"Do you think they will listen to us, Galileo? Or do you think they have finally stopped listening to everyone?"
The words hung in the stale, pressurized air of the study like a death sentence. Galileo stared at Richter, his face drained of color, his hands trembling as they gripped the mahogany edge of his desk. Outside, the muffled sound of the riot had shifted from a rhythmic roar into a discordant, jagged cacophony of shattering glass and agonized screams. The light from the desk lamp flickered, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mock the aging mastermind who had once held the pulse of Aethelgard in his steady, ruthless grip.
Richter remained motionless, his posture the perfect imitation of a concerned protector. He felt a strange detachment, watching Galileo disintegrat
