Mars 23rd, 688 of the Imperial calendar

Mudra sat quietly as he was explained the situation by a low ranked Oprichki who looked more like a corpse then a soldier. The defensive belt inside the city had utterly collapsed during the early morning hours and reports of entire units surrendering on mass were coming in so fast that there was a real possibility that then entire army would just disintegrate.

He felt a wave of guilt and despair wash over him like the tide against a rocky shoreline. He had failed to sabotage the enemy's supply lines, he failed to keep discipline and order within the Imperial army. He wasn't someone who you could consider anxious but now he definitely was now.

The general hadn't seen his emperor in three days and knowing his swiftness in anger, it was uncanny to the highest degree. Where was he? What was he doing? Did he know of this catastrophic situation? It would have to wait, he had to restore order else the battle would be over by nightfall.

"Soldier, get your runners to tell as many commanders as possible to set up defensive positions outside the royal grounds." He ordered, "Better to save whats left of our force for a final stand against these barbarians." He could practically taste the venom in those words, and his brain concluded that it wasn't because he believed they were lower then his but rather how he was bitter for the situation he was in.

The Oprichki ran off and once the door to the dark room was closed, left the once feared Mudra with his thoughts to reflect. Just one year earlier the Empire was as respected as it was feared. It had stood for nearly seven centuries and controlled a whole continent with an iron first without any worthy match except for the Avionese mongrels who hid behind their massive armadas.

Suddenly a knock rang from behind the door, Mudra gritting his teeth. "Come in." It creaked open as a Royal Guard allowed himself inside before saluting the general, Mudra returning the favor. The guard was wounded, bloodied bandages where his helmet should've been and covering his left eye. His armor was dirty, scratched, dented, defiled like a bastardized mimic of the once proud guardsmen. A ping a regret formed in him for his decision to allow a handful of detachments to participate in the defense of the city.

"General, I am pleased to inform you that his majesty of the realm, emperor Zorzal El Ceasar has escaped out of harm's way." Mudra saw surprised, last he heard the emperor was in a depressed stupor. Zorzal had suddenly went from a bold, charismatic leader who was willing to do anything for glory to a sad, mortal man that wondered around in his personal palace.

"Where is he then? Do you know that the barbarians didn't get him?" The guardsman remained silent and stoic before answering the general's question. "His majesty choice to only inform the Royal Guard of his departure as to keep morale high amongst the soldiery. He should be in Telta now leading the Empire for the inevitable counterattack to drive the enemy back to Alnus."

The general sat there for a moment and place his face into his hands as he took deep breathes. After nearly a minute of his he stood up and walked towards the guardsman with cold eyes. Without uttering a sound he suddenly pulled out a dagger from out of its sheath and with all his might plunged it into the neck of his victim.

Pulling it out, blood squirted out like a geyser as the mortally wounded guardsman fell down and gargling as he attempted to speak. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!" Roared Mudra as he pounded the guardsman face with punch after punch, screeching and shouting and cursing with zero intentions to stop.

"Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!" He cried, "How dare you leave me to die here?! To rot in the dirt while you play make believe with that beast of a wench." He continued to assault the corpse until his hands bleed too and were too weak to continue on. Even with the violent attack over he glared with such hate as he imagined the guardsman being that pathetic Zorzal; blinded and tricked by a mere slave, by his own lustful desires.

All his life he had served the Empire with zealously with no comparison and did everything and anything for it. He slaughtered families, women, children, the elderly, the sickly, and the innocent by his own hands while he was responsible for anymore indirectly. The Imperial system was doomed the moment the Gate opened and the Imperial army marched through to its death. He knew the enemy would kill him for being apart of the expeditionary force, so quickly decided that death was preferable to capture, thought ending this madness wouldn't hurt either.

With blood on his hands and shaky hand, he took a quill and paypyrus to write down his suicide note, opting to read out loud as he wrote it down.

"With the enemy closing in on our final strongholds, I order that all legions loyal to the emperor and his realm to stand down and surrender to the Other-worlders who call themselves Americans. Though we wished to bring civilization to the new world, we were met with hostility and barbarism as our armies in vain attempt to bravely hold them off. Our armies have been wiped out, our fields have burned, our livestock have succumbed to hunger, bandits roamed our land, and our culture threatened by a powerful foe.

The capital has suffered greatly from this siege and anymore resistance will do the people no good. We must endure the shame of this action in and except great bitterness as we hope our enemy will allow us to keep even a small fraction of our dignity. I pray in due time the barbarians will come to appreciate civilization and abandon their unguided way of life. We have endured more then was ever asked for us and have done all that we can. Gods bless the Empire and may they watch over the Saderan people."

Satisfied with his note, he ran his hand into his picket and pulled out a small bottle and the most lethal poison known to Falmart inside. 'I'll see you in hell, Zorzal' he though as he ripped off the cork and chugged down the bitter liquid.