A New Duke

A man strode tall in a crisp, starched white militaristic suit. His boots clicked against the cobblestone street, splashing lightly in the mud from the melting snow. In contrast to his white uniform and faded purple woolen cloak, he wore a long thick scarf and a pair of warm gloves, each a rich and deep red. They reminded the many he passed of blood. The blood he had spilt to gain this position, and the crest of blood that Fabrem had carved out in Malchester. A tired crowd was huddled on either side of the road. Kept back not only by the warlord's guards, but a resignation toward what was to come. He would be their duke now, apparently. But few of the onlookers harbored anything but resentment or hatred for their new "leader". A conqueror. 

The sun was out, glinting blindly against the heaps snow piled here and there. The man, General Thornefell pulled to a tight halt. His pristine white uniform reflected the light of the sun, already amplified by the snowy day, making it nearly impossible to look at him. He clicked his heels together, standing at attention and turning to address the crowd that lethargically gathered around. He threw his arm out to the side in a sharp gesture, summoning an ornate sword into his hand.

"PEOPLE OF WICKOWRY!" His magically amplified voice boomed through the cold and quiet town square, making more than a few people jump. "STARTING TODAY, THINGS WILL BEGIN TO CHANGE." He paused as his words echoed off the tattered walls of buildings worn by battles, his imposing gaze passing over the crowd like a deadly searchlight. "TODAY YOU JOIN A NATION. A GREAT EMPIRE! NO LONGER WILL YOU LANGUISH UNDER DISORDER AND LAZINESS. STARTING TODAY," He drove his sword into the dirt between the stones in front of him. "THIS LAND BELONGS TO ME."

Those words more than any other reverberated through the crowd, and the first sounds of murmuring started. Duke Thornefell sneered. "WHICH IS TO SAY, IT BELONGS TO FABREM. YOU BELONG TO FABREM. AND AS YOUR DUKE, I WILL LEAD THIS LAND TO PROSPERITY." He again scanned the crowd, which had again fallen silent, daring them to challenge him. None did. He hadn't won this city by asking nicely. Wickowry had been occupied for quite a few years now; they were used to Fabrem's presence. And they knew not to challenge a man like this. 

"Make note," As an effect of the spell, the volume of Duke Thornefell's voice did not vary, even as he stopped shouting. It was almost eerie now, still booming through the square as his tone became softer. "I do not tolerate insurrection, or insubordination. Unlike the previous, incompetent, lackey sitting on her tail here." He nodded to one of the many soldiers surrounding him, and several in the crowd gasped. A bound and gagged snipe was roughly thrown at the duke's feet, already badly beaten. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO CHOSE TO OPPOSE THE MIGHT OF FABREM! THE GLORY OF VICTORIAL!"

Parents in the crowd hastily covered the eyes of their children, the murmurs among the rest growing as Duke Thornefell stepped on the neck of the captured rebel and drew his sword from the dirt. There were some cries of dismay and anger as the struggling snipe's life was abruptly cut short. He kicked their body off his sword, sending the corpse flopping aside. A child began to cry. He surveyed the crowd again with a killer's eyes, flicking his sword up and sending blood spraying. People cried out and flinched away from the droplets. He pointed his sword threateningly, slowly pivoting to different people in the crowd, aggressive faces.

Then, he flicked the sword back down in a fluid motion, standing back at attention. "I AM NOT AFRAID TO MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF THOSE WHO OPPOSE PROGRESS." As he again shouted he stomped his foot, causing a frightening explosion of magical force to burst up around him and his soldiers. People screamed, stumbling back, but remained unharmed beyond perhaps a loss of balance. Thornefell continued, the menace in his voice slipping into a matter of fact tone, like a teacher disciplining a child. "But, if we are lucky, I shouldn't have to!"

And with that, Duke Thornefell turned on his heel, his purple cloak dramatically swirling about him as he left. Without turning back he barked one final command. "YOU ARE DISMISSED. STARTING TOMORROW CHANGES WILL BE POSTED IN THE TOWN SQUARE. THERE WILL BE NO ALLOWANCES MADE FOR THOSE WHO ARE IGNORANT OF THEM."