As I strode toward the city square, my soldiers marched behind me, a silent wall of steel. The gates had opened, and the people spilled into the streets, drawn by fear and curiosity alike. Hunger and the wear of long years were carved into their faces, yet in their eyes flickered a light I could not ignore. Hope… or at least the fragile dream of it.
When I reached the square, I turned to the kneeling guards at the gate.
"From this moment, the men who stand watch on the walls will be mine. You will lay down your arms. I have no desire to spill blood."
One of them dared to lift his head.
"And us, my lord? What will become of us?"
I held his gaze.
"If you have not oppressed your own people, then from this day you will protect them. But if even one of you tries to resurrect the shadow of the old order, remember, your lives will hang by a thread thinner than hair."
