The gates of Silvercrag creaked open, revealing a city far removed from the desolation The Vengeful One had anticipated. The bustling streets were alive with activity—vendors haggling, children playing, and the faint hum of industry echoing from the distant mines. Colorful banners fluttered in the mountain wind, and the people's faces, far from wary or fearful, carried a brightness she hadn't expected. Even some of her Marines could be seen mingling with the populace, their usually rigid demeanor softened as they shared laughs and conversation with the locals.
The Vengeful One's crimson eyes narrowed, her steps slowing as she took in the scene. Her dark cloak billowed faintly behind her as her 1st Dark Marine Battalion followed closely, their boots clomping against the cobblestone streets. The sight before them was so unexpected that even the most disciplined soldiers faltered, their steps momentarily breaking rhythm.
She turned her head slightly, addressing Lian, who rode beside her. "Lian. What is this? Why does this city… thrive? I expected chaos, disarray—not this. Explain."
Lian shifted uncomfortably in her saddle, her expression mirroring her queen's confusion. "I… I don't know, my Lady. The reports we received never suggested anything like this."
The Vengeful One's sharp gaze flicked to the Marines scattered among the townsfolk. A pair of them stood by a food stall, their helmets off as they accepted freshly baked bread from an elderly vendor. Another group knelt by a group of children, helping them assemble crude wooden toys with smiles that bordered on cheerful. The juxtaposition was jarring.
"This isn't disorder. It's… harmony," she muttered, more to herself than to Lian. "I don't like it. We're heading to the manor. Someone will explain."
Lian nodded quickly. "Yes, my Lady. The senior officer in charge should have answers. Commander Darion Kallor of the 35th Dark Marine Regiment is stationed here. If anyone knows what's happening, it's him."
The Vengeful One's eyes narrowed further, her irritation flaring faintly. "Then let's find out how our disciplined Marines became villagers' best friends."
The procession wound its way through the thriving streets, drawing curious glances from the townsfolk. Many of them waved enthusiastically, their faces bright with gratitude. "Welcome, my Lady!" a young woman called out, holding a bundle of flowers. "Silvercrag owes you everything!"
She inclined her head faintly but said nothing, her focus fixed on the manor at the city's heart. Its stone walls loomed ahead, sturdy and practical, a testament to Silvercrag's mining heritage. As they approached, the gates swung open, revealing Commander Darion Kallor, standing at attention with a group of his Marines behind him.
Darion was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face that bore the marks of countless battles. His steel-gray eyes met hers without wavering, though there was a flicker of unease as he stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"My Lady, welcome to Silvercrag," he said, his voice steady but tinged with respect. "I had not anticipated your arrival so soon."
She dismounted gracefully, her crimson eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made even the battle-hardened commander shift slightly. "Commander Kallor. Explain. This city is thriving—beyond expectation. Your Marines mingle with the populace as if they've forgotten their discipline. What happened here?"
Darion straightened, his expression remaining calm despite the weight of her gaze. "My Lady, Silvercrag was in disarray when we arrived, as you predicted. But the people here are resilient. They responded quickly to our guidance, adapting to our order without resistance. The Marines… found ways to integrate themselves into the community, providing protection while earning the people's trust. The harmony you see is the result of that trust."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, her dark aura faintly pulsing around her. "Trust? Marines aren't diplomats, Commander. They're soldiers. Explain to me how trust has made them… this." She gestured to the Marines visible beyond the manor gates, their relaxed postures and easy interactions with the townsfolk.
Darion held her gaze steadily. "Respect, my Lady. The people saw what we stood for and responded in kind. We kept them safe from raiders, repaired their mining equipment, and even helped restore some of their homes. In return, they offered us hospitality. My regiment didn't ask for it, but… it has created a bond. One that strengthens the city, rather than weakens it."
Her crimson eyes narrowed, her tone sharp. "And discipline? Has that bond come at the cost of discipline, Commander?"
"No, my Lady," he replied firmly. "The Marines remain your soldiers, first and foremost. But they've found that a united city makes for a stronger defense. Silvercrag's people are not warriors, but they now see us as protectors, not occupiers. That loyalty, I believe, is worth cultivating."
