The gloomy snowstorm licked the sky of the Empire's new city.
The sky, darkened by the fog emitted from the solemn megacity, was shrouded, with skyrails like veins connecting the city. Black and gold trains spewed steam above, traveling through the jungle of steel.
The next moment, an intricately designed hover vehicle emerged from the thick fog, descending towards the city center's municipal hall.
The pale gold door slowly opened, and a young man dressed in a pure white custom-tailored suit leaned out, stepping onto the smooth back of a female slave as he disembarked, casting a look of disdain at the surroundings.
One must understand, true aristocrats of the Empire have always represented the glory of the Prophet, residing aloof in the Sanctuary Fortress, never approaching the filthy earth.
Vena never quite understood why Uncle Blood Vulture would build his office in such a low place.
