Somewhere in the barracks.
Leon, who had just rounded up his routine morning training with some of his men, was approached by a frantic soldier.
"General!" The soldier yelled, skidding to an abrupt stop in front of Leon, his feet kicking up dust.
Leon twisted marginally in response to the flecks of dust in his face. "What has you so worried, Gerald?"
"We received reports, General. Some of the citizens are staging a protest. They're demanding that the Princess be exiled."
The words had barely handed before Leon exploded. "What?!"
Gerald flinched, but went ahead. "From our findings, majority of them were victims of the incident at the downtown inn."
Leon's anger grew upon hearing that. Those ungrateful bastards. They were lucky he'd spared them that day. And yet this is how they choose to behave?
The first thought that came to Leon's mind was total neutralization.
After all, if you take away the root of the problem, it won't grow back again.
