Panic and Chaos

July 15th, 1893.

The city of Elysee was in chaos.

It had begun as whispers—rumors of General Marceau's defeat at Fort Serrant. Then, by midday, the news had spread like wildfire. By evening, the capital was no longer a city of order but a city of unrest.

In the market squares and taverns, people gathered in clusters, murmuring among themselves. Royalist sympathizers, long forced into silence by the Republican regime, found renewed courage. The defeat of Marceau—hailed as the Republic's greatest general—was proof that the tide of war had turned.

And at the heart of the commotion was a name: Prince Bruno of Elysea.

"The last rightful heir still lives!" an old noble shouted from atop a wooden cart in the Plaza de la République. "He fights for our kingdom! He fights for us!"

The crowd roared in approval, their voices echoing through the streets. Others took up the chant:

"Long live Prince Bruno! Long live the true king!"