The weather had been growing colder by the day, and it was even more so in the outskirts under the night sky, but for a powerful supernatural Knight and a Dragonborn, this bit of chill clearly meant nothing.
Asharena stood quietly on the starlit hill. The imperial capital, illuminated by ten thousand lights, was like a jewel set on the banks of the White River, shining in her eyes with a radiance far more brilliant than the stars above. Several winding bands of light stretched out from the city, extending beneath the night into the depths of the dark plains, connecting to those more distant clusters of lamps—that was the highways and railways, busy day and night, like arteries carrying the blood of the Empire across this land.
