The Dark Squad marched into the palace with disciplined precision, their black armor gleaming ominously under the dim light of the court. Their movements were synchronized, the sound of their boots striking the floor echoing like a drumbeat of resolve. An aura of authority radiated from them, their heads held high, shoulders squared, as if their very presence demanded reverence. They where glowing faintly with an unholy energy, flickered with an unyielding devotion to Kane.
Kane's voice rang out, deep and resonant, filling the vast hall. "Welcome home, soldiers. I see you all made it. That's good." As he rose from his throne, the fabric of his dark robe whispered against the polished floor. His gait was slow but deliberate, a predator sizing up his prey. His piercing gaze swept over the squad, his sharp eyes glinting with a mixture of scrutiny and satisfaction. He seemed to weigh each of them, his silence laden with unspoken thoughts.
When his focus settled on two members, their postures stiffened slightly, and they bowed to Kane. though they held their composure. With a subtle flick of his hand, Kane dismissed the rest. Dren, their leader, inclined his head in silent acknowledgment, his expression unreadable, though his clenched jaw hinted at a fierce determination. He turned on his heel, his cape swaying as he led the remaining squad members out with brisk authority. Their exit was as disciplined as their entrance, though an air of tension lingered behind them.
Kane's gaze lingered on the two he had chosen. His expression softened, almost imperceptibly, into something resembling approval. "I want you to go meet the commander of the soldiers I assigned to collect the tax for my statue," he said, his voice carrying a weight of command that brooked no argument. "Tell him to bring all the tax to me immediately." There was no room for hesitation. The two soldiers exchanged a glance, a flicker of mutual understanding passing between them, before they nodded sharply and departed.
---
Commander Gier lounged in his quarters, his fingers idly tracing the edges of a gold coin he had pilfered. His lips curved into a thin, self-satisfied smirk, though his sharp, darting eyes betrayed a hint of unease. When one of his soldiers entered and saluted him with a stiff, "Commander Gier, we've brought some more gold. When are we giving it to the king?" Gier's expression hardened for a fleeting moment before he forced a lazy grin.
"Don't worry," he replied, his tone smooth yet dismissive, like a snake lulling its prey. "We'll be doing it today. Add what you have to the rest and gather everyone around." His hand flicked dismissively toward the door, but his eyes betrayed a flash of tension, the briefest crack in his carefully constructed facade.
The soldier hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied Gier's face. A moment of doubt lingered, but the commander's unwavering gaze bore into him, and he nodded reluctantly. As he turned to leave, Gier's grin faded into a grimace. He rose from his seat, pacing restlessly. His movements were sharp, almost erratic, as if his body mirrored the turmoil of his thoughts. He muttered to himself under his breath, his jaw clenched tightly. The weight of his deception pressed heavily on him, yet greed kept him tethered to his scheme.
When the soldiers began to gather as ordered, Gier straightened his posture, smoothing his tunic as he strode into their midst. His steps were deliberate, almost calculated, his expression carefully neutral. Yet his eyes betrayed him, scanning the group with a mixture of paranoia and defiance, as if searching for the faintest sign of dissent. The soldiers stood at attention, their faces blank masks of obedience, though a few exchanged subtle glances, their curiosity piqued by Gier's unusual demeanor. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a brewing storm that none dared acknowledge aloud.
Gier stood before the assembled soldiers, his voice firm but laced with unease. "The king has demanded the gold be transported to him," he declared. "And you all know we don't have enough."
The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances. They knew full well that the kingdom's coffers held enough gold to meet the king's demands. Yet Gier was their superior, and his words carried weight, even if they suspected his greed. Whispers passed between them, their expressions a mix of confusion and silent resentment.
Unbeknownst to them, Gier had secretly kept a portion of the gold for himself, letting his avarice cloud his judgment. He was well aware of the consequences should his deceit come to light—particularly if Kane, uncovered the missing gold. Still, Gier was unwilling to return what he had taken. Instead, he devised a plan to cover the shortfall.
Turning back to his men, Gier issued his next order. "Go into the kingdom. Double the taxes. Collect every last coin, and bring it back so we can deliver the gold to the king."
The soldiers, though uneasy, saluted and obeyed. They knew better than to question their superior, even if his motives were clear. Gier himself accompanied them into the kingdom, using his authority to oppress the townsfolk and confiscate their wealth, leaving fear and bitterness in his wake.
Meanwhile, five tax soldiers assigned to the outskirts of the kingdom patrolled near the border. As they approached a secluded ranch, one of them—a wiry man with a sharp voice—pointed toward it. "Who lives there?" he asked.
Another soldier, taller and broader with a gruff demeanor, replied, "It's a farmer. Comes to the kingdom to sell wood. He's well-known for his bulk sales—moves a lot of product. Let's pay him a visit. If he's selling in the kingdom, he has taxes to pay."
With that, the group proceeded to the ranch, their footsteps crunching on the dirt path. They moved with a mix of confidence and caution, their weapons glinting in the sunlight as they prepared to confront the unsuspecting farmer.
When they arrived at the ranch on the outskirts of Eclipsara, they spotted David happily playing with his dog in the corner of the yard. The group approached the house and knocked on the door. Sarah answered, her expression wary as she greeted them.
"Hey, lady, where's your husband?" one of the soldiers asked gruffly.
Sarah hesitated, her voice trembling as she replied, "He's not home. He's in the forest, cutting wood."
The soldiers exchanged glances, their eyes lingering on Sarah. One of them smirked and stepped closer. "Since your husband's not here, you'll have to pay the tax. If you don't, we'll be forced to take... drastic measures."
Fear flashed in Sarah's eyes as she backed away. "Please," she pleaded, "I have nothing to give you."
Ignoring her protests, the guards began to harass her, their intentions clear. Panicked, Sarah tried to escape their grasp, but they blocked her path. Young David, witnessing the scene, burst into tears, his small frame shaking with fear and anger.
The soldiers, instead of showing remorse, laughed cruelly at the boy's distress. One of them crouched down, mocking David with a sly grin. In a burst of defiance, David bit the man's hand.
"You little brat!" the soldier snarled, clutching his injured hand. "If you hurt me, I'll hurt you back!"
Before David could react, Sarah rushed to shield him, wrapping her arms around her son protectively. The soldier's anger only deepened. "Hurting him isn't enough," he sneered. Drawing his sword, he turned to David's loyal dog.
With a wicked grin, the soldier swung his blade, and in one brutal motion, he struck down the dog. Its lifeless body fell to the ground as Sarah and David screamed in horror, their cries drowned out by the soldiers' cruel laughter.
They where in for an experience that will cost them their lives