CHAPTER 43: A TYRANT OF ORDER

"The Bloodhounds," Estefan said, finally giving a name to them about his secret force. They remained unseen, hidden in the very shadows of the grand hall.

Frejlurd could feel them but he couldn’t see them, their presence weighed on him like a silent storm, eyes drilling into his skin.

"I know you’re more confused than ever," Estefan said with a slight scoff. "But don’t worry because these men and women were trained to be loyal to me until their final breath. Mix in some extreme level of aura capabilities and then you’ll get my Bloodhounds."

He turned slightly, speaking with the calm pride of someone who held absolute control. "They were meant to be my sword. But since the City Guard exists, I made them my shield, and my eyes."

Galliard stood silently, puzzled. He saw nothing, felt nothing. But one glance at Frejlurd told him everything he needed to know. The Commander, an experienced warrior, was sweating. His fingers trembled just slightly at his side.

Something was watching them. Something he could not see. Something Frejlurd feared.

The Bloodhounds the Baron was speaking about were real. It was something he couldn’t feel or see but they were here in the hall around him and he didn’t or cannot know if they were there or not.

Frejlurd now understood why Estefan carried such unwavering confidence. To command an invisible force that could kill silently and swiftly at a moment’s notice made Estefan a king among pawns.

He could at any point will his enemies to be killed and it would happen, his enemies won’t even know what had killed them. They may even consider it to be demons and would never even doubt that it was Estefan who was behind it in the first place.

"Do not fear," Estefan said, turning his eyes to Frejlurd as if to steady him. "As I mentioned, I don’t use them as my swords, not unless the City Guard fails me. If a failure does happen then the worst case scenario would be a total eradication. But I believe in you, you are more than competent so I doubt whether you would disappoint me."

Frejlurd responded quickly, "Yes- yes, my lord. I will ensure the Guard remains your sword in this city."

Estefan nodded, satisfied. "I knew it that you will understand and as I said before, go all out and do not fear retaliation. If they dare lay a hand on you, I will exterminate them myself."

Frejlurd hesitated for a moment before asking, "Why not strike now, my lord? You possess unpredictability with such a hidden force. Why not end them all while they are unaware?"

Estefan grinned. "I could end them all. Drown the city in their blood by nightfall. But that would be too easy. Too quick with no lesson learned."

He continued, his tone darkening. "If I slaughter them outright, the people will only see violence. Instead, I want the city to slowly awaken and to realise that they can do nothing to harm me, while I can destroy them at will. That is the key to breaking their illusion of power."

Frejlurd said nothing, but the meaning was slowly becoming clear. The Baron didn’t want a sudden one sided massacre, he wanted a psychological conquest. One where the people turned to him not because they were forced, but because they realised the criminal factions could no longer do anything against them due to the government under the Baron.

He wanted to break the illusion of strength that those factions had wrapped themselves in for decades.

"A society where people stop believing in their government is bound to collapse," Estefan said, folding his arms. "I won’t let this city fall. I won’t rebuild the past, instead I will show them that the old corruption is dead. This new rule may be brutal... but it listens. It acts. And it will never abandon its people."

"I understand, my lord," Frejlurd said firmly. "I will wipe out every last one of those scum without hesitation."

Estefan placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you and more importantly, the people will believe in you too once you show them your strength. Let their belief be soaked in blood if necessary. If that’s the cost of peace, then pay it."

Galliard, watching from the side, felt uneasy. It was like watching a cult ritual. Frejlurd being initiated into a deeper order, baptised not by water but by violence.

Frejlurd, however, had found clarity in the chaos planned by Baron Estefan. He now saw the flaws of mercy as weakness. The end goal was order and safety which was more than enough to justify even the most questionable acts.

Estefan clapped his hands once. "Now then. Prepare for the confiscation of all properties belonging to those who still refuse to pay taxes. That’s the next step. Let everyone know that this administration will punish lawbreakers without any exception."

Frejlurd nodded. "Yes, my lord. Preparations are already underway. We’ll start after we remove the heads."

But Estefan stopped him. "No, leave the heads where they are. I want them to see it. Let them stare into the faces of justice. Remove them only by evening."

Frejlurd didn’t protest this time. He simply nodded, accepting the Baron’s command without question. His resolve had solidified.

Estefan watched him leave before muttering under his breath, "He has a habit of doubting. It’s natural, but he must change that. Doubts weigh down warriors. Doubts lead to hesitation. And hesitation leads to failure."

Galliard spoke up, trying to shift the mood. "He is capable, my lord. I’m sure he will succeed."

Estefan turned to him, his smile sharp. "Yes, or he will be replaced. Someone will take his place who should do better or else the same thing would repeat."

Those words hit like a blade. Estefan had just filled Frejlurd with loyalty, belief, and yet, in the very next breath, he made it clear that no one was irreplaceable.

Galliard said nothing. He only bowed his head slightly. Any other response might cost him his life.

"I suppose," Estefan mused aloud as he slowly walked away, "this is where it truly begins."

He received his morning coffee as he walked while holding the cup. "The complete conquest, where villains die, and the people get what they desire... but in my own way. Not like those fairy tale endings. This one will be written in reality and reality," he said, sipping his coffee, "is soaked in blood."

[To be Continued]