Inside the castle, war machines are built by slaves. Screams echo like a chorus of death. The pale empress raises her whip. Slaves kneel and obey, grow to love their chains, carving the tools of their own destruction. Their crime: being born. Matriarchal reign in blood. Spare the rod, spoil the revolution. Dominate, obliterate, prepare for war. Screams echo like a chorus of death.