The Empire was rotting from the inside.
Not from weakness.
From fear.
Inside the capital—
Paranoia had taken root.
Spies questioned spies.
Reports contradicted each other.
Trusted names disappeared overnight.
Servants were searched before entering rooms they had worked in for decades.
Officers changed their routes home.
Ministers lowered their voices in hallways.
Generals who once discussed strategy openly now studied the faces around them before speaking.
Everyone suspected everyone.
And at the center of it all—
Sat the throne.
The King occupied it.
The Queen stood beside him.
Unmoving.
Watching.
General Lysandra stood just behind her—silent, composed, her eyes scanning every shadow in the room.
She did not leave the Queen's side anymore.
Not after what happened to General Veynor.
His death had changed things.
Not strategically.
The Empire had other generals.
Other commanders.
Other men and women capable of moving armies across maps.
But Veynor had been killed inside the capital.
Inside the Empire's walls.
Inside the place where men like him were supposed to be untouchable.
That frightened people.
The Queen intended to make certain they were frightened of the right enemy.
"He was ambitious, yes," she said calmly.
Her voice carried across the war chamber like a blade.
"But he did not deserve to die like that."
The King sat forward.
Listening.
Absorbing.
"Assassinated," she continued softly, "by the hands of the so-called Rebel Nations."
A term she had created.
A narrative she had seeded.
And now—
It was law.
Maps no longer showed independent territories.
Reports no longer referred to sovereign kingdoms.
Official correspondence used one phrase.
Rebel Nations.
The King nodded slowly.
His expression twisted somewhere between anger and self-importance.
"They murdered one of my generals."
"They did."
"In my capital."
The Queen allowed the silence to answer for her.
The King looked around the room.
General Korvin stood beside the central table.
Selvara stood opposite him, studying the collection of markers scattered across the map.
Drell and Tharos occupied positions farther down the table.
Blackmoor stood with his thick arms crossed over his chest.
Malreth watched everyone with the same unreadable expression he brought to nearly every meeting.
Raithe remained near the wall.
Silent.
Still.
The Empire's surviving senior Generals had been summoned.
Nobody corrected the King.
Nobody mentioned the lack of proof connecting Veynor's death to any particular nation. Nor could they, since his death was actually from one of their own.
But proof had become increasingly unnecessary.
"But Veynor was right about one thing," the Queen said.
"We must reclaim what was lost."
The King nodded.
The Queen continued.
"Dissent breeds disorder."
She took a slow step around the throne.
"Disorder breeds instability."
Another step.
"And instability..."
She stopped.
"Invites chaos."
The word lingered.
The King's expression changed.
The Queen lowered her voice.
"We both know what unchecked chaos can become."
That landed exactly how she intended.
The King leaned forward.
"Yes."
The Queen said nothing.
She didn't need to.
"We cannot allow that."
"No, my King."
He ran a hand through his thinning hair.
"We must restore order."
"Of course."
His eyes moved toward the map.
"But they continue resisting."
The Queen followed his gaze.
"They do."
"They refuse my taxes."
"Yes."
"They refuse Imperial authority."
"Yes."
"They've formed alliances."
"With one another," Korvin said.
The King looked at him.
Korvin continued carefully.
"And with beastkin territories."
The King's expression hardened.
"Monsters."
Nobody responded.
The Queen almost smiled.
Instead, she moved closer.
"Why do you think they do it?"
The King looked at her.
"Do what?"
"Defy you."
He frowned.
"Because they're traitors."
"Certainly."
She let the answer sit for a moment.
"But why now?"
The King looked toward the map.
The Queen waited.
She was very good at waiting.
Finally—
"They think we're weak."
No one moved.
The Queen looked at him.
"Do they?"
The King's jaw tightened.
"No."
"Of course not."
"They think I'm weak."
The Queen remained silent.
That was different.
That was personal.
The King stood.
"I am not weak."
"No," the Queen said immediately.
"You are not."
She stepped aside.
Giving him the room.
The audience.
The stage.
