The Council Chambers, once a testament to Cyclitharan grandeur, now felt like a mausoleum. The colossal dome, with its towering arches and marble-like columns, stood eerily still. The vibrant banners of old battles and triumphs that used to hang proudly now appeared faded and drained of life, mere relics of victories long past. A cold wind, sharp and biting, hissed through gaps and cracks underneath the doors and windows, carrying with it the scent of fear. In the center of it all, the Grand Duke of the Cyclitharan race—a figure regarded as thesymbol of power and authority—sat hunched over like a frightened child. His fingers twisted and coiled around each other, a nervous tic halting the rising storm of dread that churned in his stomach. Across from him, shone in twin pillars of light, sat two Granians, their forms barely visible beyond the pale glow. The shadows of their towering figures stretched across the circular table, each shadow crawling toward the Grand Duke like the claws of death itself. He dared not meet their eyes. Not yet. The Granians radiated a silent menace, their bodies still as stone, their eyes glowing faintly, acting asbeacons of malice that cut through the gloom. Lord Gravax, the more imposing of the two, sat directly across, his shadow looming large over the Grand Duke like a hunter stalking his prey. To his right sat the former Lord Grim, equally fearsome. The Grand Duke cleared his throat, attempting to force strength into his trembling voice. "C-can... can we continue?" His attempt at boldness was pitiful, the quiver in his voice betraying his fear. "If you’re going to keep me here in silence, then at least engage me in some conversation. What is it that you want? Why are you here? Gravax’s eyes gleamed, his voice as cold and sharp as his piercing, intimidating gaze "You know why we’re here, Grand Duke." Grim leaned forward slightly, his scaled lips curling into a mocking grin. "We require resources. Soldiers, slaves, beasts, colonies, precious minerals. The choice is yours" His words dripped with the casual cruelty of one who has already won. "Though, as we said before, we’d prefer soldiers. And colonies that we can strategically plant our troops.’ The Grand Duke’s fists clenched, his knuckles turning white against the armrests. His people, his empire, and all the hard work generations before him put together to build were being auctioned off, stripped of dignity, reduced to nothing more than a bargaining chip in the Granians’ insatiable thirst for conquest. His eyes flicked up, catching the faint, dangerous glint in Gravax’s eyes. Bursting from his seat, the Grand Duke slammed his fists onto the round table, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the empty chamber. "Is this what you think of us? Of my empire? Do you expect me to grant you my soldiers as though they are simply toys for you to pick, choose, and give back to us without something in return! What good is it to help you Granians, hmm? What’s in it for us?" Gravax and Grim exchanged glances, their expressions calm, untouched by the Grand Duke’s outburst. It was Grim who broke the silence, his voice smooth, almost amused. "It’s the same offer as before, Grand Duke. Half of what the Ethisians own will be yours. We understand how you desire to expand but cannot because of the Ethisians so we’ll give you half of what they control...once we’ve wiped them out of Akrina." The Grand Duke opened his mouth to protest, but Grim continued, his voice a cold whisper. "We know your kind, Grand Duke. You like to stay clean, untouched by the bloodshed of war. But behind every deal, every calculated smile, every pompous display, every stingy and sometimes unjust business deal, you hide the hunger to expand. And, as I already mentioned, we know that the Ethisians have been limiting your empire’s influence for years. You can’t deny it." "I..." the Grand Duke stammered, but the lie died on his lips. The truth was undeniable. The Ethisians had and were still thorns in the empire’s side, hemming its growth, denying them the resources and territories they so desperately wanted to monopolize. Gravax leaned forward, his rust-red eyes gleaming like coals in the dark. "You want them gone just as much as we do. Their presence stains your expansion, chokes your potential, but you don’t have the stomach to do what needs to be done." His grin widened, revealing sharp, predatory teeth. "But we do. Let us handle that with your assistance." The Grand Duke fell silent, the weight of the Granians’ words pressing down on him like a vice. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the howling wind that swept through the chambers, carrying the stench of desperation. "You are right," the Grand Duke finally admitted, his voice hoarse with the strain of surrender. "We do want them gone...but extinction?" He paused, shaking his head. "That’s a stain no race in Akrina should bear. Wiping out an entire race, its history, its culture, its legacy...it cannot be taken lightly or forgotten. No one forgets that for generations. Your children’s children won’t forget what you did. All of that blood on your hands..." Lord Gravax chuckled softly, the sound low and rumbling like distant thunder. "Will atone for the Granians who came and fought before us against the Ethisians. Stains don’t bother us, Grand Duke." His voice was filled with an unsettling calm. "The blood of the Ethisians is already on our hands as is ours on theirs. We’ll gladly take more. This war is about complete control of Akrina to earn back our title, our name, our legacy. It’s them or us, and I intend to make sure it’s them." Latest content publıshed on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✦𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✦𝙣𝙚𝙩 Grim’s voice cut in, smooth and cruel. "And once they’re gone, you’ll have your reward. Half of their lands, their colonies, their resources—all yours to control. You wouldn’t even have to lift a finger." For the first time, the Grand Duke’s resolve faltered. He felt the pull of temptation—the vast wealth and territory that could be his. The Ethisians, his most significant barrier to expansion, wiped away without his empire suffering the consequences. He could already see the map of the stars redrawn, Cyclitharan colonies stretching into Ethisian space, their wealth pouring into his big, never-filled pockets. But the moral weight—the weight of obliterating an entire species—still pressed down on him, like a crushing stone. "Do you realize," he began, his voice low, "how history will judge you? How they will speak of the Granians as the destroyers of worlds? Every civilization, every being across the galaxy will know that it was your people who erased an entire race. Entire cultures. Entire histories." "We’ve done that before and will certainly do it again in a heartbeat. We’ve already obliterated more than two species. What’s one more?" Grim replied with a shrug. " The Grand Duke looked away, wrestling with the gravity of the choice before him. He knew that if he refused, the Granians could turn their fury on his people next. But if he agreed... "You have our support," he whispered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "I’ll grant you our strongest warriors, machinery, and any strategic colony at your disposal. You’ll be granted with ships, both attack and colonial, to transport all you need. You’ll also be given a Council consisting of some of my best advisors. I’ll require that you’ll protect us for I know the Ethisians will retaliate so be sure to hold up that end. Does...does that please you?" The two Granians, glaring at each other with delight, pride, and a bit of arrogance, nodded in agreement and then grinned at the Grand Duke saying," It does more than you can imagine. Now, if you’ll excuse us..." "Wait!!" weirdly, the Grand Duke’s nervous character vanished and was replaced with a child-like dash of excitement. He placed his hands together, held them up to his chin and asked with his eye squinted, "can I see more of what that red-haired creature can do?