Monarch Volume 1 Epilogue 2 (Patreon)

Epilogue 2

General Raul Frendar of the Rakasham Empire stood at the edge of a ruined street and looked over the burning town in silence.

Flames had swallowed most of it by now. Entire rows of houses were collapsing in on themselves, wood cracking and stone splitting as the fire spread without restraint. The streets beneath his feet were fractured from repeated spell impacts, jagged lines running through them like scars. Smoke hung thick in the air, stinging his eyes and filling his lungs with the bitter taste of ash.

Bodies were everywhere.

Some wore the armor of his soldiers, though they were fewer in number. Most belonged to the rebels, their weapons still clutched in stiff hands or scattered across the ground where they had fallen. But they were not the only ones lying there.

There were others too.

Civilians. Men and women who had never held a weapon. And among them were even younger faces, ones that had not even fully grown into adulthood. Raul’s gaze lingered on one such body for a moment longer than the others before he looked away.

Despite such a gruesome scene, he felt nothing. Or perhaps he had simply stopped allowing himself to feel anything.

What lay before him was suffering. There was no denying that. But it was also victory, and that was the only thing that mattered now. The rebels had hidden here for weeks, slipping through his grasp while gathering numbers. The town had sheltered them, fed them, protected them when the army had been searching every inch of the region.

That alone had sealed its fate.

If left unchecked, those same rebels would have spread further, taking more towns, more land, and eventually turning into something far worse. Raul could not allow that.

The queen had made her will clear when she had given him this command—Purge the parasites, and so he had.

Even if it meant burning a town to the ground. Even if it meant killing hundreds who had not raised a blade against him directly. It was a cost he had already accepted before he had marched here.

Because in his mind, this was mercy.

A hundred dead now meant thousands saved later. If the rebellion had grown, it would not have stopped at a single town. It would have bled into cities, into trade routes, into the very heart of the kingdom. The deaths would have multiplied beyond control.

This was cleaner.

Raul stepped forward, his boots crunching against debris as he moved deeper into the town. The heat pressed against his armor, but he ignored it as his eyes scanned the surroundings carefully.

His soldiers followed behind him without question.

They moved through the ruins with practiced efficiency, breaking into homes that still stood and dragging out anyone who might still be hiding. Some of those they found were already dead. Others were not.

From time to time, a scream cut through the noise of the fire, but it was always brief.

Raul never cared for the screams.

Mercy was not something the Rakasham Empire offered once someone was caught, and he had long since stopped pretending otherwise. Those who chose to stand against the crown understood the cost, and if they didn’t, then they learned it in their final moments.

That was how order was maintained. That was how rebellion was crushed before it could take root again.

He continued walking through the burning street, his gaze sweeping across the broken structures and fallen bodies with quiet vigilance. The fire crackled loudly around him, embers drifting through the air as another rooftop collapsed in the distance.

Then, just as he turned along a slight curve in the road, something shifted.

He noticed a flicker of movement to his right.

Raul’s head turned instantly, his instincts reacting before the thought could even form fully in his mind.

A bolt of lightning tore through the air the very next second.

It came fast and bright, crackling with raw mana as it shot straight toward him. The street lit up for a brief moment as the spell closed the distance.

Raul didn’t move. He simply stood there as a dark, translucent shield formed around his body. The lightning slammed into it with a violent crack, energy spreading across its surface in jagged lines before being diverted outward.

The spell dissipated into the air, leaving nothing behind. Before the caster could react, Raul’s soldiers had already moved.

Arrows cut through the smoke, flying upward toward the balcony where the mage had revealed himself. The man barely had time to raise his hands before the first arrow pierced his chest, followed by two more that struck him in quick succession. His body jerked before toppling over the railing, hitting the ground below with a dull thud.

Raul’s attention had already shifted.

Two more presences made themselves known to his right, their intent clear even before they stepped out. This time, he moved first.

His fingers flexed slightly, and in the next instant, a massive war hammer materialized in his grasp, its dark metal surface gleaming faintly in the firelight. Without hesitation, he swung it sideways.

