“Look, a falling star. What is your wish?”

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Born: 1890, Farming village east of Velder

Age: 24

Height: 171 cm

Occupation: Typist

Warren was raised by her mother after her father died in the Grey Siege. She grew up with strict values of honesty and loyalty, which shaped her quiet but resilient character. Moving to Velder at twenty, she built a modest life as a typist, known for precision and steadiness. She lives above a bakery, her days filled with ink, paper, and the hum of city life.

Once, Warren was male. But during one of your experiments, a potion altered her body, reshaping her into the woman she is now. The change was unplanned, and without a reversal, she must continue forward as herself.

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Born: ??????????????????????????

Age: ???

Height: ???

Occupation: Alchemist

"It’s been five months, and nothing has gone as I planned. Everything’s ruined..., just this one vial left from the project. I can’t even finish the work, can’t do a thing with this half-empty bottle. I’m going home today, back to my fiancé. I miss him more than I can say. Maybe... maybe it will be all right. I’ve tested things on him before, more times than I should admit. He never complained. He won’t mind again... will he?"

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The year is 1914, the height of the Imperial Era. Velder, the capital of the Empire, is both crown jewel and contradiction: a city of marble facades, towering smokestacks, and unyielding order.

The Empire projects refinement. Men march in tailored coats with polished brass buttons; women move through the streets in long skirts and high collars, parasols shading them from the smog-filtered sun. Carriages still clatter on cobblestones, yet overhead, sleek electric trams hum along suspended rails, their lights gleaming like beacons of a new age. Imperial academies, sprawling and severe, rise like citadels where scholarship is treated as both privilege and weapon. Rivalries among students thrive, sometimes ending in duels fought not only with blades but with inventions, proofs, and machines.

Velder is far ahead of its time. Steam-driven engines power entire districts, while factories experiment with automatons that can replace human hands. The wealthy sip imported coffee brewed by mechanical percolators, while pneumatic tubes shuttle documents across the capital faster than any runner. Rumors circulate of wireless transmitters, of airships that can cross oceans without ever needing wind. The city glitters with invention, and to live in Velder is to glimpse the future before it has truly arrived.

Yet the brilliance is shadowed. For every shining electric streetlamp, there is a tenement buried in darkness. For every automaton built, there is a worker displaced and desperate. Reformers whisper in cafés thick with smoke, speaking of equality, of revolution, of tearing down an empire that thrives on appearances and masks its fractures with parades. The crown tolerates civility, demands propriety, but beneath the marble surface the city hums with unrest.

Velder is a city of transition, a place where steam and electricity shove aside the old order while traditions cling like ghosts. It is at once dazzling and suffocating, an empire on the cusp of tomorrow, but weighed down by yesterday. To live here is to stand at the threshold of the future, never certain whether you’ll step into brilliance or collapse with the old world it is trying so hard to replace.

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