He moved then, with a slow, deliberate grace, and settled into the ornate chair at the head of the table. He leaned back, his arms resting on the carved armrests, a dark, almost cruel grin spreading across his face.

"Now, gentlemen," he continued, his voice low and dangerous, "it is a time for reflection. A time to ponder the future of our nation. And more importantly," his gaze sharpened, locking onto each of them in turn, "a time to consider… who you will obey."

A palpable shift rippled through the seated men. Some shifted uncomfortably on the leather couches, their eyes darting nervously between Levi and me. Others, their faces grim and set, met Levi's gaze with a mixture of defiance and barely concealed fear.

Lord Marshall, a portly man with a perpetually florid complexion, sputtered, "Obey? Duke Blake, this is outrageous! The king has barely drawn his last breath! There are protocols, traditions…"

"Traditions that have allowed stagnation and… shall we say… inefficiency to fester for far too long," Levi interjected smoothly, his voice like velvet over steel. "The kingdom requires decisive leadership, gentlemen. A steady hand on the reins. And as the closest living relative, and," he paused, his gaze flicking to me, a hint of possessiveness in his eyes, "with the unwavering support of my… house, that hand is mine."

Lord Lincoln, spoke next, his voice cool and measured. "The line of succession is not so easily dismissed, Duke Blake. There are other claimants, other noble houses with legitimate claims."

"Claims that will be… thoroughly reviewed," Levi said, his smile never reaching his eyes. "And I have every confidence that our… assessment will align with the best interests of Ascaria."

A younger member of the council, Lord Valerius, his face pale and uncertain, stammered, "But… the circumstances of His Majesty's death… there are… rumors…"

Levi's gaze snapped to Valerius, his eyes like chips of ice. "Rumors are for gossiping servants, Lord Valerius. The King passed peacefully in his sleep. A tragedy, to be sure, but a natural occurrence. Any other… interpretations… would be unwise."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to cut with a knife.

Levi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished table, his devilish grin widening, a hint of something truly dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "Gentlemen," he repeated, his voice deceptively soft, "I am nothing if not merciful. I understand this is… sudden. A shock to the system. Therefore, before this conversation progresses to its truly… interesting aspects, shall we say, I will ask you once more."

"Will you… obey?"

A long, agonizing silence stretched through the room. Lord Marshall fidgeted, his florid face now pale and sweaty. Lord Lincoln’s sharp gaze narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lord Valerius swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. The other members of the council mirrored their unease, their expressions a mixture of fear, calculation, and simmering resentment.

Finally, Lord Marshall, his voice trembling slightly, broke the silence. "Duke Blake… with all due respect… this is unprecedented. We require time to… process. To understand the implications…"

Levi’s grin didn’t waver, but his eyes hardened. "Time is a luxury Ascaria can ill afford, Lord Marshall. The realm requires stability. Decisiveness. And I am offering you a clear path forward. Obedience ensures… a smooth transition. Resistance… well, resistance can be… messy."

Lord Lincoln spoke again, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. "Are you suggesting we simply… disregard centuries of tradition? The established laws of succession?"

"Traditions and laws that have, as I previously stated, led us to this very… juncture," Levi countered smoothly. "Necessity, Lord Lincoln, often necessitates… adjustments. And the necessity of my rule is now rather… undeniable." He gestured subtly towards the closed doors. "Consider this your opportunity to be on the right side of history. To embrace the future of a stronger, more… efficient Ascaria."

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the faint crackling of the fire in the ornate hearth. Lord Marshall wrung his hands, his gaze darting nervously towards the heavy oak doors, as if seeking an escape that wasn't there. Lord Lincoln's jaw was clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek, his eyes fixed on Levi with unconcealed hostility. Lord Valerius, still pale, avoided eye contact with everyone, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the rug beneath his feet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lord Marshall spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "And… and if we choose… not to obey, Duke Blake?"

