113 Chaotice Reese (2)

Seeing the scene before him, Byron Heywood knew it was over. His fate was sealed. Everything he had worked for—his wealth, his power—would be ruthlessly stripped away. The lovers who once flocked to his side would rush into the arms of others, and even his own offspring might be executed alongside him.

Despair and fear wrapped around his throat like a pair of merciless hands, choking the last remnants of reason from his mind.

If he was destined to lose everything, then he didn't mind dragging everyone down with him.

Before the vote could be completed, he abruptly turned and bolted toward the door. The councilors, stunned by his sudden movement, failed to react in time. No one stopped him.

He flung the heavy doors open and shouted hoarsely at the Unsullied guards waiting outside.

"Control everyone in here! Anyone who dares to move will be shot to death!"

The Unsullied obeyed instantly, drawing their gleaming weapons and surging into the chamber like a relentless tide. The councilors gasped in horror as they were surrounded, their eyes wide with disbelief. It was as if they were staring at a stranger—no longer a governor, but a madman.

The chamber fell into an eerie silence, the air thick with terror.

Byron Heywood ignored their fearful gazes. He summoned his most trusted men and issued his orders in a feverish rush.

"Search them! Find the whips that control the Unsullied!" His voice was sharp, urgent. "Seize their estates immediately. Anyone who resists—kill them. And post a notice across the city: I will hire all mercenaries at double the usual price to join the war!"

His men hesitated, their faces pale. The madness in his voice, in his eyes, made them falter. For a moment, they stood frozen, unable to believe what they were hearing.

Byron's expression darkened. He struck one of them hard across the face.

"Move, damn you!"

Snapped out of their daze, they scrambled to obey, scattering to carry out his orders.

Meanwhile, aboard the Beleris, Hassan stood before Gavin, his expression solemn as he reported the battle's toll.

"Sir, in yesterday's battle, we lost over five hundred soldiers, with nearly a thousand wounded. Five warships were sunk, and two were severely damaged. Fortunately, they've been towed to Yege Island and should be serviceable after repairs. On the enemy's side, we sank twenty-seven ships and captured twenty-three. However, most of them were longships, so the number we can immediately use is limited. Additionally, we have over fifteen hundred prisoners, all placed securely on Night Song Island."

Gavin listened, nodding slightly. He had committed much of the Stepstone Islands' power to this battle—sixty sail warships and over four thousand men.

Despite the losses, he was satisfied. The battle had proven his strategy sound. His decision to gradually replace the fleet with proper sailing battleships had been the right one.

Capturing Reese would be only the beginning. Afterward, the fleet would need further modernization. Absolute naval dominance was the only path forward.

His gaze remained calm as he spoke.

"Tend to the wounded first. We won't attempt a landing yet—the casualties would be too great. Instead, tighten the blockade around Reese. It won't be long before the city begins to starve. Once chaos breaks out, we'll strike."

Hassan nodded. "Understood, sir. We also sent an envoy to negotiate surrender, leveraging Alek, since he has past dealings with us. But to be honest, I doubt it will succeed. Byron Heywood will not surrender so easily."

Gavin smirked.

"I never expected him to. The terms we offered were too harsh—no man like Byron would accept them and live. My real goal was to divide them. Reese is already on the brink of civil war. The longer they fight amongst themselves, the weaker they become. No matter who prevails in the end, it will be to our advantage."

As Byron Heywood's forces swept across Reese, the once-thriving city fell into chaos. Panic spread like wildfire. Shopkeepers slammed their doors shut, fearing the storm that had suddenly engulfed them. The once-bustling markets became ghostly silent, the air heavy with tension.

Then, the looting began.

Heywood's soldiers, like rabid beasts unleashed, stormed through the city. They plundered the estates of the councilors first, then turned their greed upon the merchants. They kicked down doors, tore through homes, stealing gold, jewels—anything of value. Those who resisted were cut down where they stood. Women were dragged screaming into the streets. The people's dignity, their very humanity, was trampled beneath the boots of mercenaries gone mad with bloodlust.

But the wealthy merchants of Reese were not sheep to be slaughtered. They summoned their private guards, rallying their forces. A battle erupted in the heart of the city—aristocrats and their men against Byron's rampaging soldiers.

Blades clashed in the narrow streets.

Flames licked at the buildings as fires spread unchecked.

Blood painted the cobblestones, and the air was thick with the scent of death.

Women and children ran in terror, desperately seeking shelter from the carnage. Arrows whistled through the streets, striking down the fleeing and the fighters alike. Every alley became a battlefield. Every home, a tomb.

The chaos raged for ten days.

Supplies ran dry. Food and water became more precious than gold. Hunger gnawed at the people, and disease spread among the wounded, turning the city into a festering wound of suffering.

The mercenaries—hired killers driven by greed—lost all semblance of discipline. They no longer fought for Byron Heywood. They fought for themselves.

They burned. They pillaged. They slaughtered.

Even Byron's own army crumbled under the weight of the madness. Every day, soldiers deserted, some turning against him entirely.

The streets overflowed with corpses, left to rot beneath the unrelenting sun. The stench of death clung to the air.

Desperate civilians scavenged for anything edible. Some turned to violence, attacking soldiers for scraps.

The city's wells dried up. The remaining water sources were fiercely guarded, yet even that did not prevent the inevitable—bloody conflicts over the last drops of life.

Byron Heywood, once the mighty governor, found himself standing atop a crumbling empire. His orders fell on deaf ears. His men, his city, his power—everything was slipping through his fingers.

His closest allies looked upon him with growing unease. No longer out of loyalty, but out of fear. They whispered amongst themselves, glancing at him with wary eyes.

Even they did not know how much longer this madness would last.

But one thing was certain.

Reese was dying.

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