There Lies the Dead Man
Chapter 1: There Lies the Dead Man
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Year 0001, The Imperium
An early morning dew fell on the face of August, a farm boy who lived quietly with his kin in the country side.
August fell asleep outside their farm house, rather he was beaten black and blue two nights prior. He was there for a couple of days now laying dead and unmoving. Almost like a rotting corpse.
Thankfully as if by the mercy of the Gods the main army who followed the vanguard passed him by. They didn't even bother with their bloodhounds to check if there was still someone alive, as if to say that he truly is dead.
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Before the massacre that occured on our village. For weeks on end you could hear whispers of the town folk that had been eerily spreading across this baren community. It was made of twenty-one families.
There was a merchant who rested here 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 until he stumbled upon our village. To his surprise that there was even one.
After a while when he hastily left the next day you can hear the trepidation of men and women, and gasps of woe can 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 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 but little runts to the adults.
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Within the hours notice all the adults have gathered outside the Chiefs hut. It was to vote whether to stay and fight or flee. Most decisions are held like this specially 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 pace.
I heard from my father that the majority decided to stay and defend this worthless enclave that we call home. And our family patriarch was one who 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 has decided to leave.
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Within a forthnight soldiers from the Empire had started creeping by the wayside. Burning homes, pillaging, raping and killing every man, woman and child. Only taking the livestocks and whatever valuable 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.
This tiny village was founded a century prior by the people who escaped the drums of war. And we are the third generation after our parents, the Chief were the first or what was left of them old folks now.
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Everyone prepared as much as they could, we helped on building barricades throughout the entire village.
If a veteran soldier would 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.
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 lay 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 decided to fight the invaders, and now they are lying dead.
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 but with no succes even I tried to fight back. But the soldiers beat me up till I was half dead, comatosed lying outside our farm house.
I watched my brave fathers' throat being slit in front of me, my mother and sister no better, they were r*ped and later killed by the soldiers after they unleashed their lusts upon them like an animal on heat. Only my tears fell, as I remain unmoving lifeless and helpless.
This is what you would witness everywhere in our community a barbaric representation of what we left for centuries but 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.
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A couple days later the morning mist formed on our village or what was left of it.
A single dew formed and was too heavy to clang on the leaves as it fell on my face. I was under the shade of an old tree when I awoke from my slumber.
I was in and out of it, my vision was blurry, bugs were preying on my wounds, I felt the bitter earth with a bit of iron taste. It was my blood that pooled on my mouth mixing with the ground beneath.
After a few moments of resting 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.