Bang!
Just as the banquet's atmosphere reached its peak, the great doors of the hall were suddenly flung open, and a squad of hardened soldiers stormed in.
The governor of Patripol Province froze, his smile faltering. Lowering his head in alarm, he turned to Selene. "G-General Selene... is there something you require of us?" he asked cautiously, not daring to raise his voice.
Selene said nothing. Behind her, more soldiers entered—dragging several battered young men and women dressed as servants. Their uniforms were torn, and bruises marred their faces.
Once the prisoners were brought in, the squad leader dropped to one knee before Selene and presented a sealed black folder. "General, the investigation is complete."
"Well done," Selene replied calmly, taking the folder. She flipped through several pages, scanning the documents briefly. A faint smile curved her lips. "Interesting... very interesting, Governor."
"G-General, what's this about?" the governor stammered, a chill running down his spine. Though he didn't yet understand what was happening, an ominous dread gripped him.
"See for yourself." Selene tossed the folder to him.
"Fascinating, Governor," she said dryly. "It seems not everyone in your administration shares your loyalty to the Empire."
"This... this can't be! How dare they!" the governor gasped, flipping through the pages.
What he saw made his blood run cold—illegal arms trafficking, supply fraud, collusion with the rebels, espionage on Imperial troop movements... Each line of evidence struck him like a hammer. By the time he reached the end, his hands were trembling violently.
Moments later, as if realizing the gravity of his position, the governor fell to his knees with a loud thud, his face pale as chalk. "General, I swear, I knew nothing of this!"
"I know you're innocent," Selene said, her tone indifferent. "Otherwise, you'd already be dead."
According to intelligence from the Imperial Assassination Division, this governor had only been appointed a few years ago—a man of scholarly refinement and genuine loyalty to the Empire, but with little real capability. The rebels had thoroughly infiltrated his entire administration long before he took office.
Selene's gaze swept the hall. The nobles and magnates who had been feasting moments ago now sat frozen, faces pale with panic.
"Arrest them," she ordered coolly.
"Yes, ma'am!"
Before her Imperial Guards could even move, a corpulent middle-aged noble suddenly stood up from the table, his voice shrill with outrage. "Selene! Don't go too far! This is Patripol Province, not the Capital! Calling you 'General' is me being polite—don't mistake courtesy for fear!"
"I am a hereditary noble of the Empire—a member of Minister Chouri's faction! Do you want to lose your position?!"
Selene blinked, momentarily amused. Is this fool serious? Does he really think Chouri can protect him from me? And someone like him claims to serve Chouri? That poor man's faction must have hit rock bottom.
Well, as they said—every forest had its share of strange birds.
"How dare you speak to the General that way!" one of Selene's officers roared before she could respond. The rest followed suit, their anger palpable. To them, an insult to their commander was an insult to them all.
Selene merely waved her hand, her voice calm but sharp as steel. "Let it go. He's just a clown. Don't dirty your hands... Take him outside and execute his entire family."
Her tone was casual, almost lazy. "As for the rest—arrest everyone on the list. Alive or dead, it makes no difference."
"Yes, General!"
The order was given. From outside, Imperial Guard soldiers surged into the governor's mansion, their weapons gleaming. In an instant, the laughter and music of moments ago were replaced by screams, cries, and the clash of steel.
"Ahhh—!"
"Damn her! How dare she!"
"Mercy! Please—!"
"Fight them! Don't let them take you!"
...
"Everyone, down on the floor! Move, or you die where you stand!"
Under Selene's command, her 8th Legion officers stormed through the hall. Within minutes, every identified conspirator had been subdued or slain—save for a few who resisted too fiercely for their own good.
When the chaos subsided, nearly a third of the banquet guests lay dead or captured. The survivors huddled together in silence, trembling. Though Selene hadn't touched them, the fear in their eyes spoke volumes.
The air in the hall was foul—cloying scents of roasted meat, iron, and blood mingled with the stench of urine. The once-lavish feast had become a slaughterhouse, heavy with dread and despair.
Selene frowned and covered her mouth and nose with one hand, the stench of blood and fear hanging thick in the air. "Open the doors and windows," she ordered curtly, then turned her cold gaze toward the stunned governor of Patripol Province.
"Immediately dispatch your men to seal off the entire city. All confiscated prisoners' deeds and assets are to be seized under Imperial authority. You're the provincial governor—you should know how to handle the rest."
"Y-yes!" the governor stammered, snapping out of his stupor and bowing hastily.
Without another word, Selene turned on her heel and strode out of the governor's mansion, her Imperial Guards following close behind. As for the nobles and bureaucrats who had survived the purge, she ignored them entirely. If their names weren't on the list, they could live—for now.
...
It was a moonless, windless night—the perfect night for blood and fire.
Under the shadowed sky, armored Imperial Guards moved swiftly through the streets of Patripol, their armor glinting faintly under the torchlight. Screams and the clash of steel echoed through the alleys as they swept through the districts, purging the city of rebel agents and traitors.
From atop the city walls, Selene watched her troops execute the operation with silent precision. Their coordination and efficiency were flawless. She nodded with satisfaction. It seems the investment in high-level training paid off after all.
"Any word from the ambush teams?" she asked without turning.
"Yes, General," a nearby officer replied. "The squad stationed at the western gate captured several suspicious individuals, but interrogation yielded little so far. Ah—Commander Esdeath has already taken over the questioning."
Selene's lips curved into an amused smile. "Oh? Is that so? Then I suppose the ones caught at the banquet were just small fry—distractions meant to draw attention. No need for further questioning. Execute them all in the market square tomorrow."
She paused, then added, "In the meantime... take me to see those prisoners."
"Yes, ma'am!"
...
Outside Patripol City, on an open patch of ground near a military encampment, four captured rebels were bound to wooden posts—a middle-aged man, a young girl, an old man, and a frail woman. Men and women, old and young—they represented every type. Clearly, the rebels had hoped to obscure their true ranks and origins.
Their bodies were covered in whip marks, their tattered clothes soaked with blood. Despite the pain, defiance still burned in their eyes.
"Speak! Now!" a soldier barked, cracking his whip against the ground.
"Pah! Imperial dogs!" spat the old man, blood dribbling from his mouth. His tone was venomous, his expression fearless. "Kill us if you must—you'll never break us!"
Standing nearby, Esdeath idly tilted her head, her blue hair shimmering faintly under the torchlight. She stifled a yawn. "Let me handle this," she said lazily. "Your interrogation technique is pathetic. I was better at this when I was nine."