To be perfectly honest, I was well aware that our actions were excessive.
Even if this method technically existed within the framework of the law, abusing it to stage executions under the guise of trials undoubtedly crossed a line.
There’s no legal system anywhere in the world that condones executing people based on the prosecutor’s incitement alone, without judges or prosecutors present in the courtroom.
Certainly not in the laws of our own kingdom.
We completely disregarded basic rights like appeals and even the right to speak, slaughtering nobles indiscriminately.
There’s no justifying that.
What will posterity call this? A massacre? Organized slaughter? Suppression of dissent through brute force?
They’ll find some way to label it, I’m sure.
After all, the fact remains: we used the military to replace rule of law with a farcical North Korean-style people’s tribunal.
The repercussions will undoubtedly linger for decades.
Bureaucrats haunted by collective trauma.
A culture of politics where brute force prevails.
A weakened judicial system.
Who knows, perhaps we’ve set a precedent where anyone who doesn’t fall in line is lynched first and questioned later.
It’s possible to mitigate the damage over time, but for the next few decades, we’ll likely have to grapple with the fallout.
Still, if I were to offer a justification for why we resorted to this, I’d say this:
We had no other choice.
“If I hadn’t done this, the soldiers and citizens would’ve turned the entire capital into a bloodbath. The streets would’ve drowned in crimson.”
As everyone knows, learning the truth about the war had driven us all mad.
So much so that when a single letter instructed us to seize the capital before the negotiation delegation returned, we executed the order without hesitation.
Even I had attempted to castrate the Crown Prince and cut off his head, only to be stopped at the last moment.
At least a third of our soldiers were in a similar state—this isn’t a guess, but a sobering fact.
Sure, there were some, like the subordinates who stopped me, who still clung to a shred of reason.
But even they were barely holding on. In their hearts, they were just as consumed by the desire to slaughter every noble.
The only difference between us was whether or not we’d acted on our rage.
Ten years of lives stolen.
Ten years of potential wasted.
Ten years of dreams crushed.
The nobles and the royal family had stripped everything from us, and the desire for vengeance was maddening.
Our soldiers weren’t the only ones. The people were just as enraged.
“Our lives had already been trampled by this kingdom. Whether rebellion or riot, it didn’t matter—as long as we could vent our deep-seated anger, it was worth it.”
The resentment of losing property, relatives, family, rights, and freedom under the pretense of war was far from trivial.
While the civilians hadn’t suffered as much as the soldiers who fought and bled, their shared desire for retribution burned just as fiercely.
As the revolution sought to justify itself by exposing the truth of the war, this desire for vengeance wasn’t likely to diminish.
If anything, it would spread further.
“We needed a way to vent that rage—something extreme yet controllable, even if it meant crossing legal boundaries.”
Imagine a room filled with explosives, some already detonated, others seconds away from blowing up.
To minimize the damage, you’d need to create an outlet to release the pressure.
That’s why I chose the extreme measure of holding people’s tribunals.
The punishments of the nobles were placed under central control, but the methods allowed soldiers and civilians to feel satisfaction.
Though illegal and brutal, it prevented these groups from completely breaking away and wreaking unchecked havoc.
I had to stop them from devolving into witch hunts and indiscriminate killings at any cost.
So, I ignored the rules, handed the power of decision to the masses, and prepared intentionally cruel methods of execution instead of the usual hanging or guillotine.
The intent was clear: let the condemned die screaming in hellish agony to soothe the hearts of the bereaved.
Let their miserable deaths serve as consolation for the tragic losses endured by countless families.
It worked.
Our soldiers, officers, and even generals flocked to the square daily to gleefully shout for executions.
Not just enlisted troops—officers of all ranks joined in, from junior officers to field-grade officers and even some generals.
Aside from those on active duty, they would gather in groups to watch the executions together.
The result? No witch hunts. No indiscriminate massacres.
Only the guilty were dealt with, brutally but systematically.
The process may have been gruesome and riddled with issues, but collateral damage was largely kept in check.
“The deed is done. Now, the clean-up and aftermath are mine to handle.”
Of course, the political cost of holding these tribunals wasn’t cheap.
The real problem lay in how to recover from what we’d spent.
The Day After the public Trials
In the conference room, the exhilaration from the previous day had faded.
We gathered around the table, smoking heavily and flipping through stacks of documents.
“Letting people vent their anger was effective,” one officer began, breaking the silence.
“But we’ve lost key figures who served as hostages and communication channels. The regional estates are slipping out of our sphere of influence.”
