Defender Of the People

Chapter 1

The clang of the hammer striking the anvil echoed through the dimly lit forge, a steady rhythm that Alec found oddly comforting. The forge was hot, its heat pressing down on him like a tangible force, but Alec had long since grown accustomed to the smoldering temperatures. As the blacksmith's apprentice, he was responsible for a handful of tasks, from repairing tools to forging new ones for the soldiers who patrolled their village.

Alec wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag, glancing out the small, gray-smoked window. The sun was beginning its descent behind the distant mountains, casting an yellow glow over the village. The imposing silhouette of Abaddon's fortress loomed in the background, a constant, oppressive reminder of their reality. The fortress, with its dark windows and fortified walls, was a symbol of the regime's iron grip over their lives.

He returned to his work, the rhythmic clanging of the hammer soothing his nerves as he focused on shaping a horseshoe. Each strike of the hammer required precision, a skill Alec had been honing since he began his apprenticeship. His hands, calloused and strong, moved with practiced ease.

The bell at the front of the shop rang, signaling the end of the workday. Alec set aside his tools and wiped his hands clean, relieved to be done for the day. He made his way through the shop, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor. The day had been long and tiring, but it was the same for everyone in the village a well practiced routine no one dared question.

As Alec stepped out into the cool evening air, he was greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the village. The streets were bustling with the last minute activity of merchants closing their stalls and villagers finishing their errands. He walked briskly toward home, eager to see his younger sister, Mia. She had been his only family since their parents were taken by the regime's soldiers years ago, and their bond had become his greatest source of strength.

The village itself had a saddened air about it. Buildings were modest and functional, their walls marked by years of wear and tear. The villagers moved about with a quiet determination, their faces often downcast. The regime's presence was always felt, their soldiers patrolling the streets and maintaining order through a mixture of intimidation and sadistic force.

Alec's home was a small, modest cottage on the edge of the village. As he approached, he saw Mia sitting on the porch, her legs swinging idly as she hummed a soft tune. Her presence brought a sense of calm to Alec, a small sense of peace in a turbulent world.

"Mia!" Alec called out, smiling as he approached.

Mia looked up, her face brightening with a smile. "Alec! You're home early today."

"Only had minor repairs today little munchkin," Alec replied, ruffling her hair as he sat down beside her. "How was your day?"

"It was okay," Mia said, her tone cheerful. "I helped Mrs. Garvey at the bakery. She let me take home some leftover bread."

Alec took the small loaf of bread from her and broke it in half, handing one piece to Mia. "You're the best. Thanks for saving me some."

They ate in silence, the warmth of the bread a small comfort against the chill of the evening. Alec took in the familiar sights of their home, simple furnishings, worn but functional. It wasn't much, but it was theirs.

As they finished their meal, Alec's thoughts wandered to the wider world beyond their village. The regime's rule was suffocating, its grip on the people tight and unyielding. Alec had heard stories of other villages, where the soldiers were even more brutal, where protest was met with swift and harsh punishment. He had seen it firsthand.

The sky was darkening, stars beginning to prick the velvet of night. Alec and Mia moved inside, settling by the small fire that crackled under the chimney. Alec took a seat at the small wooden table, his mind turning over the day's events.