Great Cleanup (2)
"Kkieeeek!"
The moment Pirande arrived at the imperial palace, clutching the messenger bird in her talons.
"Hm?"
The Grand Marshal flinched at the bird's openly murderous glare.
"Why is this messenger bird so vicious...?"
He finally noticed the white bird in her claws—its throat torn out, dead as could be. Had she killed it en route while delivering the message? Hunted it for a snack?
Such thoughts lasted only a moment.
"Isn't this the Northern Grand Duke's messenger bird?"
Grand Marshal Akhm Bellos realized what the slain bird was.
'So she spotted the Northern Grand Duke's bird mid-flight to the palace and just... killed it?'
Why on earth?
That question, too, was fleeting.
"Kkieeeek!"
Pirande, infamous for her savage temper, screeched again.
"Ah, right—first things first."
Akhm gathered both Pirande's message and the white bird's.
"Kkieeeek!"
The moment he did, she took off without a backward glance, as if declaring she had no further business here.
Akhm watched her go, then checked the messages.
"...!"
Grand Marshal Akhm Bellos jolted in shock.
"What in the world is this?"
[Northern Grand Duke Rebellion Great Cleanup Executioners Elite Few]
Five stark words.
Short and simple, yet enough for Akhm to grasp the northern situation instantly.
'Rebellion? They dare rebel?'
After all this time shamelessly sucking up imperial support without a shred of gratitude.
To forget that grace and now dream of treason?
Boom!
Fury unleashed his aura, cracking the ground beneath him like a spiderweb.
"To spill the blood of the northern imperial citizens over such a grave matter—and decide it so lightly?"
If they'd demanded independence, some arrogant nonsense, he might've shown mercy.
They'd guarded the north well enough, shouldered the dirty work silently. Not that he'd allow it, but it could've led to a better outcome than this.
Rebellion was the absolute worst choice imaginable.
"Summon all Imperial Guard Knights. Inform the Executioners as well."
"Yes, sir!"
The Grand Marshal's orders spread swiftly and discreetly, reaching the Executioners' ears in no time.
"We've been gathering a lot lately."
"...."
"Ugh, no tin cans around, so I'm the only one talking."
In the central palace of the five where the Executioners resided, Arbeda scratched her head, eyeing the others.
"What, you die if you talk? Why's everyone silent?"
"...."
"Fine, whatever. Point is, His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince summoned us all, so we gotta go."
"...."
"North's a pain for magic, so Fairy, you help out."
The word "Fairy" slipped out, and Arbeda winced, glancing sideways.
The Executioner beside her finally spoke.
A machine-gun barrage of pent-up venom that beggared belief.
Arbeda, face drained of color, frantically clamped the Executioner's mouth shut.
"Got it, got it! Ugh, you psycho pufferfish bastard! You're seriously busted. Anyway, help out—it's His Highness's order."
"...."
What the hell. Arbeda couldn't fathom how these social rejects obeyed the Crown Prince so faithfully. Well, the empire's master, but same difference now.
"I'll help, but the covenant draws near—if there's no progress by then, I'll—"
"Enough, enough! My ears are bleeding. Arbeda, why provoke Halfwit into this mess?"
"...Forgot he spazzes out after so long without talking."
"Anyway, that rant means you'll cooperate, right?"
"You going too, old timer?"
"When the empire's master commands, how could I defy?"
With the old timer's words, even the silent one nodded.
All accepted.
Arbeda bolted for the Grand Marshal's location the instant she confirmed.
Finding him was easy: seek the fiercest aura raging in the palace.
"...All Executioners assembled. Let's move."
"We riding horses all the way to the north?"
"The north hampers magic—teleport's too risky anyway."
Grand Marshal Akhm Bellos had rallied the full Imperial Guard Knights and mounted up, raring to charge north.
Arbeda shook her head at the sight.
"That'll take forever. Feels urgent."
"You have a way?"
"Yup. Use mystical power."
"Mystic."
At the word, the one dubbed Fairy stepped forward, twitching her index finger like she had OCD, then jabbed Arbeda's horn.
"Huddle close—we're going all at once. But you guys okay falling from high up? Oh, and don't get too near her... "
"All set? Let's go."
The old timer muffled Fairy and signaled Arbeda.
With magic and mysticism synced, Arbeda and Fairy invoked their powers.
"Teleport."
"Kailroom."
In a flash, they whisked everyone to the Northern Grand Duke's castle.
Pinpointing coordinates was trivial.
The covenant bound the empire's master and Executioners tightly.
+++++
"Wh-what the hell...?"
Shrieeeek!
The north was the Northern Grand Duke's domain.
So he instantly recognized the plummeting figures from the sky.
"Imperial Guard Knights."
The empire's pinnacle force. Every member a swordmaster monster.
Existing solely for the imperial family, swinging swords only for them.
Their loyalty rivaled even the Romper Church's.
"Grand Marshal."
The empire's strongest. The supreme blade. An undefeated superhuman.
Bad enough already.
"The north's changed? It felt warmer a millennium ago."
"...You remember that time?"
"Obviously."
Even the Executioners dropping leisurely.
'Northern troops are mobilizing fast even now.'
But could they win against these?
If the fight dragged, any hope?
Thoughts swirled in Northern Grand Duke Preon's head, his mind spinning faster in crisis to yield the optimal answer.
'Subdue the Crown Prince before things escalate fully.'
The Crown Prince just stood there, passively assessing.
Capture him, and the tide would turn dramatically.
"Everyone! Strike the Crown Prince!"
