The morning sun did not rise over the capital port; it bled into the sky like a bruised peach.
As the colossal imperial vessel docked against the stone piers, the grand, shimmering spires of the capital loomed in the distance.
The architecture was undoubtedly magnificent, boasting towering structures shaped like inflated, prickly spheres and grand arches that mimicked the wide, gaping mouths of deep-sea creatures. It was a testament to the empire's maritime supremacy, a place of historical grandeur.
Yet, to the soul currently trapped inside the body of the Duchess Scarlet, it looked like one giant, depressing monument to seafood.
*(Look at this place. It's the Puffer Fish Kingdom. Literally. The whole aesthetic is just aggressive marine life. Ugh.)*