The King looked toward his Generals.
"Then we show them."
Korvin glanced toward the Queen.
She gave the slightest nod.
He stepped toward the map.
"Our intelligence suggests resistance is centered around several key regions."
Markers covered the table.
Some represented military positions.
Others trade routes.
Cities.
Ports.
Settlements.
"If we strike multiple locations simultaneously," Korvin continued, "we may be able to disrupt their coordination."
The King nodded.
"Yes."
Korvin pointed toward three regions.
"Three coordinated attacks would force them to divide their attention. If timed properly—"
"Do we take the cities back?"
Korvin paused.
The Queen answered.
"Would that be enough?"
The King looked at her.
She held his gaze.
"If you take them back, what happens?"
"They submit."
"For how long?"
The King frowned.
The Queen continued.
"What happens the next time someone believes rebellion carries no greater cost than defeat?"
He looked back toward the map.
Nobody spoke.
"What happens when mercy is mistaken for weakness?"
The King's expression slowly changed.
Understanding.
Or something resembling it.
"We don't take them back."
The Queen said nothing.
The King looked around the room.
"We erase them."
Several Generals shifted.
Selvara's attention lifted from the map.
The Queen's eyes remained on her husband.
"Go on."
His confidence grew.
"No survivors."
Silence.
"No escape."
His voice strengthened.
"No hope."
The Queen watched.
The King stepped toward the map.
"We don't reclaim their land."
His finger touched one of the marked cities.
"We remove the idea of rebellion."
The Queen smiled.
There it was.
The King looked around the room.
"They think I won't do it."
Nobody answered.
"And that is why I must."
He straightened.
Then something occurred to him.
"Five."
Korvin frowned.
"My King?"
"Not three."
The King raised his hand.
"Five cities."
That surprised even the Queen.
Only for an instant.
Then interest replaced it.
Korvin looked toward the map.
"Five simultaneous operations would require considerable—"
"Five."
The King's voice sharpened.
Drell studied the markers.
"My King, deploying sufficient forces for five simultaneous assaults would require us to weaken several existing positions."
The King looked at him.
"Then strengthen them again when you're finished."
Drell's expression didn't change.
"That may not be quite as simple as—"
"They want to see weakness?"
The King struck the table.
"I'll show them strength."
Drell stopped speaking.
No one else interrupted.
"We will wipe them out."
The King's voice grew louder.
"Every last one."
He began pacing around the table.
"They'll see our armies coming."
Another step.
"They'll understand what they've done."
Another.
"They'll beg."
The King's smile returned.
"They'll kneel before me."
He looked toward the Generals.
"They'll swear their loyalty."
His voice softened.
"They'll thank me for sparing them."
Selvara's shoulders relaxed slightly.
Then the King laughed.
"And then we'll hang them."
The room went completely still.
Selvara slowly looked at him.
The King smiled wider.
"Every one."
Korvin studied him.
"My King?"
"Every man who raised a weapon."
He continued walking.
"Every woman who fed them."
Another step.
"Every merchant who supplied them."
His finger moved across the map.
"Every farmer who grew their food."
The Queen watched him carefully now.
"Every family that gave them shelter."
He stopped.
"And their children."
No one spoke.
"The sins of their parents are passed to their kin. I will not have them grow up to defy me later. Traitorous blood flows through their veins."
Selvara glanced toward Drell.
The King saw it.
"What?"
Selvara immediately straightened.
"Nothing, my King."
"Good."
The King turned back toward the map.
"There will be no survivors."
His finger struck one of the markers.
"Burn their homes."
Another.
"Burn their farms."
Another.
"Tear down their walls."
His breathing had quickened.
"When we're finished, I don't want another rebel looking at one of these places and seeing courage."
He swept his hand across the map.
"I want them to see what happens when someone defies their King."
The Queen smiled.
The King looked at her.
"The next rebellion will think twice."
"Yes," she said softly.
"They will."
The King turned toward his Generals.
"Operation: Rebel Annihilation begins immediately."
Korvin inclined his head.