For a long moment, she studied him, her gaze unreadable. Then, to his and Lian's surprise, a faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Interesting. It seems you've achieved something rare, Commander. Unity without force. Perhaps there's more to this than I anticipated."
She turned, her dark cloak swirling around her as she motioned for Lian to follow. "We'll discuss this further. For now, continue your efforts, Commander. Silvercrag will serve as an example to the rest of my dominion. Don't let me regret placing my trust in you."
Darion bowed deeply. "You won't, my Lady. I swear it."
As she and Lian stepped into the manor, her thoughts churned. Silvercrag thrived, and while it irked her that she hadn't foreseen this outcome, it also intrigued her. A city built on loyalty and unity rather than fear… could it be harnessed without diluting her control?
"Great Sage," she murmured internally, her smirk faint but growing. "I think we've stumbled upon something useful here. Don't you?" As The Vengeful One stepped into the manor's grand hall, her boots echoing against the polished stone floors, the faint hum of Great Sage resonated in her mind. Its calm, measured voice cut through her thoughts like a sharp blade, bringing with it unexpected news.
"My Lady, I have completed a city-wide scan of Silvercrag's populace and your stationed Marines. The results are… notable."
Her crimson eyes narrowed slightly as she climbed the steps to the manor's central chamber, her dark cloak trailing behind her. "Notable, Sage? That's rarely a word you use. Speak plainly. What have you found?"
"The reverence your Marines hold for you has reached 205%. This level surpasses the loyalty of even your most elite forces. The bonds they've forged with the populace have instilled a newfound sense of purpose and protection. They see Silvercrag not just as an assignment, but as something worth defending with their very lives."
She paused at the top of the stairs, her hand resting on the carved balustrade. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Two hundred and five percent? That's… excessive. Are they zealots now, Sage? Or simply wise enough to know their queen's worth?"
"Likely a combination of both, my Lady. Their reverence stems from both fear of your power and admiration for your leadership. Furthermore, the city's favorability toward you is also remarkable. Silvercrag now holds your favorability at 198%. The possibility of any force—internal or external—turning this city against you is effectively zero."
Her smirk widened, her dark aura flickering faintly around her as she leaned against the balustrade. "So, the miners and merchants have fallen as hard as my soldiers. Tell me, Sage, what inspires such devotion? Is it the fear of my wrath, or have I unwittingly become their savior?"
"Analysis suggests it is a combination of your actions and their interpretation. The populace has witnessed firsthand the order and stability your Marines have brought. The lack of oppression, coupled with the rebuilding efforts and increased safety, has created an image of you not as a conqueror, but as a protector. This perception has solidified loyalty beyond rational dissent."
The Vengeful One chuckled low, the sound carrying a wicked amusement as she turned to gaze out of a nearby window overlooking the city. The bustling streets below teemed with life, their energy palpable even from her vantage point.
"Protector. Savior. They give me far too much credit, don't you think, Sage? I didn't march into this city to save it. I came to take it. And yet, here they are, singing my praises as if I personally rebuilt their walls. Humans are such fascinating creatures."
"Your methods, deliberate or not, have yielded results, my Lady. The loyalty you have cultivated in Silvercrag ensures its stability. Furthermore, it serves as an invaluable template for future endeavors."
She tapped a gloved finger against her lips thoughtfully, her mind turning over the implications. "A city that cannot be turned against me… a force that sees itself as an extension of my will rather than just soldiers. This is… useful. A foundation to build upon."
"Indeed, my Lady. Silvercrag's current state presents an opportunity to further solidify your dominion. The city's loyalty ensures its productivity and strategic value. Should you wish, I can prepare a detailed analysis of how to replicate these results in other territories."
She waved a hand dismissively, her crimson eyes glinting with ambition. "No need, Sage. I already know what to do. Silvercrag will serve as a shining example, a beacon to the other cities under my rule. If I can turn miners into loyal subjects, what excuse do the rest of them have?"
