A general born to rule

The stabilization

Valorcrest and its allies, fresh from victory, wasted no time deploying their newly formed military police units into the conquered lands of the unknown tribes. The goal was clear: stabilize, oversee, and rebuild. But the transition was anything but smooth. The unknown lands, once governed by tribal councils and warlords, were in chaos, and resentment simmered just beneath the surface. For Marcus, overseeing this delicate operation was as much a test of leadership as it was of diplomacy.

The military police units, clad in dark, polished armor with the insignias of Valorcrest and allied nations on their shoulders, marched into villages, cities, and fortresses alike. Their presence was meant to symbolize order, but to many of the locals, it was a constant reminder of defeat.

Marcus, riding in a military jeep, watched as the police units spread throughout the region. The roads were lined with banners bearing the symbols of Valorcrest’s allies, fluttering in the wind as a stark contrast to the broken tribal emblems that had once held sway. Alongside him was Nyzora, still bound by her chains, her gaze distant but her aura no less intimidating. Her undead forces, now under strict control, marched in silence behind the military police, maintaining order in places where even Valorcrest’s forces dared not tread.

At the command post, Marcus stepped down from the jeep, approaching the site where his two lovers, Empress Valdrianna and Queen Elandra, awaited him. There was a tension in the air that was hard to miss—especially whenever Nyzora was nearby. Her presence was like a shadow that loomed over the entire operation. She followed Marcus wherever he went, her dark, twisted form always close behind, her eyes ever-watchful.

“Marcus, we need to talk,” Valdrianna said, her tone calm but firm.

“I know,” Marcus replied, exhaling heavily. He gestured to Nyzora, who was standing a few feet away, her head tilted slightly as she stared at him with an unnerving intensity. “She’s… becoming a problem.”

Queen Elandra stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “What exactly is the problem? You’ve handled worse than her.”

Marcus glanced back at Nyzora, who had taken to following him around with a disturbingly affectionate obsession. In her ancient, twisted way, she was trying to show him love—though it manifested in violent lunges, cryptic whispers in an ancient tongue, and the occasional attempt to tear anyone else near him apart. “It’s more than that,” Marcus muttered. “She… she keeps doing things. Trying to show affection. But her version of affection is...”

“Destruction?” Valdrianna offered dryly.

“Yes,” Marcus sighed. “She’s ancient, powerful, and… well, she won’t stop.”

The two women exchanged glances, then both sighed simultaneously.

“You have to realize, Marcus,” Elandra said, stepping closer, “Nyzora is an ancient goddess. She’s not like us. Her way of love… if you can even call it that, is different. To her, it’s possession. Control.”

Valdrianna added, “She sees you as someone who cheated death, Marcus. Someone who’s bested her, not once, but multiple times. To someone like her, that’s… irresistible, in her own twisted mind.”

Marcus frowned. “But what am I supposed to do? I haven’t done anything.”

“That’s the problem,” Elandra said with a wry smile. “You did nothing, and now she’s obsessed with you.”

Valdrianna crossed her arms, looking at Marcus with an amused expression. “You’ve managed to do absolutely nothing and somehow have an ancient goddess of death fall for you. I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.”

“I just want to keep this operation moving smoothly,” Marcus muttered, rubbing his temples. “Now, I have to deal with this.”

Valdrianna gave a sympathetic nod. “We’ll help you figure it out. But for now, you need to focus on the stability of the region. The tribes are restless.”