The Empire was not united.
Not anymore.
News of the executions spread through Alexandria faster than the Imperial government could control.
More than a thousand soldiers had returned from the failed campaign against the United Kingdoms.
And now they stood accused of treason.
The charges were severe.
Neglect of Duty.
Conspiring with the Enemy.
For many citizens of the Empire, the accusations were unsettling.
Too many soldiers.
Too many families.
Too many witnesses.
Some citizens accepted the government's explanation without hesitation.
They repeated the Empire's official narrative in taverns, marketplaces, and public squares.
"There's no way ten thousand soldiers lose to an army of only one thousand without traitors inside the ranks."
"A true citizen of the Empire would rather die than accept treatment from chaos-worshiping beastkin."
"How do we even know they're still human? Those necromancers could have infected them with cursed blood."
Rumors grew darker with every retelling.
Conspiracies spread quickly.
The Empire's propaganda machine encouraged it.
But not everyone believed the story.
Across Alexandria, other voices rose in protest.
"There is no conspiracy involving over a thousand soldiers that could remain hidden."
"These men survived an impossible battle. They should be honored, not executed."
"I know my husband," one woman shouted in the streets. "He has served the Empire his entire life. He would never betray it."
"My brother trained since childhood to wear that uniform," another man argued.
"He is no traitor."
The arguments spread.
The Empire was dividing.
The Imperial court responded the only way it knew how.
They turned the trials into a spectacle.
The executions would be public.
Visible.
Unforgettable.
"This," the officials declared, "is what happens to traitors."
But the message did not land as expected.
Instead of quiet obedience, more citizens began questioning the decision.
Even members of the military—officers below the rank of General—began privately doubting the narrative.
Too many soldiers.
Too many witnesses.
Too many stories that didn't match the official version.
Still, the executions proceeded.
The King of the Empire watched it all from the balcony of the Imperial palace.
He stood before the massive crowd gathered in the execution square.
At first glance, he looked like a man nearing eighty years old.
His skin was wrinkled.
His hair thin and gray.
His posture slightly hunched.
But according to official records, the King was only in his forties.
People often whispered that he had simply "aged poorly."
Despite his frail appearance, his voice carried across the square with practiced authority.
He was a master speaker.
His words fed on anger.
On resentment.
On fear.
He reminded the crowd that the Empire had once ruled the continent without challenge.
He spoke as though that glory existed only because of him.
Every triumph, he declared, was the result of his leadership.
Every failure?
The fault of traitors.
Enemies.
Saboteurs.
And when facts contradicted his claims, he simply dismissed them.
False news.
Enemy propaganda.
If dissent grew too loud—
He ordered executions.
The crowd either cheered…
Or fell silent.
Standing behind him on the balcony was the Queen.
Where the King appeared frail, she looked radiant.
She appeared no older than her mid-twenties, though official records claimed she was in her forties.
Her beauty was undeniable.
Her presence commanding.
And her influence across the Empire rivaled that of her husband.
Behind the royal pair stood the nine remaining Imperial Generals.
The tenth position had recently become vacant.
The Queen watched the crowd carefully.
She saw the division.
The doubt.
The anger.
The fear.
Half the crowd believed the King completely.
The other half struggled to accept the story being forced upon them.
And slowly—
A smirk formed on her lips.
The King raised his hand.
The square fell silent.
"These traitors," he declared, "failed their sacred duty to the Empire."
His voice echoed across the city.
"They allowed themselves to be corrupted by beastkin sympathizers."
"They accepted mercy from the enemy."
"To fail is shameful."
"To betray the Empire is unforgivable."
The crowd shifted uneasily.
The King leaned forward.
"We will make Alexandria great again."
His followers roared their approval.
"But greatness cannot be built on weakness."
The King pointed toward the prisoners lined beneath the execution platform.
"Let the traitors serve as an example."
The executions lasted an entire week.
Twenty prisoners at a time.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
The public watched as soldiers who had survived the battle were executed in the same square they had once marched through as heroes.
Riots broke out across Alexandria.
Supporters of the condemned clashed with loyalists.
Imperial guards crushed the unrest quickly.
The nine remaining Generals personally led many of the crackdowns.
When the week finally ended, the damage was staggering.
More than two thousand citizens of the Empire had died.
Some executed.
Others killed during the riots.
The city grew quiet afterward.
Too quiet.
The rebellion had been crushed.
But an uneasiness lingered in the air.
Far away, in Solmere, none of this was known.
The United Kingdoms remained unaware of the events unfolding inside the Empire.
Instead, the city was alive with celebration.
A wagon pulled by two massive Shadow Bulls rolled toward the teleportation gate.
Inside the wagon sat Jax and the Vixens.
Friends gathered around them to say goodbye.
Brannic stood with Merriweather near the gate.
"You better come back alive," the dwarf grumbled.
Merriweather smiled warmly.
"They're going to Bunny's homeland," she said.
"It's hardly a battlefield."
Brannic crossed his arms.
"With that lot? You never know."
The wagon was packed for a long journey.
This time the destination wasn't war.
It was family.
Aurabelle—Bunny—was returning home.
Her parents had no idea what awaited them.
They had never met Jax.
They had never heard about the marriage arrangement.
They were about to learn everything.
As the wagon rolled through the gate, Solmere cheered them onward.
Behind them stood a kingdom filled with hope.
Across the continent stood another kingdom drowning in fear.
Once again—
It was a tale of two cities.