Hadeon despised the Empire's southern borders—sun-bleached, hollow lands full of weak nobles who thought ambition could be mistaken for strategy. He had stopped counting the number of fools who believed they could touch Damian and live. But Patricia? Patricia was meant to last a little longer. She had connections. Influence. A house that moved wealth through the south like blood through a vein.
And now, there was nothing left.
The report arrived before noon, sealed in imperial crimson. Patricia had been executed. Publicly. With no statement from the Emperor, only a herald and the sword. What remained of her mind had been paraded through the capital before the blade fell.
But Damian hadn't stopped with her.