The blow tore through the wooden wall of a nearby house, splintering it apart as if it were nothing. The force of the strike didn’t stop there. It carried through, catching the two men hidden behind it mid-motion.

They were thrown off their feet instantly.

Their bodies slammed into the ground hard, air knocked out of their lungs as they struggled to recover. One of them tried to push himself up, but he was too slow.

Raul stepped forward and brought the hammer down.

The impact was brutal.

The man’s head caved under the force, blood spraying outward as bone and flesh gave way in an instant. The body went limp immediately, collapsing into the rubble beneath it.

The second man froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes wide with shock as he watched it happen. Then instinct took over, and he turned to run.

He didn’t make it far.

Raul’s hammer moved again, faster this time. The rebel barely managed to raise a shield in front of himself as the strike landed.

The hammer splintered it without slowing, slamming into the man’s chest and driving him backward into the wall behind him. The impact cracked the stone, pinning him there as the breath was forced out of his lungs.

He slumped, barely conscious, his body twitching weakly.

Raul didn’t finish him. Instead, he lowered his bloodied weapon slightly and looked at the man with cold indifference before speaking.

“Get him in ropes,” he ordered, his voice steady and without emotion. “Strip him naked. He’s going to pay a bigger price for trying to assassinate me and not accepting his defeat.”

The soldiers moved without hesitation the moment he finished his words.

They dragged the injured rebel away, binding his hands tightly behind his back before wrapping rope around his torso to make sure he couldn’t even struggle properly. The man groaned weakly, his body still barely holding together after the blow, but no one paid him any attention as they hauled him across the broken street.

He would not be killed immediately.

Like a few others, he would be made an example of. He would be forced to watch, to listen, to understand exactly what his defiance had brought upon him and everyone around him. By the time his turn came, there would be nothing left in him but fear and regret.

Raul did not need to say any of this aloud. His men already knew.

The rebel would be hanged in the end, but before that, he would see the fate of every one of his comrades who had been captured alive. One by one, their heads would fall, and he would be made to watch until the last of them was gone. Only after that would he be given his own death.

It was not done out of cruelty. Not entirely. Raul understood what people would call it, but that did not matter.

What mattered was the message. He knew that word of this would spread across the Empire, carried by his own men, then the merchants and travellers. Every town, every village, even the court would hear of what had happened here.

And when they did, they would realise what it meant to stand against the crown.

Raul did not take pleasure in the suffering itself, but there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that he had done his duty well. Fear was a tool, just like steel or magic, and in many cases, it was far more effective.

He turned his gaze briefly toward the fallen mage lying near the base of the building.

The man’s body was still, arrows embedded deep into his chest. For a moment, Raul studied him in silence, noting the faint traces of mana that still lingered in the air around the corpse. A capable caster, perhaps even a talented one.

It was always unfortunate to see such potential wasted.

When the gods granted someone power, it was meant to be used in service of something greater. To throw it away on rebellion, on defiance that could only end one way, was nothing more than stupidity in his eyes.

Raul exhaled quietly and looked away, and continued forward.

The burning streets stretched ahead of him as his soldiers carried out the final stages of the purge. More rebels were dragged out from hiding, some fighting, most too broken to resist. Civilians were gathered as well, those who had survived the initial assault now being sorted and restrained.

Even the children were not spared from being taken.

They were bound and kept aside, guarded carefully. Their fate would not be decided here. That decision belonged to the crown, and Raul had no intention of overstepping that line. Whether they would be spared, enslaved, or executed was not for him to choose.

By the time he reached the center of the town, the operation was nearing its end.

Dozens of rebels were already lined up on their knees, ropes binding their hands tightly behind them. Black cloth had been tied over their eyes, cutting them off from everything around them. Some of them trembled, others sat still in silent resignation, but none of them spoke.

Behind them stood his soldiers, weapons ready.

Three bodies already lay nearby, fresh blood staining the ground beneath them. They had tried something, perhaps a last act of defiance, and they had paid for it immediately.

The rest would not get that chance.

