230. Annexation

One by one, as the council members swore their loyalty, a faint shimmer flickered before Ravenna’s eyes, invisible to all but her. The Reputation System’s lie detector illuminated truth and falsehood alike, marking each oath with quiet finality.

Her gaze drifted across the long table, her posture deceptively relaxed, one finger idly tracing the rim of her wine glass. Each faint chime of “Statement is False” rang in her mind like a warning bell. Out of nearly two dozen council members, a third were lying about their ties to the Conley Empire or their supposed devotion to Otto’s independence; she could not be certain.

What mattered was simple: they were not loyal.

Ravenna exhaled softly through her nose. She didn’t have the time, patience, or political grace to sift through which of them were liars out of greed, fear, or treachery. Disloyalty was disloyalty, and she had no use for half-truths in the middle of a brewing war.

She leaned toward Kenric, her voice low but firm. “Her. Him. And her,” she murmured, her gaze cutting across the table like a blade.

Kenric followed the line of her eyes, nodding faintly. Then, straightening in his seat, he addressed the hall in smooth Hilde. “Her Highness does not wish to discuss this particular matter with all present. Those I have named will kindly step outside and meet with my men. You will, of course, be compensated… generously.”

A few council members stiffened, the ones Ravenna had marked. They exchanged confused glances, half-rising in protest.

“What is the meaning of this?” one of the older lords barked, his interpreter struggling to match his anger.

“Surely this is a misunderstanding!” another cried, slamming a hand on the table.

Ravenna didn’t even blink. Her expression remained perfectly composed, the faintest smile playing at her lips. When she finally spoke, her voice carried through the chamber with the quiet dominance of thunder before a storm.

“I am Ravenna Solarius, Imperial Princess of the Ancorna Empire,” she said in Ancornan, her tone cutting and regal. “Do I look like a woman who needs important reasons to dismiss a few councilmen?”

Kenric’s translation rippled across the hall like a shockwave.

She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, the slit of her gown revealing the Apostle mark that glowed faintly under the candlelight. “Either they leave now,” she continued coldly, “or I leave. Your city is standing at the edge of a knife, or should I say, at the edge of a massacre.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Ravenna tapped her finger against the table once : tok.

“I am one of the few who bothered to come here and propose a solution,” she said softly. “So, let me make this clear: either you comply, or I walk away. Perhaps Bolita would be more grateful for my support.”

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The word Bolita sent visible tremors through the room. Within minutes, and after a few desperate whispers between aides, one by one the marked council members stood, their faces pale but their dignity intact. They muttered something about insult and sovereignty, but even their protests carried a note of fear.

They filed out : slow, reluctant, humiliated.

The doors shut behind them.

For a moment, the room remained quiet. The remaining councilmen watched Ravenna closely, half-expecting her to justify her actions, half-praying she wouldn’t.

Then, faintly, a scream.

Followed by another.

And another.

The metallic clang of steel, the unmistakable wet thunk of blade meeting flesh, and a strangled cry that dissolved into gurgling silence.

The sound rolled into the chamber like a tide. A few interpreters froze mid-breath; one young noble turned visibly pale.

Councilman Nathan rose halfway from his seat, his face a mask of outrage and disbelief.

“Your Highness… what— what have you—”

Ravenna raised her hand, silencing him with nothing more than that single motion. Her eyes glinted like obsidian under the chandelier’s light.

“What I did,” she said softly, almost kindly, “is something you all should have done long ago.”

The air grew colder.

Ravenna leaned forward slightly, her smile sharpening into something like a Raven eating the dead. “Culling the traitors,” she said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “like the insignificant pigs they are.”

Her words lingered in the air like a curse.

Kenric didn’t translate immediately, he didn’t need to. The meaning was clear from her tone alone. But when he finally did, his voice carried a chilling authority, and not a soul in the chamber dared breathe until he finished.

The screams outside had faded to silence.

Ravenna leaned back in her chair, crossed one leg over the other, and tapped the table with a single manicured finger. The sound echoed in the dead-still air.

“Now,” she said calmly, as though she hadn’t just ordered the execution of third the city’s leadership, “with that out of the way, let’s get to what I actually came here to discuss.”

A few council members exchanged pale, uncertain looks. Councilman Nathan finally found his voice, though it trembled like a taut string.“H-how can Your Highness be certain they were traitors?” he asked in heavily accented Ancornan. “Some of their families have served Otto faithfully for generations.”

Ravenna didn’t even turn to face him. She simply tilted her head slightly, the faintest trace of amusement curling her lips. “You can ask Kenric for the evidence after this meeting,” she said curtly. “I don’t have the luxury of time to entertain sentiment.”

Her eyes swept across the table, cold and brilliant as a Raven about to pounce . “Now, shall we get to the reason I’m here?”

A heavy silence followed. The air in the room felt dense, charged with the uneasy realization that the woman before them held both their city’s doom and salvation in her hands. Finally, a younger councilman, perhaps braver or simply more foolish than the rest, cleared his throat.

“You said,” he began cautiously, “that you’ve come to offer Otto City a solution… to our predicament with Bolita. What exactly do you mean by that, Your Highness?”

Ravenna smiled, slowly, knowingly. The kind of smile that didn’t comfort; it promised revelation and danger all at once.

“Of course,” she said, her tone almost playful. “I have a solution. In fact, I would say it’s the best solution, one that will ensure Otto City’s survival not just for this war… but for generations to come.”

The translators murmured her words to their respective lords and ladies. Confusion spread like ripples in water. Eyes darted between one another, whispers grew, and Councilman Nathan leaned forward again, his brow furrowed deeply.

“What is your intention, Princess Ravenna?” he asked, his heavy Hilde accented Ancornan sharpening his tone. “What… sort of solution are you suggesting?”

Ravenna took a slow sip of her wine, savoring it. Then she set the glass down with deliberate care, the crystal clink punctuating the tension.

“The most effective kind,” she said softly. A heartbeat passed. Then another.

Her lips curved into that familiar, wicked smile, the one every soldier in Kim City knew very well.

“Annexation,” she said simply.