The Fall of the Magi, Chapter 1, Solom's Arrival

A blast of energy smashed into the village's town hall, quickly reducing the small building into a pile of rubble; in an instant, the rioting villagers were quiet. The flames ate at the remains, the crackle of burning wood being the only thing to break the silence. All of the townspeople looked on in awe and fear of the attacker.
A man was upright, on horseback, his hands humming with a light blue aura. He had a cold look on his face, his lips formed in a scowl from irritation. The two men on his flanks smirked in respect of their master; another to the back scowled. The man rose his glowing hands again, aiming them at the villagers. When they cowered back, he lowered them, satisfied they now understood the dynamics of the situation. He spoke, his voice grabbing the attention of all who could hear.
"Under the Imperial Code, any citizen who should attack one of the Empress's highest agents shall be summarily executed for treason. "
He spoke in as if he were reading from an Imperial law book. There was a brief pause, as the man puffed his chest out so all could see his armor; he wore the seal of the Empress's Blade, the collection of the Imperial Family's most trusted agents and the greatest warriors the Empire had to offer. He wore a clear symbol of his rank as an officer. The scowling man in the back wore a similar rank, while the two men on the sides were of lower rank. The scowling man, finally deciding to break the pause, readied his lance; he began to march forward, intending to kill a few of these rebellious peasants as an example. The man in the front held up his hand, open palmed, to stop him; the glow intensified, sending a clear threat to his compatriot. As he kept his hand up, the man spoke again.
"My name is Akira Solom. The lance-bearer is David Thorat; the two men to my flank are James Fit and Grant Meyer. I want to know who claims to rule this little rebellious town. I have every right to destroy this village and everyone in it. I suggest you cooperate."
As he finished speaking, the flames in the ruined town hall created another loud crackle; a scrawny man stepped up, clearly shaking and terrified by this visitor. Solom made eye contact with this man, and for a moment the farmer felt like he was staring into the depths of hell itself. He spoke, clearly shaken.
"Sir Solom, our lands are owned by Baron Materat. Sir...if I may ask..."
Solom cut him off.
"No, you may not ask questions of us. If you wish to know our purpose here, than I shall make it plain: There is an unauthorized Magi within this village..."
As he spoke, the sound of hoofs began to come down the beaten path; Solom looked in the direction, and watched the figure that descended from a large villa. Solom smirked, knowing this was the house of the Baron. Materat was distantly related to the Imperial Family, so killing him was out of the question. Still, Solom looked forward to the chance to humble this man of nobility. Thorat, seeing the approaching noble man, turned to Solom for a command. Solom gave a curt nod to Thorat, as if he were reading his mind. Thorat at last dismounted, and the two soldiers followed him; they would question villagers, look for their target, while Solom dealt with the Baron. Solom began to speak again, as the Baron came within ear shot.
"There is an unauthorized Magi here, with known connections to the rebel group known as 'the Free Riders.' Under orders from the Empress herself, we are to eliminate him as a rebel and a threat to the stability of the Empire of the whole. More so, we are to eliminate any individual who attempts to offer him sanctuary."
The Baron did not let his pride be harmed by these damning accusations. He rode on his rich, well-bred horse, flanked by his wife and sole daughter, followed by his small legion of slaves. He would not be cowed by one of the Empress's brutes. He glanced at the terrified villagers, his gaze resting on the burning town hall. Rage filled him. He glanced to the man's glowing hands, and decided to hold his more insulting curses; this Magi would have to be dealt with gently. He spoke, his words carrying no small amount of pride.
"What makes you damned Imperial rogues think you can just come into my village, destroy my buildings, threaten my subjects, and demand we turn over a man I don't even know exists? The only Magi here is you. "
Materat observed this man carefully; the Baron was so used to politics, and he figured it would be easy to talk this grunt out of here. But when the Baron finally met the man's gaze, he knew it would not be easy. Solom's eyes carried an intensity that seemed to carve into your soul; in those eyes was a will to dominate all others. He knew that look; his own daughter carried it, and to know he had such a powerful, willful daughter filled him with pride. But he was not pleased to have such an individual as an opponent; before Solom could even respond, he spoke out to his wife, his daughter, and his slaves.
