The flames of war had been lit, but before the legions could march, before the banners could be raised, the unseen war had to be won first.
Julius knew this.
Romanus had been tempered by steel, but conquest was not just about force—it was about control.
About ensuring that when the dust settled, there were no surprises, no threats lurking in the shadows.
And the greatest threat right now?
The ones who had stolen Yuri.
The ones who had to burn right through their very marrow until nothing even on a molecular level remained.
Standing atop the citadel, he breathed in the crisp night air, letting the weight of his resolve settle in his chest.
He had always known he would have to fight for this empire to truly be his, but now it was personal whomever had taken Yurasia had declared war.
And he'd cause them to fall to the pages of history as mere fools for angering the future Emperor by kidnapping his Empress.