The maglev slid across the German countryside in absolute silence, save for the faint hum of electromagnetic resonance beneath the rails.
Bruno sat alone in his compartment, hands folded atop his sword, eyes fixed upon the passing landscape as Berlin's skyline gradually rose in the distance.
Once, such technology would have seemed fantastical. Now it was mundane, another instrument of order, efficiency, and inevitability. Much like the Reich itself.
The train decelerated smoothly as it entered the capital. Berlin had changed more in four years than it had in the previous four decades.
Its streets were broader, and cleaner. Its skyline was taller, yet restrained. Neo-baroque towers of stone and steel rose in dignified symmetry, adorned with banners bearing the black, white, and red of the Empire.
No garish excess, no revolutionary decay. This was not a city celebrating chaos; it was a city celebrating victory.