Levi's smile vanished, replaced by a chillingly neutral expression. "Then you will find yourselves… on the wrong side of progress, Lord Marshall. And history, as I intend to write it, is rarely kind to those who stand in its way." He tapped his fingers, his gaze unwavering. "Let me assure you, my methods of persuasion are thorough. And my resolve… absolute."

"The King's passing has created a… vacuum. A void that must be filled swiftly and decisively. I am prepared to fill it. The question, gentlemen, is whether you will align yourselves with the future, or cling to a past that has already crumbled."

Lord Lincoln straightened, his earlier defeat seemingly replaced by a surge of defiance. "With all due respect, Duke Blake," he said, his voice firm, though a tremor betrayed his underlying apprehension, "the laws of succession are clear. There are other members of the royal family who stand ahead of you in line."

Lord Marshall, emboldened by Lincoln's stand, cleared his throat. "Indeed. While we acknowledge the… urgency of the situation, bypassing established precedent could lead to further instability, not prevent it."

A murmur of agreement rippled through a few of the other council members, their initial fear slowly being replaced by a collective sense of unease at Levi's blatant power grab. Lord Valerius, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on his hands.

Levi's eyes narrowed, the cold amusement vanishing completely. "Precedent?" he echoed, his voice dangerously soft. "Precedent that allowed a weak and ineffective ruler to cling to the throne while the country stagnated? Precedent that has allowed internal dissent and external threats to fester?" He rose slowly from his chair, his towering presence suddenly more imposing. "The time for polite adherence to outdated rules is over, gentlemen. The vacuum I spoke of demands immediate and decisive action. And I am the only one here capable – and willing – to take it."

Levi's eyes, like chips of glacial ice, swept across the faces of the dissenting lords. His earlier devilish grin was gone, replaced by a chillingly serene expression. "Ah, gentlemen," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "it appears my initial assessment was… accurate. You cling to the past, to the comforting illusion of tradition. A commendable sentiment, perhaps, in more… stable times. However," his gaze hardened, "these are not stable times. Let me, erase your future.”

He then delivered a sharp snap of his fingers. The heavy oak doors swung open once more, and a wave of servants flooded into the council chamber. They carried stacks of heavy cardboard boxes, the weight of their contents evident in their strained expressions. The boxes were placed with deliberate thuds around the room, near each of the seated council members.

Levi gestured towards the boxes with a languid wave of his hand. "Gentlemen," he continued, his voice now laced with a cold finality, "allow me to introduce you to your… past. Decades of financial mismanagement, questionable alliances, outright corruption… meticulously documented. Every transaction, every secret agreement, every whispered conspiracy… laid bare." He allowed his gaze to linger on Lord Lincoln. "Your… rather creative accounting practices regarding the Northern territories, Lord Lincoln? All here." He then turned to Lord Marshall. "And your… unfortunate investments in certain… unsavory enterprises, Lord Marshall? Equally well-documented."

A palpable wave of fear washed over the council members. The color drained from their faces as they stared at the ominous boxes. Levi's threat was no longer veiled.

Levi's voice, though calm, resonated with a chilling power that seemed to steal the very air from the room. "Indeed," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the horrified faces of the council. "These documents detail not only your failings in governance, your financial impropriety, but also the… less savory aspects of your personal conduct. The casual cruelty you inflicted upon those less powerful. Every servant demeaned, every sex worker insulted, every commoner whose life you so carelessly extinguished – it is all meticulously recorded. Testimony, dates, locations… a comprehensive accounting of your moral bankruptcy."

"While you were busy indulging in nostalgic recollections of a bygone era, gentlemen, I was… building a foundation. A foundation of truth. A foundation upon which a new, more just Ascaria will be built. A foundation that, regrettably for you, includes the detailed blueprints of your downfall." His eyes glittered with a cold triumph. "You see, clinging to the past has its consequences. And for you, those consequences have just arrived in neatly bound boxes."

