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Region: The Celestial Empire

Past Grudges” — Jahar’s terror
November 28th 1911,
Phunan police station, Haphan.

The night sky over city of Haphan was a dark shade of grey, clouds accumulating like the herd of sheep. Jahar Chen, government name, also known more infamously as Meng Jahar Roun, stood by the window of the newly-captured police station, his expression as cold as the thin smoke released from his herbal cigarette. He pulled a photograph from his pocket, looking at his son Piao’s face in it with a dark smile.

“Life is beautiful when everything is easy,” he murmured. “You finally proved your worth, Piao… Thanks to you, Gi’an is no more.”

His eyes grew distant as he held the photo for a moment longer before lighting a flame under it, watching it burn slowly, the ashes swift through the open window. In Jahar’s mind, Piao was merely a tool, one he had already used and discarded. Just then, one of his men entered, speaking in a low, respectful tone. “Apologies sir, I have something to tell you. It’s done, sir. The prisoner is downstairs. Jahar nodded and descended to the lower level, walking with quiet but heavy steps toward the prisoner tied to a chair. On either side of the man stood two Meng officers, their faces stoic.

“Release me, you traitorous curs!” the prisoner spat.

Jahar’s mouth twitched in a slight grin. “Now, why would we do that?” he replied with a calm, mocking tone. “I never thought the grand police station of Haphan, one of the 5 fortified cities meant to defend Sima Shang, could fall so easily. How disappointing.”

The prisoner glared, struggling against his bonds. “You attacked us unprepared, you rat! You’re no great tactician. You used trickery and even sent children and elders to weaken our guard. You’re the lowest of the bastard.”

Jahar chuckled softly. “Tactics, not tricks, you fool” he said coolly. “Why would we strike at the wrong time? In the art of war, there’s no shame in doing what is necessary to win. Or are you too old-fashioned to understand that?”

The prisoner sneered, his voice shaking with anger. “The army of Sima Shang will sure come, and they’ll wipe you out. You won’t get away with this, you mindless traitor.”

“Ah, Sima Shang,” Jahar said, almost bored. “There’s no need to wait for them. We already have our people positioned there, ready to strike at Lesiheng Palace. In Huanpua, where the council of elders resides, we have our agents as well. The elders’ days are numbered. This plan has been in motion long before tonight.”

Fury burned in the prisoner’s eyes as he cursed Jahar, but his words were cut short by three gunshots to his forehead. Jahar calmly reholstered his pistol and turned to his men. “He was getting very annoying. If he had stop talking, I’m thinkingbof sparing him. What a shame, what a shame. We’ll show them the might of the Meng Dynasty.”

Without hesitation, Jahar ordered, “Finish off all the prisoners and dispose of their bodies. This station will serve as our fortress. Secure Haphan, Xuen, Dursan, Onbak, and Gersik by the day after tomorrow. I want no delay.”

His officers responded instantly, carrying out the brutal orders without question. Jahar sank back onto an old sofa, his gaze unfocused, a sudden flashback pulling him back to the past. The name Gi’an Stitos lingered bitterly in his mind, the man who had once crushed Meng’s ambitions and publicly executed his father in Sima Shang, a warning to all. Many had managed to escape that day, and the dynasty had waited, plotting, ever since.

Now, with Gi’an gone, Jahar felt the heavy weight of his inherited mission. In a low, unwavering voice, he renewed his promise to his late father and to the Meng cause, he would surely erase all traces of Gi’an’s legacy. Karakez would return to the Meng.

Turning to one of his lieutenants, he instructed him to gather a unit or two and lay waste to Chunso, a town that had once acted against the Meng. With that settled, Jahar walked over to a large map of Karakez hanging on the wall. He drew his pistol again, aiming at the star marking Sima Shang, the capital, and fired a single shot into it.

“No one can stop the Meng,” he said, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

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