Montelupo's City-State Joint Council Hall had never been so noisy.
This building, once a symbol of family power, had now become the last refuge and surrender point for Siracusa's upper echelons.
The family heads, stripped of their arms, buzzed around like headless flies.
They had shed their usual ostentatious attire symbolizing status, donning the plainest clothes possible, faces piled with humble smiles, desperately trying to carve out a place for themselves in the new master's system.
"Commissioner Smith, the Saluzzo family is willing to donate eighty percent of our estates outside the city, just to serve the Empire!"
Alberto Saluzzo was the first to declare his loyalty, his posture the lowest.
"The Meredith family's textile factories can immediately produce uniforms for the Imperial Army at cost! No—free for the first batch!"
"And us..."
Leithanien's civil official, Smith, was surrounded. His rigid face showed no emotion as he methodically recorded their pledges of allegiance.
The several Imperial officials beside him made no effort to hide the contempt in their eyes.
The ornate wooden door of the council hall was silently pushed open.
Herlinmarte Hildegard walked in.
The moment she appeared, the temperature in the entire hall seemed to drop several degrees, and the noisy discussions came to an abrupt halt.
All eyes focused on this legendary former Empress.
Herlinmarte strode straight to the bulletin board in the center of the council hall.
That spot had once been plastered with Signora Sicilia's decrees; now it was empty.
She took a sheet of paper and several thumbtacks from her adjutant, pinning the paper up herself.
With that done, she turned, her gaze sweeping over the assembled Siracusa notables.
"My words, I say only once."
"What is on the bulletin board is Siracusa Province's First Governor's Order."
"Before sunset, those who obey live; those who defy die."
With that, she turned and left, leaving the hall full of dumbfounded family heads exchanging glances.
The crowd surged forward, crowding the bulletin board.
The paper had few words, written in both Leithanien and Siracusa languages:
"First Governor's Order on Dissolving Siracusa's Illegal Armed Forces"
1. Effective immediately, all family private armed forces, including but not limited to guards, enforcers, and extremizers, are defined as illegal armed organizations and must disband.
2. All members of illegal armed organizations must, before sunset today, bring their weapons and proceed to the western drill ground for registration.
3. Upon registration, disposition will be determined based on individual ability and background check: incorporation into the newly formed "Siracusa Security Force," receipt of severance pay for civilian transition, or transfer to labor camps.
4. Those who register on time will have their past crimes pardoned.
5. After sunset, any family found harboring armed personnel or weapons will have its principals charged with treason, all assets confiscated, and direct family members exiled to border mines.
Dead silence filled the hall, followed by a burst of suppressed uproar.
"This... this is to drive us to extinction!"
"Extremizers are our family's last trump card! How can we hand them over?"
"How dare she! Who does she think she is?!" A young patriarch flushed red, roaring under his breath.
Alberto Saluzzo's face also turned extremely ugly.
He had read the room his entire life, yet now he couldn't fathom the opponent's game.
This approach was too direct, too brutal—completely unlike the art of politics.
"Everyone, calm down!" An elderly patriarch tried to steady the mood.
"This might just be the Leithanians testing us."
"They're newcomers, roots not yet deep; they can't afford to offend us all."
"We just hand over some people to put on a show..."
His words drew nods of agreement.
These old foxes who had schemed in Siracusa for generations immediately began calculating.
Hand over the less loyal, weaker enforcers as a token gesture.
The true core family members must be hidden.
That was their last source of security.
A patriarch from an eastern city-state named Borgia even curled his lips in a cold sneer.
He thought this woman too young, too arrogant, utterly ignorant of Siracusa's survival rules.
Here, there were no eternal enemies, only eternal interests; everything could be negotiated.
He decided to gamble: not only hide his family's elite extremizers, but turn this female governor's folly into an opportunity.
Once the storm passed, he could swallow his terrified rivals with that hidden force.
Time ticked by.
At the western drill ground, family armed groups trickled in for registration.
The Saluzzo family arrived first; Alberto even oversaw personally, ensuring every name on his roster and every rifle was surrendered crystal clear.
He even "voluntarily" exposed two guards trying to conceal weapons, handing them over on the spot to the Leithanien soldiers.
Other families sent some too, more or less, but all with ulterior motives, turning in discounted numbers of men and arms.
Sunset's afterglow dyed Montelupo gold.
On the council hall balcony, Herlinmarte overlooked the city.
Commissioner Smith stood behind her, holding a list.
"Governor, time's up." Smith's voice held hesitation.
"Per our counts and Mr. Saluzzo's intelligence, at least seven families have not fully complied."
"Among them, the Borgia, Visconti, and Orsini families have registered less than a third of their known armed forces."
"Understood." Herlinmarte replied flatly.
She issued no citywide manhunt, nor dispatched troops to surround the manors.
She merely picked up the communicator on the table and said calmly, "Execute the cleanup plan."
Almost simultaneously, in Montelupo's east, south, and north, three normally heavily guarded manors erupted in violent explosions.
Borgia Manor.
Old Borgia was enjoying dinner with his confidants, the table laden with expensive red wine and roast meat.
He boasted smugly to the crowd about how he'd toyed with the female governor.
"Watch—after tonight, the Borgia family will be Montelupo's new king!"
Before his words finished, the dining room's floor-to-ceiling windows shattered, glass shards mixing with the blast wave.
Two black objects rolled in, spinning on the floor.
"Gren..." A well-traveled extremizer only managed one word before blinding white light and deafening boom swallowed him.
A group of soldiers in black combat gear and full-face masks surged in through the broken windows and blasted door.
Their weapons emitted soft "pfft pfft" sounds.
Borgia's guards, dazed by the flash-bang, hadn't raised arms before bullets struck heads or hearts, dropping them in neat rows.
Old Borgia huddled under the table, trembling.
His three extremizers he saw as final trump cards burst from the secret room, attempting counterattack. They were indeed skilled, downing two Leithanien soldiers instantly in the dark.
But they faced not street thugs, but the Empire's elite special forces. One fallen spec-op activated his signal device.
Next second, beams locked the three extremizers from all angles.
"Pfft pfft pfft—!"
Dense gunfire shredded their bodies.
Before absolute tactical superiority and equipment gap, personal valor was futile.
The fight ended in three minutes.
The spec-ops captain kicked the dining table aside, dragging out the pants-wetting Old Borgia.
"The Governor sends her regards." The captain said tonelessly.
"Your family is erased from Terra today."
The same bloody script played out simultaneously at the other two manors.
News spread through Montelupo's night.
Family heads still watching, smug they'd fooled through, were terrified upon hearing of Borgia and the others' fates.
They finally understood: the Governor's words were not threats, but verdicts.
"Quick! To the drill ground! Bring everyone! Everything!"
"Dig up those crates in the cellar too! Hurry!"
"Tell the Leithanian lords! We surrender voluntarily! We truly support the Governor!"
On the silent streets, luxury cars raced madly to the western drill ground, crammed with panicked enforcers and guards.
Some were yanked from beds without time to dress.
At the drill ground entrance, the registering Leithanien officers watched the farce.
Seeing those once-arrogant family heads now groveling like dogs, eagerly denouncing their own hidden arms, they couldn't help laughing.
On the council hall balcony, Herlinmarte listened to her adjutant's report, face expressionless as ever.
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