"Leave us, please. "
He looked back, and saw how disappointed his young Alameda was; he briefly wondered at his label of young, for she was six-teen and legally fit to marry, but he certainly did not want her daughter to be marrying at such a young age; being forced into the role of wife at that age could curb her ambition, and he did not want his lone daughter to be merely married to greatness.
Solom took note of the man's clear affection for his daughter; such was an admirable quality in a father in these lands. He took note of the daughter's demeanor; it suggested one who was naturally ambitious, aggressive, and stubborn. Such were the qualities needed to succeed. The young 20 year old officer knew this would likely not be the last time the two crossed paths, and he had the inkling that they would not be on friendly terms. The wife was not as unique as the daughter; indeed, she seemed to almost have a distaste for her daughter, suggesting she was not as loving, accepting, and willing to forget the expectations of society for women as the father was.
Still, he allowed anger to swell when he saw the man's gathering of slaves. Another part of the nobility in the Akiat Empire; these slaves were either former citizens who messed with the wrong people and ended up stripped of their rights, or innocent people taken in raids across the ocean. Solom looked upon the Baron with no small amount of spite.
"My demands are simple, Materat. I want the merchant Bartill out here; I know your people are hiding him and I know he is a rebel Magi. "
The Baron took note of Solom's insult; referring to him by name instead of rank. If it were any other brute, he would of assumed ignorance. However, when looking into this Magi's intense glare, he had the feeling that he was only ignorant of ignorance; the man carried the wisdom of the oldest man in the world while still being incredibly young. Materat wondered what kind of hell could forge such a man, so jaded, so willful at such a young age. Looking into his eyes yet again, Materat knew this man had experienced more suffering than he could ever hope to imagine... and he was looking for an excuse to inflict a fraction of his agony upon him. With what he could garner from appearances, he knew begging would accomplish nothing. The only way to succeed was to make Solom respect him, and the only way to earn such a jaded man's respect was through audacity. He spoke, barely thinking of the words as they left his lips.
"We do not give our people over to murderers who call themselves soldiers."
The Baron stood a little straighter after saying those words, and the citizenry still gathered around did as well. He noted he said 'our' and not 'my'; perhaps all this time out in the country side had made him soft. Still, the people began to see him as less of a distant and cruel lord and more as their leader, and as he gained his people's respect, he felt as if he gained Solom's respect. He noted Solom let a brief smile come to his lips; not a smirk, but a smile. As if he were impressed to find anything but a greedy, arrogant, and cowardly noble in this small town.
For the first time, the hue around Solom's hands faded, and a wave of relaxation flowed across the entire town.
"If you refuse to give him over, then we will simply have to find him."
He began to speak in his loud, booming voice yet again. The Baron has showed courage in standing up to him, and more so a lack of the usual arrogance of the nobility. Still, he was still a slaver, and as such he would never have his respect. He knew a change of tactics was needed. These people would not be cowed, and so they would need to be persuaded.
"You defend a man who hides among you like a coward; if Bartill was a man truly worth facing, he would stand and fac-"
Solom stopped suddenly as he gazed to his fellow agent Thorat; he rode in his horse, wearing a look of pure anger on his face. Thorat shouted before Solom could say anything.
"If you will not turn over your Magi, then this village will die. We will take your children to be our soldiers. I care not what Solom wishes; this village defies the Empress, and as such it shall die."
Thorat dragged a woman by his side, and suddenly the mood of the village went from pride to anger. The townspeople began to pick up the weapons they had dropped at Solom's entrance, and suddenly Thorat kicked the woman down, holding his sword above her threateningly.
"This woman will be the first to die. Then you shall all feel the wrath of the Empress."
No one was able to react as he plunged the blade into the woman's back, piercing through her body and coming out her chest; she died instantly, her screams suddenly halted. Solom let a bit of anger rush through him at the senseless murder, and his hands begin to glow once again. Thorat dragged another next to him, a young boy; he spoke again.
"This boy will be a loyal agent of the Empress in the years to come; as will all your children."
