text: First time poster. This is just a snippet of something I wrote in my free time. I'd love criticism. Always looking to improve. The village was quiet. The silence, deafening. No one dared speak a word. Crickets halted their song and dogs ceased their barking. The wind ceased to blow, as if the heavens knew that another had joined the limitless ranks of its dearly departed. A man huffed in indignation as he wiped the blood glistening blade clean with the side of his tunic. The broadsword he wielded was large. Large enough so that no normal human could wield it with any sort of efficiency. Only the most trained and disciplined combatant could hope to brandish it. The charcoal black blade was lined with rivets, obviously meant to maim and tear when ran through flesh and bone. Everyone could see the symbol of the the empire plainly engraved into the hilt. The sun shone grimly down on the soldier, the light glinting eerily off every corner of his menacing black armor. Scale like plates ran down almost every facet of the garment, from pauldron to gauntlet. Long, thin demonic horns permeated the top of his helmet. Truly, a soldier of the empire was enough to run the bravest humans blood cold. The man looked down at his feet and grimaced. Red liquid had begun to pool, surrounding the soles of his feet slowly. The red blood stained the earth, her soul damaged from the murder that had just been done. Horrified, the crowd gathered around the body. To a lot of people in the village it was common spectacle. A terrifying notion, to say the least. A woman in the crowd screamed, falling to her knees.“That’s my brother you just killed! My brother!” Her tears flowed freely, overcome with grief. A few villagers quickly decided to move her away from the scene. She thrashed in their arms, vehement as she was to attack the guard. If she had stayed any longer, the soldier would target her next for disturbing the peace. “You killed him! Murderer!” Her gasps of anguish seemed to increase as reality hit her. While being hauled away, she turned towards the soldier, fury in her eyes. “You’re a filthy murderer!”she screamed. “All of you! You and your damned empire can go to hell!” Her voice trailed off the further away she got, much to the man's relief. That wench had been annoying. He, as a soldier of one of the biggest powers in the world, had full freedom and discretion to enact whatever kind of punishment he saw fit to the people that were worthy. She had no right to complain. This person had previously been identified as an assassin, and as such, the next course of action had been obvious. His assignment was simple and his orders were resolute. Find this man, and kill him. For the soldier, it had been a simple task. His attention seemed to realign with the crowd as he sheathed the broadsword on his back, the scabbard reaching almost all the way down to the ground. The soldier regarded the crowd with cold eyes. Fear and anger was clear in every single person, even the children. Their reaction was expected. Rabble like them had nothing else besides each other. Normally, the Queen wouldn’t bother herself with such a low place, but it was necessary this time. The soldier shook his head as he thought about the events of recent as his eyes searched for the path he had came. Several days prior, an attempt had been taken against the Queen. Her life, thankfully, had been saved. Not because of her elite guard, but through her own actions. During one of her public speeches in the main commons of the capital city, a lone bowman had hidden on a terrace in a building above her. At some point, he had taken the shot. Any other person would have been dead on the spot, but Queen Ysabelle was different. Moments before the arrow of flint and steel struck her heart, she caught it. The queen had pinched the arrow out of thin air, as if done by magic and looked towards where the shot had come from. The archer, obviously now alerted of, had made his escape. Much to the horror of the local guards, he had evaded them. The man grimaced at the thought. Hearing this, the Queen had cut down the soldier who had reported their failings with impunity. She was the queen for a reason after all. The head of the empire wasn’t chosen through bloodline or lineage, rather the strongest person in the world would rule. Queen Ysabelle had become so through challenging the previous king in mortal combat and killing him. When she had won, the world was astonished. The now deceased king had been undefeated for many years. Her victory came out of nowhere, but no one had the chance to complain. The winner, of course, would take over. It was a simple process, but one that had been written in the annals of history since the beginning. The strong would rule the weak. It was the natural order of things. The woman ruled through fear. The moment she