The sound of haggling merchants, the scent of spice and scorched metal, the press of countless bodies in tight streets, that was what Ben and Elvira expected from Krahal-Zir.
Instead, silence greeted them.
The moment they passed through the scorched iron gates, Ben's brow furrowed. "I should get a refund from those intel rats," he muttered. "This isn't a trade hub.
It's a graveyard."
Krahal-Zir was listed as a mid-tier city.
Its prosperity was supposed to come from its control over its magma channel system.
That made good information scarce.
The Dhurnokh were masters of tunneling and subterranean trade, but even they barely had anything solid on this city.
That was what made it a promising entry point for Ben's plans.
Another vital node to claim for his future revolution.
But what he saw now did not match the reports.
The streets were too empty.
The air was too still.
Buildings leaned under their own weight, their walls cracked and crumbling.
