The smoke from Arhenius Sureva's execution still drifted above the rooftops of Ganglen, clinging to the air like a curse. The sacred Banyan Tree—once the pride of the Sureva family—now stood defiled, its roots damp with blood, its hanging branches whispering sorrow in the wind. Where once nobility had gathered to pay respect, now only silence and fear remained.
Duke Liles Siegfried surveyed the aftermath from atop the Market Square steps, his long coat fluttering in the breeze. The city groaned beneath the weight of its recent sins. The people were unsettled, torn between celebrating the fall of a dynasty and fearing the void it left behind. He could feel it—the heartbeat of unrest beneath the surface.
"The body is gone?" he asked, not turning his head.
"Burned, as ordered," a guard confirmed, stepping beside him. "But... the crowds aren't satisfied. Rumors say the Duke's son and daughter survived. Some believe they'll return for vengeance."
Liles clenched his jaw. Of course they survived. That brat, Luenor, had always clung too tightly to life.
His eyes drifted toward the snowy northern forests beyond Ganglen's edge. "He did escape," Liles said flatly.
They moved through the shattered streets, flanked by soldiers in Siegfried colors. The crowd parted with a mix of awe and wariness. A few peasants cheered—the naive ones who believed a new era had dawned. But many of the older townsfolk simply watched, quiet and grim. They had seen too many noble heads fall to trust any change.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the granary. Civilians clashed with remnants of the Sureva Army, those loyal knights who still refused to kneel. Blood was spilled again in the mud. Steel rang out against cobblestone.
"Idiots," Liles muttered, his voice barely more than a breath. "The House is dead, and still they fight its ghost."
With a simple gesture, he turned to his captain. "Contain the rebels. Kill the ones who resist. Bring the others to heel. I want no more of this drama by sunset."
"What about the boy?" the captain asked cautiously. "And the girl?"
Liles's expression hardened. "The bloodline must end. Burn the roots or the tree will rise again."
A figure approached, cloaked in shadow and wearing his usual smirk—Nag. Still stained in dirt and death, still reeking of twisted joy from the public execution.
"You wanted me?" Nag drawled.
Liles didn't look at him right away. He simply spoke. "Find the boy. And the girl."
Nag's smile widened. "I saw the fire in that boy's eyes. He's dangerous. We should've ended it back at the Winter Palace."
"You should have ended it before his father took half your men to the grave," Liles replied coldly, eyes narrowing.
With an exaggerated bow, Nag shrugged. "Then I suppose I owe you a better result."
"You have my authority," Liles said. "No grand trials this time. No show. Kill them. Quietly. Let the snow swallow them."
"And the remaining Sureva loyalists?" Nag asked.
"Break them," Liles answered. "Or bury them."
Nag's grin sharpened as he melted into the streets, already hunting. As the wind picked up and ash scattered across the square, Liles stared up at the iron-gray sky and whispered to the dead tree behind him, "The fire hasn't gone out yet."