Chapter 445: The Take Over (End)
Inside the old city palace, the war council convened. The walls were scorched and battered, windows broken and jagged at the edges, their stained glass melted in patches from the fires of the recent siege. Yet in that ruined majesty, soldiers moved in disciplined coordination, carrying fresh torches and sweeping aside rubble so the commanders had room to work. Despite the damage, a single oak table—scratched and pitted—had survived. Upon it lay a map of southern Varzadia, held down at the corners by broken bits of marble. It was all they needed for this meeting, and more than enough to plan the next step of their campaign.
Wilhelmina stood at the head of the table, her ledger in hand. Soot smudged her left cheek, but she looked as composed as ever. The slender, regal bearing she possessed contrasted sharply with the state of the palace, making it seem like she was meant to command in times like this. When she spoke, her voice was low but carried across the chamber with sharp authority.
"Funds seized from the treasury and hidden vaults," she announced, tapping a page in her ledger. "Enough to fund four months of operations, including recruitment and repairs. We can pay new recruits, buy building supplies, feed the city’s population in the meantime. It’s a solid start." Her tone was factual, but there was a note of relief beneath it—resources always spelled possibilities.
Josephine stood next to her, leaning one arm on the table. Her other hand tossed a handful of scrolls onto the surface, the old parchment unrolling slightly to reveal rows of cramped handwriting. "These are correspondence between Alstan and half the corrupt nobles in the region. Bribes to suppress revolts, forged reports, villages left to starve. Names, places, details... He never trusted memory when he could write it down, apparently."
She smirked, and Lyan noticed the slight curl of satisfaction at her lip. Josephine loved unearthing secrets, especially those that could topple bigger foes. Her eyes darted to Lyan, as if checking his reaction. He gave a silent nod—he appreciated her thoroughness. These documents would be a powerful weapon in a war fought on more than just battlefields.
"We use it," Emilia said immediately, looking up from the portion of the map she’d been studying. Her hair still smelled faintly of smoke from the night before. "Print it. Distribute it. Turn their lies into a confession in the public’s eyes. Let them see how deeply their nobles betrayed them."
A hush fell in the room for a beat. The idea of printing and distributing materials that exposed Varzadian corruption was bold. It would inflame tensions among the local aristocracy, but it might also rally the common folk to Astellia’s side.
Abraham, tall and broad-shouldered, stood beside the table, arms folded in a posture of contemplative strength. He dipped his head in agreement before shifting the conversation. "Next city’s a fortress," he said, pointing to a spot on the map with a calloused finger. The location was circled in charcoal. "Three days northeast. River-controlled. They’ve got warships patrolling. They won’t be as easy to surprise as Alstan’s city was."
A mild tension crackled in the air—nobody liked hearing about a well-prepared enemy, especially not one controlling a major waterway. But the group seemed unfazed. They were forging a path of conquest, one city at a time, and each city brought new challenges.