The Mark of the Beast: A Tale of Forbidden Trade

The Mark of the Beast: A Tale of Forbidden Trade

In the twilight of an age ruled by iron and fire, when kings bowed to the will of unseen hands, there existed a decree that bound the souls of men. No man, woman, or child could trade, barter, or claim their daily bread without bearing the sacred seal—a mark issued by the Holy Order. To refuse it was to embrace starvation, exile, or worse.




They called it the Marker, an insignia pressed upon the flesh or scribed upon parchment, dictating who was deemed worthy to partake in the marketplace. Without it, no grain could be purchased, no forge lit, no coin exchanged. It was the lifeblood of commerce, and it bore the weight of divine sanction.




But there were those who whispered in secret corners, those who traced their lineage not to emperors and popes, but to an older law—one written not by men but by the Almighty. They spoke of a warning from ancient prophecy, a passage from the sacred texts: He causes all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark… and that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark.




Among these was Elias the Smith, a man of iron will and faith. His hands had shaped weapons for warriors, tools for farmers, yet he refused to let them be bound by the Holy Order’s decree. The clerics had come to his forge, offering him the Marker, a seal that would allow him to work and trade without fear.




"Swear your allegiance, and the doors of prosperity will remain open to you," they promised.




Elias had read the Book of Revelation, had traced his fingers over the words that spoke of the Beast, of a system that would ensnare all mankind. And so, with fire in his eyes, he refused.




The punishment was swift. His home was branded with the sign of the outcast, his tools were seized, his name stricken from the rolls of the merchant’s guild. He was left to wander the outskirts of the city, where others like him had been cast—those who would not bow to the Order’s rule.




But the darkness of exile did not break them. Hidden beneath the ruins of an old temple, Elias and his brethren formed an underground network, a means to barter and sustain themselves outside the reach of the Holy Order’s law. They became a people of the shadows, trading goods in secret, surviving by faith and cunning.




Yet the Order would not stand for rebellion. The decree was strengthened: All who refuse the Marker shall be deemed heretics, enemies of peace, and dealt with accordingly.




The soldiers came at dawn, clad in black steel, eyes devoid of mercy. Elias stood at the mouth of the cavern, hammer in hand, as the final hour approached. He knew that death was certain, yet his soul remained untarnished.




"The Beast may take my flesh," he murmured, "but it shall not claim my soul."




The last thing he saw was the rising sun breaking over the hills, golden light spilling over the realm. And in that moment, he knew—the Beast’s reign would not last forever. A greater kingdom was coming, one where no man would need a mark to eat, trade, or live.




And so, in blood and fire, the war against the Beast began.