[ WP ] You are a `` hero '' in a fantasy world , but as you `` adventure '' , you are slowly realizing YOU are the antagonist .

As I strode into the town square, I surveyed the damage of the battle. Corpses littered the streets, mainly wearing the Royal Legion ’ s blue. But there were a few civilians in the gutters just wearing tattered brown rags. And a few buildings near the entrance to the city were still burning from my fire spell that ripped the gates from their hinges. Overall there wasn ’ t *too much* collateral damage. That was good; we needed support from these people. 
 
 My soldiers had searched all the homes in the village and gathered the local citizens here in the plaza for my announcement. I was here to tell them of their liberation from the King ’ s yoke; it should have been a joyous occasion. But instead their faces revealed hatred and contempt. Clearly their minds had long been poisoned against me. Just as I suspected: in the center of the plaza I found a poster with a not-so-flattering drawing of me, offering 5,000 gold pieces for my head. It described me as a traitor, a murderer, a thief… any lie that the King thought might stick. This wasn ’ t the first village we had liberated only to be met with an icy greeting. 
 
 “ Do not be afraid! ” I called out to them. Few of them even met my gaze, instead preferring to stare down at their knees in the dirt. To prevent any surprise attacks, I ’ d ordered my men to bind their hands and keep them off their feet; the King had been known to disguise his mages as civilians to allow for one last suicidal attack. I ’ d lost too many men to be fooled once more. It certainly wasn ’ t the most dignified way of meeting my new subjects, but I had no choice. 
 
 “ Do not be afraid, ” I repeated, passing by a young girl sobbing into her mother ’ s cloak. “ We have to come to liberate you from the tyrant king who has kept you chained for so long. ” 
 
 One of the men across the plaza stood. My soldiers flinched and had their weapons at the ready in seconds, but I calmed them with a wave of my hand. He was old; at least fifty, with almost no hair left on his head but a long beard on his chin that was streaked with grey. His skin was like gnarled wood, full of lines and grooves that formed because of lean harvests and high taxes. There were men like this in every village, and I knew that he was no threat. If I could *convince him*, however, he could be a great asset. “ The King has *protected* us from thugs like *you*, ” he hissed. “ Traitorous, murderous thieves! ” 
 
 My men picked the worst possible time to emerge from the mayor ’ s office with the contents of the treasury jingling in a chest between them. I grimaced. “ We are not thieves, ” I countered. “ We are simply seeking justice. And we take the ill-gotten gains of the king ’ s tax collectors to use in our crusade! ” *Why did I have to explain this every time we liberated a village? * 
 
 “ That money belongs to *us*, ” the man insisted. “ You are nothing but a brigand! ” 
 
 “ That money belonged to the King, ” I argued back, trying to keep my voice calm even as the rage bubbled up. “ *He* took it from *you*. And now we will use it to ensure that he can never take it from you again. The way that *we* govern this land, your taxation will be fair and just, not… ” 
 
 “ You ’ ll *never* govern us! ” another man announced. A rumble of agreement came from the crowd, who didn ’ t seem to understand that they had been liberated. That I had *already* conquered them. 
 
 “ Enough! ” I shouted. A bolt of lightning escaped from my hand, blinding anyone who was looking at me. It arced forward and struck the ornate fountain at the center of the plaza, scorching and cracking the stone. “ We do not have time argue this point with you. We have come seeking volunteers! Together we can rise up against the King and govern *ourselves*! Who will join us? ” 
 The plaza fell silent. My eyes turned to the few men of fighting age left in the village; the King had already taken most of them for his own forces. 
 
 “ We ’ d rather die! ” The gnarled old man spoke up again. He puffed out his chest and raised his chin. I flicked my wrist, sending a shockwave through the air that knocked the man to his knees again. He wasn ’ t the one I wanted to hear from. 
 
