The clink of the gold weighing down his horse makes Telac smile.

“Collecting taxes is the best, ain’t it boys?” He shouts, answered by a chorus of agreements come from the men riding beside him. Looking around he checks on his band, the six men each sporting the same tattoos, marking them as brothers in arms.

Telac stretches, trying to ease out the stiffness from his joints. I’m getting too old for all this riding. For the last couple of months he’s been travelling around the villages in his province, collecting their taxes and enjoying any hospitality they can heap upon him. Buying the rights to tax a province is the best decision I ever made.

The wooden wall surrounding the village of Littlestream comes into view at the end of the road. Telac perks up, eager to be out of the saddle. Spurring his horse on he rides up ahead of the group to the wall.

“Open up! Tax collection!” He yells.

A little flare of irritation bursts within him at the complete lack of movement from the wall. He lifts his hand and with a thought, calls on his magic. Instantly, a blast of fire engulfs his hand and shoots into the air in a towering column of flame.

“Open up this instant or I will burn this damned place to the ground!”

A panicked voice comes from further up the wall, the head of a young man bobbing along as he runs towards the gate.

“Coming! Coming!” The man shouts, before disappearing down off the wall towards the gate.

A few clatters and thumps sound from within, and then the gate ponderously swings open. An out of breath young man, carrying a spear, stands to one side.

“Please… come... in.”

Telac rides in through the gate, his men following behind, and continues to the village square. Each villager he passes gives the group a bitter look, before hurrying away. Typical peasants, nothing but dirt and straw between their ears. Unable to recognize greatness when they see it.

A young boy runs up to the group. Telac and his men dismount and shoving the reigns into the boy’s hands, letting him lead the horses away to be fed.

Telac walks up to the door of the largest house bordering the village square, and bangs loudly on it. An old man answers, dressed in richer robes that the rest of the villagers. He sports a long, immaculately-kept black beard, and a floppy hat covers the top of his head. When he sees Telac his demeanour instantly changes from imperious to fawning.

“Telac… it’s so good to see you. I trust your journey was uneventful?”

“Spare me the crap, Graham. I’ve come for the taxes. Hand them over, so I can get to drinking.”

Graham wrings his hands, looking worried.

“About the taxes, you see we had a very bad year. The beasts have been more active, and we haven’t been able to-”

Telac slams his fist against the door frame, making Graham jump.

“I don’t give a damn about the beasts. We have an agreement, you pay me the taxes I ask, I let your village stand. That. Is. How. THIS. WORKS!” The last few words screamed into his face.

Telac pauses and takes a deep breath, fighting down his anger. Incinerating this simpering fool wasn’t worth it. Yet.

“You know what, I’m thirsty. You bring me my money by the end of today, in person. Or you know what will happen. Don’t test me.”

He turns and strides off towards the tavern, his men following along.

***

The tavern is full of people, each small group crowded around a table laden with tankards. Telac scans the room, smirking as his eyes fall on one particular patron. A young woman sits against a wall, a fake smile plastered on her face as she listens to an animated young man.

She has blonde hair tied up into a bun, fashionably so, adorned with a sparkling net of glass beads. Her clothes look expensive, intricate patterns adorning a wrap that circles her shoulders. Her dress beneath is tight, flowing with her figure. The man sitting opposite her is similarly well-dressed, an embroidered doublet and tight trousers making up his ensemble.

Telac barges his way across the room towards the couple, the villagers he shoves out of his way protesting as they are jostled. The blonde haired girl looks up and spots Telac, their eyes meeting. Telac’s smile widens as her fake smile instantly vanishes, replaced with a frown as her eyes dart about, looking for a way out.

Telac stops behind the young man, placing his hand on his back. The man spins about to stare incredulously up at him.

“What do you think you’re doing, oaf?” The man sneers.

“Move. Rachel and I need to catch up.” Telac says. “Besides, looks like she’s done talking with you. I’ve never seen her so bored.”

“I beg your pardon!?” The man splutters, his face going red. “Who the hell do you think you are!?”

“Get out of this chair.” Telac growls. “Or I’ll make you.”

