The military parade they had prepared for Jonas was simply amazing. They had hundreds of soldiers marching side by side in perfect synchronicity. They would stop at a specific drum beat and in unison swing their swords or stab with their spears. All the while roaring their unique battle cry.  

It was awe-inspiring to be truthful. 

Especially considering their pristine silver armor. The color and standard set for any imperial army. They shone like lamps in the daylight, reflecting the sun with every step and swing of their weapons. Jonas wondered how his own soldiers compared to them. His pride as their liege made him desire the very best possible. 

He would frequently look at the mercenary captain of the five hundred heavy infantry hoping beyond hope that the man had instilled enough discipline into his men to at least act professional. But Jonas did have high expectations. The man always looked like a dunce or completely mentally incapable of coherent thought. With eyes drooping, mouth hung open, and shoulders falling down his sides, he made a miserable figure. 

Jonas promised himself he wouldn’t judge a book by its cover and more importantly he understood the mercenary had to have been something amazing to even get to where he stood as the leader of a five hundred man company. But god-damn it, the man made it impossible to imagine anything other than an utter idiot of the lowest levels!

As his thoughts trailed and his displeased expression made its way to his face-to the anxiety of everyone around him-the most eye-catching and imposing group came out in a fury of hooves dust and full-plate. Jonas gasped as they never paused in their movements. They were perfectly coordinated and stunning to witness. The cavalry charged without thought, when given their orders, in between the lines of infantry with no mishap caused. 

The soldiers didn’t even flinch as bouts of dust flew into the air around them with the passing of the cavalry. 

Jonas imagined the heavy, fully armored, and charging mass slamming into an enemy. Completely obliterating any thought of resistance within moments of the collision. Not only did they carry a considerable weight-horse, human, and armor for both-they also sported long lances with wickedly sharp points just begging to rip flesh apart. 

Currently, Jonas sat in an enormous balcony a part of the inner castle. Not only was it fully protected by a magical barrier, he had two of his honor guard-Gregor and Ash- twenty of his stoic guards positioned around the large balcony, and the mercenary captain, as he watched the entire parade with seven other individuals. 

Two generals, the portmaster, and four of the legion commander most experienced. Each one of them was more gray than anyone had the right to be. Jonas feared for the future of the empire if all its commanders are a foot in the grave like these men. 

Or he could just be underestimating them. But first impressions mattered! They should do something about their decrypt looks for the Father’s sake. 

Jonas never teared his eyes from the cavalry as they wheeled around in the tight main street-for them at least-and began another charge between the soldiers’ ranks. “Your cavalry are quite the strength.”

“We are renowned for them. It helps we have endless plains around the Godsent Mountain range. Lots of room to practice, especially with the orcs always trying to creep closer,” said the person sitting directly to his right. He was Gravious Mefentuar, a military man through and through with a few pounds of white powder and a wig on his head to boot. 

The man walked everywhere with a perfect posture, small combed beard, and imposing aura for days. It didn’t help that his face was covered in three different and massive scars. They crossed at different parts on his right eye and all the way down to his jaw line.  

It made him look like a pampered war veteran...err...if that makes any sense. Why someone as accomplished and as experienced in the gruesome art of war covered his face like that, Jonas would never know. Something must be wrong for him to do that.

“Orcs? That reminds me of something very important! I’ve heard you had a certain princess locked up in the high tower.” Jonas had to jab at them. How could they mistakenly let escape the most important political hostage of the entire subcontinent? What if she was actually a real danger? She could have burned the entire city down without them ever knowing what had happened! 

Their incompetence was infuriating! 

Then again, from the way Raneria explained it, she had little choice in the escape as Grega literally blew the entire wall and metal bars in front of them to fly out of the room. 

The men sitting around him all began to cough roughly, showing their age. Though Jonas found it to be overly exaggerated, if he was being honest. They would have died already if they coughed for two minutes straight. Heart attacks and strokes were real.

They might just be trying to show weakness to trick him or let him lower his guard. 

“W-where did you hear that, Lord? W-we dont-”

“I don’t take kindly to liars,” Jonas interrupted them without preamble. “I’d watch what you say from now on Gravious. Neglagence of such proportions is a capital crime punishable with capital punishment.” He made sure to look each and every one of them down. After the incident of his ‘new’ memories, some of which he couldn’t even distinguish from his own, he was in no mood to play around or lead them by the noose. 

With a nod to Ash, he turned back to the powdered general-who by the way was as red as a beet, an odd color really with how white the powder was-and shook his head. “You are the magistrate of this entire city, it is your responsibility carry out and maintain all necessities needed here. I will be merciful because it has not lead to catastrophic problems, but another mistake of this proportions will result in your...termination.”

For a good three seconds, Jonas would not look away from the general’s eyes. He was not about to lose this contest of wills. And as he expected, the man before him cracked before he did.

With a gesture, two of his guards rushed towards the door. When they came back, they brought in a chair exactly like the ones they were sitting on and placed it at the end of the line. The men looked at each other with confused looks.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Move a seat over!” He turned back to general Mefentaur. “You’ll be sitting to my left from now on, understood?”

The general’s instincts kicked in as he was given a direct command. With a jump to his feet, he gave a silent salute with fiery eyes and sat on the left. His seating position had changed, and so did his political power lessen directly proportional to that.