[ WP ] The hero was killed , the princess was sacrificed , and the evil king rules the land . For the average citizen , though , things have taken a turn for the better .

**CHAPTER 1** 
 
 I awoke this mornng with the sound of my youngest daughter's bright laughter. 
 
 `` Look, mama, look! Look at the'wearer'!'' Brianna exclaimed between a fit of giggles and the next. 
 
 `` It's called *weather*, dearie'', I mumbled half-awake, but got up and went to check it anyway. Today is a special day - might as well get up early, and get on with what must be done. 
 
 As I opened my eyes, a reddish tinge had taken over all visible corners of the room - I opened the curtains to see the skies, even if i already knew what to expect. Outside the window, a massive thunderstorm raged as far as the eye could see. Blood-red clouds marked by streaks of lightless black, criss-crossed with white cracks of lightning that somehow did not flash. 
 
 `` The emperor's maelstromancers really went the extra mile this year, have n't they?'' I spoke to myself. 
 
 `` The what, mama?'' Brianna replied. 
 
 `` Weather wizards, dearie. They must put on a show for the Emperor. And for us too.'' 
 
 `` You mean the sky? That's so beautiful!'' 
 
 `` Yes, it is, is n't it? Now go get your brothers, dearie. We must n't miss the carriage.'' I finished in mild tones. She ran off to the other bedrooms after my other three kids. My strong, healthy boys. Pride of my life, my children are. 
 
 By the time I had finished my ablutions and left my bedroom, all four of them were standing at attention in the main room, waiting for their daily share of work. It is a good thing the greater ease of life has n't rubbed off on them the wrong way. An ugly thing, a lazy child is; I have seen some of our neighbors' kids, and the weaker workload has made them complacent and weak. Not my children, though. They work hard, and they are grateful for what they have. 
 
 `` Alright. You all know it is a very special day today.'' My older son Thomas twitched at that, but I chose to ignore it. `` We're not having a full day of work, for the carriage arrives at noon; so we must make the most of the time we have. Thomas and Aldain, go check on the cows and pigs. Albart, you feed the chicken and clear as many water troughs as you can. Start with the big one by the barn. Brianna, you help Albart clean the chicken coop, and when you're done go check the pond to see if the small fish are away from any frogs. I'll work at the crops today; when the Clock hits eleven, come quickly to the front of the house. I do n't want you even ten minutes late, is that understood?'' A small chorus of `` Yes, mother'' satisfied me, and we went our separate ways. 
 
 I remember back in the day under King Calis, I would dread the work in the crops; the bugs and the castigating sun would make it nigh unbearable. Now the bugs were mostly gone, bless the maelstromancers; and with the sky being alyaws dark red and overcast, I have n't got a sunburn in over a decade. 
 
 Time went by quickly, and soon the Clock banged eleven low, ominous, dissonant notes. *Five hours of labor on a holiday*, I thought to myself. *Not bad at all. We're probably getting a good surplus again this year. * I walked my way back to the Clock in front of the house. 
 
 The *Tower of Hours and Lives and Omens*, or the Clock as everyone calls it, is a gift and a reminder from the Emperor. We are supposed to *guard it and keep it with our very lives*, according to the Imperial Guard's guidelines. That does n't mean much in everyday life though. The thing is made with terrible Dark magic, so it does n't break or fail or anything. One good polish and a little bloodletting in the basin every week, and it's good as new. In return we have a free 24-hour clock, night lantern and thief alarm, with updated bulletins from the Emperor's Palace in the little brass tablet on the side. Plus it makes for very good garden decoration. Every new family gets one, and I've yet to see anyone complain about it. 
 
 By the time I got there, all my four children were ready in their Garments of Reverence - free, self-cleaning and self-repairing crimson robes to be worn in all Imperial holidays - and the offerings were ready. This years *gift of blood* would be a dead chicken, and the *gift of toil* would be a small wooden sculpture Brianna made for the occasion. 
 
 `` Everything ready?'' I asked, knowing the answer. 
 
 `` Yes, mother.'' Thomas replied. `` Albart also managed to get us two dozen eggs to bring to the fair.'' 
 
 `` Good on you, Albart!'' My third oldest is a bit of an overachiever. `` If we manage to sell them, you get to keep a copper.'' He beamed at that. Such a nice kid. 
 
 With all chores done forty-five minutes early, we walked to the chariot station by the roadside. It's a small, ugly stone-and-mortar building, but Brianna loves it. Plus, we would get to meet the other villagers and make small talk before the chariot arrives. 
 
 We were the first family to arrive, so the kids managed to get a full bouquet of purple Gentians from the Bone Golem watching the station. Bulky, brainless, misshapen automatons of dead flesh and bones, these are kept on watch at every public building. Watch against what I can not tell - there are very few thieves and ruffians in the Emperor's lands, and none would be stupid enough to trespass on Imperial property. Still, they give away flowers on the holidays, and are sympathetic enough for a dead creature with zero free will. Brianna thanked it for the flowers, for no response at all, which got a good laughter out of the boys. 
 
 In a matter of minutes, other local families made it to the station, but not all. Some would prefer to walk all the way to the Old Ruins - a seven-hour walk away - just for the view. I'm not a fan of walking, but I can understand - in this fresh summer, with all the crops blooming and the flowers by the road and whatnot, the countryside can be really beautiful to see. Those families that *did* come to the station were eager to share the latest gossip - some outliers claimed to have seen a host of corpses and skeletons going towards the south, with siege equipment and Bloodmage and Bonemage Battalions, marching their way past Graytrickle and the Fork Road. Maybe the Emperor was making threats again, or maybe there would be another war this time. I personally do n't mind, if my kids are safe - war is not such a terrible thing when you do n't have to send living people to fight it. 
 
 Our light chatter was interrupted when a shambling figure on a frayed black cloak slithered its way to the podium by the road. The folk knew to be silent when the dead speak - not only out of respect, but also because it's hard to understand their low, raspy voices. 
 
 The dead shadow turned to the side, as if listening to some invisible voice, and said as loud as it could: 
 
 `` **MAPLEWOOD FAMILY, COME FORTH. CHARIOT FOR FIVE. **'' 
 
 We rushed forward to the first chariot - *They probably have a ghost keeping tally of who arrived in which order, how thoughtful* - and took our seats. The chariot did not have a coach; the four skeletal horses pulling it were enthralled to know the right route. All public transportation is made by dead beasts of burden - the living ones are kept for farmwork. Truly great if you do n't mind the smell. 
 
 It was not long before we were in the Old Ruins. We left our offerings on a big pile by the center, and an Imperial Mage would burn them in honor of the Emperor and the Bestial Lords of the Burning Hells he serves. 
 
 The Acolyte came forward, and spread his hand over the pyre; his eyes began to glow red, and his voice turned booming and hollow: `` **To Dendira, Dark Mistress of Decay; To Zuul, Dreadlord of the Burning Gates; To Anamenekhr, the Spiderlord; To Glagolth, the Spear of Pain and Retribution; To Lazaghi**...'' and on goes the sermon. The kids love the sight of the Burning; I myself just wonder how do they make the smokeless flames *glow black*. It is a quick ceremony, and soon we were back to the chariot again. 
 
 ***Continues to Chapter 2***
