Early winter descended upon Azure Fall City with the weight of a falling iron portcullis. The relentless, freezing winds howling down from the jagged peaks of the Kurogane Mountain Range froze the muddy streets into treacherous, jagged ruts of hardened brown ice. The skies remained a perpetual, bruised gray, dropping flurries of dry snow that coated the newly rebuilt iron-stone ramparts and the peaked roofs of the merchant district. Beyond the city walls, the landscape was a frozen, inhospitable wasteland, enforcing a mandatory, grueling pause on all large-scale military maneuvers.
Yet, while the common soldiers shivered in drafty longhouses and huddled around smoky charcoal braziers, the opulent, heavily warded private estate claimed by Alaric Steele remained an oasis of sweltering heat, heavy incense, and profound physical indulgence.
