Above, in the sun-drenched sanctum of the council chamber, the meeting drew toward its inevitable, fateful close. Valentina stood at the center of the dais, her voice carrying the weight of divine mandate as she finalized the timeline.
"Final preparations will be concluded within days," she announced, her eyes scanning the assembled commanders with a steel-hard resolve. "The offensive will launch the moment our preparations are complete."
"Consider yourselves formally on notice: mobilize every asset, ready every blade, and steel every soul."
"We march to reclaim what has been stolen."
The chamber responded not with cheers, but with something far more chilling: the quiet, measured applause of zealots. These were people who believed they were the instruments of justice, the righteous fist rising to correct a long-standing injustice.