Levi leaned back in his chair, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he surveyed the stunned silence. "No, gentlemen," he said, his voice smooth as velvet but edged with steel. "These documents are not merely instruments for your imprisonment. Oh no. That would be far too… simple. Too clean." He allowed a cruel smile to play on his lips. "We abolished beheadings and capital punishment over a century ago, a testament to our supposed enlightenment. But consider this: these meticulously compiled records, these irrefutable proofs of your depravity… once they are brought to light?"

"Public beheading would be a swift, almost merciful end compared to the fate that awaits you. You would not simply be incarcerated; you would be exposed for the monsters you truly are. You would be dragged through the streets of the capital, not by the King's guard, but by the very commoners you so readily abused and murdered. You would be torn apart, limb by limb, by the people you so thoroughly despised." His gaze lingered on each of them, savoring their horrified expressions. "This, gentlemen, is the consequence of clinging to a past built on cruelty and corruption. Your future has just been rewritten, in the blood of your victims and the fury of the masses."

A collective gasp filled the council chamber, the air thick with fear and disbelief. Lord Marshall clutched at his chest, his florid complexion now a sickly shade of grey. Lord Lincoln’s face was ashen, his sharp features contorted in a mask of horror. Lord Valerius looked as though he might faint. The other members of the council were equally aghast, their eyes wide with terror as they stared at the ominous boxes and then at Levi, the architect of their impending doom.

Levi watched their reactions with a cold, detached satisfaction. "Consider this," he continued, his voice a low purr, "not punishment, but… justice. A reckoning long overdue. You have sown the seeds of your own destruction through your arrogance and cruelty. Now, you will reap the whirlwind."

He stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. "The choice I offered you moments ago – obedience – was your last chance at a semblance of a dignified end. You chose to cling to a decaying past. Very well. The future awaits. And it does not include you." He gestured towards the servants and the boxes. "See to it that these… documents… are secured. They will be released to the appropriate channels at my discretion."

The servants began to move, their footsteps echoing in the stunned silence. The era of the old guard was over.

Levi’s final words hung in the air like a death knell. He surveyed the petrified faces of the council members, a chillingly detached expression on his own. "From this moment forward, gentlemen," he stated, his voice devoid of any warmth, "you will be accorded the treatment you have so richly earned. You will be regarded as the bloated, self-serving monarch swines you have proven yourselves to be. Do not look to the heavens for salvation. There is no divine intervention awaiting you. You squandered your opportunity for leniency, you rejected the path of cooperation. You have lost your only chance of hope."

The remaining vestiges of the council members' composure shattered. Pride and defiance crumbled, replaced by a primal terror. One by one, they scrambled from their plush leather seats, their movements clumsy and undignified. They fell to their hands and knees, their richly adorned robes dragging on the polished floor, their faces contorted in expressions of abject supplication.

"Please, Duke Blake! Mercy!" Lord Marshall's voice was a choked sob, his florid face now streaked with tears.

Lord Lincoln, his sharp features now softened by desperation, groveled. "We... we will obey! Anything! Just... don't let those documents see the light of day!"

Even Lord Valerius, who had maintained a fragile silence throughout the ordeal, prostrated himself, his forehead touching the cold stone floor. "Have pity, Your Grace! We were foolish, misguided! We beg your forgiveness!"

A chorus of desperate pleas and broken promises filled the once-stately council chamber. The men who had held positions of immense power and influence just moments before were now reduced to whimpering supplicants, their fear palpable. They clawed at the air, their hands outstretched towards Levi, their eyes filled with a desperate hope for a reprieve that seemed increasingly unlikely.

"Silence!"

Levi's voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the cacophony of desperate pleas like a blade.

The effect was instantaneous. The whimpering and groveling ceased as abruptly as it had begun. Ten men, moments before powerful lords, now lay prostrate on the floor, their fear so absolute that it choked off their cries.

Levi watched them, a hint of something akin to disdain in his eyes. "Yes," he confirmed, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "The beloved King you so readily served, the pillar of tradition you so fiercely defended… rendered sterile a decade ago."

