Dawn in the capital of the Iron Empire never brought warmth.
The thick, ashen sky constantly pressed down on the land, blurring the line between night and day.
Beyond the ventilation grates of the mid-level cells in The Iron Citadel, there was no streak of orange from the rising sun. There was only the dull, sickly yellow glow of vapor lamps struggling to pierce the thick smog of the factories.
This city knew no dawn. It only knew the changing of shifts.
Inside the steel cell, the Northreach delegation concluded a night of high alert. They had slept in shifts, keeping their guard up so it wouldn't be dulled by exhaustion.
CLACK! CREAK!
The lock turned earlier than scheduled. The steel door swung open with a harsh screech.
Blinding light from the corridor pierced through. Two elite inquisitor guards in pitch-black uniforms stood rigidly at the threshold.
A dry, monotone baritone echoed.
"Get ready. The second trial is beginning."
