In the second month after the Battle of the Holy City ended, Crystalrock City, the capital of the Jade Federation, remained ablaze with lights.
The city resembled a sliced-open ore deposit, its layers sharply divided from top to bottom.
The farther down one went, the murkier the colors became; the farther up, the colder the light.
The top-floor conference room hovered above the city like a crystal embedded in the clouds.
Enormous floor-to-ceiling windows placed all of Crystalrock City beneath their feet, yet allowed those inside only to look down.
Yellow-green poisonous fog churned through the streets and factory districts like a sea of miasma that would never disperse.
Millions of mine slaves and low-ranking craftsmen crawled through it, their lungs long corroded by crystal dust and metal shavings. The blood they coughed up was considered part of the job.
Scalding pipes crisscrossed the districts, with figures crawling between them, falling, and being dragged away.
Some willingly signed contracts transferring ownership of their organs in exchange for a piece of inferior bread.
The hiss of leaking steam, the thunder of pistons, and the wails of the dying were compressed into a low, relentless noise that surged up from the depths of the city.
But before it reached the top floor, it was cut off completely.
The conference room was silent. An expensive soundproofing barrier shut out every stray noise.
The air, too, had passed through several layers of alchemical filtration. It carried a fresh fragrance of mint mixed with gold dust, and breathing it required no effort at all.
Clement, chairman of the Jadeglow Guild and speaker of the council, stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A deep-purple velvet suit fitted his frame, and the raw magic stone atop his cane refracted a cold light.
Lady Isabella, chairwoman of the Silver