Inside the city, the command wing smelled like blood and humiliation.
The generals stood over the Supreme's unconscious body with a quiet tension that did not break into panic. They were trained men. Panic was for civilians and cowards. This was something else.
This was when a god bled.
One general knelt and checked the Supreme's pulse again. "Alive," he reported.
The other stood by the window, watching the outer district. He could see the gate mechanism. From this vantage, he noticed the first small groups leaving.
"They're going," the general by the window murmured.
The kneeling general did not look up. "Let them."
"They're leaving the walls."
"They're leaving the rules," the kneeling general corrected. Silence settled over them.
A guard entered with a report clutched in both hands, as if it might bite. "Supreme's perimeter orders are still active," the guard murmured. "The men are asking if they should enforce."
