The First Master’s hand went to his belt. Every Master carried a mercy knife—not for the Condemned, but for themselves, should they ever fail the Republic. “Last warning,” he said.
She paused. The blade was heavy.
He looked up at her hood and smiled.
Solenne’s hand trembled. The Guild trained for years to eliminate trembling. Trembling meant doubt. Doubt meant imbalance. Imbalance meant the Republic would crack like a dry bone. executioners world
She raised Finale .