"Beatrice and Cassandra simultaneously order a total mobilization of their private family guards for open warfare."
The streets of Aethelgard, usually filled with the rhythmic hum of steam-powered transit and the chatter of merchants, transformed into a theater of violence by sunrise. Private armies, distinguished by the crimson armbands of the Cassandra fleet and the soot-stained iron crests of the Beatrice foundries, swarmed the Brass Plaza. There was no pretense of negotiation anymore. The orders given from the hospital beds had been clear. Total war was the only language left to speak.
Richter stood on a high vantage point, hidden in the shadows of a clock tower that overlooked the center of the city. He watched as the first skirmish broke out near the fountain. A squad of Beatric
