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6/19/2025, 4:40:47 AM
With the battle won, you move your camp into the liege lord's manor.
It sits just off the center of the village, atop a hill that gives it a commanding view of the river and the road that cuts through the village going north. You cannot quite call it a proper keep as the tower rising from its northwest corner lacks the fortifications you would expect. Nor can you call it a simple manse, for the walls are thick and sturdy enough for a siege. No windows sit on its lowest floor, and its second floor has only slats for shooting arrows sealed with easily removed panes of glass, yet the third floor and the highest room of the tower have grand glass windows for each room.
Double paned, even. The Brightspring family spared no expense to outfit their home, and yet their taxes to the Empire fell off right around the time their patriarch perished this past winter. At least, that's what all the documents say. Poor revenues reported... when they had a blessed spring nourishing the land and the rejuvenating bodies of their people.
"Treason and tax fraud," you drawl. Yanking on her shackles, you pull the Lady Brightspring close enough for her to squirm at your attentions, especially when your hand finds some place soft and delicate and gives it a squeeze. "The list of crimes you've committed keeps piling up, my lady. Tell me, were you hoping to be punished? Because someone's been a very naughty girl~"
Try as she might to squirm free of your iron grasp, the Lady Brightspring cannot escape. After a moment, she realizes the futility of her struggles and goes limp, staring up at the moon and stars. "It was Brother Anthony's idea. Cut our payments to the Empire and they-"
"Will slaughter your men, rape your women, and brainwash your children into serving their dark masters, yes," you finish the sentence for her. Grabbing her by the hair, you pull her towards another window, this one looking over the village square. Your skeletons are hard at work, stripping the flesh from the bodies of militiamen and civilians alike. "Well, as a woman myself, I decided to spare them the indignity. Their bodies will serve the Empire all the same, once their bones have been dipped in iron and carved with the right runes."
"You didn't spare me that indignity," she spits.
"No I didn't," you tell her. Honestly, the solidarity you claimed was absolutely false. A part of you sorely wanted to claim every virgin woman in the town as your plaything - at least until your bored of them - but that would have distracted your forces from the slaughter. Needs must, and so all those ladies got to die virgins instead of learning the carnal pleasures of the flesh. "But isn't it fair that the person responsible for this slaughter suffers the greatest for it?"
"Hah!" a bitter laugh escapes her throat. "If that's the case, then you will burn when Luminaire is reborn to judge the sinners. In the deepest, most fiery pit of hell, a bleak and unending Tartarus..."
It sits just off the center of the village, atop a hill that gives it a commanding view of the river and the road that cuts through the village going north. You cannot quite call it a proper keep as the tower rising from its northwest corner lacks the fortifications you would expect. Nor can you call it a simple manse, for the walls are thick and sturdy enough for a siege. No windows sit on its lowest floor, and its second floor has only slats for shooting arrows sealed with easily removed panes of glass, yet the third floor and the highest room of the tower have grand glass windows for each room.
Double paned, even. The Brightspring family spared no expense to outfit their home, and yet their taxes to the Empire fell off right around the time their patriarch perished this past winter. At least, that's what all the documents say. Poor revenues reported... when they had a blessed spring nourishing the land and the rejuvenating bodies of their people.
"Treason and tax fraud," you drawl. Yanking on her shackles, you pull the Lady Brightspring close enough for her to squirm at your attentions, especially when your hand finds some place soft and delicate and gives it a squeeze. "The list of crimes you've committed keeps piling up, my lady. Tell me, were you hoping to be punished? Because someone's been a very naughty girl~"
Try as she might to squirm free of your iron grasp, the Lady Brightspring cannot escape. After a moment, she realizes the futility of her struggles and goes limp, staring up at the moon and stars. "It was Brother Anthony's idea. Cut our payments to the Empire and they-"
"Will slaughter your men, rape your women, and brainwash your children into serving their dark masters, yes," you finish the sentence for her. Grabbing her by the hair, you pull her towards another window, this one looking over the village square. Your skeletons are hard at work, stripping the flesh from the bodies of militiamen and civilians alike. "Well, as a woman myself, I decided to spare them the indignity. Their bodies will serve the Empire all the same, once their bones have been dipped in iron and carved with the right runes."
"You didn't spare me that indignity," she spits.
"No I didn't," you tell her. Honestly, the solidarity you claimed was absolutely false. A part of you sorely wanted to claim every virgin woman in the town as your plaything - at least until your bored of them - but that would have distracted your forces from the slaughter. Needs must, and so all those ladies got to die virgins instead of learning the carnal pleasures of the flesh. "But isn't it fair that the person responsible for this slaughter suffers the greatest for it?"
"Hah!" a bitter laugh escapes her throat. "If that's the case, then you will burn when Luminaire is reborn to judge the sinners. In the deepest, most fiery pit of hell, a bleak and unending Tartarus..."
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