Black Night In Dreonah [End]

Mikhail groaned, shaking his head in mild annoyance. "I really despise people who try to manipulate me."

In their relentless quest for control over conquered nations, Ivan had changed strategy—one that, at least on the surface, appeared more 'peaceful'. Instead of executing every royal or high-ranking noble in his path, he offered them a choice: death or submission. A cruel illusion of mercy.

The Duke now lying in a pool of his own blood had been an influential figure, an asset that could have proven useful. But Mikhail didn't care. And judging by Ivan's indifference, neither did he. Not because Ivan had suddenly abandoned his usual policy, but because something had enraged him this time.