"Of course."
"I want results within one month."
Drell hesitated.
"My King, coordinating five simultaneous attacks of that scale in thirty days would—"
"Thirty days."
The King didn't look at him.
"My King—"
"Do you doubt your Emperor?"
Drell froze.
"No."
"Then make it happen."
The King turned toward the doors.
His chest was high.
His stride confident.
He had entered the chamber worried that his Empire was slipping away.
He left convinced he had just saved it.
The doors closed behind him.
Silence followed.
For several seconds—
Nobody moved.
Then Drell slowly lowered himself into his chair.
"Five."
Tharos rubbed his forehead.
"In thirty days."
Selvara looked toward the closed doors.
"And apparently we're killing the children now."
Malreth looked at her.
"Do you really care?"
Selvara considered the question.
"Strategically?"
A pause.
"No."
Malreth nodded.
"Then we're in agreement."
Nobody laughed.
Korvin remained standing.
His eyes stayed on the map.
Blackmoor looked toward him.
"Can we even do this?"
Korvin didn't answer immediately.
Five coordinated attacks.
Thirty days.
Complete extermination.
Against five significant Rebel strongholds—
No.
Not without stripping forces from other positions.
Not without exposing supply lines.
Not without risking catastrophic losses.
Then Korvin looked at the markers differently.
"We can."
Several heads turned.
"If we choose the right targets."
Selvara frowned.
"Five strongholds would stretch us too thin."
"Then we don't hit strongholds."
Silence.
Korvin reached toward the map.
His finger moved away from the largest cities.
Away from the fortified positions.
Away from the places that actually mattered.
It stopped beside something smaller.
A settlement.
Blackmoor understood first.
"No."
Korvin looked at him.
"The King ordered five cities."
Blackmoor pointed at the marker.
"That isn't a city."
"Do you believe he'll know the difference?"
Nobody answered.
Korvin moved another marker.
Then another.
"We've been looking at this like soldiers."
His finger settled over a small border town.
"He isn't asking for territory."
Another settlement.
"He isn't asking us to destroy their armies."
Another.
"He isn't asking for anything strategically useful."
The Generals watched him.
Korvin looked around the table.
"He wants five victories."
Understanding spread.
Slowly.
Uncomfortably.
Blackmoor leaned forward.
"Villages."
"Settlements," Korvin corrected.
"They're villages."
"Call them cities in the reports."
Blackmoor stared at him.
"That's propaganda."
Korvin met his eyes.
"Yes."
The Queen stepped forward.
Everyone went silent.
"The King needs a victory."
Her voice was different now.
Colder.
The gentle guidance was gone.
"He needs his people to see rebellion punished."
She looked toward the smaller settlements.
"He needs the Rebel Nations to believe nowhere is safe."
Korvin nodded.
"We select five lightly defended targets."
Tharos studied the map.
"How lightly?"
"Light enough to guarantee victory."
Selvara stared at him.
"These places have almost no strategic value."
Korvin looked back.
"Neither does losing ten thousand soldiers attacking something that does."
Selvara said nothing.
Korvin continued.
"We choose settlements near existing troop concentrations. Minimal travel. Short supply lines. Limited defenses."
Tharos stepped closer to the table.
"Give me the current cavalry positions."
Korvin slid two reports toward him.
Tharos opened the first.
"If you're concerned about thirty days, these three are reachable without relocating the western forces."
He pointed toward several markers.
"The roads here are good enough for infantry and supply wagons. Cavalry can cover the distance considerably faster."
Korvin nodded.
"Which means the attacks don't need to launch from the same staging area."
"No."
Tharos traced another route.
"Use forces already positioned nearby."
Drell leaned forward.
"Then we're reinforcing attacks instead of relocating entire formations."
"Exactly."
Selvara studied the map.
"And if they're weak enough, overwhelming numbers end the fighting before it becomes a battle."
Blackmoor grunted.
"Calling it a battle is generous."
Nobody disagreed.
The Queen smiled faintly.
Raithe still hadn't moved.
