Drip. Drip. Drip. A black substance falls slowly from the ceiling in the corner of the room, away from prying eyes.

Drip. Drip. As more substance gathers, the pool slowly expands, but no ripples appear.

Drip. Soon, the pool is vast enough for a person to lie within.

The pool settles for the briefest moments but then erupts upwards in complete silence. The liquid falls and gathers in unnatural patterns but slowly merges into a human body. As the substance forms, it cools, rapidly taking the appearance of glass but maintaining the pitch-black hue. After a few moments, the glass shatters with a sharp cracking sound, and a woman with red-hued skin steps forward. Bringing her hand up, she inspects the palm and then the back, watching as the colour changes to a light brown. Seemingly satisfied by what she sees, she raises both hands above her head and brings them down perpendicular to her torso in one swift movement. As the arms fall, black cloth materialises around them, rapidly expanding across her body in a simple knee-length dress. Twirling on the spot once, a small smile spreads across her face. As she moves her head side to side as though to loosen the muscles in her neck, footsteps are heard from elsewhere in the building, getting louder.

Fixating her eyes on the only door into the room, she bends her knees. The steps stop just behind the door seconds before it crashes open. A boy roughly half the height of the woman, and by the look of his features, half the age, is revealed. As the youth looks around, the woman slowly reaches for a wooden pole leaning against the wall.

The kid can't have seen more than 15 winters. The studded armour he is wearing is loose, made for a man twice his size. Strands of blonde hair peeked out from under the comically large helmet fixed on his head, held in place by his left hand. In his right, he shakily has a broken blade in front of him as his eyes dart around the room.

Stepping toward the youth, the intruder points her makeshift weapon at his head.

Startled, he lets out a yelp and swings his blade toward her as he steps back.

'D-don't come any closer! I'm here to force you to stop terrorising our town! I won't hesitate to k-kill you...'

Letting out a sigh, she steps towards him slowly. As he raises his broken blade and takes another swing, she sidesteps and brings the pole down on his wrist, eliciting a further yelp as the sword clatters to the floor. As he drops his weapon, she quickly grabs him by his neck and lifts him until his eyes align with hers. She brings her face closer to his before recoiling slightly.

He whimpers slightly. 'P-please... we don't have anything left to offer you. If you take any more, we won't be able to pay our dues to our lord.'

He shivers as the woman runs a careful eye over him. Underneath the oversized armour is a set of torn clothing. Reaching down with her free hand, she picks up the blade. It's the shattered remnants of a bastard sword or a broadsword. Much too hefty for anyone less than a dedicated soldier to use effectively. Putting these together means...

'Boy. Where is the original owner of these items? You're just a child playing guard, so where is the grown-up?'

'Don't act like you don't remember him! You and yours killed my father! I'll kill you for it!'

At that, a fire seems to light in the youth, and he wails at the arm holding him to escape.

She rolls her eyes before dropping him and tossing the broken blade at his feet. He staggers to his feet and reclaims his weapon before pointing it at her with both hands. Ignoring him, she steps past him into the door frame before turning back to him, almost as an afterthought. 'Hmph. Declaring your intention to kill your Empress normally means your death. Be happy that I require you.'

He whirls around to face her, confused at the words, and points the weapon at the floor. 'Listen, boy. If I were part of this band of people terrorising your village, there were plenty of opportunities to kill you in this little scuffle, and I certainly wouldn't have come alone. Think.'

He points the blade at her neck again. 'Liar! If you're not with them, then why are you here?'

Her skin bristles from head to toe, and she rolls her right shoulder a few times before bringing herself up to her full height, now half a head taller than the door frame.

The room seemingly beings to glow a soft red, and the temperature beings to drop rapidly. Black feathered wings sprout from her back as her skin turns red again, and a pair of small horns erupt from her forehead, accompanied by a few drops of blood.

This change is enough to startle the youth. Stumbling backward with a cry halfway between a yelp and a whimper, he falls square on his behind and hurries back. 'D-daemon...'

