Barenhaven!

From the mist, from the steam, from the soot, the City rises. A shining beacon wrought from iron and stone. Humanity’s song endures; the sound of industry, and the moans of dockside whores. A thousand operas are sung to glorify the capital of the Empire, and more than a million souls exalt the survival of the species with their works.

Barenhaven!

The Demeter has returned home, and you are still alive. Your Mariners cheer as you approach the docks, brackish waves lapping at the rotting wood and rusting metal. The lights of the harbour taverns and brothels welcome you back. You allow yourself a sigh of relief.

And then you spot the patrol boat.