had been declared Queen, Ysabelle had changed nearly every aspect of the kingdom to her liking. Anyone that refused or protested was executed on the spot. The kingdom underwent a still lingering dark period. The empire’s flag was posted on every street corner. Soldiers were deployed in every province of every village in the empire's rule. New laws were passed that hurt everyone, even the wealthiest nobleman. The elite men that she deployed across the world all donned the infamous devil’s armor. Not only was it top notch protection, but the sight of a soldier wearing one sent instant fear into the hearts of those that opposed. Even her closest advisors were scared every single day of their lives. She’d slay the people closest to her should they fail or disappoint in some way. That was the law and no one questioned it. The main reason why so many feared her was simple. An nodachi of considerable length was always next to her, attached to her hip in it’s scabbard. Before her reign, no one on earth had even heard of such a weapon. The closest the army got to was a rapier, and it was nothing in comparison to the sword she called her own. It was the very blade that had given her the chance to become the most powerful person in the kingdom. Her skill with it was unparalleled. Anyone that thought otherwise would be welcome to try, as is the way of things. If a person wanted to reach the very place of power that she had, they would have to fight and kill her in a one on one duel. A single combatant was allowed the fight the Queen a day, but it always ended the same way. With the challengers blood on the ground, and the Queens dead glare on the corpse of the fool that had tried to oppose her. The public could watch the fight, as the arena itself was smack in the middle of the capital. A massive market and square was one of the center pieces of the city, and many people walked its path each day. Shaking his head to rid himself of the pointless thoughts, the soldier found what he was looking for. The same path out of the village he had taken in his pursuit of the assassin. Without a doubt, he could sense how strong some of the villagers killing intent was on the back of his head, but nothing could be done. He was one of the elite, and they knew it. Trained to the point of death, he had been one of the chosen few to be as close to the Queen as some of the most powerful politicians in the world. As the capital's finest, no mere backwater vermin could possible hope to take his life. The man smiled to himself as he started back on the trail. He had done his job well. The Queen would be most pleased with his report. Without warning, a projectile of some kind clanged against his helmet, catching him off guard. He looked down and saw a rock lying at his feet. What? Who would dare try to protest to someone like him? Didn’t they understand the consequences? With his hand on his sword, the soldier spun around, ready to confront whoever had hit him with the stone. To his surprise, he saw a young man standing several yards away. No older than eighteen, anger was clearly evident on his face and the glint in his dark brown eyes was nothing short of menacing. However, it seemed he was unarmed, save for a kitchen knife in his left hand. The soldier noticed the boy was trembling slightly. The soldier sneered. Oh, he would learn his lesson alright... “Well well, what do we have here? A lost lamb, deciding to rebel against the shepherd. How amusing.” The guard laughed out loud, much to the boys chagrin. “You... you killed him! You killed Thomas” the boy shouted, obviously upset. “Why would you kill him? He didn’t do anything wrong!” The soldier stood there, surprised. It seemed like the assassin had enacted of his own accord. That in itself was odd. Many a village held negative feelings towards the Queen and the Empire, which wasn't really that much of a shock Either way, the boy was either telling the truth or he was really good at lying. The man smirked. “You’d be wrong if you thought that. You do realize that he made an attempt on the Queen's life? Such a transgression can’t go unpunished. You understand, right? If someone tried to kill your leaders life, you’d want revenge.” The boy’s face fell, his anger fading into confusion. “He... he tried to kill the Queen? Why would he-” The soldier cut the boy’s monologue off by drawing his broadsword, pointing the blade at his head. “Shut up. I don’t care whether you think what he did was right or wrong. If the Queen wills it, it shall be done. He deserved to die, and so shall you if you decide to defy her rule.” Each helmet of the elite was unique, and his so happened to be one of the most iconic. A crude smile was carved into the bottom half of his helmet, giving it a decidedly demonic look. The soldier snarled and prepared to attack, startling the young man.