Rapidly closing the distance between them, she shoves her face in his, savouring the look of fear in his brown eyes. 'That's right, boy. I am no mere woman preying on your village. Rejoice and despair! A true daemon has shown herself before you.'

'W-what do you want from us?'

She lets out a short peal of laughter. 'Everything. Everything that you are and everything that you have. I am your new Empress, and the rulers of this world will either bend to me or see all they hold dear tumble into the deepest depths of Tartarus! Do you swear to accept my rule? Or will you be the first to be sent screaming into the abyss? Answer!'

'I-i-'

She hoists him up again, holding him by the straps of his armour and pushing him against the wall. 'Well? Service or death? Choose now!'

'S-service! I choose service!' he yelps, his eyes darting back and forth in fright.

She grins and puts him down gently. The red glow of the room fades as the wings and horns disappear - a few drops of blood on the dusty floor, the only evidence they were ever there. As her skin reclaims its light brown colour, she kneels before him and brushes the dust off his shoulders. 'Good choice.'

-

'Now, Boy. I will have you show me around this new village of mine. Hrm. Perhaps 'Boy' is not a suitable form address for my first subject. What is your name?'

'J-jeridas.'

She snorts derisively. 'It would seem that no one taught you manners. No matter, you can learn them on the fly. Listen, boy. When you address me, ensure that you finish your address with 'My Lady' or 'My Empress'.' Understood?

He nods his head in acceptance.

'Good. Now, once again. What is your name?'

'Jeridas... My Lady.'

'Good... a bit late with the form of address, but you'll get used to it. Now, Jeridas. In recognition of your subservience, I now appoint you as my royal advisor as I learn my way through this land. I do not expect you to understand the gravitas of your new title but know that you now represent me.'

Ducking her head to avoid hitting it on the frame, she steps out onto the street and scans the area. The entire area is dilapidated. The only roads are simple dirt crossroads, and all the buildings are wooden and falling apart. The streets are deserted, without so much as a rat running around.

Sighing again, she turns her head to Jeridas.

'So, is this it?'

'Sorry?'

'Is this everything?'

'Y-yes. We're mostly a farming town, so we only have a pub and the town hall...'

She stabs her thumb towards the only building that has two floors. 'I suppose that the town hall is the one there?'

'Yes.'

Nodding, she starts making her way toward it. 'So, does this place have a name?'

'Ah, err, yes, we call it Sloton. On account of how everything here seems to go in slow motion.'

This elicits a short peal of laughter. 'Hah. Sounds fitting. Now, let's inform the rest of my subjects that their Empress has arrived.'

-

Pausing at the double-doored entrance to the town hall, she runs her hands over the tree engraved into the door knob. This entrance is much too simple to become the door to a seat of power. Perhaps it would be better to find an existing castle and take it over? No. That would be rude to her advisor - it's incumbent on a ruler to make the first place that kneels to them their throne.

Rolling her shoulders, she raises her arms as the red hue surrounding her returns. Stepping forward, she pushes the doors open, and they slam into the walls with a resounding bang. Pausing for a moment, she shakes her head and sighs. She turns to face Jeridas and gestures forward with her head. Taking the queue, he quickly enters the building.

Striding behind him, she raises her voice. 'Rejoice and despair! I have come to claim this place in my name. I am your new Empress, and you shall... What the hell is going on here?'

On the first floor of the town hall are around 20 villagers, with wounds in various places, from a simple cut on their arms or legs to gaping wounds in their chest or missing limbs.

Dumfounded for only a moment, the lady regains her composure and stalks forwards toward a man tending the wounds of another. From the back, the man appears rather stocky. His skin is tanned from repeated long exposure to the sun, and his arms are toned from chopping wood day in and out. He sports a frayed short-sleeved black shirt and a pair of brown pants. The boots on his feet are well worn and show the marks of having been repaired in several spots. A short crop of black hair bobs atop his head as he moves back and forth over the man he's treating.

Feigning a cough to announce her presence, she waits for a beat before calling out. 'You there. What has happened here? Was there some attack?'

