Unless he can ruthlessly carry out racial cleansing, he must conquer the barbarian Picts.
Once the massacre begins, it cannot be stopped.
When it comes to city slaughter, who can compare to the Mongols or the Man Qing, but ultimately rule still requires a combination of kindness and severity. Duncan wants a stable rear, and massacre can only intimidate for a moment.
Duncan walked towards the chieftain hall, saying in a deep voice, "Bring him out."
Drest struggled to his feet.
He had just stepped out the door when he was struck with horror, for he saw a mountain of heads piled densely, thousands neatly stacked together, countless bloodied eyes staring at him, making the murderous Drest I shiver in dread.
Tumulus!
All around were kneeling people, the distant horizon lit with towering flames burning the sanctuary of sacrifices.
Duncan spoke coldly, "Days ago, you slaughtered a batch of captured Britons in rage."
"Here, not more, not less."
