[Verdantis: Capital City]
The Verdantis Capital was unrecognizable.
Dante strode through the streets, his every step slow—a man not truly walking toward anything, but simply moving, adrift in the tide of celebration that swelled around him.
The Festival of Octavia had transformed the bleak, snow-cloaked city into something almost otherworldly. Verdantis, a nation of discipline and cold pragmatism and faith, had for once cast aside its solemn mantle. The stone streets were lined with hanging banners of deep crimson and gold, swaying with the winds. Ornate statues of Octavia, the Goddess of War, Magic, and Navigation, loomed at every plaza, each one different from the next.
Yet the people did not pray today.
No—today was for revelry.
