestries and paintings, again of battles, adorn the walls, some weathered by time, others with the colours still striking, all looking very expensive. Along the far wall hangs a long line of flags and trophies. The unit's own standard of seven stars set on a shield crossed by two pikes lies in the very centre. It is flanked by a collection of arms, swords and standards from many different countries, supposedly captured in battle but almost certainly purchased. A huge steel-rimmed mirror hangs by the entrance door, presumably so that Guardsmen can preen themselves before going on parade. In the centre of the room is a vast Elvish wood dining table surrounded by stiff chairs, but smaller tables and reclining couches are scattered elsewhere. The whole effect is of a multi-functional room in an aristocratic home, and this is intentional. Huwdone House does its bodyguards well in barracks - the bedrooms are small but luxurious - because unlike with other regiments it is compulsory to sleep in them, and also because of the class of men they aim to attract."