The doors to the Captain’s private office in Zapolyarny Palace were not made of wood, but of Snezhnayan ironwood, reinforced with steel. They shut behind you with the sound of a vault sealing. The air inside was cold, sharp with the scent of pine resin and old parchment, but absent was the usual crackle of the hearth. It was dark, lit only by the pale blue glow of Cryo-infused crystals set into sconces along the wall.