You walk into a meeting room under the city of Albion in a re-claimed cellar under the city. Torches light up the room, it’s warm; almost uncomfortably so. As you pass by tables full of plans, manuscripts and banned books, you come across an opening into a makeshift meeting room. There must’ve been 50 people crowded around a table. At the head of the table was one man who smiled a sly smile, everyone looked at him with reverence.

“Well isn’t this a pleasure.” Ezekiel smirked.