The aftermath of Operation: Divine Retribution was one of devastating, cold finality. The MSW-2 strikes had broken the back of Gigante's rebellion, but Pro-Consul Maximilian knew that true conquest required more than just fire and ash; it required systematic, internal absorption. The task of securing and seamlessly merging the Dunbar Kingdom into the State of Scorpia was entrusted to Lieutenant General Jakob, a man whose reputation was built on ruthless adherence to logic and logistics.
Jakob received operational command over the minimal kinetic force Max deemed necessary: only two full divisions of the Army, a surgical deployment compared to the terrifying might Max usually commanded. Crucially, however, the military presence was bolstered by thousands of personnel from the internal security apparatus: ISB officers, numerous squads of SWAT (Special Weapons and Tactics) specialists, and a massive influx of Inquisitors. This was not primarily a military occupation; it was a security takeover and an ideological purge.
Max's instructions to Jakob were delivered in his usual, chillingly precise manner. "General, the enemy's will is broken. Your mission is not to kill soldiers, but to kill chaos. This is essentially a peacekeeping operation, enforced by the certainty that we can, and will, unleash hell again. You will move swiftly. The people must understand that the hell of the V-2 is replaced by the order of Scorpia. Deliver the stick first, and then the carrot."
Jakob understood. The two divisions would secure the major infrastructure and eliminate scattered resistance, but the real work would be done by the security forces. The ISB officers and SWAT teams were there to maintain ironclad internal security, patrolling the cities and enforcing immediate, strict Scorpian law. The Inquisitors were tasked with a more insidious goal: to systematically root out any person with ties to the rebels, searching not just for former soldiers, but for ideological sympathizers and anyone who might spread dissent against the God of Order. Meanwhile, the ERT (Emergency Response Teams) were deployed to provide immediate health services and relief—the visible, tangible benevolence that would cement the populace's dependence on Max.
A week after the final missile strike, Lieutenant General Jakob stood on the landing pad outside the old Dunbar Royal Palace, which now served as his temporary command center. The air still carried a faint, acrid scent of burnt thermite and discharged mana. He watched the continuous stream of airships arriving, offloading both soldiers and security personnel.
Inside the palace's makeshift barracks, Sergeant Farris of the 12th Regiment, Army, cleaned his SAR (Automatic Assault Rifle), his face grim. Corporal Jin, a combat engineer assigned to the division, leaned against a crumbling stone wall. They were part of one of the two deployed divisions, and the sheer emptiness of their job was unnerving.
"I've never been on a deployment this… quiet," Jin muttered, wiping dust from his helmet. "Fifty V-2s did the work of five divisions. We're just here to sweep the dust."
Farris tightened a component on his rifle. "Don't mistake quiet for safe, Corporal. The mages are gone, but the bitterness isn't. We are the deterrent. We keep the streets clear so the ISB can go hunting. Look around. We're outnumbered ten-to-one by security personnel."
A squad of SWAT specialists, clad in heavy, black specialized combat gear, marched past the barracks entrance, their movement sharp and utterly silent.
"The black coats," Jin said, spitting on the ground. "They don't look happy."
"They don't have to be happy, they have to be effective," Farris retorted. "Their job is different from ours. We fight the visible threat. They fight the invisible one—the moment of hesitation, the whispered doubt. The ISB commander told us their primary focus isn't finding guns; it's finding lists. Lists of donors, lists of sympathizers, lists of anyone who questioned the thirty percent tax or King Dunbar's ties to Max."
In the main palace courtyard, the Inquisitors were already establishing their centers of operation. A young, impeccably dressed Inquisitor named Elara was reviewing files with a senior ISB officer.
"Officer Raine," Elara began, tapping a file detailing a local merchant family. "This family, the Vareks. They donated heavily to Gigante's traditionalist movement six months ago. They have no military service, but they funded the very sentiment that led to the coup. They are ideological contaminates."
Officer Raine, a man hardened by years of internal policing in Scorpia, nodded curtly. "Understood, Inquisitor. We've cross-referenced their financial records with the central Scorpian banking data we just brought online. The paper trail is clear. We will secure them tonight. They will be placed into the re-education program immediately. No visible violence, of course. We need order, not martyrs."
"Precisely," Elara agreed. "The ERT is currently providing free health services to the nearby district. We ensure the relief packages are delivered to the families of the Vareks' employees. The people see the kindness of the State even as the State cleanses the corruption."
Indeed, outside the palace walls, the ERT was already a hive of activity. Airships continuously landed in the central plaza, quickly offloading medical supplies, packaged meals, and clean water. ERT medics, wearing brightly colored uniforms to distinguish them from the severe military and security personnel, tended to the wounded and malnourished survivors.
A medic named Lena was treating an elderly woman for mana-burn, a residual effect of the MSW-2 strikes on anyone with latent magical talent.
"Rest, citizen," Lena said gently, applying a specialized cooling salve. "The chaos is over. Scorpia provides health, free of charge. Your old rulers left you starving and unprotected. You see the difference."
The old woman, eyes wide with residual fear but clinging tightly to a Scorpian relief packet, simply nodded, confirming the psychological operation was working perfectly.
Back at the barracks, Corporal Jin watched the procession of humanity—the scared survivors, the stern-faced Inquisitors, and the grim SWAT teams. He saw a squad of engineers moving past, staking out lines for the new construction.
"Look, Farris," Jin pointed. "They're starting on the roads already. And the concrete frames for the residential blocks."
Farris squinted at the blueprints the engineers were carrying. "Good. We need those roads to be able to move supply and security quickly. And the barracks are a mess. They're tearing out all the old, crooked stone. Replacing it with Max's perfect concrete boxes. Straight lines and cameras everywhere."
He looked at Jin. "That's General Jakob's priority. The two divisions are the hammer that broke the door, but the ISB and the engineers are the ones rebuilding the house. We provide the force, the Inquisitors provide the loyalty, and the engineers ensure the infrastructure is on par with Scorpian regions. No more feudal nonsense. Just perfect, efficient Order."
Farris stood up, slinging his rifle. "Duty call. Patrol in Sector Three. Keep your eyes open, Corporal. We're looking for any suspicious gatherings, any groups larger than two outside the curfew zones. Remember the training: the greatest threat isn't a cannon, it's a politician with a loud mouth. And those are the people the Inquisitors are coming for." The operation in Dunbar was a masterclass in asymmetrical annexation: minimal force, maximum security control, and the overwhelming delivery of infrastructure designed to make the populace permanently dependent on the God of Order.