“Soon, title succession ceremonies will be held everywhere. It won’t be long before a slew of lords hostile to us emerge,” someone remarked grimly.
We had killed off a large portion of the nobles in the capital, which was satisfying.
After all, weren’t they all complicit in covering up and exploiting the royal family’s incompetence for years?
They were a deranged group willing to go as far as attempted assassination in foreign lands to keep their secrets buried.
At this point, there was no point in distinguishing between ringleaders and mere accomplices.
Rather than sparing them and risking our safety, we chose to treat them all as active collaborators.
Except for a select few whose lives were too valuable to lose, the rest had been sent to the gallows.
“Here’s a map marking the potential hostile estates, excluding families aligned with our faction.”
“Looks like at least three estates near the capital already?”
“And the number is likely to grow. Who would obediently submit after their parents were executed?”
The problem was the vacuum left behind.
Given the kingdom’s culture of many noble heads residing in the capital, the nobles of Rahator often played key roles in managing their estates and relationships with other regions.
Now, with those heads gone, their families back in the estates had inherited their titles.
These heirs, filled with hostility over their lost relatives and without any means for us to leverage against them, were now a brewing storm.
“Can’t we label them all as traitors and deal with them accordingly?” someone suggested, exasperated.
“Legally speaking, it’s feasible,” replied another. “But to enforce it, we’d have to subdue them first.”
Personally, I’d love nothing more than to see their heads roll.
After all, weren’t they accomplices too?
These were people who had known full well about the royal family’s failures, yet still followed orders, basked in privileges, and lived in luxury in their estates.
Using the war as an excuse, they’d bled their peasants dry, indulging in decadence while the rest of the kingdom suffered.
While it wouldn’t be feasible to eliminate them all at once due to administrative concerns, a swift purge within the limits of our resources seemed like the best course of action.
But there was a glaring issue.
Their armies were still intact.
“Even though we heavily conscripted their private soldiers previously, a significant number still remain. At least 100,000, I’d estimate.”
“I’d say as many as 150,000. And that could increase quickly if they conscript villagers or hire mercenaries.”
Unlike the royal lands, where endless drafts had drained manpower, the noble estates had largely preserved their reserves.
Maintaining our current military strength while ensuring we can sustain a prolonged campaign—that’s the real challenge.
The noble armies were, admittedly, a mixed bag.
Being private forces cobbled together independently, their levels of training and equipment varied greatly, with plenty of undisciplined rabble among them.
Still, sheer numbers couldn’t be ignored.
“If they were to rise up all at once and march on the capital, the central army wouldn’t be able to stop them. We’d manage to take out about half, but the rest would wear us down through sheer attrition.”
“Couldn’t the troops stationed outside the capital join them? Most frontline units are led by noble-born officers, after all,” someone pointed out.
“Not likely,” I replied.
“We disrupted command structure during the last reorganization, relieving many of their officers of authority.”
At least the external army’s involvement wasn’t an immediate concern.
The western front, our largest force, was still recovering after returning from the Empire.
About half of its units were undergoing reorganization and thus not combat-ready.
The other half couldn’t afford to leave the frontlines for fear of provoking the Empire.
And if anyone were to recklessly try an incursion, like the former crown prince might have, Major Mauer in the north would hold the line.
With our recently absorbed regional forces delaying them, we could surround them from both the central and northern armies.
“What about neighboring countries? How might they react?”
“They won’t,” someone answered confidently.
“Even if we seem unstable internally, the kingdom’s sheer size is enough to deter them from meddling.”
“Even Albione? Those bastards would jump at any chance to stir the pot,” I questioned.
“Albione’s interference would likely be limited to minor raids along the southern coast. The local garrison can handle it,” came the reply.
With our truce with the Federated Empire, only four neighboring states posed potential threats:
The Albione Republic to the south,
Caledona to the west,
Ormera and Kailas to the east.
Of these, Caledona and Kailas, each with fewer than 30,000 troops, were too small to be considered serious threats.
Ormera had more substantial forces but was preoccupied with skirmishes against Albione, leaving little attention for us.
At least during this internal cleanup, we didn’t need to worry about external invasions.
“Good. Here’s what we’ll do,” I said, flicking my cigarette butt into the ashtray as I finalized the plan.
With the central administration weakened by the purge and our endurance stretched thin, there was only one viable solution for quickly resolving this internal conflict.
“We’ll pick a few major targets and crush them as examples. Once they see what happens, the rest will fall in line.”
We needed to flex our strength in such a way that no one would dare consider rebellion.