The Floating Granite Conclave Platforms spanned seventy square miles of suspended mountain stone.
Carved from the leftovers of an ancient earth-shaking ridge, eighteen massive granite giant pillars hung in static gravity floating above the dark mists of the Thousand-Array Deep gap.
Connecting these floating islands were mid-air bridges woven from cold-forged iron links and heavy with defensive ward-towers that bristled with six-foot repeating giant crossbows.
Tens of thousands of fighters, royal diplomats, and guild masters from twelve mortal empires thronged the central promenades.
The air smelled of roasted spirit-chestnuts, spiced wine, and the heavy perfume of high-born entourages.
And walking right through the center of the main walkway, pushing an eight-foot oak carpenter’s workbench on rubber caster wheels, was Class 404.
RATTLE-RATTLE.
The heavy steel caster wheels clattered rhythmically against the stone pavers.
