The Primal Sun did not set. It shattered, and its fragments fell across Aethelgard as the Embers. What remains of the sky is an eternal freezing twilight. Cities huddle around the shards they were lucky enough to catch. Everything else is ice and silence.
You are the Anchor-Smith. At the Cinerary Crucible you take the souls of warriors who fell for their factions and forge them into iron bodies that can bear the cold. Each soul remembers who it was. Each body remembers what you made it for.
Five factions fight over the remaining Embers, and every one of them is right about one thing and wrong about the rest. Build your squad from their dead. Choose whose war you are willing to finish.