The man now bent over the injured's leg, doesn't respond but gestures towards a pile of cloth just beyond his reach. She bends over and hands it to him, eliciting a gruff 'Thanks.' He wraps the man's knee in the material before wiping his brow, standing up, and turning to face the newcomer. 'So, who're you? You got some injury for me to look at?'

'No, I'm not injured. I wanted to ask you about what happened to cause this kind of damage.'

'Oh.' He scratches the back of his head. 'Y'see, all of this is caused by those damn bandits. First, they come by 'n' kill the guards, then return to take the rest of what we have. Damn bastards. We tried to fight them off, but you can see how well that went.' He clenches his fist while he speaks, then turns on his heel and heads towards a lady with a gash on her side.

As he busies himself with binding her wounds, the newcomer closes her eyes to let her mind wander. These bandits came and killed the guards, then came back a day later to steal everything. Is that because this place is poor? No. A one-off raid would be enough for a place like this, so why did they do it in two parts? If money wasn't the motivator... Slaves? It can't be that either, too many young people were hurt, lowering the number of potential slaves needlessly. Location? Not much better than a camp, and if Jeridas is to be believed, the tax man will come by soon so it wouldn't go unnoticed. Her mind continues to spin in place for a few minutes before she shakes her head to clear my thoughts and open my eyes again.

'Hey.' she calls out to the medic. 'Mauveen.' he responds curtly. 'Excuse me?'

'My name's not "You" or "Hey". It's Mauveen - might as well use it.'

'Mauveen. Well, you may call me Ana for now. Tell me, where can I find the current head of this village?'

He stands up and clicks his tongue. 'Not sure why you want to waste your time on that coward. You'll probably find him upstairs if he hasn't fled the place.' He gestures vaguely towards a door in the back of the building. 'Stairs're through there.'

'Jeridas.'
A few seconds after Ana calls out, Jeridas hurries to her side, fresh blood visible on his hands - he must have been assisting the wounded citizens. 'Yes, my lady?'

'Hrm. I will be going upstairs to speak with the leader of this place. Normally, I would have you attend me in these matters as required of a royal advisor, but... you seem to have found some of my future people that could use your assistance, so I will let you leave my side this time.'

'Mauveen. I will grant you the assistance of my advisor - use him well.' Saying this, she pushes Jeridas toward the man.

Mauveen looks at him and then back at Ana with bewilderment plain on his face. 'Jeridas? Wait, what do you mean advisor?'

Ignoring his question, she walks toward the stairs with purpose, leaving her advisor to answer the stream of questions that Mauveen has.

-

Reaching the top of the short split staircase, Ana is met with a long corridor, just wide enough to fit two people walking shoulder to shoulder. 

Flanking the corridor on both sides are four heavy-set doors and a fifth one at the end. Ana begins to walk toward the end of the hall, stopping at each on the way. The doors on the left lead to a couple of small tidy offices with a single desk and chair, as well as a few bookshelves littered with a few parchments and windows allowing light in. On the right, both doors lead into a single meeting room with enough seating to fit a dozen people.

She arrives at the last door at the end of the hallway. This one is different - a sleek black compared to the natural brown of the others, though the paint is flaking slightly at the bottom. She reaches out to open the door, only to find it locked. She knocks on the door three times and hears shuffling inside. After a while, she knocks again, to no response. Her eye twitches once as she knocks again, louder. Still no response. Sighing, she takes a step back and kicks at the hinges, bringing the door down with a splintering crack. 'You have a lot of nerve', she starts, 'ignoring your Empress.' As she steps over the broken door, she sees a larger office in disarray. Drawers were all but pulled from their holes, cabinet doors were hanging open, and paper was strewn everywhere. Kneeling in the middle is a man advanced in age, with a ring of grey hair atop an otherwise bald head. Although the black long-sleeved shirt and pants he wears do not look out of place for a lower ranked noble, it would be hard for a honest village chief to afford them. The shoes in particular seem to be quite pricey - fitted black leather, made from the hide of a Demin sheep - a mid-tier monster.

