It was known as the City of Lights. Midhaven, so named for its location at the center of the continent, was as large as it was bright, and it was long said that a certain magic flowed through it, even before the opening of the Chasm. The vast, monolithic Ancient Tower at the city center and the surrounding ivory domes and spires crowned the city's skyline, bejeweled with a thousand different colors dancing in the sunlight. The streets flowed straight and true, with clearly marked names and maps at numerous points to ensure wayfarers never got lost. At evening, a city oilbearer would light the lamposts, so that even the nighttime would befriend the sundown travelers. The concrete roads, though worn with time and traffic, never threatened one's footing with cracks or potholes thanks to regular maintenance.

Although there were many wonders still left to behold in the City of Lights, a few of the new arrivals did not come here for the sights. When you enter the city, the soldier escorting you withdraws a map and points to an intersection. "Her Grace's home is here, and I can show you the way if you like. Remember to comb your hair and straighten your coats so you look presentable. Good luck to you."

The Immortal's house, situated on the outskirts of the city, looks more or less like any other house, albeit larger by half and a good deal more...creative. Strange boxes and gadgets dot the walls here and there; in one corner stands a loud box with a spinning fan, and in another corner is a barrel emitting an ugly stench (if you're close enough to smell it). A little further away, nearly hidden behind a pile of deconstructed scrap, a small building emitting steam suddenly makes a loud BANG! and stops emitting steam.

"What the frik-frak!..." comes a singsong voice within the house. It's the voice of a woman, clear and beautiful, if frustrated by the noise in the building out back. When she steps out the front door, the sight of her is enough to take a man's breath away. The rich ebony hue of her skin outlines her strong, subtle figure, while the simple elegance of her white dress and deep gray longcoat give her a homely look quite in contrast to her rank and appearance.

She seems, in a word, inviting. Her name is Winter Valentine, the woman you have come to see.

"I bet it's those freaking turbines again. Oh!" Upon seeing the group of people standing at her gate, she stops, grins sheepishly, and scratches her head. "Ah...ha ha...I forgot, didn't I? Oh, screw the maintenance. That can wait. Come on in!" As she shows the party to a table and chairs in the dining room, she declares, "Luckily, I didn't forget to make a fresh pot of coffee, so there's something to look forward to! There should be enough chairs for- wait, no there aren't. We need one more."

She pulls up a swiveling chair from a nearby desk and wheeled it over. "There. This one's mine. Who wants coffee?"