Year 0001, The Imperium
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An early morning dew fell on the face of August, a farm boy who lived quietly with his kin in the countryside.
August fell asleep outside their farmhouse; rather, he was beaten black and blue two nights prior.
He had been there for a couple of days now, lying dead and unmoving, almost like a rotting corpse.
Thankfully, as if by the mercy of the gods, the main army that followed the vanguard just passed by the village.
They didn't even bother with their bloodhounds to check if there was still anyone that was left alive, as if to say that they were truly dead.
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Before the massacre that occurred in our village.
For weeks on end, you could hear whispers of the town folk that had been eerily spreading across this barren community.
It was a village made of twenty-one families.
There was a merchant who stumbled upon the village and rested there for a day and told the stories from outside.
No, he warned us of the upcoming danger that is to come.
He was, let us just say, very tired from running away from the war that was currently spreading all over until he stumbled upon our village.
To his surprise, there was even one.
After a while, when he hastily left again the next day, you could hear the trepidation of men and women, and gasps of woe could be heard from daybreak to the setting of the sun.
Unease has crept into the village, murmurs of war and death.
The chief of the village has called for an assembly.
The chief was like our grandparents; they were the first of our generation in this tiny enclave.
It was an unsettling month for all of us, including the children of the village, but what could we do?
We are no more than little runts to the adults.
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Within the hour's notice, all the adults have gathered outside the chief's hut.
It was to vote whether to stay and fight or flee.
Most of the decisions that were held in the village were like this, especially ones that decided our fates.
After the lengthy discussion of what would feel like an eternity.
The assembly was disbanded, and the people were in a cursorily paced step to return to their homes and prepare, while some decided to flee.
I heard from my father that the majority had decided to stay and defend this hidden enclave that we call home.
And our family patriarch was one of those who voted to stay and fight.
While the rest would flee to their relatives in towns in hopes of being saved.
Three families who still had clans outside this enclave have already decided to leave.
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Within a fortnight, soldiers from the Empire had started creeping by the wayside.
Burning homes, pillaging, raping, and killing every man, woman, and child on their.
Only taking the livestock and whatever valuables they could scour.
By order of their emperor, they were to lay waste on every living man or woman, young or old, that is not under their sphere of influence or the alliances they had forged.
And this tiny enclave of ours was not an affiliate of any standing alliances or part of any realm.
This tiny village was founded a century prior by the people who escaped from the drums of war.
And we are the third generation after our parents; the chief was the first, or what was left of those old folks now.
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Everyone prepared as much as they could; we helped build barricades throughout the entire village.
If a veteran soldier were to see this haphazard fortification, they would lose hope, but what can mere farmers do?
We have no formal training or combat experience of the sort, especially ones that involved killing other men.
We could only hope and pray that they would go past us, or we hoped so.
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It was deep in the night when they raided our little community.
They came like death itself, hooves of the horses, armors clanging and clashing, and the howls of wolves echoed in the valley as they marched in haste.
They shot their arrows at our patrols, who now lie dead on their post.
It was quick, and no alarm was sounded.
It was the foremost vanguard of the main army that was ordered to scout ahead.
Their other orders?
Pretty simple: conserve the main army's strength and clean out the wayside before they could march through.
A little while later, you can hear the screams bellowing from the entire populace.
The valley screamed of their cries of plea.
This was most of the villagers, who had nowhere left to go and had decided to fight off the invaders, and now they are lying dead on the cold ground.
And we who were born and raised here were forced upon our fates to take up arms and defend ourselves.
Alas, this was our bitter end.
The men fought back bitterly, but with no success; even I tried to fight back.
But the soldiers had beaten me up till I was half dead, comatose, lying outside our farmhouse.
I watched my brave father's throat being slit in front of me, my mother and sister no better; they were raped and later killed by the soldiers after they unleashed their lusts upon them like an animal on heat.
Only my hot tears fell as I remained unmoving, lifeless, and helpless.
This is what you would witness everywhere in our community; it was a barbaric representation of what those before us have left and tried to escape from for centuries.
But we were never really gone, just hidden for a while.
They dragged the bodies outside while they ransacked our homes, leaving us for the animals to eat.Â
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A couple days later the morning mist formed on our village or what was left of it after the raid.
A single dew formed and was too heavy to cling on the leaves as it fell on my face.
I was under the shade of an old tree when I awoke from my slumber.Â
I was in and out of it; my vision was blurry, bugs were preying on my wounds, and I felt the bitter earth with a little bit of iron's taste in my mouth.
It was my blood that pooled on my mouth, which mixed with the ground beneath.
After a few moments of resting and trying to understand my surroundings, it was hopeless; life was meaningless.
None were spared; only vengeance has brought me back to life, or so I thought....