From the introduction:
Imagine an afternoon stroll in Trafalgar Square. Perhaps you were just coming from one of the gentlemen’s clubs at Pall Mall. Thankful for a respite from the rain, you are using your umbrella as a walking stick and relying on your bowler to keep your head dry from a possible heavenly resurgence. A young boy, somewhat dishevelled, runs up to you and hands you a note. You took it out of politeness; you read it out of curiosity. The message is simple: Parliament cannot protect you. Join the Revolution.
You raise an eyebrow and look back towards the boy. He’s already disappearing down an alley, leaving behind a few more alarmed strollers holding copies of his note. Seconds later, a coach explodes across the busy street. Trafalgar Square is thrown into chaos, with people and spooked horses fleeing in every direction, screaming excitedly. There are bodies laying around the burning remnants of the coach, some moving, some not.
Terrorism is alive and well in the Imperial Age and it has been given a name: Anarchism.