a fatal beauty

The grand square of Astoria was vast enough to accommodate more than a thousand people. The execution poles had been erected in front of the town hall, on an improvised platform. Ordinarily, this place served as an administrative center, with most of its buildings belonging to businesses or municipal organizations. It was not known for its liveliness.

However, that day, the usual atmosphere—marked by the hurried comings and goings of officials—had given way to a motley crowd, composed of people from all social backgrounds, most of whom had been drawn in by the siren song. The spectacle unfolding before them was being broadcast by projectors in every gathering place across the city. In every district, the crowd roared its indignation, demanding the death of the traitors to the emperor.

As the cacophony reached its peak and the executioners prepared to strike down the condemned, a young woman with delicate features, her face framed by violet hair cascading over her shoulders and dressed in rags, burst onto the platform before everyone's eyes. At first glance, the audience was struck by her bewitching beauty and her skin of immaculate whiteness. She was one of those women whose eyes, like magnificent violet sapphires, could shake the hearts of even the most hardened tyrants with a single glance—one for whom two brothers would kill each other over a mere kiss. She could have been mistaken for a work of art painted by the devil himself, so much did her mere presence fill the eyes and soul. Undoubtedly, if beauty had a price, hers would have been beyond measure.

The sight of this weeping goddess, her breath ragged, her hands trembling as she fell to her knees before the execution poles, shook the hearts of the men present. Even a eunuch would not have remained insensitive to the temptation to console her, to promise her the world and more, to question his own faith.

As soon as she appeared, she began to cry, then, in a voice as soft and fluid as it was sorrowful—yet strong enough to be heard throughout the city thanks to the megaphones—she cried out, "These men..." before kneeling before the executioner Grégoire.

As expected from Iris, her entrance was spectacular. She had an innate talent, bordering on the theatrical, for bending others to her will—sometimes without even realizing it. When she gave her all, I could almost feel pity for her victims.

Grégoire, ever the gentleman, helped her to her feet, albeit hesitantly. I wasn't sure if it was to maintain a favorable image or if he was simply weak in the face of her charm.

Before he could utter a word, she continued, "Envoy of the emperor, I give thanks to the emperor for delivering us from these odious men who, instead of defending our rights, have mistreated the people of the Empire. This man," she said, pointing at the half-conscious mayor and drawing all eyes to him, "abused my mother, leaving her pregnant before abandoning her for years, without resources. He used his influence to oppress us constantly, ensuring that no one knew of our existence, so he could preserve his public image and secure his re-election as the head of this city. My mother and I lived in conditions so miserable that we envied even household pets," she said, trembling, before pausing, overwhelmed by pain and tears.

If she had first conquered the hearts of the men, the women, too, now rose in revolt upon hearing her tale. Female solidarity, as Iris called it, was at work.

As another female executioner approached to comfort her, she added yet another layer to her story, signaling to the crowd that she felt strong enough to continue. She had captivated the audience, fanning the flames already ignited by the executioners. Now, all she had to do was direct the crowd's fury to her advantage. An angry man is a wild beast; a crowd is a tidal wave. When more than a thousand people demand blood, even the most moderate minds can be swept away by the fever. And it wasn't just the crowd present in the square but the entire population of Astoria—thirty thousand souls—who were witnessing the scene, ready to be overcome by their primal instincts, if only temporarily. That brief moment was all Iris needed to achieve her goals.

"My mother was a strong woman who, despite all these trials, managed to keep her dignity and raise me with all the love a mother can give her child. Yes, we lacked food and clothing, but we supported each other, comforting one another. Alas," she said, ceasing her tears and revealing a rage that betrayed a deeply buried pain, "I still curse the day this man realized I had inherited my mother's beauty." She stopped, suffocating with anger, leaving everyone time to imagine the worst horrors a man could commit before continuing, "He wanted to sell me to those monsters whose black hearts have now been exposed, thanks to the emperor, with no regard for the blood that, unfortunately, runs through my veins. For what? Some insatiable greed?" She began to gasp for air, and miraculously, tears of blood trickled down her cheeks, a testament to the suffering and agony she had endured.

"The day he came to take me, my mother begged at his feet to take her instead, secretly buying me time to find a place to hide. I do not know why, but he accepted. Only yesterday did I learn of my mother's death, discovering her corpse discarded like trash in what I thought was a safe haven. I have no doubt that, without the grace of the emperor who chose our city..." she said before breaking down in tears once more, having reached her limits, then regaining composure with a voice calm yet determined: "I beg you, envoy of the emperor, grant us, the citizens of Astoria, the right to claim justice with our own hands."

After her words, a unanimous cry rang out: "Justice with our own hands!" The crowd surged forward, overwhelming everything in its path with blind fury. It took the executioners a few seconds to react. Quelling such a mob without harming them was no easy feat, no matter how powerful they were. If the police had been present, they might have been able to slow the enraged crowd for a time, but they had likely been dismissed the day before, a distraction to keep the townspeople occupied while the city's elite made their escape.

Iris had unleashed a chaos beyond my expectations, enthralling the entire city. All that remained was for me to deal with the executioners. Then, with a snap of my fingers...

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Explosions rang out, and buildings collapsed onto the crowd.

If I screw this up...