The following morning broke with a clear, brilliant sky. The sun rose from the eastern horizon, illuminating the spire-tops of Iron Hearth Castle, which were still dusted with a fine layer of snow. The air was biting, though less severe than it had been weeks prior.
Rianor pushed Elara's wheelchair toward the eastern gate.
The asphalt road beneath them had been cleared of snow by the city workers. To their left and right, factories were already humming into motion, thick plumes of smoke billowing from iron chimneys. The rhythmic hiss of steam engines and the steady clang of forge hammers provided a familiar, industrial backdrop.
"From here," Elara said, pointing toward the south.