He paused, letting the enormity of his revelation sink in. "And those mewling children currently draped in mourning, the supposed crown Prince and Princess? Charming orphans, carefully selected for their… resemblance. A temporary measure, designed to maintain the illusion of continuity. A comforting lie for a kingdom teetering on the brink of change."

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A collective gasp, sharper and more horrified than their earlier cries, rippled through the prone figures on the floor. Their bodies seemed to stiffen, their ragged breathing hitching in their chests.

Levi allowed a slow, deliberate smile to spread across his face, a smile that held no warmth, only a chilling satisfaction. He moved slowly, deliberately, his gaze sweeping over the prostrate figures, savoring their utter humiliation and despair.

"Yes," he murmured, his voice almost a caress, "drink it in, gentlemen. Savor the exquisite taste of your own folly. Behold the architect of your downfall, the single man with a singular ambition who saw through your self-serving charade decades ago." He paused, his eyes gleaming with a dark triumph. "Fifteen years. Fifteen years I have patiently cultivated this garden of deceit, pruning the branches of your arrogance, nurturing the seeds of your destruction. I was barely a boy, observing the rot at the heart of this kingdom, and I vowed then that it would not stand."

He took a step closer, his presence looming over them. "You underestimated me. You dismissed me as a charming distraction, a minor player in your grand game. You were so consumed by your own petty squabbles and your insatiable greed that you failed to see the storm gathering on the horizon. You were blinded by your own privilege, deafened by the echoes of your own self-importance. And now," he concluded, his gaze hardening, "the storm has broken. And you are about to be swept away."

Levi's polished black shoe nudged Lord Marshall's cheek, tilting his face upwards. The lord's eyes, bloodshot and filled with terror, flickered towards Levi. A whimper escaped his lips.

Levi leaned down slightly, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Tell me, Lord Marshall. Savor this exquisite moment. How does it feel? To lose everything. Your power, your prestige, your very future... all gone in a single moment, within the confines of this very room. The room where you once plotted and preened, oblivious to the blade hanging above your head."

He pressed his shoe down slightly. "Does the weight of your past transgressions finally feel real? Does the terror of facing the consequences of your cruelty finally pierce that thick skull of yours? Tell me, Lord Marshall. What are your final thoughts as the architect of your downfall stands before you?" He waited, his gaze unwavering, relishing the man's utter helplessness.

Lord Marshall’s lips trembled, but no coherent words came out. Only a choked sob escaped his throat, his eyes welling up with tears of pure despair. He tried to speak, his jaw working uselessly, but the fear had seemingly stolen his voice.

Levi straightened up, a look of cold disdain on his face. "Pathetic," he murmured, wiping his shoe on the lord's expensive robes. "All that bluster, all that arrogance, and in the end… nothing but whimpers."

He turned his attention to the rest of the council members, his gaze sweeping across their terrified faces. "This," he declared, his voice ringing with authority, "is the price of unchecked power and unrepentant cruelty. A swift and decisive reckoning. And it is only the beginning."

Levi paused, his gaze sweeping over the groveling figures, a flicker of something akin to weary disappointment in his eyes. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice laced with a bitter irony. "Before the inevitable deluge of tears, the pathetic shrieks of injustice, and the likely soiling of your undoubtedly expensive trousers, allow me to clarify something."

"My initial proposal, the one that set me on this… rather direct path? It was simple. Allow the nobility to marry commoners. At the very least," his lip curled in disdain, "acknowledge your own illegitimate children, those inconvenient reminders of your indiscretions, as potential heirs. A small step towards a more equitable society."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "And how did you, the esteemed guardians of tradition, respond? With mockery. With derision. With the smug certainty of your own unassailable superiority. You laughed in my face. You snickered behind my back. You dismissed me as a naive idealist."

He gestured towards their prone forms with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Look at you now. Begging for the mercy you so readily denied others. Praying to a God you only invoked when it served your own selfish purposes."

