London, Winter 1783
Snow drifted in lazy spirals outside the tall windows of Imperial Dynamics' London headquarters, softening the city's sharp edges and muffling the endless clatter of carriages. But inside Phillip Wellington's private office, the world was anything but quiet.
Stacks of ledgers, coded reports, and diplomatic memoranda filled every inch of the table. Engineers came and went through the halls below, shouting over the rumble of boilers and hammering of steel. In the yard outside, half-completed locomotives glinted under the dim winter sun.
And yet, amidst all this noise, Phillip sat perfectly still.
He stared at the parchment in his hands—the Fonseine contract stamped with the unmistakable crest of Crown Prince Adrien de Montclair. A personal seal. Not a bureaucrat's. Not a clerk's. A prince's.
Henry Carter leaned against the doorway watching him, arms folded.
