Meanwhile, on the other side of the continent, the air was cold and crisp. The city of Freyport rose from a vast, ivory blanket of snow, nestled in the cradle of mighty, grey-peaked mountains. It was a modest but striking urban phenomenon. The mountains didn't just frame the city; they built it. Nearly every structure was crafted from the local stone, giving Freyport a sturdy, timeless, and unified look—as if the city had been carved directly from the earth.
The skyline was not one of soaring towers, but of solid, medium-height buildings with steep, snow-shedding roofs, their designs telling stories of a practical past, a resilient present, and a cautious future. Despite the cold, parks and gardens flourished in sheltered courtyards, their evergreen shrubs and hardy flowers drawing admiration. The city was a quiet melting pot, where the influences of hardy human settlers, mountain clans, and passing traders were etched into the stonework and the local customs.
