The action that followed was swift and decisive — and shockingly bloodless.
With three major clans now bound together under Riley's banner, the prospect of overrunning the scattered smaller houses seemed almost trivial.
The camp hummed with nervous energy: commanders whispered plans, supply wagons rolled into order, and scouts reported only scattered, demoralized resistance.
It should have meant a long, grinding campaign. Instead Riley offered a single, unnerving alternative.
"Nope. We don't have to march around wasting men and time," he said, voice flat and cold with authority. "Send messengers. Tell every clan to come to the Rice Clan. We will lay out the reforms I intend to make — and whoever refuses need not return. I will bring swift death to their clans."
His words landed like an iron bell.
For a moment the only sound was the wind over the plain and the soft creak of leather straps.
