High Ward, Springdale.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, its fading light gently washed over the City Hall.
Delegates from every member state exited the building as the Sovereign Conclave drew to a close. The day's former proceedings had ended, policies debated, compromises struck, and decisions made that would shape the Union's future.
The city itself showed no signs of slowing. Music, lights, and crowds still filled the streets, and the festivities promised to last well into the night.
But inside the hall, the serious work was done. Some delegations left satisfied, having secured the alliances or concessions they sought. Others departed in subtle frustration, forced to accept outcomes they hadn't hoped for.
Prince Marlow Fireborne emerged among them, surrounded by his retinue of Ignisra nobles. His posture was relaxed, his expression composed. By his measure, the Conclave had gone well.
