The Dragon's Kiss

By sundown, the remainder of Tael had succumbed to Serin control.

Fortunately, thanks to many overheard conversations and a few pointed questions, Kel gathered that the soldiers hadn't come in search of any fugitive. Rather, it seemed that over the last few months, the Dragon Emperor had amplified his plans for domination, sending groups of soldiers to conquer as many small cities and villages as possible.

"It's odd," Kel mused to herself. "Forcefully taking the capital of each kingdom would be a more effective way to gain control."

Perhaps, there was another reason Calix had sent half his army to assimilate seemingly worthless towns. No doubt, the cunning man had some grand scheme planned--something Kel couldn't even begin to piece together.

In spite of what her mind had already accepted as the most logical answer, she couldn't help but imagine that Calix had sought village after village, city after city… looking for her.

"That doesn't even make sense," she sighed, returning her focus to the tilled dirt and half-empty burlap bag at her feet.

Surprisingly, life in Tael hadn't changed much since the soldiers came. After inspecting everyone's homes and posting a few notices, most of the soldiers moved on. The few remaining guards instructed the people to simply carry on as they had before.

The only noticeable difference in the entire village was the large Serin flag hoisted in the center of the market.

"Bit of an anticlimactic takeover, don't you think?" Kel yelled to Harrow, busy with his own seeds and dirt.

"Ha," the old man snorted. "What were you expecting?"

"I-" Kel paused.

A year ago, she'd thought of Serin citizens as nothing more than a bunch of crazed barbarians, led by a vicious warlord. Based on what she knew of them--the skirmishes against black-clad soldiers, the cleanup of decimated border strongholds, and the way they'd ambushed Uncle Itzae's patrol without leaving so much as a body for Kel to grieve over--she would have assumed a Serin takeover to be a horrific blood-stained event.

​ But now, she thought of the night market in Serin's capital she'd gone to with Lucy.

The shimmering lights.

Crowds of smiling people.

More food than anyone in Mevani living outside a noble's estate could even imagine.

The boisterous parade, celebrating another province that had surrendered to the Empire of their own accord.

Still, she was shocked at how peacefully the Serin soldiers had taken Tael. Was her deep-rooted bitterness toward the Empire really that much stronger than the things she'd witnessed with her own eyes?

Kel swallowed.

"I guess I don't really know what I expected."

And so, planting season continued, the village folk completely unbothered by the new flag in their market. Nesta and Harrow were no exception, unconcerned now that they had assured their adopted grandson wasn't in any trouble.

The old couple hadn't discussed the motivations behind their makeshift defense strategy again since that day, which made Kel all the more curious how much they knew about her situation. Regardless of what they did or didn't know, however, the fact that they were willing to break Tael's second unspoken rule, to avoid getting involved with others' personal business, brought a smile to her face.

Unfortunately, just as planting season was coming to an end, that smile became overshadowed by another predicament.

The predicament came to light on a seemingly unspecific day, when the few Serin soldiers left in Tael gathered everyone together in the market under the warm late-spring sun.

Kel had met everyone in the village already, but to see them all gathered in one place, shuffling back and forth apprehensively somehow made Tael feel like a proper community.

The residents didn't have long to shuffle before a train of wagons came rattling down the narrow cobble street. The wagons, each filled to the brim with crates and barrels, were followed by a mass of people, hauling smaller wagons of their own.

"Refugees, dislodged by the war, have been brought here to settle," a soldier with a short, pointed beard announced as the wagons came to a halt.

The news was enough to shake even the notoriously un-nosy villagers. A flurry of bewildered looks and some whispers surged through the crowd.

"Additionally," the man continued loudly, regaining the people's attention, "supplies have been brought from the nearest fort to be rationed among each household."

An even larger wave of confusion took the Tael crowd.

Why were they being granted rations? Shouldn't their new tyrant be demanding supplies from them instead? Isn't that why he bothered wasting manpower to take over a defenseless village?

The bearded soldier raised a hand to silence the puzzled group.

"You may have struggled in the past out here on your own," he declared, "but you are part of an empire now. Together, we prosper!"

The man's excited words were met with silence. Uncertainly, Kel glanced around to see the stunned villagers, each with varying expressions of their own uncertainty.

The soldier simply shook his head and turned to meet the leader of the wagon train, as if he had already anticipated such a reaction.

Clap.

Clap.

Every head immediately turned to face the single pair of hands smacking against each other.

The owner of the hands, Tael's oldest resident, revealed a nearly toothless grin as he slowly clapped.

"Well, Long Live the Emperor," the ancient-looking man chimed. "You got any fruits in those boxes?"

The commanding soldier smiled in return. "Lots."

Whatever spell had captivated the crowd finally snapped.

"Long Live the Emperor!" several voices echoed while eager feet rushed toward the wagons.

"You can all line up over here to register, and your rations will be delivered later today," another soldier shouted, beckoning the rushing people over to where he stood with a parchment and quill in hand.

"Please stay to the left side of the street!" Another soldier called as he waved for the wagons to begin moving again.

One by one, the supply wagons were situated off to the right side of the street, leaving just enough room for the refugees to pass by. Sheepish smiles were exchanged between the exhausted travelers and weathered villagers as they passed each other.

"There's one more thing I need to mention," the bearded soldier called out above the bustle, holding up a document with the Dragon Emperor's seal in the top corner.

"All men between the ages of fourteen years and thirty years will be required to join the Emperor's army. Effective immediately."