His voice hardened. "Before you face the consequences of every single cruel, petty, pathetic act of your fleeting existences, you will relinquish everything. Your sprawling estates, your opulent houses, your vast fortunes, every single asset will be transferred to my foundation. A foundation dedicated to the very commoners you so readily exploited. Consider it a down payment on the debt you can never truly repay."

A low murmur of protest rippled through the prostrate figures. Lord Lincoln, despite his abject position, dared to lift his head slightly, his eyes narrowed with a flicker of his old defiance. "That is... highway robbery! You cannot simply seize our ancestral lands, our wealth! There are laws, traditions..."

Lord Marshall, though still trembling, found a sliver of his former bluster. "Indeed! This is tyranny, Blake! You have no right!"

Even Lord Valerius, his voice barely a whisper, echoed their dissent. "Our families... generations... you would strip us bare?"

Levi's expression hardened, the earlier hint of weary disappointment replaced by a cold fury. "Laws? Traditions? The same laws and traditions you so readily twisted and exploited for your own gain? The same traditions that allowed your cruelty to flourish unchecked?" His voice rose, echoing through the silent chamber. "You speak of rights? What rights did you afford the countless souls you demeaned, abused, and murdered? What rights did you acknowledge when you dismissed the very notion of equality and justice?"

He took a step forward, his presence radiating a palpable menace. "You had your chance. You chose to cling to your arrogance and your greed. Now, you will face the consequences. Your wealth, your lands, your precious assets – they are nothing but the spoils of your corruption. They will be used to redress the balance, to build a future where the kind of systemic cruelty you represent will no longer be tolerated." His gaze swept across their defiant faces. "Resist if you wish.”

A chilling smile touched Levi's lips, a predatory curve that sent a fresh wave of fear through the resisting council members. "Ah, yes," he purred, his voice deceptively soft. "Your magnificent estates. Your sprawling mansions, those gilded cages you so comfortably inhabited while turning a blind eye to the suffering outside their walls. You imagine you might find solace there? A place to lick your wounds and perhaps… plot your escape from my rather… comprehensive grasp?"

He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "How quaint. You see, gentlemen, while you were busy indulging in your lavish lifestyles, I was… thorough. Meticulous. I possess the blueprints to every single one of your opulent residences. Every secret passage, every hidden vault, every bolt hole you might foolishly believe offers sanctuary. Consider it a… hobby of mine. Understanding the intricate architecture of the powerful."

His gaze sharpened. "So, by all means, attempt your little escapes. Try to disappear into the labyrinthine corridors of your self-imposed kingdoms. But know this: I will find you. And when I do, your defiance will only compound your already… precarious situation. Consider your every potential refuge already compromised. There is nowhere left to run."

A fresh wave of desperate pleas erupted from their figures. Lord Marshall, his voice choked with tears, stammered, "Your Grace, please! Think of our families! Our legacies!"

Lord Lincoln, his face pale and drawn, echoed the sentiment. "We beg you, Duke Blake! Surely there is another way! We can offer you our loyalty, our service..."

Lord Valerius, his voice barely audible, pleaded, "Have mercy! We are old men! Stripping us of everything... it is a death sentence!"

Their voices, a chorus of fear and self-preservation, filled the council chamber. They spoke of their noble lineage, their contributions to the kingdom (conveniently overlooking their corruption), and the devastating impact Levi's demands would have on their families. Tears streamed down their faces, their hands clasped together in supplication.

Levi slowly crouched down, his movements deliberate, his gaze sweeping across their tear-streaked faces. He seemed to relish the raw agony etched in their expressions, the utter defeat in their eyes. He moved closer to Lord Marshall.

"Legacies?" Levi murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "What legacies have you built? Legacies of greed? Legacies of cruelty? Legacies built on the backs of the very people you now plead to for mercy?" He moved on to Lord Lincoln. "Families? Did you consider the families of those you exploited? The widows and orphans left to starve because of your avarice?" Finally, he paused before Lord Valerius. "Old age? An excuse for a lifetime of indifference? Age should bring wisdom, Lord Valerius, not a heightened sense of entitlement."

