Chapter 24: Aftermath (Crown Judgement)
The return of the First Legion was a triumph. As the vanguard of the crimson-cloaked soldiers marched through the main gates of Aethelburg, a roar erupted from the assembled citizenry. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated joy and relief. People who had lived their lives in fear of famine and the casual cruelty of the old nobility packed the streets, throwing flowers, and cheering until heaven heard their voices. They cheered for the soldiers, for the victory, but most of all, they cheered for the young king at their head.
Alexius rode his black warhorse proudly, His wounded left arm was bound in a fine, black silk sling, a visible mark of his participation that only amplified the crowd's adoration. They saw a warrior king who had bled with his men to protect them. They saw the ruler who had crushed the arrogant Marquess Dynan, a man whose reputation for cruelty was well-known. They saw the sovereign who had, through some divine favor, made the fields green and their bellies full.
Alexius, however, felt a profound disconnect from the celebration. He heard the cheers, but his mind's eye was fixed on the System's interface.
[Battle of the Three Forks: Final Casualty Report]
Royal Army (First Legion):Killed in Action: 500Seriously Wounded (Requires long-term care): 50Lightly Wounded (Expected full recovery): 300Rebel Army:Killed in Action: ~5,000Holy Templars: 100% Annihilated.Surrendered (Mercenaries & Levies): ~5,000
Five hundred dead. Five hundred men who had marched out of this very gate behind him would never return. Their faces, their hopes, their families—each one was a weight upon his soul. He had won, yes. His victory had been absolute, his losses strategically acceptable, even remarkably low given the odds. But the cost felt immense. This was the burden of the crown, a truth no cheering crowd could ever understand.
Behind his retinue, the reality of his victory was put on stark display for the entire city. In a heavy, iron-barred cage wagon drawn by two massive oxen, sat the mastermind of the rebellion. Marquess Dynan, stripped of his finery, was a slumped, broken man, his eyes vacant with shock and despair. Beside him, Bishop Valerius de Avarus sat bolt upright, his face a mask of cold, defiant fury, his hands bound before him. The sight of the two most powerful men in the Eastern Reaches defeated and caged like animals, sent a fresh wave of ecstatic cheers through the crowd. It was a visceral, powerful message: a new era had truly begun.
Later that day, in the quiet of the royal solar, the accounting of the war was concluded.
"The victory was total, Your Majesty," General Varrus reported, his voice filled with a soldier's grim pride. "The First Legion performed beyond all expectations. Their discipline under fire, the quality of their standardized arms… it was the key. We lost five hundred men, a heavy price, but one that bought the future of this kingdom. The rebel force has ceased to exist."
Chancellor Elias stepped forward, his report concise as always. "The city is stable, Your Majesty. The merchant guilds, upon hearing of your victory, met our 'request' for a war loan with surprising enthusiasm. The treasury is solvent. The captured rebel arms and armor alone will be enough to fully equip the new Second Legion."
Alexius nodded, his gaze distant. "The men who fell are not to be forgotten, my Lord Chancellor. Every family of a soldier killed in the service of the Crown will receive a lifetime pension, paid from the royal treasury. The seriously wounded will receive the same. This is not a reward; it is the debt the Crown owes them. See to it personally."
Elias's eyes widened slightly. Such a concept was unheard of. Feudal lords might throw a few coins at a grieving widow, but a state-sponsored pension for common soldiers? It was revolutionary. It would bind the army to the Crown with a loyalty stronger than any oath. "It will be my honor, Your Majesty," he said with a deep, respectful bow.
"The surrendered levies are to be disarmed and sent back to their villages," Alexius continued. "They were victims of this war, not perpetrators. The mercenaries, however, are a different matter. Offer them a choice: enlist in the Royal Army under General Varrus's strict discipline, or be exiled from the borders of Leo on pain of death."
His council bowed in agreement, "As you command, Your Majesty."
The following day, the final judgment for rebels came. A large, grim scaffold had been erected in the People's Plaza, the same place where Alexius had given his speech before the march. The entire city seemed to be in attendance, a vast, silent crowd held back by disciplined lines of the City Guard.
Marquess Dynan and two dozen of his most prominent banner knights and allied lords were marched onto the platform, bound and stripped of their armor. They looked small and pathetic under the grey sky.
Lord Chancellor Elias, stepped forward and read the charges from a royal scroll. "For the crimes of high treason, of inciting rebellion against the rightful sovereign, of conspiring with a foreign power, and for the murder of the loyal soldiers of Leo, this Royal Tribunal finds you, Marquess Tiberius of House Dynan, and all those here assembled, guilty."
All eyes turned to the high, ceremonial throne that had been placed before the scaffold. Alexius sat upon it, his wounded arm resting on the armrest. He spoke to the plaza with chilling, absolute authority.