A man, sword in hand, came up to the rooftop, looking upon the scene that was transpiring so quickly. He was not noticed, and he was in a crouch. He looked on in disgust at the slain woman, and in rage at the captured boy. He had been hidden away through most of the debacle, but the screams drew him out.
Thorat motioned to his men to begin the slaughter, and suddenly the man on the rooftop was gone, vanished.
In the next instant, he was behind Thorat on his horse, his sword already plunged into the agent's back.
As he pulled out the blade, he brought it to Thorat's throat. He slowly slide the blade, letting the blood drain out slowly. In the next second, Thorat was dead, his corpse slowly slumping off his horse. Solom did not take a moment to react; his glowing hand was raised, and he shouted.
"Bartill!"
A blast left his hands, heading towards the man; in the same way as before, he was gone, his disappearance accompanied by the sound of Thorat's horse and corpse exploding into a scatter of gore. The villagers and men were just beginning to realize what happened, and Solom quickly turned to meet the reappeared Bartill behind him, parrying his blow effortlessly.
Again, the man vanished, and reappeared on a roof top. Solom let loose another blast, to be met by Bartill vanishing again. Slowly, a sound began to accompany his disappearance, the sound of the man warping from place to place. Solom fired off more blasts, parried more attempted blows. Frustration mounted at this combat, as the village was slowly destroy in their combat. Suddenly, Bartill warped away and was not spotted coming back, having warped into a building as he began to feel exhausted. Solom took this brief moment of peace to watch what he had done; fully a third of the village's buildings were destroyed or heavily damaged. It would take half a decade for this place to ever fully recover. He didn't come here to make a ruin; he began to shout, his usually firm voice cracked by his exhaustion and frustration.
"Enough! Bartill, show yourself; this battle only ensures the destruction of your village. If you have any honor and any care for your village, meet me now. I will fight you one on one, in the center of this damned town. If I am the victor, than you shall die by the command of the Empire, and I shall leave this village and act as if I had these people's full cooperation. If you are the victor, than... it's up to you to figure out what happens. What say you?"
Suddenly, a small child ran out, no more than eight years old, tears running down his cheeks. Solom immediately grasped the situation, even as his mother struggled to pull the screaming boy back. His pleas, which were incomprehensible, were silenced as the mother cupped her hand over his mouth, clearly trying to avoid the Imperial's attention. There was still no sign of the Magi; an appeal to honor did not appear to work. Still, he made one more appeal, betting on his target having a good love of his family.
"Your wife and son, Bartill? Don't let your boy know you died a coward. Don't make me hurt anyone else to get to you. Present yourself, stand in front of me, and fight me like a warrior should. You want to destroy the Empire? Then here I am, a symbol of everything you hate. You have been running for so long; have you had to live your every moment simply dreading a day like this would come? How many people, your friends, have died in the past protecting you? How many times have you fled from pursuit, abandoning the people who swore to stand by you? You've lived a cowards life, Adam. But, you killed Thorat because he murdered one of your compatriots, did you not? I believe there is some courage in that cowardly rebel. So, I offer you a chance, to die a hero, instead of dying like you lived, a coward willing to let other people get hurt, get killed, in the name of your petty ideals. Stand up to me, stand up for what you believe in, and you will, in that moment, have made more of yourself than most of the world could ever hope to. Face me, Bartill, and you won't have to run any longer."
In that moment, Bartill warped in, his fist hitting into the ground, a grim look on his face. Solom's speech seemed to have affected him, brought him out of his rest. He wielded a sword of excellent craftsmanship, and he wore the robes of a monk; he rose to his feet, deftly untying the rope that held his robe to his body. It fell at his feet, revealing his plate armor, bearing the crest of the rebels, a tongue of fire containing an eye. He gave a loving glance to his family; the glare the three shared said more than an hour's worth of discussion could. Bartill wished they would leave, but he knew his young Leopold would not obey such a request. He did not wish his son to learn the harsh realities of this world in this way. He never wanted his work in the rebellion to effect them. He spoke, addressing the invader of his small villager.