Her dark grin deepened as she pushed off the balustrade, striding toward the central chamber with renewed purpose. Great Sage's voice faded into the background, but the weight of its words lingered. Silvercrag was hers, wholly and unshakably. And if this city could be tamed, then so could the rest of the broken world.
"Zero chance of rebellion. A rare and precious thing, Sage. Let's see if we can make it a trend."
The streets of Silvercrag were quiet under the soft glow of the setting sun, the bustle of the day giving way to the calm of evening. The Vengeful One walked alone, her dark cloak trailing behind her, its edges brushing against the cobblestones. The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of the nearby mountains. Her crimson eyes scanned the streets, taking in the serene transformation of the city she now ruled.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft poke against her shin. She stopped, looking down to find a group of children no older than seven or eight staring up at her with wide eyes and mischievous grins. One of them, a small boy with a shock of messy hair, reached out and gave her shin another curious jab, as if testing to see if she were real.
"Brave, aren't you?" she murmured, raising a brow, her lips twitching into a faint smirk.
Another child, a girl with pigtails, giggled before darting behind her. "Bet you can't catch us!" she called out, her voice full of playful challenge.
For a moment, The Vengeful One simply stood there, her regal demeanor clashing with the absurdity of the situation. Then, to the children's delight, she crouched slightly, her crimson eyes gleaming with mock determination. "Oh, is that so? Let's see about that."
The children squealed with laughter as she lunged forward—not too quickly, just enough to make the chase thrilling. They scattered like leaves in the wind, their laughter echoing through the streets. She darted after them, her movements deliberate and measured, her dark cloak billowing behind her as she gave chase without ever truly catching any of them.
"You're too fast for me!" she exclaimed dramatically, feigning exhaustion as she finally came to a stop, placing her hands on her knees and pretending to gasp for air.
The children hesitated, then giggled amongst themselves before cautiously approaching her. One by one, they gathered around, their small faces flushed and breathless, their earlier wariness replaced entirely by delight.
"Aren't you scared of me?" she asked through bated breaths, her tone teasing but curious as she straightened and looked at them. "Don't I look like a monster to you?"
The messy-haired boy shook his head emphatically. "You're not scary! You look… you look like an angel!"
Her crimson eyes widened slightly, taken aback. "An angel, am I? What do you see, then, when you look at me?"
The children giggled amongst themselves before the pigtail girl spoke up, her eyes shining with admiration. "You're so pretty! You've got these huge wings—pink and gold! And your hair looks like the sunrise! And your eyes—sparkly like jewels!"
Another child chimed in, pointing enthusiastically. "And your sparkly halo! You look like you're from a storybook, all glowing and powerful!"
Her expression softened, and a genuine laugh escaped her lips—a rare, melodic sound that echoed through the quiet streets. She crouched down, ruffling the heads of each child, their hair mussing beneath her gloved hand. "You're all quite the storytellers, aren't you? Run along now, before I decide to really catch you."
The children giggled once more before scampering off, their laughter fading as they disappeared around a corner. As she rose to her full height, a pair of adults approached, their faces marked with equal parts apology and embarrassment.
"My Lady, please forgive them," the woman said quickly, bowing deeply. "They didn't mean to trouble you. They're just curious."
The Vengeful One waved a hand dismissively, her smirk still lingering. "Trouble? Hardly. They've only reminded me how out of shape I've become." She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Let them play. Children should not have to fear their queen."
The couple exchanged surprised glances before bowing again, murmuring their thanks as they hurried after their children. Left alone once more, The Vengeful One tilted her head to the darkening sky, her crimson eyes glinting faintly with amusement.
"Pink and gold wings, hair like the sunrise, and sparkly halo. An angel, they say. If only they knew." She chuckled softly, her dark aura pulsing faintly as she continued her evening walk, the faint echoes of laughter still ringing in her ears. For the first time in a long while, she felt oddly… human. "Children see the strangest things, don't they, Sage?"
Great Sage's voice chimed in calmly. "Their perception is shaped by awe and admiration, my Lady. It appears your influence has extended to the most innocent minds of Silvercrag."
