Inside the grand Convergence Hall of Alika City, the air was thick with the stench of ozone, alchemical smoke, and spilled blood.
Black banners bearing Senraki's coiled serpent sigil hung over the shattered golden sun mosaics of the imperial dais.
General Senraki stood before the sovereign throne, reviewing tactical dispatches brought by blood-spattered rebel couriers.
"The western garrisons have fallen silent, General," a masked lieutenant reported, kneeling on the bloodstained marble. "Tsanka's outer bastions are burning, and King Vanka's forward legion has entered the northern pass."
"Good," Senraki said coldly, wiping Felunka's dried blood from his meteoric broadsword. "Execute the remaining council scribes and burn the imperial census records. When Lanka arrives, Alika will bow without resistance."
Before the officer could stand, the entire mountain foundation beneath the palace shuddered violently.
