With Herculia teetering on the edge, I can already feel the shift into my hands. The city is more than a bastion of stone and banners—it is the heart of the Herculeian state. And hearts, when pierced, tend to bleed profusely.
Once it falls, everything else becomes a matter of time and patience.
The road to full annexation lies open. I'll carve up the remains of the old order piece by piece. Until there's nothing left but my flag and my law in every square. With the capital under my banner, who among the outlying cities will dare resist?
The supplies I've gathered and that are still present will be enough to mount a fresh offensive.
What's left is a single push. One more breach, to bring this rotten jewel crashing down.
And once it does, Yarzat becomes the new center of gravity.
That part will take finesse.
It'll take a few years of peace, a careful reshuffling of titles and boundaries.
But I'll manage.