Levi stood, his grip firm on my hand, pulling me gently forward. He turned to face the prostrate council, his arm still linked with mine, presenting us as a united front. "Now, my dearest," he said, his voice resonating with a possessive tenderness that sent a shiver down my spine. "Come, stand beside me. Taste this moment. Witness the true nature of power, stripped bare of its gilded trappings. See the fear in their eyes, the desperation in their pleas. This," he gestured with our joined hands towards the groveling lords, "is the consequence of their arrogance, their cruelty. And now, we stand above it."

He squeezed my hand, his gaze locking with mine. I could feel the tremor in his hand.

His gaze remained locked on the council members, a cruel satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Oh, you mewling swine," he said, his voice a low purr that nonetheless carried a sharp edge. "Did you truly believe your pathetic display of contrition would grant you a swift exit from this… theater of your own making? Did you think I would deny myself the exquisite pleasure of witnessing your complete and utter humiliation?"

He let out a soft sigh. "Mercy is a virtue I occasionally deign to bestow. But pride, gentlemen, pride is a far more potent motivator. And my pride demands that I savor this moment. That I allow the full weight of your ruin to sink in. That I witness the utter destruction of the arrogance that has festered in this room for far too long."

He paused, his gaze lingering on each of their bowed heads. "Consider this the overture to your final act. A symphony of agony, conducted by the very man you once dismissed. And trust me, gentlemen," his smile was chilling, "the crescendo will be… unforgettable."

A final, desperate chorus of pleas rose from the council members, their voices raw with anguish and terror. Lord Marshall, his face buried in the carpet, sobbed uncontrollably. Lord Lincoln, his earlier defiance completely extinguished, begged for a swift death. Lord Valerius, his frail body trembling, offered up his remaining wealth, his ancestral lands – anything for a sliver of mercy.

"Please, Levi! We'll do anything! Just spare us!"

"Have pity! Think of our souls!"

"Don't let the commoners... please!"

Their cries echoed through the grand chamber, a pathetic symphony of desperation. They invoked their titles, their families, their age, their supposed past services to the crown – any argument, no matter how flimsy, to sway Levi's judgment. Their proud facades had completely crumbled, revealing the raw, primal fear of men facing their ultimate reckoning.

Levi’s grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain. The casual amusement vanished from his face, replaced by a volcanic fury that seemed to radiate outwards, scorching the very air in the room. His eyes, moments before filled with cold satisfaction, now blazed with a terrifying intensity.

"You DARE?" he roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls, making the lords flinch. "You still cling to that vile word? Even now, as you grovel at my feet, facing the consequences of your lifetime of contempt for the very people who sustain this kingdom?"

He took a step towards Lord Marshall, his entire body trembling with barely suppressed rage. "They are the backbone of this nation! And for what? To be scorned and exploited by parasitic leeches like yourselves?"

Levi took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain a semblance of control over his raw fury. "Very well, you pathetic remnants of a dying era," he said, his voice now dangerously low and controlled. "Before I consign you to the oblivion you so richly deserve, I will grant you one final indulgence. One question. Ask it wisely, for it will be the last sound you utter in this room before the silence of your confinement descends." He waited, his eyes like chips of ice, daring them to speak.

A frail, trembling voice rose from the floor, belonging to the usually imperious Lord Lincoln. "Our families... what will become of them?" His voice cracked with fear and a hint of genuine concern. The other figures murmured in agreement, their anxieties shifting from their own immediate peril to the fate of their wives, children, and extended kin.

A bright, almost childlike laugh bubbled up from Levi. It was a chilling sound, devoid of any real mirth, and it had the immediate effect of causing the prostrate council members to lift their heads, their expressions a mixture of confusion and a flicker of renewed, desperate hope.

