The rebellion was nothing special, when one peeled back all the layers of propaganda wafting about. There had been rebellions in the Empire before, at least half a dozen major and thrice as many notable.By then, I had fought in so many campaigns big and small that I was beginning to forget their name. Yet the Blackwater War was the bloodiest yet, by far. Not because the rebels were better fighters than orcs or dwarves or elven corsairs individually —they were not—, but because they were humans. Imperial humans, with imperial training and imperial weapons and imperial tactical doctrine, and they fought differently. Though I looked down upon them, they were far stronger in organized war than any of the other polities of the known world.I adapted, as always.Instead of the usual overwhelming magical assault, I fought the rebellion with dirty tactics. Rebel commanders and nobility were found dead from the overdosing of alchohol or any one of a dozen different drugs and stimulants, and rumours spread through Iridia’s smuggling network of the rebel’s incompetence. Useless, unimportant villages of loyal Imperials were found butchered, scraps of rebel banners fueling rumours as to the enemy’s monstrosity and utter lack of honor.I kept a high profile, dueling enemy war-mages, but my efforts were spent dealing with the enemies the Emperor’s legions could not touch. He noticed, and he was smart enough to realize what I was doing. Smart enough to approve of it, too. The rebellion collapsed quickly as peasants turned disloyal to the rebel banner and their drug-addicted, village-burning, dishonorable noble leaders.The rewards came, as they always did. More titles, more lands, more exemptions from imperial oversight. Iridia became the fifth major city of the Empire, rivaling even the capital in wealth and influence. Our port handled a third of the Empire's sea trade, our coffers paid for imperial infrastructure projects, our military innovations (...)