By ten forty-five that night, the rain had finally ceased over Regina, but the streets surrounding Dominion Boulevard still glistened beneath the pale lamps that lined the military district, and inside Regina Central Command, the atmosphere had become so tense that even the guards stationed outside the council chamber spoke in lowered voices. Alessandro De Luca stood at the head of the long command table with both hands resting against its polished surface, his dark coat still carrying the dampness of the evening, while maps of the surrounding territories lay spread before him beneath the cold light of the chandeliers.
