They walked side-by-side across the castle courtyard, which had now grown quiet. Along the stone pathways, crystal streetlamps cast a soothing, golden-yellow glow that warmed the chill of the night.
The moment they stepped through the main gates of the imposing black fortress, the nighttime panorama of the city forced Elodie to halt in her tracks.
Iron Hearth at night was a modern metropolis that flatly refused to sleep.
The main asphalt avenue—wide enough for two horse carriages to pass comfortably—was brilliantly illuminated by electric lamps suspended neatly from towering metal poles. Their golden radiance was incredibly stable, refusing to flicker in the night wind like kerosene torches, and entirely free of the stinging black smoke produced by obsolete oil lanterns.