"The penalty for treason is death," he declared. "But death is too simple a punishment for the damage you have wrought. You sought to preserve your legacy, your wealth, your noble blood. Therefore, it is those very things that shall be annihilated."
He stood and declared. "I, Alexius Demetrios Leo, Grand Prince of this realm, do hereby issue this Edict of Attainder. The noble houses of Dynan, Volantis, and all others who raised arms against the Crown are hereby stripped of their titles, their lands, their keeps, and their wealth. Their names shall be struck from the Great Peerage of Leo. Their ancestral lands and all properties thereon become the direct property of the Crown. All living members of their families, from their wives and children down to the most distant cousin, are stripped of their noble status and are henceforth reduced to the rank of commoner. Your lines are ended. Your history is erased. You will be forgotten."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. This was a judgment more terrible than any had imagined. It wasn't just the execution of men; it was the execution of entire legacies. It was a clear and brutal statement that the old feudal order, where a noble's house was a kingdom unto itself, was dead.
The Marquess looked up with utter horror and despair. He opened his mouth to scream, to curse, to beg, but no sound came out. He had lost everything.
The executions were swift and brutally efficient. The Royal executioner, a massive, hooded figure, did his work with a heavy axe. One by one, the heads of the great and powerful lords of the East rolled across the scaffold. The crowd watched in stunned, fearful silence. The message had been delivered.
Later that evening, in the cold formality of the throne room, the final piece of the rebellion was brought before him. Bishop Valerius de Avarus, now clad in a rough prisoner's tunic, his hands in heavy chains, was thrown to his knees before the throne.
He looked up, his eyes blazing with cold, unrepentant fury. "Do you think you have won, boy?" he hissed. "You have murdered the nobility. You have made an enemy of the faithful. I am a Bishop of the Holy See! When word of this reaches the other kingdoms, when the Supreme Pontiff hears how you have laid hands upon his chosen, all of Christendom will descend upon this pathetic little kingdom of yours! Your throne will be built on a mountain of skulls, and your own will be the last one placed upon it!"
Alexius listened patiently to the endless curses of Bishop, then He leaned forward and whispered. "Holy See, Bishop. That is the only reason your head is not already on a spike above the city gates. You are not just a Leonese traitor. You are an international political asset."
His mind was already processing the new question the System had presented. [Diplomatic Negotiation: The Holy See.] The objective was clear.
"You see, your value to me is no longer as a domestic problem, but as a foreign opportunity," Alexius continued, a cold smile playing on his lips. "The Holy See will undoubtedly be furious. They will send envoys. They will make threats. And I will be ready cards to play with them."
He stood and walked down the steps of the dais until he was looking down at the kneeling Bishop. "You are correct that I cannot simply kill you. That would be… messy. But I can present them with a choice. They can either defend a disgraced, failed traitor who broke not only the laws of my kingdom but the divine laws he claims to represent by inciting war and murder… or they can cut their losses, denounce you themselves, and negotiate a new, more… mutually beneficial relationship with the Crown of Leo."
The Bishop's eyes widened as the true, terrifying scope of Alexius's plan dawned on him. He wasn't going to be a martyr. He was going to be a bargaining chip.
"Take him to the Black Vault," Alexius commanded the guards. "He is to be kept in isolation. He will be fed, he will bekept in reasonable health, and he will speak to no one. He has a very important diplomatic meeting in his future." before guards dragged him out "Ahh, also, Make every guard of the black vault non-human Royal Guards, even the one who will make his meals non-human. Please enjoy your rest my dear Bishop." Royal Guards smirked and bowed and dragged the Bishop out. "You, not with those fiflthy animals!!! You son of a bitch!!!" The bishop can only curse the prince along the way.
As the sputtering, cursing Bishop was dragged away, Alexius returned to his solar. The celebrations in the city had finally died down, replaced by a quiet, watchful peace. He stood before the great map of Leo on his wall. With a thought, he commanded the System to update it. A vast swathe of the east, formerly the lands of a dozen noble houses, now glowed with the solid, unified crimson of direct Crown Territory. His domain, the land from which he drew direct taxes and levies, had increased by a third. His power was absolute.
He touched the fresh scar on his shoulder through his tunic. The pain was a dull, constant ache, a reminder of the price of that power. He thought of the five hundred soldiers who had brought this victory with their lives. The triumph felt heavy, too heavy for a modern programmer Michael.
A new notification shimmered into existence in his vision.
[Diplomatic Event Triggered: An official Papal delegate, Cardinal Alistair Beaumont, has crossed the southern border. Purpose: To address the 'Leonese Heresy' and the unlawful imprisonment of Bishop Valerius de Avarus. Estimated arrival in Aethelburg: 11 days.]
Alexius looked at the notification, and for the first time since the news of the rebellion had arrived, a genuine, cold smile touched his lips. This is going to be interesting. (Continue.....)