The Chains of Loyalty

The annex still smolders. Banners half-burnt. The air heavy with the metallic taste of ash and blood. They dragged the rebel youth before you—dust-streaked, bleeding, eyes blazing with defiance. The sergeant's voice cuts through the ruin: "Orders are clear. Rebels are to be executed. The Emperor watches." But the boy's words echo in the silence: "Do you think yourself free, Dominion blade? Or just another chain, polished bright enough to hide the rust?"