"Welcome to my home, traveler. You come here in violence, to end my life. I believe I am right to ask a question, and I ask you, personally, sir. Why? Why do you serve the Empire? Why do you serve the enemies of Freedom itself? Why do you oppose the rights of local populaces to govern themselves?"
Solom gave a hearty laugh at the man's question.
"Why? My dear man, you have no idea. You have not seen the works of the Hordes. You have not seen the burning villages, the tortured souls, the malicious beatings. You have not seen the horrors of the Abyss. Believe me when I say that when you understand that, you will understand why the Empire needs to exist. That is all I have to say on the matter, Bartill. We will fight, to the death."
Bartill did not wait for a further word before rushing; he charged Solom, suddenly warping mid-charge to instantly make contact with the Imperial. Solom parried the sword effortlessly, delivering a swift slice that made a slight scratch on Bartill's armor before the rebel warped away.
Again, Bartill warped from behind; Solom responded with a quick kick to the man's shins, his strength allowing a great deal amount of force to smash the armor, seriously hurting the man. Still, Bartill quickly recovered, warping away again. Solom, thinking quickly, sent a blast of energy into the ground, sending its energy flowing across the ground; when Bartill warped back, he was sent sprawling on his back.
Bartill warped, still on his back, as Solom came upon him to stab into his fallen body. Bartill managed to flip himself around mid warp, landing on his stomach behind Solom; he quickly managed to get to his feet, barely parrying a blow Solom delivered as he turned.
Bartill warped to his back again, aiming a slice at the first presented target; his sword scraped against the back armor, doing no visible damage. Solom began to turn, and Bartill warped again.
Then, shockingly, Solom ceased his turn, stabbing his blade in front of him.
The grunt of agony could be heard across the village as Bartill warped into the blade. It was impaled through his stomach, the nature of his warp allowing the blade to easily pierce his armor. Blood gathered around Bartill's mouth, and he stared intently at Solom as his life began to fade; Solom let him fall, knowing that kill would of ruined his sword.
All were in awe at what happened next.
A purple aura, the same glow around Solom's hands, began to be pulled from Bartill's body. Bartill turned to his son, mouthing the words 'I Love You' as he felt his life force began to be absorbed by Solom. He had no idea what was happening, only that the draining of this aura caused him to begin to fade. Slowly, he began to fade out of consciousness, the pain of the stab fading away, and he closed his eyes, never to open them again. It was an incredibly peaceful death, and Solom stood victorious, as Bartill's power began to flow into him. Most had no idea what this was. Solom knew from experience.
When a Magi slays another Magi, they absorb the fallen's power.
As the aura was absorbed entirely by Solom, he looked upon the villagers. The boy was clearly devastated, and there was nothing to be done about that. He felt the power flow through him, and he simply closed his eyes and willed himself to move.
He warped back onto his horse, again standing over the villagers. His men remounted as well, and Solom spoke in a solemn tone. By all rights, the village should be razed as an example of treason. However, Solom felt an amount of sympathy for the townspeople's plight.
"Bury your dead; I will claim you cooperated fully. Reparations will be made for the damages done to the town. "
He looked upon the dead woman, a look of sadness on his face.
"The family of this poor woman shall receive Thorat's assets. The bastard had no family to speak of. I know it will not make up for her death. She is with the Gods now, and there is no greater blessing in this world."
He thought to the slaves, and he spoke again.
"All slaves held by this village shall be granted freedom. An investigator shall be sent in one year in order to ensure the emancipation of the Baron Materat's human chattel is well under way. Compensation shall be granted to the Baron for this. The slaves will be allowed to move to the city of Aston under the Freedman's Act, and will be granted land and income in exchange for joining the Freedman's Army. That will be all."
Solom took one last moment to look upon the village. Bartill's boy, he would not have a good life. Materat's daughter, she would be a threat down the line. Solom was slightly pleased Thorat was killed; he was an awful man, and with him gone there would be no more competition of his own rank. Soon, he would have his own command, and soon, he could make the Horde howl in despair. Ambition burned in his eyes as he gave one last gaze to the village. He motioned his men to his flank, and readied his horse.
With that, Solom kicked his horse into a gallop, his men closely following, leaving the village as quickly as they entered it.