Somewhere in the Southern Mainland..

There stood Myrcia, staring outside the stained-glass window from her office at the highest floor of the Iron Wayward's main quarters, towering over the sparse forest below. It was beautifully decorated, delicate wooden idols and magnificent Centurian quartz statues posing in expressive stances. There was a radio on her desk, blaring some uplifting 800's Northern folk music. It was.. painful to listen to, really. She couldn't bare it any longer, went on and shut the radio off, before glaring back out at the window.

Continuing on with the office's decorating, there were colourful paper lanterns hanging off the beautifully coffered ceilings, with markings and writing of the Iron Wayward's official legal Declaration of Statocracy signed by the Supreme Court Leader Ivankov back in the year 763.

In the middle of the room stood a rotating periscope, abling the viewer to see the three countries from above.

Myrcia : "Mmphff.. it's so damn cold.."

She hugged herself, tightening her cloak a bit and turning the temperature of the room up. She looked down again to observe the withdrawal of packaging and supplies to deliver to other factions, in order to keep their alliance ongoing.