Back in Alexandria, the Empire was uneasy.
The executions had ended days ago, but the city had not returned to normal.
The kingdom had been tense for years.
When the previous king died nearly twenty years earlier, the Empire had nearly fractured during the struggle for the throne.
Over the past century, the Empire had slowly transformed into something harsher.
Something colder.
The last five kings had each pushed the kingdom further into extremism.
Beastkin were no longer merely rivals.
They were declared inferior creatures, fit only for slave labor.
Disagreement with the Empire's rule was considered treason.
And anyone who spoke too loudly against the system was labeled an agent of the Chaos God.
Years of oppression had worn down both humans and beastkin alike.
Some citizens had learned to keep their heads down.
Others had grown angry.
Bold.
But after the riots—and the brutal executions that followed—many of those voices had retreated into the shadows again.
The city of Alexandria now felt like a pot sitting on a fire.
Quiet.
But ready to boil over.
Inside the Imperial Castle, the King paced furiously.
Nine generals stood in a wide chamber around him.
His voice echoed off the stone walls as he ranted.
"They question me!"
His thin hair clung to his wrinkled forehead as he pointed angrily toward the city beyond the windows.
"They think we were wrong!"
The King's voice cracked with rage.
"They just don't understand!"
"Or they are all part of it!"
His eyes darted wildly around the room.
"They are agents of the Chaos God! Every one of them!"
"They spread lies and fake stories about us."
"But we exposed them!"
"The riots proved it!"
He slammed his fist onto the table.
"The deaths in the streets showed the truth."
"They were traitors."
"All of them!"
Behind him stood the Queen.
She rested a gentle hand against the King's chest.
Her voice was soft.
Calm.
"You are right, my handsome King."
The generals watched silently as she fed his anger.
"They want your throne."
"They want to drag this Empire into chaos."
She shook her head with theatrical disbelief.
"They want rights for beasts."
She laughed softly.
"What next?"
"Will bugs demand the right to vote?"
A few generals smirked.
The King nodded vigorously, encouraged.
"Yes!"
"Yes exactly!"
He began pacing again.
"I bet General Culkin was part of it too!"
"That must be it!"
He pointed toward the generals.
"No single man could destroy an army like that!"
"It had to be a conspiracy."
"They were all in on it!"
"They're trying to get rid of me!"
The Queen wrapped her arms around him from behind, soothing him like one might calm a frightened child.
"It's fortunate you have loyal men in this room."
Her eyes slowly moved across the nine generals.
"These men shut down the riots."
"These men defended the Empire."
"These men are loyal."
Her voice lowered.
"They—and I—are the only ones you can truly trust."
The King seemed to relax slightly.
Satisfied.
"Yes… yes… you're right."
He nodded proudly at the generals.
"Good men."
"All of you."
Then he turned toward the door.
"I have speeches to prepare."
"These traitors will not poison my Empire."
The doors slammed shut behind him.
The moment the King left—
The room changed.
Chairs straightened.
Generals leaned forward.
The tension that had filled the room vanished.
One general muttered quietly.
"That man hasn't the slightest idea what's actually happening."
Several others chuckled.
But the Queen raised a hand.
Instant silence.
She stepped forward slowly.
Her presence alone commanded the room.
"That man," she said carefully,
"is what keeps a third of the Empire loyal."
She began circling the table.
"He feeds their fear."
Her eyes drifted toward the doors.
"He confuses another third."
Her voice hardened.
"And that is why you must control the final third."
The generals nodded.
Now their attention was absolute.
Nine generals served the Empire.
Each powerful in their own way.
General Varkos – the massive warlord whose brute strength had crushed dozens of rebellions.
General Selvara – a cold strategist who rarely spoke but never lost a campaign.
General Draxen – a fanatic who believed the Empire was chosen by the gods.
General Malreth – master of poisons and covert warfare.
General Tharos – commander of the Imperial cavalry.
General Lysandra – a battle mage feared across the continent.
General Korvin – ruthless leader of the intelligence network.
General Raithe – a silent executioner who preferred blades to speeches.
And General Veynor – the youngest of the nine, and possibly the most ambitious.
All of them watched the Queen carefully.
Not one of them interrupted.
The Queen stopped walking.
Her violet eyes flickered faintly in the torchlight.
"I want information."
Her voice carried quiet authority.
"I want to know about this one man who destroyed our army."
She rested her hands on the table.
"I want to know how he commands shadow beasts."
"I want to know how his power and speed are so great."
"I want to know his strengths."
"I want to know his weaknesses."
"I want to know what he loves."
General Malreth chuckled darkly.
"Loves."
"You already mentioned his weakness, your grace."
He nodded toward her.
The room erupted in laughter.
The Queen smirked.
She appreciated the joke.
"If he has weaknesses," she stressed the last word calmly,
"I want to know about them."
"Every single one."
Her eyes glowed faintly.
"And I want them exploited."
Her smile slowly faded.
"This man should not exist."
She looked around the room.
"Our god would never allowsuch a thing."
The generals nodded in agreement.
Low murmurs filled the chamber.
"Yes."
"Agreed."
"Find him."
The Queen's voice grew cold.
"Send spies."
"I want reports."
"His strengths."
"His allies."
"His loves."
She paused.
"And if the opportunity presents itself…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Kill him."
Silence filled the room.
Then the generals nodded one by one.
The hunt for Jax Darquebane had begun.