*The 18th legion had arrived at the planet as part of the great crusade. The planet's dictator had laughed in the face of the emissary at the mention of submission, now he was forever silenced. The fires still smoldered across the marble steps of the tyrant’s palace. Vulkana stood at its summit, Dawnbringer planted beside her like a monument, the skull of Kesare glaring over the assembled crowd. Below, the people gathered — silent, watching. The banners of the Salamanders hung in place of the despot's sigils, green and gold catching the light of Nocturne-forged flame.

It had taken a single day of war.

The despot’s throne now lay in pieces — shattered by Dawnbringer and cast into the square. His guards had given up at the arrival of the green clad angels of death. His regime, dissolved in the crucible of the XVIII Legion's justice.

Now, a representative from the freed people stepped forward. Despite Vulkana having been the one to shatter the planets regime, she showed compassion and kindness. Completely the opposite of the daughter of war from earlier.

"Come, take a seat. I wish to know about your planet. The good and the bad."

She spoke in a gentle tone with patience.