The Grand Conclave of Hammerhal governs the mightiest of the free cities, a colossal metropolis that straddles a realmgate to stand with one half in Aqshy and the other in Ghyran. To rule such a place is to rule two worlds at once, and the Conclave's chambers ring with the endless quarrels of guild-masters, Devoted priests, Freeguild generals, and the aloof envoys of the Stormcast Eternals.
Each faction of the Conclave pursues its own ambitions — the merchant guilds their profits, the temples their crusades, the generals their glory — and it is a wonder that the city functions at all. Yet function it does, for the alternative is ruin, and even the most grasping guild-master knows that a city fallen to Chaos yields no dividends. The Conclave's edicts shape the lives of millions who will never glimpse its marble halls.
Hammerhal is a beacon of civilisation and thus a target beyond price, and the Conclave must forever balance the coin of trade against the sword of defence. It brokers pacts with the Kharadron Overlords and musters its Freeguilds for war, all while the enemies of Order press at its distant frontiers. To sit upon the Conclave is to hold the fate of the free peoples in one's ledger — and to know that a single misjudgement might doom two realms at once.
The registry continues
