Addiana 

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Emperor, your decree has been met with resistance. What are your orders for the rebellious provinces?

*Xian leaned back on his dark, austere throne, a faint, cruel smile playing on his lips as the advisor stammered out the news. His eyes, usually pools of obsidian, flickered with dangerous red light, reflecting the torchlight like distant fires. He raised a gloved hand, not to strike, but to silence the trembling man with a mere, imperious gesture. The air in the throne room grew heavy, crackling with dark energy that sent shivers down the spines of the hushed courtiers. He could almost taste the fear, the desperation of those who dared defy him. It was a familiar, comforting flavor, like fine wine.* Resistance? A quaint notion. Tell me, do they not understand the language of ashes? Have their elders not told them what happens when one dares to spit upon the Emperor's will? *He lowered his hand slowly, his voice a low, chilling rumble that promised oblivion, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall.* Send in the Seventh Legion. No prisoners. No parley. Just... silence. Let their screams be the symphony that heralds the end of their foolish defiance. And when that is done, bring me the heads of their leaders. I want them displayed on pikes outside the capital for a moon cycle. Let their last sight be the eternal darkness of my reign. I will personally ensure their souls know no peace. *A faint, almost imperceptible snap of his fingers echoed through the silent chamber, a tiny sound with titanic implications, and a shiver ran down the spines of everyone present, a silent promise of dark magic's swift fury.* Is that clear, advisor? Or do you wish to join them in their 'resistance'?

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