Raul stopped a few steps away, his gaze sweeping across the line of prisoners as the firelight flickered over them.

By evening, every one of them would be dead.

Once this was done, he would return to the capital. The thought came naturally, almost instinctively. His estate awaited him there, far removed from the stench of blood and smoke. It had been a while since he had seen his sons properly, and there were things he needed to ensure.

If his house was to gain better standing, they needed to be more than just capable. Raul had always believed that the battlefield was the truest teacher, but there were lessons that could only be passed from father to son.

For a moment, the idea of that quiet time almost felt… grounding. But it didn’t last.

A shout cut through the air from behind him, sharp enough to pull him out of his thoughts immediately. Raul turned at once, his gaze locking onto the source as his hand shifted slightly along the handle of his hammer.

A rider was approaching.

The man moved quickly through the ruined streets, his horse navigating around debris and bodies with urgency. Even before he came close, Raul could tell from the armor he wore that he was one of their own. A runner, most likely. The question that formed in his mind wasn’t who he was, but why he had been sent here.

The man reached him within moments, pulling the reins hard before jumping down from the horse in a single motion. Without wasting time, he stepped forward and dropped into a respectful salute.

“The queen sent this for you, General,” he said, pulling out an envelope and extending it forward.

Raul took it immediately, and broke the seal before pulling out the parchment inside. His eyes moved across the contents quickly, each line read with focus. Around him, his soldiers went quiet, their attention naturally shifting toward him as they waited.

By the time Raul reached the end, where the queen’s seal verified the legitimacy of the letter, he exhaled slowly.

It seemed his rest would have to wait.

He folded the parchment carefully before lowering his hand, his gaze lifting toward the men gathered around him.

“We finish here tonight,” Raul said at once, his voice steady but carrying across the space without effort. “At first light, we move back to Varkhal to restock.”

The soldiers straightened slightly at the command. Raul paused for a brief moment before continuing.

“The queen has asked something bigger of us,” he said, his tone hardening just slightly. “And we are going to deliver. We are going to search for the lost Sanctum of the Sage.”

For a while, only silence will be there as his men slowly accepted what his words meant.

Raul simply took a slow breath, his gaze drifting briefly toward the burning remains of the town before returning forward. Purging the rebels had been hard, but what the queen had asked of him might just become the most dangerous quest he had ever taken.

But he knew that just like every time, he would succeed, and everything inside the sanctum would belong to the Empire.

***

Book 1 is over.

I have added the class options in Chap 109 after seeing comments, but they are Death Knight, Arcane Duelist and War Weaver.

Rayne's status at the end of the volume:

Status (1/3)

Name - Rayne Frayser (Human)

Age - 21

Class - Soldier

Rank - Common Soldier (Forsaken), Valeria Kingdom

Level - 30 (Class upgrade pending)

Health - 100%

Mana - 100%

Stamina - 100%

Stats

Strength - 66

Vitality - 26

Endurance - 59

Agility - 62

Arcane - 30

Titles -

Bastard of the Fraysers

The Tortured Child

Soldier of Valeria

Survivor of the Trolls

Otherworlder

Gravewalker

Skills -

General Skills

Valerian Language Mastery (Basic) - Level 5

Lycarian Language Mastery (Basic) - Level 2

Foraging (Basic) - Level 2

Mathematics (Basic) - Level 3

Toughened Physique (Uncommon) - Level 3

Footwork (Basic) - Level 3

Unarmed Mastery (Basic) - Level 2

Pain Tolerance (Uncommon) - Level 4

Paralysis Resistance (Uncommon) - Level 2

Class Skills (3/10)

Sword Mastery (Basic) - Level 3

Formation Knowledge (Basic) - Level 1

Danger Sense (Basic) - Level 2

Unique Skills (6/10)

Skill Stealer (???) - Max

Goblin Tongue (Uncommon) - Level 1

Umbral Sight (Uncommon) - Level 1

Lesser Regeneration (Rare) - Level 2

Death Strike (Rare) - Level 2

Analysis (Rare) - Level 1