She chuckled softly, her crimson eyes glinting in the lantern light. "Innocent minds or not, they've given me something to think about. Let's see how far this 'warrior angel' can take her reign."
She resumed her walk, her smirk lingering as the sound of children's laughter echoed faintly in the distance. The city was hers, and now, it seemed, so were its hearts. The cool evening air was quiet save for the faint rustling of leaves as The Vengeful One strolled through the streets of Silvercrag. Her crimson eyes scanned her surroundings with faint curiosity, taking in the signs of life and progress her dominion had brought to the once-struggling city. As she turned a corner, a modest yet striking structure caught her attention—a small, chapel-like building nestled between larger stone edifices.
Its worn façade bore the marks of time, but there were signs of recent care—newly patched stonework, a freshly painted door, and flower boxes brimming with bright blooms. The faint sound of children's laughter drifted from within, carried by the cool breeze. Her steps slowed, curiosity flickering in her gaze as she approached.
"Interesting," she murmured, her dark cloak trailing behind her as she ascended the short flight of steps leading to the door. Her hand hovered over the handle when it swung open unexpectedly.
A woman clad in the simple robes of a nun stepped out, her hands clutching a basket of bread. She froze for a fraction of a second, her pale blue eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the imposing figure before her. The Vengeful One caught the flash of shock, though the nun masked it quickly with a polite bow.
"My Lady," the nun greeted, her voice steady though tinged with curiosity. "What an unexpected honor. Welcome to our humble orphanage. I am Sister Elara, the caretaker here. Please, won't you come in?"
The Vengeful One inclined her head slightly, her dark aura momentarily softening as she followed the nun inside. The interior of the orphanage was modest yet inviting, its wooden beams polished to a warm sheen. Children's drawings adorned the walls, and the faint scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air. Though the space bore signs of wear, it was clear that every effort had been made to create a home-like atmosphere.
"It's quaint," she remarked, her tone neutral as her crimson eyes swept over the room. "And… improved. I can see the recent work. This place was once in worse shape, wasn't it?"
Sister Elara hesitated for a moment before nodding. "You're correct, my Lady. The orphanage was nearly abandoned before the city's restoration began. But with the generosity of the townsfolk and some hard work, we've managed to bring it back to life."
The Vengeful One's gaze lingered on a group of children playing quietly in the corner, their laughter soft and uninhibited. "And these improvements—are they enough?"
The nun's composure wavered briefly, a flicker of weariness crossing her face. "They've been a blessing, my Lady. But… there is still much to be done. Resources are limited, and the needs of the children are great. We do what we can, but it's a constant struggle."
The Vengeful One stepped further into the room, her dark cloak brushing against the floor as she studied the drawings on the walls. Crude depictions of families, suns, and trees adorned the parchment, their bright colors standing in stark contrast to the worn surroundings. Her crimson eyes softened imperceptibly.
"A struggle, yet you persist," she murmured, more to herself than to the nun. She turned to Sister Elara, her tone sharper now, though not unkind. "Why? What drives you to fight for a cause so… fragile?"
Sister Elara met her gaze, her blue eyes steady despite the queen's intimidating presence. "Because they deserve it, my Lady. These children have lost so much. If we don't fight for them, who will? Their futures are worth every effort, no matter how difficult."
For a moment, The Vengeful One was silent, her expression unreadable. Then, a faint smirk curved her lips, her tone laced with dark amusement. "Noble words, Sister. I can respect that. Perhaps this orphanage deserves more attention than it's been given. We'll see."
Sister Elara bowed deeply. "Thank you, my Lady. Your support would mean the world to these children. Please, let me show you more of the orphanage. Perhaps you'll see why we fight so hard for it."
The Vengeful One gestured for her to lead the way, her dark aura pulsing faintly as she followed the nun deeper into the chapel-like building. The faint sound of children's laughter echoed in her ears, mingling with the quiet hum of her own thoughts. The tour through the orphanage continued with a quiet warmth that felt foreign but not unwelcome to The Vengeful One. Sister Elara led her from room to room, the faint creak of old wooden floorboards beneath their steps a reminder of the building's age. Despite its modesty, the care poured into every corner was undeniable.
