Welcome to Etherburg, the Empire's “First City of Steam.” Beneath its brass-colored skies, the city's clockwork heart never stops turning. The floating Parliament Building has its course precisely calibrated by differential engines, while clockwork automata stroll through the streets. The air carries a distinctive blend of coal, machine oil, and a hint of aristocratic perfume. This is an eternal marvel, driven by human ingenuity and arrogance in equal measure.
But a “Whispering Sickness” is spreading. At first, the aristocrats merely complain that they can hear metal sighing at night. Soon, the sighs become screams, then silent collapse. Scarlet “rust” spreads like a plague, turning the Empire's pride into a pile of cold dust. Its fleets and armies are powerless against it, for their enemy has no flesh and blood.
The real answer lies with an exiled craftsman, hidden in his forbidden, almost magical art. What may save this city is not the deafening roar of its steam engines, but a harmonious melody of creation, long forgotten by the world.
