In a dark corner of the city, far from the celebrating crowds on the main thoroughfare, far from the fluttering banners and blaring music.
Here there were only the deep shadows cast by high walls, damp air lying stagnant in narrow alleys, and patches of moss on the walls gleaming dark green in the dim light.
By the time the laughter and cheers reached this place, they had grown faint and indistinct, like sounds from another world.
Two warriors of the Iron Hands Legion stood there in silence, their armor gleaming with a cold metallic sheen in the dim light, utterly at odds with the cheerful atmosphere created by the surrounding banners and flowers.
They had chosen their position with great care, right in the angle between two buildings, where an overhanging roof blocked the view from the street. Unless someone deliberately searched for them, no one would ever notice the two figures standing there.
Their movements were swift and efficient, with no unnecessary conversation, only brief exchanges of glances and gestures.
Years of fighting side by side had forged an unspoken understanding between them. A glance or a gesture was enough to convey every instruction.
One of them crouched and gently set the enormous metal canister on his back down on the ground.
The base of the canister struck the ground with a dull thud that sounded especially clear in the quiet corner.
He looked up, exchanged a glance with his companion, then nodded.
The other knelt on one knee, his fingers dancing across the canister's Control Panel as he entered a complex sequence of commands.
Once the final command was confirmed, the indicator on the Control Panel changed from red to green, emitting a crisp beep that echoed through the quiet corner.
Hiss—
The canister's valve slowly opened,