 “ You! ” I called out, pointing to one strapping young man in particular. My soldiers rushed over and dragged the man to his feet. His shoulders were broad like an ox, but he stood hunched. “ You look like you could wield an ax with the best of them. Join us! I can promise you food, a good pay, and the chance to fight for your own self-determination! ” 
 
 The man didn ’ t answer; he just looked back down to the woman at his side with the expression of a whipped dog. “ He ’ s *simple*, ” the woman explained with tears streaming down her cheeks. “ He ain ’ t able to fight. ” 
 
 I sighed. Once again, the King had swept through and claimed anything good. It seemed like even in times of victory, he was still able to twist the dagger a little bit more. *Well, beggars can ’ t be choosers, I suppose*. “ Nonsense. Of course he can. ” Maybe he'd never be a master tactician, but all I really needed now were men who can hold a sword. I gestured to my soldiers, who led the simple giant out of the plaza back toward our camp. I picked out a few others who were a little on the young side, but could at least use a bow. They were led away as well. 
 
 “ You ’ re a monster! ” the woman sobbed as her son disappeared out the gates. The gnarled old man, still standing, agreed. I came closer, just to view the look in his eyes one last time before I left. Just to see if there was any hope that these people *could* be won over. And then he spit right in my face. 
 
 I didn ’ t even consciously do it. The lightning just flowed straight from my fingertips like an instinct. In the blink of an eye, the man was gone. Turned to a pile of dust before me with only a set of iron handcuffs to show that it had once been a man. The citizens around the plaza screamed and wailed. 
 
 “ What do we do with them? ” My lieutenant asked. 
 
 I surveyed the village, noting some of the beautiful stone homes of prosperous merchants. These people would keep growing crops for the king. They ’ d keep paying their taxes. Their merchants would continue to enrich the rest of the realm. Rage bubbled up inside of me again; did n't they realize what they were doing? What kind of *monster* they were supporting? “ Kill them, ” I ordered. “ Burn it down. They ’ re beyond saving. ” 
 
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 The men set about their work. Some of the less savory recruits, like those from the savage mountain clans or the ones who had been bandits at one time, were tasked with herding the civilians together. They did n't seem to mind the screams and pleas for help as much as the rest; some of them even took pleasure in the job. The rest began to comb through the homes and shops throughout the town for anything usable before the whole thing went up in flame. 
 
 A shrill scream filled the plaza. I turned just in time to see one of my warriors plunge a knife into a young woman's gut. Her hands were raised; she must have tried to fight back. Her whole body shuddered, then went limp. And the man who'd stabbed her just whipped the knife out and wiped it on her dress, then turned to a companion and *laughed*. The sound of it seemed to create a deep, sickening pit in my gut and my throat tensed up in preparation for vomiting. Even across the plaza, her dead eyes seemed to be staring at me. Maybe it was my imagination, but she looked eerily akin to my sister, now twenty something years passed. 
 
 *I just wanted to help these people*, I thought. *And now I'm sending them all to their deaths. * Focusing on supplies, troops numbers, and territory gained had led me to lose sight of what was really happening in the war. Of what I was really fighting for. It was n't so long ago that this had been *my* family being carried off by soldiers in blue uniforms as my village burned behind them. But I knew the logic knew: every villager we left alive was just another to help the King. We *had* to do this, did n't we? 
 
 The first of the houses went up in flames. The oil-soaked timbers burned bright, and another woman in the plaza let out a ghostly wail; I'm assuming that was her house. The flames danced across the thatched roof and over to the next building which quickly caught as well. Each sob made the ball in my gut grow larger till it felt like I was about to burst. Even after the villagers were sealed into the town hall, I could still hear them screaming. It did n't stop until the crackling of the flames drowned them out. 
 
 `` Not a bad haul today,'' my lieutenant commented with a cheerful smile as we walked out of the city gates. Ash was already beginning to drift back to the ground from the plume of smoke in the sky. `` Six new recruits, and enough food to last us all at least a month!'' 
 
 `` Yeah,'' I grunted back over the lump in my throat. `` Pretty good day.'' 
 
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