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The adrenaline that had surged through the three ISB officers—Sergeant Elias, the team leader, and Officers Zara and Thomas—dissipated quickly after the arrest. The shock of the encounter settled in the quiet hours following the event, turning their professional pride into a tense, shaking anxiety. They were sequestered immediately upon returning to the ISB headquarters, undergoing a standard debriefing. While their commander, Chief Inspector Klaus, praised their cool adherence to protocol, the officers themselves were gripped by a delayed fear that transcended mere physical danger.
Sergeant Elias, the man who had given the order to fire, felt a cold knot in his stomach. He wasn't afraid of the Imperial Knights' surviving counterparts; he was terrified of the political fallout. Every fiber of his being, trained under the old Imperial system, screamed that he had committed treason by disabling an Imperial Knight. He constantly replayed the moment he gave the order, relentlessly justifying the necessity of the shot. He hadn't fired to kill, but to enforce the law and prevent further chaos. He focused on the technicality: the Knight's aggression justified the use of force, and the mythril armor turned a lethal shot into a disabling one. He had executed his duty perfectly, yet the silence from the manor—the lack of an immediate Imperial military raid—was more unnerving than any physical threat. He kept waiting for the thundering arrival of Duke Enoch's legion, unable to reconcile the peaceful streets with the war he knew they had just declared.
Officer Zara felt a profound emotional release. She was a former refugee who had witnessed Imperial soldiers commit countless atrocities with impunity. The common Imperial assumption that the law bent for the powerful had been shattered in a single, kinetic instant. The moment the Knight's knee fractured was a revelation. It wasn't the strength of Valum's army that protected her; it was the absolute equality of Max's law. She felt a fierce, burning loyalty to Lord Scorpia, but also an overwhelming dread that they had crossed a line that would now bring the entire Empire down upon them. Her hands shook not from the fight, but from the realization that they had truly started a war, and she was terrified of disappointing the man who had given her a life of justice and dignity. The weight of Valum's survival now felt tied directly to her actions in the marketplace.
Officer Thomas was the most shaken. He was a new recruit, and while he had fired his sidearm at the other advancing knights (missing them purposefully, as ordered), the sight of the elite knight screaming—a sound he had always associated with helpless civilians—had broken his composure. He felt shame, not fear. Shame that he, a common officer, had raised a weapon against the Emperor's chosen. His mind struggled to reconcile the military propaganda drilled into him for years with the new reality of Max's system. He needed concrete validation that what they did was not only right, but virtuous, otherwise the old conditioning would tear him apart. He knew, intellectually, that the Knight was a lawbreaker, yet his heart still whispered of treason.
The confrontation in the marketplace sent an immediate and powerful message throughout Valum. For the thousands of former peasants, refugees, and tradesmen who now called Valum home, the incident was a civic revelation. They had always heard Max's laws—laws against public nuisance, vandalism, and assault—read out by the ISB. But the common perception in the Empire was that laws were pliable, especially for the nobility and the armored elite. The Imperial Knights represented the ultimate untouchable authority. The sight of the Imperial Knight screaming on the ground, his body protected but his internal structure pulverized, followed by the sight of the other two kneeling with their hands behind their backs, irrevocably changed this perception. The citizenry realized Max's law was not class-based or negotiable. It applied to everyone. This created unprecedented trust in the justice system and eliminated the petty corruption and favoritism that plagued every other Imperial town. The townspeople developed a fierce, protective pride. They weren't protected by walls or magic, but by their own professional police force and the certainty of punishment. The Valum Code of Conduct was now synonymous with safety.
For the ISB itself, the incident was the ultimate validation of their intense, often tedious, training doctrine. Chief Inspector Klaus understood that the true power lay not in the bullet, but in the adherence to the initial protocol. The initial demand—"Stop what you are doing immediately"—followed by the reading of the charges, confirmed that their power originated from the codified rule, not their personal strength. The ISB cemented its identity as an efficient, professional, and terrifyingly pragmatic law enforcement body. They were not knights; they were enforcers of codified rules, armed with tools designed to solve problems faster than magic could react.
Meanwhile, the military personnel, the militia, saw the incident as the definitive answer to the question of Imperial superiority. Their faith in the SR-1 rifles and the machine guns skyrocketed, as they realized their standard issue equipment was supremely lethal against the Empire's heavily armored elite. Their discipline became absolute, fueled by the certainty that their commander possessed the technological answer to every feudal threat. The covert Department of External Affairs (DEA), structured for intelligence and espionage, saw the incident differently. They viewed the confrontation as a massive security risk and a profound intelligence opportunity. They immediately began tracking the movements of Duke Enoch's entourage, anticipating desperate attempts to learn the true nature of Valum's "Strategic Deterrent." The DEA agents knew their role was now to amplify the terror, subtly spreading rumors outside Valum's borders—not about the gun, but about the unseen curse or the impossible force—to amplify the deterrent effect and paralyze potential enemies.
That evening, the three officers were summoned to a private hall within the Valum Garrison. They stood rigidly at attention before Maximilian, who was flanked by Chief Inspector Klaus and his highest-ranking military general. They expected censure, or perhaps an order to discreetly flee. Instead, Maximilian walked up to Elias, his gaze analytical but not condemning.
"Sergeant Elias, Officers Zara and Thomas," Max began, his voice clear and resonant. "You were given a simple mandate: enforce the law, without prejudice or bias. Today, you faced the ultimate test of that mandate. You faced the myth of Imperial superiority and proved that order, discipline, and technology are superior to antiquated nobility and superstition."
Max paused, his tone shifting to one of profound recognition. "You did not fire out of bloodlust or defiance. You fired to uphold the fundamental principle of this town: the law is the same for the peasant and the prince. This is the outcome of following the Valum code."
Max nodded to Klaus, who stepped forward holding a small, heavy silver medallion on a deep crimson ribbon. It was simple, designed with a small, stylized gear superimposed over the scales of justice.
"For your adherence to duty, your unwavering discipline, and your demonstrated commitment to the principles of order and equity, I hereby award you the Medal of Constitutional Virtue."
He pinned the medal onto Sergeant Elias's chest first. "This medal is not for bravery in combat, which is common among soldiers. It is for bravery in the defense of principle. It shows that under my authority, the greatest possible act of heroism is upholding the rule of law. You have proven that no man, no rank, and no armor stands above the Constitution of Valum."
As Max pinned the medals onto Zara and Thomas, the symbolic weight of the reward finally shattered Thomas's emotional conflict. He understood: their loyalty was not to a Duke or an Emperor, but to a system that protected them. His shame dissolved into profound, tearful pride.
Maximilian then gave the final instruction, ensuring the event would become a cornerstone of Valum's public doctrine. "Effective immediately, you are assigned to lead the new Internal Affairs unit. Your job is to ensure that every ISB and military officer under my command understands that the power of the slug exists to enforce the virtue you demonstrated today. Go now. You are dismissed." The three officers snapped a salute, the weight of the silver medallions stabilizing their hearts. They had been terrified of losing everything; instead, they had gained the highest honor in Valum and cemented the foundation of Maximilian's authority.