Madrid, Midnight – Two Weeks Later
In a quiet corner of the Royal Post and Telegraph Station, a man in maintenance overalls unlocked a side panel of the telegraph repeater. He moved with confidence—too much confidence for someone supposedly low in the hierarchy. Inside the panel, he retrieved a small copper device, attached to the primary line like a parasite. It blinked red once, then powered off.
He slipped it into his coat and walked away, nodding at the guard who barely looked up from his coffee.
Outside, a carriage waited. The man climbed in, shut the door behind him, and exhaled.
"You were right," he said. "They're using encrypted pulses now. And internal memos suggest all state communication lines are shifting to alternating phase codes."
Opposite him sat a woman in a veiled bonnet. Her accent was Britannian, but her posture was military.
