Chapter One: The Northern Gate
The village of Artisans, a forgotten corner of the Gran Troc Empire, lived on the margins of life. Its wooden houses stood like neglected chess pieces, its narrow alleys thick with the scent of cut timber, cheap coal, and the sweat of men who spent their days between forest and field. Poverty was law here, and effort the only accepted currency.
Yet among this misery stood a man who stirred whispers: Frank Fire.
Frank was in his fifties, his hair gray and tangled like dry branches, his eyes a cold shade of gray that seemed to store an eternal winter. His body was broad, his hands scarred by a lifetime of axes and trees. To many, he was just a woodcutter. But the people respected him. He had fed widows, saved children from wolves, even faced a mountain bear alone years ago.
Still, beneath that respect lingered a mystery.
No one knew exactly where he had come from. Sometimes he spoke of distant places no one else had heard of. He wielded his axe with a strange precision—less like a tool, more like an ancient form of combat.
The Village Council
Inside a narrow hall, the Council of Security gathered. Wooden walls cracked with age, and at the long table sat the men and woman who linked the village to the empire.
Among them:
Thomas Babon (35): sharp-featured, wearing a vest too fine for village life, a gift perhaps from a lord in the capital. He despised Frank, seeing him as a rival for the people's respect.
Daniel Ashbas (69): the elder of the village, white-bearded and leaning on a carved staff etched with old symbols. One of the founders of the village, respected even by the empire.
Hilda Maren (45): the only woman on the council, keeper of the grain storehouse, cunning and self-serving.
Martin Lux (40): a hunter, quiet and watchful, his eyes always weighing shadows.
They argued heatedly.
Thomas slammed the table:
> "Taxes have risen again! The empire demands twice what we paid last year. If we fail to deliver… the imperial guard will march here themselves."
Hilda replied with icy calm:
> "If we don't pay, they'll seize our grain, and we'll starve. But how? Our people can barely survive as it is."
Daniel raised a trembling hand, his voice tired but firm:
> "This village has endured for decades. We will not collapse now. We must find a way without crushing our own."
The argument froze when the door burst open.
Frank Fire entered, axe slung across his shoulder, his footsteps ringing like hammers.
Thomas rose immediately, fury burning in his face:
> "What are you doing here, woodcutter? You have no right to enter the council. We represent the empire here… you are nothing but filth."
The air grew tense. Frank said nothing, only fixed his cold gaze on Thomas—so sharp that even Hilda shifted uneasily.
Before words could ignite, Daniel's voice cut through:
> "Thomas, no one insults another in this village. Frank may not be on the council, but he is important here. We all know it."
The Shadow of Rumors
Frank sat silently against the wall, offering no explanation.
Then Martin Lux spoke:
> "Strange, isn't it? Taxes rise… just as attacks grow near the Northern Gate."
Hilda frowned:
> "What attacks?"
Martin narrowed his eyes:
> "Caravans passing the Northern Gate are being raided. Some say bandits. Others whisper a darker name… the Guardians."
The hall chilled. The Guardians—once an elite legion of soldiers, exiled decades ago. Many believed them extinct. But their name alone spread fear.
Thomas barked:
> "Superstitions! What happens beyond our borders is not our concern. Our duty is only to deliver taxes."
For the first time, Frank's voice rumbled—deep, unsettling, like something rising from the earth:
> "If the Guardians have returned… your taxes won't protect you. Not even the empire will."
Silence fell heavy. Daniel studied Frank warily. Thomas forced a bitter laugh:
> "And who are you to speak of the Guardians? A man who chops trees and frightens children with tales?"
Frank's gray eyes didn't blink.
> "I lived what you never have, Thomas. I've seen men fall like timber beneath merciless blades. I know what that name means."
The People Outside
Outside the hall, villagers had gathered, ears pressed to the wooden walls.
Among them:
Elena, a young baker of twenty, who admired Frank deeply, seeing him as a hero wrapped in mystery.
Luca, a twelve-year-old orphan, always trailing after Frank to help carry wood.
Old Edmund, a shepherd who muttered prophecies, swearing that "the Northern Gate will one day open and shadows will pour forth."
The Messenger
The council's quarrel was cut short by a sudden knock. The door creaked open and a man in imperial blue entered, bearing the seal of Gran Troc. His face was pale, his body drenched in sweat.
He gasped, voice trembling:
> "A message… urgent, from the capital."
Daniel broke the seal with unsteady hands and read aloud:
> "To the village of Artisans… Your tax quota is to be doubled at once. And a warning: suspicious activity of the Guardians has been confirmed near the Northern Gate. Prepare for any emergency."
The room erupted. Some cursed the empire's cruelty, others trembled at the thought of war.
Frank stood slowly, gripping his axe. His words, soft yet cutting through the chaos:
> "It has begun."
Ending of Chapter One
He left the hall, vanishing into the forest as whispers followed him. Who was Frank, truly? And why did he speak as though he had lived the legends?
Far beyond the village hills, dark smoke coiled skyward from the direction of the Northern Gate…
*After the increase in taxes on the village, the question is whether these taxes are imposed on this particular village or all the villages belonging to the Umbrotoya and what is the role of the northern guards in looting and stealing the borders This is what we will know in the second chapter which will be entitled The Emperor's Call