Once the group reached Solania, the sprawl of the city opened beneath them like a frozen sea of rooftops and towers, the air heavy with the bite of early winter. Smoke curled thin from chimneys, half-swallowed by the pale fog rolling off the mountains. The streets were busy but subdued, every step echoing with the presence of soldiers whose armor gleamed dull beneath the gray sky. The group paused at the crossroads just beyond the northern gate, and here they parted ways, Sigurd's party heading directly toward the cathedral district where the Sacrosanctum's monument statues and massive building was still visible even from so far away.
The city itself looked like a holy city for all sort of people, from the commoners, to the noble and pilgrim, and the mix of guards and paladins in it gave it a surreal feel, though tension could be felt from all over it. After all the pope had passed away and new monsters are threatening to pour down the city.
