The eastern district of the Conclave's central valley was a different world. The air here was less perfumed with the scent of exotic trade goods and more with the clean, sharp smell of polished steel, oiled leather, and the faint, almost imperceptible hum of contained power.
Here, the flamboyant pavilions of the west gave way to the spartan, disciplined encampments of the Celestial Dragon Empire and the Kensei Shogunate. It was a place of warriors, and it carried a different, more dangerous kind of energy.
As Alaric and his procession of beauties walked past the Dragon Empire's barracks, a low, appreciative whistle cut through the air.