They paused in a small library where several children sat cross-legged, eagerly thumbing through well-worn books. The scent of aged parchment mingled with the faint sweetness of flowers from the nearby windowsill. The Vengeful One's crimson eyes lingered on a boy who was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't even notice her imposing presence.
"We've managed to keep a decent collection of books for the children," Sister Elara explained softly, her hands clasped in front of her. "They love stories of heroes and grand adventures. It inspires them, gives them hope."
The Vengeful One arched a brow, her voice carrying a faint note of amusement. "Hope? In a world like this? Bold of you, Sister."
Sister Elara smiled, her blue eyes glimmering with quiet resolve. "Hope is all we have, my Lady. Sometimes, it's enough."
She said nothing in reply, but her gaze lingered on the boy before she turned and followed Elara into the next room—a modest kitchen filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread. A few older children worked alongside a nun, their hands busy kneading dough while they laughed softly at something she said.
"This is Sister Marianne," Elara said, gesturing to the nun, who quickly straightened and wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron.
"My Lady," Marianne greeted with a small bow, her expression equal parts awe and nervousness.
"Carry on," The Vengeful One replied with a wave of her hand, her tone clipped but not unkind. "The bread smells… tolerable."
Marianne blinked in surprise before a faint smile crept onto her face. "Thank you, my Lady. We try our best."
They moved on, passing dormitories filled with neatly made beds and small personal touches—handmade trinkets, drawings, and the occasional stuffed toy. Sister Elara explained how the children shared responsibilities, learning to care for one another as a family would. The Vengeful One nodded absently, her crimson eyes catching every detail, every sign of effort and love poured into this place.
Finally, they stepped into the backyard, where the setting sun cast a golden glow over a modest garden and a small, crumbling building in the corner. The sound of lighthearted chatter caught her attention, and her eyes narrowed as she spotted a pair of her Marines. They stood over a pile of stone and wood, tools in hand, clearly in the process of restoring the structure. Their laughter stopped abruptly as they noticed her, their postures snapping straight like guilty children caught in the act.
"My Lady!" one of them stammered, his face pale as he bowed deeply. "We didn't realize—"
She raised a hand, flicking her fingers dismissively. "Continue. You're carrying out my will… elegantly." Her tone carried a faint smirk, and though her expression was unreadable, the Marines exchanged glances of relief before resuming their work with renewed focus.
"They've been a blessing to us," Elara said quietly as they walked further into the yard. "When they're not on duty, they've been helping with repairs. I can't express how much it's meant to us."
"They're tools, Sister. Tools that serve my purpose," The Vengeful One replied coolly, though her gaze lingered on the Marines for a moment longer before she turned back to the nun. "But it seems they've found ways to be useful beyond their orders. Perhaps there's hope for them yet."
Elara chuckled softly as they approached a group of nuns gathered near the garden, their heads bowing in reverence at the sight of their queen. "My Lady, allow me to introduce the rest of our sisters. This is Sister Annalise, Sister Diona, and Sister Freya. Together, we oversee the orphanage's daily operations."
Each nun greeted her in turn, their voices steady but tinged with awe. Sister Freya, the youngest of the group, stepped forward nervously. "It's an honor to meet you, my Lady. We've heard so much about your work in Brightshade. To have you here… it's more than we could have dreamed."
The Vengeful One tilted her head slightly, her crimson eyes glinting faintly. "Dreams are dangerous things, Sister. But I suppose even dangerous things have their place. Your work here has not gone unnoticed. Keep it up."
The nuns exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and gratitude. Sister Elara placed a hand over her heart, her voice soft but firm. "Thank you, my Lady. We'll continue to do all we can for these children. Your presence alone has strengthened our resolve."
She gave a faint nod, her dark aura pulsing gently as she turned back toward the orphanage. "Resolve is admirable, Sister. But results are what matters. See that you deliver them."
As she walked back inside, the laughter of the children and the steady clinking of tools filled the air behind her. For a brief moment, her lips curved into a faint smile. Brightshade was thriving more so than she had imagined, reaching even into the smallest corners of Silvercrag.