Roses of the Arena | ONGOING

05

The hustle and bustle within the small town muted our troop's movements through the undergrowth. To my left, mounted soldiers steadied their horses. At Atticus's command, they would encircle the town and cut off any paths into the woods. To my right, the foot soldiers under my command waited patiently for my word to move out. Atticus lingered away from us, watching from the background.

Ahead, the townsfolk scurried to fill worn-out wagons with their valuables. Children ran here and there, weaving among their parents.

Please, Valkor. Don't let them fight.

Atticus whistled sharply.

The mounted soldiers moved. Spreading themselves out, they slowly pushed inward. Flicking my wrist, I nodded to my men. In a line, they slipped between the mounted soldiers and squeezed off any chance of running. Urging my horse forward, I drew my sword.

"Soldiers of Jadhull," I called out.

"For Emperor and Empire!" The resounding response boomed from the surrounding soldiers, cutting through the hubbub of the town.

People screamed, scattering into their homes or down the street. Most were frozen in fear, eyes wide as they pressed themselves together with their families. Children watched, some crying and others stone-faced as their mothers hugged them.

We pressed on. Soldiers split off, slipping inside homes to pull people out. Terrified screams mingled with hysterical crying. Women struggled as they were yanked from their homes. Men moved swiftly to protect, only to be warded off by a spear tip. People hurried to avoid the impending line of mounted soldiers coming from every direction. Herding them into a tighter area, we choked off any chance of escape.

My horse loped through the rabble. It was an incredibly small town—several cottages with thatched roofs and covered porches made up the neighborhood. The farther I walked through the straight streets, the more cramped it became. Homes turned into beat-up stores if one could even call them stores, where locals bartered for food and supplies. In the center of the village, a single structure larger than their homes sat like an ugly block of wood—their town hall. I frowned at its crude design and prominent weather-worn walls with holes and makeshift patches.

Sniffing, I turned the horse around, resting my hand on the saddle's pommel. The growing crowd whined and begged as they were pushed toward their town hall. Over their heads, I spotted Atticus pacing back and forth, features too obscure to discern his mood. Corbin was beside him, still, holding the flag like his life depended on it.

I scanned the faces of the villagers —tired, cold, and scared. The men glared, seething with rage. One wrong move and this could all go to hell. Sheathing my sword, I nudged my horse into a slow walk. The long-practiced words of my speech came clearly, rolling off my tongue with ease.

"Hear me now and heed my words. I am Lieutenant Lucius Savis of the Jadhullian Empire, acting under the orders of Centurion Atticus Proctor, and by the decree of Emperor Valtor, Bramblewood is now under our rule. We do not come as marauders but as the harbingers of a new order that promises prosperity, security, and justice." It was the same old speech, rehearsed a hundred times and a hundred different locations. The words meant nothing to me now.

"Resistance is futile," I continued, gaze flicking over every face. "Any act of defiance against the might of the Jadhullian Empire will be met with swift and uncompromising force. Lay down your arms and submit to our authority, and you shall be spared. Cooperate, and you will find that life under the Empire's rule is one of stability and progress. Our soldiers will be stationed throughout your town to ensure peace and to facilitate the transition. Your leaders will be brought forward to pledge their allegiance to the Emperor. Those who choose to oppose us will face the consequences of their actions."