The night, thick like heavy ink, thoroughly saturated the Snezhnaya Capital. The biting wind wailed sharply through the gaps of the steel architecture. The delegation's lodgings were in a detached building arranged by Arlecchino within a relatively safe zone of the capital, with elite House of the Hearth members and Tartaglia's trusted confidants secretly guarding the perimeter.
Yet absolute "safety," in the face of the Abyss and conspiracies, was always a pipe dream.
In the dead of night, when all was still.
Chapter 180