On the other side of the 14 Great Kingdoms, amongst the brilliant and powerful wildlands of the North, lies the already-ruined and irremediable Free City of Jiz'Kan. While one's vision might be attracted towards the mountain-like shape and immesuarable size of the layout, the fact of it's undoing remains present. The people here are saggy and weathered, clinging onto whatever coin they have left to survive in this phantom-like place.

While Jiz'Kan has been a conurbation free of Imperial charges, nobles, and laws, it remains that human nature takes it's own. While Household of Vordt cannot be considered an 'official' ruling power, seeing how Lord Kan, when he had found the hold hundreds of years ago and fought for the Empire to recognize it's independence, had not recognized a successor, passing away his Will of Kan, which is interpreted as a myth across the province, reading 'Sole man shall conquer the Storm and be thine ruler, Liege of the Free City, hereby claiming the Legacy of Kan'. Dating today, Kan and his legacies became lost to the ages, leaving only a few true to his cause. While those few have formed a minor seat of power within Jiz'Kan, naming it the Concord of Kan, the Household of Vordt remains unmoved and unwilling to recognize their influence. The current person factually holding the Throne of Storms, while not approved by the Concord, remains the 11th son of Vordt, claiming his House to be the righteous ruler of the land, holding the position already for over thirty years without challenge.

Two men, bruised and tired from the journey on foot behind them, finally sigh in relief upon entering this community. While they cannot say that this is the most pleasant experience they have had, it remains that Jiz'Kan can offer shelter and food for anyone traveling further North, much like them. Walking up the ramping streets, they couldn't help but notice the breathtaking details of an old town that replace the illusion of an abysmal wasteland: the buildings that still stand are grand, but also ragged and weathered, as they have been fashioned out of the remains of other broken holds, using the space to its fullest, leaving the streets quite narrow and unkept. The design, while appears to be influenced by the Empire, with grey bricks and slate-tiled roofs, is revealed to be a mixture of multiple cultures, some even from outside the continent. The guarding power, although appearing to be few, consists of notable elites, names of which are known to the land, even outside the thick city walls. The few bazaars that do exist within the space have been mostly dried of any valuables or goods, leaving only a few stalls and boutiques that supply the folk with clothing, food, and materials.

One of the two men grabs and bites into a fresh piece of dried meat from one of the stalls. Flipping a single piece of silver to the old butcher beside the counter, he said:

"That's some pretty shite stuff you got there. There's more bone than meat on this thin little slab!" - he exclaimed, deliberately trying to draw attention.

"S..sorry, good sir. My st-tocks have been running dry, please, f-f-forgive me. I can bring a better piece." - the old man, while seemed well-built for his age, was shrinking down in front of this man.

"Phah! I don't have the kind of time to wabble around your shitty butchery." - he leaned over the counter and grabbed the old man by his neck, pulling himself closer to him and whispering: "Wul zklaen ocuir sia rak.". The butcher replied: "Rak Kan drig. Tower of the Seven Suns, friend.'. The man pulled back with his companion, disappearing into the streets as if nothing had happened.

"What was that all about?" - his companion curiously asked.

"You do not need to know. All that matters is that we have been granted passage." - the man pulled up a piece of cloth over his face.

"Passage? Where? I thought we're heading for the Strakgar Keep in the North?"

"We will, eventually. I have some business to attend to here, and it will be good for your own experience to follow."

"Right, sir."

The wind was chilly, and the clouds were growing ever so darker with the passing of minutes. While the many residents of Jiz'Kan were closing down for night's rest, the guard remained ever vigilant, like never-sleeping guardians. While this put the two men off, they remained in their silent steps towards a specific area within the city walls. Traversing the muddy streets and crossing ruined buildings, just as the sun had set and the first lights of the night's watch rose, they came upon a fenced off area of Jiz'Kan: a forbidden district, guarded by dozen of the elite's watch - a desolate and menacing neighbourhood of a hundred households, most of which are left in phantom vestige.

The man quickly grabbed his companion and they silently moved around one of the darker corners, closest to the guarded fence. With a swift thought, as the shadows coalesced around their space, both of them immediately appeared on the other side of the fence, leaving no trace or sound behind.

"Woah! I didn't know you can do that, master!" - the other man was excited.

"Shh, you dumb fool! There will be no use in my skills if you are to make a sound!"

With that, both of them started slowly traversing the area, heading towards one of the most notable buildings within the space - a crumbled white tower.