Walking toward the crouched man, she lets her eyes wander a bit more, and they fall upon a sword hanging on the wall above the desk. The blade of the sword is straight, and flows seamlessly into a simple pommel. Although it looks badly maintained with spots of rust dotted here and there, it was obviously well-made.

Turning her eyes back to the man, Ana comes to a stop behind him. Astonishingly, neither the crack of the door coming off its hinges or the thud of it hitting the floor were able to break his concentration. As Ana looks over his shoulder, she can see that he is bent over some kind of briefcase, and a stack of documents. His withered hand is quickly scanning through each one, before either placing it in the case, or discarding it out of hand to add to the mess.

For the second time today, Ana feigns a cough. Some people, she thinks, could definitely stand to learn to show respect to their Empress.

However, the man does not respond, or even acknowledge her at all. She coughs again, louder, to no avail. Her eye begins to twitch as she circles around to in front of him. She quickly kicks the briefcase closed and keeps her foot firmly in place on the lid, which elicits a surprised cry from the man as he moves his fingers away just in time.

Looking up at Ana, the man's green eyes burn with unrestrained hostility. 'Move your foot, you idiot. Can't you see that I'm in a rush here?'

'A rush indeed, if you weren't able to greet me with even basic manners. Is this all that's expected of a village chief these days?'

'Shut your trap. You - ' he jabs a pointer finger at Ana ' - aren't the one who's had to deal with these bandits or the idiots who refuse to leave and go to Newtress. Everything'd have gone so much smoother, but no, they had to want to defend the place. So no, I have no time for basic manners.'

He stands and stands in front of Ana and shoves a finger in her chest. 'I have done so much for this damn town as its chief, but these damn idiots are too blind to see that leaving and coming back after a few months is the best option.' He punctuates his speech with jabs of his finger. 'I will not have some two-bit floosy -' another jab. '- telling me that I am being rude when the barbarians are at the gate. I don't care what you wanted here, but you can take whatever it is -' He uses his free hand to point towards the door. '- and get your face out of my sight so I can finish packing and ditch this doomed shit-sty.'

'Hmph.' Ana slowly retracts her foot from the briefcase and backs up a few steps before brushing the spot where she was jabbed with the back of her hand. As the man goes back to packing, he gives a quick snort and shakes his head.

Ana slowly walks behind the desk and takes the blade down, examining it for a brief moment before throwing it full-force. The blade pierces the lid of the briefcase, nailing it shut. The man reacts by scrambling to his feet with a loud 'Hey!' and spins towards Ana. However, any further words die in his throat. Myths speak of a legendary monster that could turn men's blood to ice and their body to stone - their favourite pastime is said to be eating men whole over several months. Taking a shaky step backwards, he thinks to himself that he would rather be facing a hundred of those creatures than what is standing before him.

Ana's lips are pressed into a line so tightly that the skin surrounding them are bleached white. Her right eye is twitching constantly, and her violet irises seemingly burn with such fury that not even dragon's fire could compete, and her black hair floats behind her as though trying to escape its confines.

'My name, sir, is Ana.' As she takes a step forward, he takes a step back, desperate to keep distance between them, but too afraid of what might happen if he breaks into a full run.
'I came here with every intention of playing nice with you, beneath me though it is. I came to hear your side of the story, and get more information.' Another step forward, and another step back. 'However, you have acted so poorly, so cretinous, that I can't see why I should even bother with you.' As she spits the final word, Ana leaps forward, and her wings sprout to allow her to land directly in front of the village chief. She leans down and rips the sword from its resting place, scattering ripped paper everywhere, and points it directly at him. 'If you want to live to see past the next few minutes, I suggest that you get some ink and paper, sign your position of chief over to me, and then run as fast as those legs can carry you until you collapse. Do you understand?' She pushes the blade closer to him with every word, and it ends up barely drawing blood from his throat as he is pinned against the wall. He quickly nods. As she lowers the blade, he hurries around to complete her demands. As soon as he hands the document over to her, he quickly runs out of the room without so much as a look at the case.