Four days after Blackwood Armed Militia (B.A.M) and Blackwood machinery rolled in
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The city hadn't seen peace in years.
Dust and smoke had been part of Darnovan air like oxygen — until now. And though some still flinched at the roar of armored engines, the sight that followed wasn't dread this time.
It was order.
Blackwood flags flew beside Darnova's, not above them — a subtle message, but one people noticed. The B.A.M soldiers didn't come in with weapons drawn. They came with water trucks, ration packs, medical drones, and discipline so tight it felt unreal.
"They actually stopped a fight outside my shop," an old tailor, Myran Jik, told a local crowd.
"Didn't beat the boys, didn't arrest them. They just… stared them down. Like ghosts in black armor. The boys dropped the knives themselves."
Children watched B.A.M units march like clockwork—some trying to mimic the moves, others just awestruck by the sleek mech-walkers scanning rooftops with glowing blue sensors.
"Mama, are they robots?" a little girl asked her mother.
"No, love," her mother smiled softly. "They're Blackwood."
Even the press—once terrified of even whispering the Empire's name—had started reporting with a new tone.
"Stability has returned."
"The President's gamble pays off."
"Darnova finds strength in a new alliance."
Still, not everyone was cheering.
In the southern districts, where rebel whispers had once echoed, suspicion lingered like mold. Some saw the soldiers as occupiers in fancy uniforms. Others just didn't believe the calm would last.
"We've been ruled, burned, betrayed… and now this? It's too perfect."
"Chris Blackwood doesn't give for free. He invests."
Yet every day, more power came back. Light in homes. Clean water. Order.
And in the minds of many Darnovans — especially those who had known nothing but chaos — order was enough.
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