The Last Banner

Hadrian rose slowly from the throne, the movement deliberate, almost mechanical. The faint scrape of his boots against the marble floor echoed through the silent hall. All eyes turned to him—councilors, soldiers, and even the air itself seemed to hang in anticipation, drawn to his imposing figure.

He stood tall, his high-collared tunic and crimson-trimmed cloak emphasizing his sharp, almost statuesque features. His gray eyes swept across the room, dispassionate and unyielding. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and steady, but it carried an undercurrent of steel that reverberated through the hall.

"Seven months ago, this city burned," Hadrian began, his words cutting through the silence like a blade. "Its people cried out as fire consumed their homes. Its walls crumbled beneath the weight of enemies who had no right to tread on human soil. You were there. You saw the flames. You heard the screams."

He paused, his gaze lingering on the councilors before sweeping to the soldiers. "And yet, here we stand."

The faintest echo of emotion flickered in his tone—pride, perhaps, or sorrow—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"We stand not because we were saved by the gods of the Eternal Flame or by the mercy of the xeno races who infest this world," Hadrian continued, his voice hardening. "We stand because we bled for it. Because we broke ourselves against the tide and refused to fall."

His words were steady, but as he prepared to continue, a faint chime rang in his ears.

System NotificationFaith Opportunity Detected.The Church of the Last Banner is growing organically among your ranks. To accelerate its influence, you must declare your acknowledgment of a single god tied to humanity's unity.Objective: Foster the growth of the religion forming around you by addressing your divine role in unifying humanity.Reward: Unlock System Feature – The Shop.

Hadrian faltered for the briefest of moments, the notification lingering in his mind. The shop? The words were cryptic, yet the prospect of unlocking new features intrigued him. His pause was almost imperceptible to the room, but in his mind, a storm brewed.

The gods of this world have done nothing for humanity but bind us in chains, he thought, his lips pressing into a thin line. If faith in me is what they need to march under one banner, then so be it.

He raised his head slightly, his voice sharper as he resumed. "The gods of the Eternal Flame demand your submission. They thrive on your weakness. But humanity was never meant to kneel. We were meant to stand, to rise, to dominate this world as we were always destined to."

The murmur in the room grew, subtle shifts among the councilors as the weight of his words settled in.

"I tell you now," Hadrian continued, his tone quiet but resolute, "there is only one god. One who calls us to strength, to unity, to survival. A god who demands not sacrifice but conquest, not servitude but dominance."

He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the hall. "Humanity will rise, not through prayer or submission, but through the iron will of those who dare to take what is ours. You are those people. Together, we will crush the xeno scum beneath our banner and take back what was stolen from us. And under this god's watchful eye, we will forge a world where humanity reigns supreme."

Hadrian rose from the throne, his movements slow and deliberate. The faint scrape of his boots against the marble floor echoed in the silent hall. He walked forward to the edge of the dais, his gray eyes scanning the room, passing over the gathered councilors and the rows of soldiers without lingering. It wasn't contempt that marked his expression, but something colder: necessity.

This is what must be done, he thought as his gaze shifted toward the towering banners hanging from the walls, their crimson and silver symbols glowing faintly in the light of the chandeliers. I killed them all. Every vassal, every heir, every remnant of the feudal order. Not because I wanted to—but because it was the only way. Thrace cannot rise if it remains chained to the old ways. This duchy must belong to me. To humanity.

He thought of the troops he had dispatched that morning—divisions of his standing army sent to occupy and secure the former vassal lands. Even now, his soldiers would be planting his banner in villages and estates, rooting out anyone who dared resist. There was no room for hesitation, no room for divided loyalties. The territory was his, the power his.

Hadrian turned slightly, gesturing to the first man in the line of councilors. "Varric," he said, his voice sharp.

A wiry man in his forties stepped forward, his silver-embroidered cuffs catching the light. Varric's shrewd eyes betrayed his years of experience as a merchant, one who had clawed his way to success through wit and persistence.