"Oh, please," Levi said, his voice now light and almost teasing. "Your families? Truly? Have you still not grasped the extent of your monumental ineptitude? Have you not yet understood the depth of my… preparation?"

He took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement. "Your precious daughters, those pawns you so carelessly married off to consolidate your power? Your long-suffering wives, those silent figures you despised and routinely betrayed while they diligently managed your estates and your affairs? While you were busy wallowing in your own self-indulgent filth?"

He paused, letting his gaze linger on their horrified faces. "They were my informants. For years. Every whispered secret, every clandestine meeting, every illicit affair… they reported it all. They saw the rot within your houses, the decay of your moral fiber, and they… assisted me in documenting it."

A wave of stunned disbelief washed over the council members.

The laughter died in Levi's throat, replaced by a cold, hard stare. "You utter idiots," he finished, the playful tone gone, leaving only a biting contempt. "You were so blind in your arrogance that you couldn't see the vipers in your own nests."

A chorus of disbelieving cries erupted from the prostrate lords. Lord Marshall, his face contorted in a mixture of horror and denial, stammered, "No! My Eleanor... she would never! You're lying, Blake! You're trying to break us!"

Lord Lincoln, his voice trembling, echoed the sentiment. "Our daughters... they were raised with loyalty! This is some cruel trick!" He then shifted to a desperate plea. "But even if... even if they were misled... please, have mercy on them! They are innocent! Punish us, but spare our families!"

Lord Valerius, his frail voice barely a whisper, added his desperate plea. "They are women... they were likely coerced! You cannot hold them accountable for our failings!"

Levi clicked his tongue, a sound of utter exasperation and contempt. "You pathetic creatures," he sighed, shaking his head slowly. "You truly believe I am so naive? So easily swayed by your pathetic attempts at deflection? 'They are women... likely coerced'?"

He let out a short, bitter laugh. "Do you honestly think I would rely on unwilling participants for such a delicate and long-term endeavor? Your wives and daughters were not coerced, you fools. They were… insightful. They saw the rot that festered within your ranks. They understood the injustice that permeated your every action."

He gestured dismissively. "Why do I even bother trying to explain the intricacies of my plans to such… limited intellects? You are incapable of grasping the bigger picture, the necessity of what I have done and what I will continue to do. Your concerns for your families are touching. Perhaps you should have considered their well-being before you embarked on your decades-long reign of self-interest and cruelty."

"No, gentlemen," he stated, his voice firm and devoid of any lingering emotion. "You do not understand. You never did. You mistook privilege for power, entitlement for strength. You clung to outdated notions of lineage and divine right, blind to the true currents that shape a nation."

He took a step closer, his presence radiating an undeniable authority. "Let me illuminate what power truly means. It is not the inherited trinket you so carelessly wielded. It is the ability to shape destiny, to dismantle injustice, to build a better future from the ashes of the old. It is the will to act, the foresight to plan, and the unwavering resolve to see it through, no matter the cost."

His eyes, sharp and unwavering, met each of theirs in turn. "Power is not to be hoarded; it is to be wielded with purpose. And the purpose I have chosen is the betterment of Ascaria, even if it means sweeping away the stagnant filth that has choked its progress for centuries. Your era is over. The abyss awaits."

Levi delivered another sharp snap of his fingers. The heavy oak doors swung open once more, and this time, a contingent of royal guards marched into the council chamber. Without a word, they moved towards the council members.

The guards wasted no time. They roughly hauled the resisting figures to their feet, their pleas and whimpers echoing in the chamber as they were dragged towards the exit. The once powerful lords, now stripped of their authority and dignity, were unceremoniously hauled away, their protests falling on deaf ears. The sound of their shuffling feet and muffled cries faded as the guards escorted them out of the room, leaving Levi and me standing in the heavy silence of the council chamber.

The era of the old guard was definitively over, and the dawn of Levi's new Ascaria had begun. The abyss had indeed claimed its first victims.