He stood near the wall.
Silent.
Watching.
Malreth finally spoke.
"And afterward?"
Korvin's expression didn't change.
"You heard the King."
That ended the discussion.
Markers began moving.
Reports were requested.
Population estimates.
Defenses.
Roads.
Nearby Imperial forces.
Travel times.
Five victories.
Five destroyed settlements.
Five stories for the Imperial newspapers.
The King would get exactly what he wanted.
Perhaps he would never understand how little any of it mattered.
The Queen did.
That was why she approved.
The Empire didn't need the land.
She didn't need the victories.
She needed fear.
Anger.
Hatred.
Desperation.
She needed families across the Rebel Nations wondering whether their village would be next.
She needed soldiers looking at burned homes and wanting revenge.
She needed Imperial troops carrying out orders they could never take back.
Every atrocity created another wound.
Every wound created another reason to hate.
And hatred—
Was wonderfully easy to turn into chaos.
The Queen looked down at the map.
Five settlements.
Five fires.
It would do.
Far above the war chamber—
Something moved.
Small.
Silent.
Watching.
Yurina crouched between the rafters, barely breathing.
Her fox-like eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.
A small device rested beside her.
One of Jax's creations.
Improved through a few additions from Eldrich.
It had captured everything.
Every word.
Every target under consideration.
Every order.
Every admission.
Yurina had entered the chamber expecting military intelligence.
Troop movements.
Supply routes.
Perhaps another offensive.
She had not expected this.
Below her, the Generals continued moving markers.
Yurina watched.
The usual trace of amusement had disappeared from her face.
Five attacks.
Thirty days.
No survivors.
Lysandra moved.
Yurina froze.
Below, the General's head turned slightly.
Her eyes swept across the upper reaches of the chamber.
Across the pillars.
The balconies.
The rafters.
Yurina didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Lysandra's gaze passed directly over her position.
Stopped.
For one very long second—
Yurina wondered if she'd been discovered.
Then a servant entered through one of the side doors.
Lysandra's attention snapped toward the movement.
The servant froze beneath her stare.
He carried nothing more dangerous than a stack of reports.
Lysandra watched until he placed them on the table.
Only then did she look away.
Yurina remained still.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then she breathed again.
Very slowly.
She looked toward the device.
The information wasn't enough.
Not yet.
The targets were still being chosen.
That meant she had time.
Not much.
But some.
She remained perfectly still as Korvin rejected one settlement because an Imperial force would require too long to reach it.
Tharos rejected another because the roads would slow heavy supply wagons.
Selvara dismissed a third because nearby defenses made the victory less certain than it first appeared.
A fourth remained on the table.
Yurina memorized the name.
Then another.
And another.
She waited.
That was the hardest part.
Every instinct told her to leave.
Get the warning out.
Now.
But warning the United Kingdoms that five settlements somewhere were going to be attacked wasn't enough.
They needed names.
Routes.
Forces.
Timelines.
The difference between information and useful intelligence was often patience.
So Yurina stayed.
One target became two.
Two became three.
The fourth took longer.
The fifth longer still.
Finally—
Korvin placed the last marker.
"There."
The Generals studied the map.
Five settlements.
Five death sentences.
Yurina looked at the recording device.
Then back toward the map.
She had what she needed.
Carefully, she secured the device.
Below her, the Queen spoke.
"Send the preliminary orders tonight."
Korvin nodded.
"Troop commanders will have them within days."
Days.
Yurina's eyes narrowed.
That was the clock.
Not thirty days.
Days.
She moved backward through the rafters.
Slowly.
Silently.
Her eyes remained on Lysandra until the last possible moment.
Then darkness swallowed her.
She was gone.
She had come looking for plans.
She had found a death sentence.
Five settlements.
Thousands of people.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Most of them didn't even know they had been selected.
Didn't know armies were coming.
Didn't know their King had decided their deaths would make him look strong.
Yurina moved faster.
The United Kingdoms needed to know.
Not tomorrow.
Not soon.
Now.