Short, crisp command.
Imperial reinforcements hadn't arrived yet.
Maximize gains in this window.
"Yes, sir!"
Knights unleashed ferocious auras, charging the Crown Prince.
Shrieeeek!
As their charge shattered the ground, the Crown Prince watched calmly, then uttered:
"All turtle."
Nonsense no one but Pavan comprehended.
Then—
Clank clank.
Vast steam erupted from Pavan's armor.
"Execute."
Slash!
The legs of these swordmasters—knights' ideals—severed in an instant.
"Arrrghhh!"
"Wh-what?! What happened?!"
"A sword? Greatsword—he swung a greatsword!"
"Extended...? Didn't see it—how?!"
Even mid-amputation, northern knights kept cool.
Body loss triggered primal terror.
But they'd steeled for this plotting treason.
No teeth? Use gums. They propped on stumps, lunging at the Crown Prince.
'Grab him—secure the Crown Prince!'
'No matter how strong, with him hostage, they can't act.'
'His Grace backs us! Just open a path!'
Ignoring the nearby Executioner—they weren't worth minding. Targeting the prince would draw protection their way, easing Preon's strike.
Solid plan, really.
Thud.
Legs severable instantly.
Arms blocked by torsos, so not all at once.
Pavan blocked to enforce "turtle."
Boom!
Preon, exploiting the gap, lunged with ground-shattering steps, closing distance.
Seeing the Crown Prince frozen, staring skyward, rage surged.
'Can't even react? Crown Prince, you know nothing of battle. You, grinning like an idiot in the palace...!'
Diagonal slash to wound and control before capture—
"You're insane, daring to—"
Boom!
Preon's blade halted inches from the Crown Prince as the Grand Marshal dropped between, deflecting it.
"Arbeda, this place vanishes today—evacuate uninvolved civilians."
"Your Highness, could you spare one more for me?"
"...Yes. Do it."
"My thanks. Y—you, shorty! Over here!"
"...."
Preon might as well not exist.
The Crown Prince remained utterly at ease.
"Crown Prince!!!"
Preon raged at the sight.
The Crown Prince smirked amusedly at his fury.
"No need to yell. And don't worry—you will die."
A chilling smile.
Dazed by it momentarily—
"Eyes off me."
Thwack!
Grand Marshal's kick sent him crashing into the wall.
"Your Highness, I shall punish this wretch by heaven's will."
"Grand Marshal, thanks. But before punishment, make him a turtle first."
The Crown Prince scanned around.
Imperial Guard Knights leisurely butchered northern knights post-landing.
Problem: couldn't kill outright.
"Today's northern turtle viewing day—go easy, everyone."
Don't wanna ruin my terrarium.
+++++
All Executioners summoned.
Empire's doom probability rises.
Current Empire Doom Probability: 90%
Status Summary: Empire has extremely high chance of collapse within 5 years.
Empire's doom probability has surpassed 90%.
Covenant does not accelerate doom timeline.
Doom probability surpassing 90% due to covenant—covenant clue granted.
"...."
All Executioners summoned, and doom probability jumps 10% raw? 'Using them all really has penalties.'
No wonder they're living nukes.
'Butcher knife for a chicken.'
Good to confirm now. Doom up meant covenant clue too.
'Battle's... too one-sided.'
Even minus two Executioners, northern reinforcements were no match centrally.
Grandmaster-revealed Northern Grand Duke couldn't overwhelm Grand Marshal.
In that span, northern knights turtle-fied one by one.
"Tin can—no, Pavan. What's 'turtle'?"
"Sever arms and legs. Neck makes kettle—only limbs."
"Hah... got it."
Boom! Crash!
The old-voiced Executioner swung dual massive hammers.
Mere swings crushed northern limbs remotely.
The silent one methodically thinned knight ranks—somehow.
No idea their prep level.
But the Northern Grand Duke's confident rebellion flickered like a candle in wind.
Rebellion on this? How much did they underestimate the imperial center?
Mid-thought—
Slash!
"Gahk!"
Brief clash ended Preon's knees severed.
Couldn't overpower Grand Marshal, Executioner intervened—turtling inevitable.
Step step.
I approached Preon slowly, his eyes still fierce.
"Preon, doesn't look like you prepped rebellion long."
"...What're you on about?"
"Spill. Who egged you on?"
"Nonsense."
"Maselin Kingdom's whore, Mirne?"
"She's no wh—gurk!"
Dodging straight answers.
How tragic.
Opening ears post-beating? Beastly. Unbefitting a Northern Grand Duke—or ex-one.
As I probed pre-execution for intel to mete punishment—
"Ah, Your Highness—and this."
Grand Marshal handed a letter from his bosom.
"This...?"
"What the northern messenger was sending."
"That white bird?"
Who'd the north contacted?
I prayed Maselin. Justification for war, drop doom, then unleash Executioners.
Alas.
"Romper Holy Kingdom... haha, borrowing foreign aid for treason."
Not Maselin.
Southern Romper Holy Kingdom. Probably another 'Zeus-bait' male lead there.
Handing perfect pretext to contact.
In a way, ex-Northern Grand Duke patriotically aided empire.
'Preon won't utter Maselin word.'
Torture moderately, kill here. Done.
So.
"Grand Marshal."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Begin the empire's tradition."
"In Your Highness's words, turtle and human."
"Yes. Turtle and human commence."
Treason's punishment—now in earnest?
Northern nobles who joined still alive too.
'Busy times.'
Great Cleanup ongoing.
But cleanups inevitably take time.