For the first week after Florenzia's surrender, the city felt like a magnificent instrument that had suddenly fallen silent—every string tightened to the point of snapping, yet no sound dared emerge.
The conquerors established a headquarters in the Caprini Palace, a merchant palace spared from the worst of the bombardment. From its balcony, Victor surveyed the city: the flattened western district where the wall had collapsed, the scorched rooftops around the river quarter, the streets still choked with rubble. But beneath the scars, Florenzia's bones remained strong—its stone bridges intact, its wide plazas ready to breathe again.
Victor knew the city could be restored under Alphonse's rule. The question was whether her people could.
Armed patrols marched the streets, muskets gleaming in disciplined rows. Their presence, steady and predictable, was meant to reassure—but reassurance was not the sentiment in most citizens' eyes. The Florenzians watched from shuttered windows, their faces pale, their movements quiet and wary. Soldiers felt their gazes like cold drafts on the back of their necks.
Even the bells seemed reluctant to ring.
Prince Alphonse moved among the troops daily, checking sentry posts, responding to reports, and making notes of tensions. His men respected him—he was calm, measured, far more approachable than the iron-willed Victor. And yet he felt a steady weight building in his chest. This was now his city, these were now his people, and yet they were terrified, broken from the horrors of war.
Every cobblestone seemed to bear the imprint of loss.
By the second week, Victor began assisting Alphonse in reorganising the city with uncompromising efficiency.
Curfews were announced—strict at first, then gradually loosened. The militia was disarmed and dissolved. Census records were seized to assess who had fled, who had perished, and who remained. Merchants petitioned for the reopening of the river docks. Bakers and vintners begged for grain and wine shipments before shortages set in. Priests asked for mercy for the men still hiding in cellars, shell-shocked and afraid.
Alphonse heard every petition, granting some, denying others. He met opposition with clipped firmness, but he was not cruel. Florenzia had value; he would not rule it through terror.
Still, resentment trickled beneath the surface.
Graffiti appeared on walls: Nero lives, Florent forever, and sometimes simply a stark—We remember.
Alphonse increased the number of night patrols.
"We are guests in a wounded home," he told his officers. "Behave as such. No provocation, no cruelty, no unnecessary search."
The soldiers obeyed, though some resentfully. A conquered city was meant to be orderly, grateful, defeated—not simmering with quiet grief.
By the third week, Florenzia began to stir again.
Bakeries reopened, producing the first fresh loaves since the siege. Women swept their doorsteps. Children ventured into the squares, chasing each other around toppled statues.
But soldiers still marched the streets, bayonets glinting in the sun. And every night, more flowers appeared at the breach in the western wall.
In three weeks, the city had not healed. But it had begun to breathe.
And with each breath came the whisper of a question that no one yet dared voice aloud:
How long until Madena would face the same fate?
When Marquis Garbisi received news about the fall of Florenzia and the manner in which it fell, he began to tirelessly work to find a way to avoid the same fate as Florenzia. He was not a military mind; his intellect excelled in trade, logistics and governance, not war.
His current position was quite bothersome. Victor's army had 180,000 infantrymen, 30,000 cavalrymen, and 1,000 cannons. That alone was already terrifying; if he were to assault the city by himself, he could conquer it with ease.
In addition, Alphonse's army consisted of 50,000 infantrymen, 20,000 cavalrymen and 400 cannons. Alphonse would leave a formidable garrison to protect his newly conquered lands, so he would rely heavily on Victor's army to take Madena.
Marquis Garbisi had a garrison of 50,000 infantrymen, 5,000 marines and 500 guns. He also had 2,000 mercenary infantrymen and 500 mercenary cavalrymen at his disposal. This would not hold out against the combined forces of Alphonse and Victor, and he knew it.
The Marquis estimated that a siege would begin in about a month if Alphonse and Victor wanted to hastily conclude the civil war. That begged the question: What could he do in this month to prepare?
He already had enough supplies to outlast a siege if they wanted to try and starve Madena out. All available mercenaries who were visiting the city had been hired. The Garbisi navy had weighed anchor in the port, with its marines and cannons brought into the city.
Forced conscription was the only thing Garbisi could do; he had a month to draft soldiers and train them so that they could defend the city.
Giovanni was against this decision, as he did not want his people to have to fight and die for him. They would be farmers, labourers and beggars armed with muskets. They were not soldiers; they had not been in combat before, they would not know the terror of musket balls flying all around them, nor the thunderous roars of cannons firing upon them.
No matter how Giovanni protested, his uncle was insistent on forced conscription. So for the next month, civilians from the county Marquis Garbisi controlled were summoned to Madena. His vassal, Count Brutus, had switched his allegiance to Alphonse when the capital fell, so Marquis Garbisi did not get as many conscripts as he would have liked.
By the time the siege would start, he had gathered an additional 20,000 men to join his garrison. They had little time for basic training, and half of them would only be holding a musket for the first time during the siege. Giovanni was heavily against this, but his uncle continued to ignore his objections.
Giovanni, his brother and his mother would all remain in Madena by the time the siege began. This would be the last stand of the Red Visconte faction. Their fate would be decided during the siege.
While the Garbisi spent the month leading up to the siege preparing, Victor and Alphonse marched their men from Florenzia to Madena.