Used to the nauseating ascent and descent through the earth, the traditional method of transportation for the subterranean Hummel, the lift still managed to churn his stomach. He pictured their chamber descending the unnervingly high structure and bit his lip. He spread his feet to steady himself, as though eh thought he was going to free-fall.

“Everything okay?” Larisa watched him with a smile.

“It’s…a little unusual,” he conceded.

“It took years to finally get used to the inertia.” The lift came to a gentle standstill and the doors opened into a grand, well-lit foyer. They filed out onto the first floor and Larisa took the lead. “This way.”

Cydnar inspected his surroundings as they traipsed across the polished marble floor. The upper reaches were industrial and claustrophobic, but the lower levels were decorative and welcoming, a front for whatever charade the government’s agents played with their ‘guests’ above. The inner wall was a half-circle, in which six similar lift shafts were set and each lead naturally to a circular reception just before six wide archways lead out into the white and bustling blare of the inner-city.

“It’s an impressive building.” He thought about his home, and the indomitable temples carved from ancient bedrock which jutted out of the tundra of Salvar’s wilds and felt nostalgic.

“A crown jewel, apparently.” Lugre grunted.

“You don’t think so?”

“Lugre is a fan of function, not form. He’d rather live in a steam and plasma filled workshop covered in rust than appreciate the finer things in life.” Dorn rolled his eyes non-chalant. “He forgets sometimes that not everyone was born from a puddle of grease.”

“Ah,” Cydnar chuckled. “The Hummel have a saying…we’re products of our birth.” He rephrased for their benefit, “our fate is decided early on.”

“Our people held a similar belief.” Larisa nodded to one of the clerks and waved her credentials in her direction. The clerk nodded back and appeared to enter data into the screen before her. Whatever it meant, Cydnar could only guess. “Everyone, regardless of station plays a role in our society. You’re a builder, a soldier, a merchant…an entertainer,” she lingered, and Cydnar had to guess how sordid entertainment was on this world, “everyone contributes based on their aptitudes.”

They ventured out through an archway and came to a halt atop a jet black raised platform that dropped away into an imposing flight of stairs. The building was raised from street level, further adding to it’s dominance of the city skyline. The wide thoroughfare that ran past was teeming with citizens of all shapes and size, walking in chattering groups or speeding past loaded with goods.

“Welcome, Cydnar, to the city-state of Denisha.”

On the opposite side of the street a row of equally imposing block structures enticed shoppers with neon signs and music. The skyline over head was littered with chimneys and palatial glass spires linked together with needle-thin walkways. Though technology clung to every surface, it reminded him of Althanas. The architecture resembled parts of Ettermire and the bardic traditions of Raiaera. Larisa had been sincere when she said the four races had come together as one.