Movement between districts is not a matter of simply walking — the Host's magic enforces the boundaries, and residents who wish to cross them must do so aboard the Horizon, Hallia's public tram system, which threads together the city's neighbourhoods and strata along a single named route. The starward end of that route tells its own quiet story of disappointment: buildings thrown up in anticipation of a boom that never came when the line was first laid, and left to age poorly ever since. Voidward, the calculus runs differently — factories crowd the riverbank and discharge freely into the water, and despite sitting geographically close to the city centre, the district remains largely undeveloped and almost entirely unresidential, as though the city has simply declined to look in that direction. Three separate police organisations operate across Hallia, each posting their own bounties for outstanding warrants — a jurisdictional tangle that says something about how unified the city is not.