In the Solar System.
A little above Saturn, the ''Kingdom' gleamed—a colossal space station orbiting the Sun, locked in step with the ringed planet's slow, 29.5-year per revolution.
This wasn't a small outpost. The Kingdom sprawled vast enough to cradle two million souls, its frame a tapestry of eight biomes—each a sealed realm radiating from the central hub.
The hull shimmered like new, its worn patches repaired with relentless precision. No rust dared linger long; crews in sleek suits patched every dent, keeping the station's face flawless. This is a testament to the King's unwavering demand for perfection.
At its heart stood the Main Biome, a marvel of crystal and steel. Its dome rose high, a lattice of shimmering panes crowned with golden spires that stabbed into an artificial sky. Beacons pulsed atop each tower, their glow a constant pulse visible across the station—a reminder of who ruled here.
