After the narrow escape from Dr. Viceroy and his thugs as well as Count Carlowe's own mother, you made your way into Haven proper. For all of the decadence of the Imperial worlds, the "progress" of free-world Haven is a much different sight.
Over the past few days, you've huddled in a single flat in a squalid set of apartments on rough cobblestone streets. The constables wear masks because the smog is so bad on humid days it's like pea soup. The apartment houses are all built on top of each other, but what's more, they're connected by hundreds of clotheslines, making the place like one sooty spider's web. The memories of that quaint cabin in the park have grown quite fond.
Oh, and best of all, the discovery that women carry parasols to protect them from the refuse and chamber pots thrown out of apartment windows above.
This is Haven.
Tell me, how have you spent the last couple days of "freedom"?