PART I: Price of Victory
Back in the capital of the Empire, Vaelthrone, news spread quickly of the recent victory at Blackwater Swamp, where the Dark Knighthood had driven back Lavat's royal legion to their stronghold, Castle Highmoore—just beyond sight of the swamp's hilltops. What the public didn't know—or willfully ignored—was how that victory had truly been achieved.
The reports glorified the low casualty count among the Dark Knights but omitted the truth: the front lines had been filled with foot soldiers and war slaves. Families who received compensation from the imperial authorities were kept in the dark about where—and how—their loved ones fought and died.
The key to this improbable triumph over Lavat's most elite forces lay in the ruthless strategies of the late Emperor Braveheart II, grandson of the legendary Braveheart the Lawbringer and the third ruler in the empire's 700-year history.
Braveheart II crafted a brutal doctrine that exploited the empire's massive population. Only the nobility were permitted to train in combat, while commoners were reduced to cannon fodder. During the first Empire–Lavat war, he ordered blacksmiths to produce cheap, mass-produced weapons for desperate volunteers—many of whom believed they would be rewarded with wealth or status. In truth, Braveheart II never intended to give them either.
At Blackwater Swamp, the empire's usual advantage—its renowned Immortal Cavalry—was useless in the marshy terrain. The battle relied almost entirely on the expendable foot soldiers, sent in to pave the way for the Dark Knights, who were exclusively drawn from noble bloodlines in keeping with Braveheart II's enduring legacy.
These soldiers were deployed under the command of the governor of Lumen's son, who had been granted full authority over the western front. However, if the campaign failed, blame was to fall on Emperor Aurelian's twin children—Alexander and Abigail—a scheme orchestrated behind closed doors by the Emperor and the governor.
Lumen had once been a Lavat stronghold before it was seized during the first war by Braveheart II himself. Since then, it had become one of the most heavily fortified cities in the empire, guarded by the High Knights—an elite order with sweeping powers. These few warriors, currently stationed in Lumen under the governor's command, held a special status: they could not be held accountable for any crime except treason, making the governor one of the most powerful figures in the empire—beyond even the emperor's reach in certain matters.
The governor's son Soa, who had been cast to the western front for political reasons, turned out to be a military prodigy. He achieved what had been deemed impossible: victory in the brutal Battle of Blackwater Swamp. Without the Immortal Cavalry—whose absence historically led to defeat—he commanded around seventy thousand imperial foot soldiers and war slaves, supported by ten thousand Dark Knights, and led them to a hard-won conquest.
For the first time, imperial forces crossed Blackwater Swamp and took the hill beyond it—establishing the empire's first foothold on the hills beyond the swamps of the Kingdom of Lavat.
In the capital city of Vaelthrone, the aftermath of Blackwater Swamp cast a strange shadow—one of celebration layered atop quiet grief.
In the outer districts, where the streets were narrow and the roofs sagged under years of neglect, the mood was muted. Thousands of families had received their due payments from the imperial treasury. No details. No names of commanding officers. No precise locations. Just a letter with a stamped seal and a pouch of hundrend gold as per the agreement with their loved ones.
Mothers mourned behind drawn curtains. Fathers drank themselves into silence. And children asked where their brothers had gone, only to be met with tears and tightly gripped hands.
Few dared to speak openly. The Knights of protection had posted enforcers in the taverns and markets, warning citizens that "slander of imperial victories" would be treated as sedition. So, the people nodded and accepted their coins. They said nothing. And they waited.
Meanwhile, in the merchant squares and university districts—where the war was a distant story—the city roared with pride. Bakers crafted pastries shaped like the hill forts of Highmoore. Tailors embroidered the Dark Knighthood's sigil of a black gauntlet holding a burning sword on children's cloaks. Students debated the "tactics" used in the swamp as if it were a chess match and not a massacre.
Nobles in gold-trimmed robes hosted banquets to honor the "sons of steel"—the young noble heirs who had fought as Dark Knights on the front. They raised goblets to toast their children's "first bloods" and passed around scrolls listing kill counts, embellished with flourishes like hunting scores.
"My Alric slew thirty-seven before the mud even reached his knees," one noblewoman bragged at a garden party, as servants poured blood-colored wine. Another laughed, fanning herself. "Ah, but mine brought home a Lavantine blade! Still stained! Can you imagine?"
To the noble elite, war was a tournament. A test of prestige. The battle was not mourned—it was framed, gilded, and immortalized in song.
And in the heart of the capital, the emperor's court remained eerily silent. No speech. No decree. Only a single message circulated from the palace walls:
"Victory is its own answer."