Era of Bloodshed
It had only been three days since the surrender at Azurei. What its citizens new as a way of life had been trampled. In the capitol, the military had posted sentries in many of the city's vantage points and on its once busiest intersections, and there was no way out of the city's limits without going through a guard post. All of the smiths and artisans were now contracted to produce goods for Visigoth's ranks, whether it be swords, catapults or potions. Technically, it wasn't slavery, but there wasn't much of any other choice.
Today, Decree 342, or the Foreign Mobilization Decree, was being enforced; the military was obligated to draft new citizens in occupied territories into the ranks. Azurians were lined up for almost half a mile around the city's square, as tents and kiosks were set up to assimilate its next victims into the vast numbers that constituted Visigoth's army. Some groups of citizens in the line were chained and bound together, all of them captured soldiers.
Above the steps leading to Azurei's consulate building which had once governed the nation autonomously, one of its district executives was strung up, her clothes covered in her own blood. The inner flesh and veins of her neck was exposed, the trachea being ripped out it seemed.
"Ugh," an Azurian captive in line grunted, observing the displayed corpse, "it's shameful how they have Executor Fesna hung like-"
A Visigoth soldier abruptly dug the hilt of his sword into the captive's side.
"Keep your attention forward!" the swordsman commanded, "and stand straight." The soldier put his hand on the prisoner's shoulder and brought the captive to a rigid stand.
"Hagh!"
That scream. That terrified, helpless, begging scream.
Talmar wandered the city. He had sent his men out to their duties across the city and for the time being had nothing to do. But the scent of alcohol that followed him suggested at what he did to fill the time. The captain observed the omnipresent lull. In every city he had conquered and ever village he tramped through, it was always quiet after the battle. And on the trail to the next battle the soldiers were too busy trying to keep their energy up to march the next ten miles with full gear to really talk. Whatever life was supposed to be like, he destroyed it time and again.
A boy and his mother stopped at the side of the road, looking at Talmar as he passed. The drunkenly dazed, out of uniform officer dragged his oversized sword along. The mother pierced into whatever soul the man had left with a contemptuous stare. But that look seemed too familiar to Talmar; everywhere he went, someone's mother lost a son, or a husband, or even a father, or all three. He tried not to think about it.
Proceeding a bit further down the street, the captain happened upon the city square. It was bustling with soldiers and soon to be soldiers. Looking at the groups of captive Azurian fighters just had him ever so hopeful for dealing with the replacements in his unit. The men in his unit were replaced faster than the water in his flask. How empty the whole ordeal was.
While he walked by a section of the line, a discontented citizen found the will to spit onto Talmar's bare chest. His look bored into the young man's face. The captain grabbed the man's shoulder and pinched into the base of his victim's neck. He used the stunning pain coupled with the force of his hand to bring the man to his knees, holding him there for a moment while everyone watched.
"What are you gonna do? I'm not scared of you!" the Azurian yelled. Talmar used his ironclad boot to pull the man's bent leg straight, at which point he stomped as hard as he could into the man's thigh. Spectators cringed as they herd the cracking of the femur between the foot and the ground, and the man let out of shrilly scream. The officer looked over to a nearby soldier.
"You," he pointed, "take this man to a healer. He had a bad fall."
"Yes sir," the soldier saluted to the captain, his face almost stricken with panic, lest he too get on the captain's bad side. He waved over another soldier to help drag the screaming man away from the line and off to wherever the healers were.
Walking away from the noisy chaos he caused behind him, he looked up to the staircase he was about to climb. His eyes fell upon the body of the councilwoman.
"Hagh!"
Talmar clenched his fist and stared at it, lost in his own thoughts and memories. That body hung not only as a symbol to oppress the Azurian people and culture but also to remind him of his place. He looked to his sword and then at the chains that held the corpse up by the arms. Perhaps he had just enough alcohol in his system to will himself to do this.
Walking over to the pillar the decomposing body was tied down to, Talmar readied his mass of a sword. Raising it with both hands, he swung down powerfully to break the chains. Behind him, the corpse fell with a thud. Not caring to find out what the consequences were, he retreated inside to where maybe he could find a bed to sleep.