The man puffs himself up with righteous indignation. “I’ll have you know that my father is the Mayor of Aldsville and you can’t-”

Telac raises his hand, his eyes flashing purple as he wreathes his hand in fire. The young man takes in the flickering flames, his words dying on his lips.

Telac waits for a moment but the young man just sits, transfixed by the blazing hand. A surge of anger rises within him, and this time he lets it.

A backhanded strike across the man's face sends him reeling. With a crash the chair and man both hit the ground, startling the tavern into silence. If that wasn’t enough, the man’s subsequent high-pitched scream was, as he writhed on the ground clutching at this burned face.

Telac releases his magic and bends down, his voice clear in the silence. “Run little boy, before I decide to finish the job.”

The man scrabbles to his feet and flees, banging into tables and people alike, Telac’s men’s jeers chasing him out. Turning to the girl sitting at the table, Telac lets his mouth curve up into a smirk.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now, Rachel. How about you show me some love, it’s been a whole year since our last… sweet encounter.” Her face goes white as Telac licks his lips, looking her up and down lecherously.

Striding around the table towards her, Telac grabs a chair, dragging it screeching across the ground. The rest of his men grab chairs from nearby people, laughing to one another as they shove the previous occupants to the ground. Rachel looks around in panic, but she is surrounded by Telac’s band on all sides. No escape.

Clattering of chairs sounds around the room as any remaining patrons quickly vacate the premises. Telac smiles widely and shuffles even closer to the girl, putting his arm around her and yanking her towards him as she recoils away.

“So tell me, Rachel, what are you doing chatting with a pansy like that boy?”

She doesn’t respond, her head bowed as she avoids the stares of the men surrounding her. Telac waits for a moment before grabbing her hair, yanking her head to put her ear next to his mouth.

“I asked you a question, girl. If you don’t want to answer I’m sure I can find more interesting things to do.” He sticks his tongue out and licks her ear sloppily.

Rachel shudders and quickly responds. “My dad wants me to marry, he’s the son of the Mayor from a town over.”

“You? Marry?” Telac sits back and laughs, releasing his grip in her hair. “I can’t be having that. Who will I visit when I come around each year?”

She whips her head around to stare at him.

“But I thought-”

“But I. But I.” Telac taunts. “No. You are mine. This village is mine. This entire damned province is mine.”

Rachel stares at him, dumbfounded. A single tear forms in her eye and begins to roll down her cheek.

Telac stares back at her, his smile widening. Eventually he looks away from her, staring across the room at where the innkeeper is cowering behind a long bar.

“Bring me some booze!” He shouts, kicking out at a chair and sending it clattering along the ground. His men guffaw and repeat the shout, banging on the table and floor noisily.

The innkeeper waves a serving girl over with a tray of drinks. The timid girl picks her way across the room and carefully places the tray on the table. One of the men takes the opportunity to grab her behind, making the girl let out a shocked yelp. With difficulty, she extracts herself from the groping hands, and dashes back to the kitchen.

Telac leans over to Rachel, putting his hand on her leg. She stiffens at the contact, her eyes going wide.

“You know, your father claimed the village didn’t have my taxes.” He says, slowly sliding his hand up to her thigh. “I’m sure that can’t be right though. It’s not like I ask for much.”

“W-well, the b-beasts-” She begins to stammer.

“Shh. Let's not insult me with excuses now.” He runs his hand between her thighs, ignoring her attempting to close her legs tighter. “I’m thinking if he doesn’t cover the rest then I may decide to make up the remainder by taking you. It’s about time you left this dump.”

He forces his hand up the rest of the way up between her legs. Rachel gasps and grabs at his wrist, trying to push him away as she squirms to turn herself from him.

“No please, please not here.” She begs, desperately trying to fight him off.

Telac pulls his hand back and brings it to his nose, taking a deep, loud sniff.

“Smells divine.” He says, making his men burst out into laughter.

Rachel sags as she is released, curling up and letting out a quiet sob.

Telac grabs one of the tankards and sits back, drinking deeply, and scans the room. Most of the villagers are studiously looking the other way, all except one woman at the other end of the room. She is sitting with two hooded figures, but she is ignoring her companions, instead glaring unblinkingly at him.