GtddtMorning settled over Tynoon with the measured confidence of a city that had learned to wake before the sun had fully claimed the sky. In Zone 8, the capital of Tempest did not ease into the day so much as sharpen itself for it. The streets below the palace were already alive with movement, from merchants drawing back the shutters of their stalls to patrol officers moving in disciplined pairs through the main avenues.
Carriages rolled along polished stone roads, their wheels clicking over grooves worn into place by years of traffic, while citizens crossed broad bridges and open plazas beneath banners marked with the Tempest crest. The air carried the faint scent of rain from the night before, mixing with the warmth of fresh bread, oiled steel, brewed tea, and the distant metallic rhythm of training yards beginning their morning drills.
