Of Fates And Fetters Prologue

Good looks at clock m-morning? Is it still morning?
Good day!
Time to start posting my next story. I had originally planned to post this Friday, but work as it oft does worked against me, so I had to wait until today to put the finishing touches on this one.
If you can tell me what setting this story is based on without using google to find out, you get kudos.
That said, this is essentially closer to the novelization of the thing I always wanted but that was never made.
I'll post the Prologue and the three chapters I've got ready to go. Hopefully you lot will enjoy it.
And I commissioned art to act as a cover page! That too, is thanks to you lot.

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He watched, his stomach churning with dread and self disgust as the trebuchets launched their projectiles and two companies of men descended on the still sleeping town.
His men were the best trained in the Sandoran army, he was proud of their discipline as they followed his instructions, doing their best to incapacitate the town’s people who fought back rather than kill them outright.
They still killed some of them. The occasional retired soldier who had kept up his skills, a farmer with his grandfather’s spear who wounded one of his soldiers.
This was war, death was to be expected.
But, misguided as they were, these too were his people, and his men were dutiful enough to spare them the worst of the deprivations a victorious army often inflicted onto a conquered people, as was their right.
He scoffed in disgust as the man leading the second company he’d been forced to bring along for this tasteless incursion, failed to do the same. His only solace being that that rabble was not nearly so successful at fighting off those townspeople who stood up to them.
He rolled his shoulders, the plates of his armor clicking quietly against each other. His hand loosening his sword in its scabbard out of habit.
He often thought fondly of the times earlier in his service, when he was still spry enough to lead his men from the front, as was only proper. But for once, he took quiet solace that his age and status spared him the indignity he saw himself forced to inflict on his men.
One of his men, in their lighter mail and chestplate ran to him, past his guards, and saluted. “My Lord Commander! We have secured the woman!”
The Commander’s gauntlet fell to his belt pouch, feeling the stone that the Emperor had given him. “Take me to her.”
He followed after his soldier, his guards falling into step behind him. The town began to smell of smoke as the other company set fire to it, the glare of the flames banishing the gloom of the early morning with their bale illumination.
Such needless excess, he’d make a report to the emperor.
Hopefully, this time the Emperor would read it.
He was pulled from his musings as he was taken to a girl just in the cusp of womanhood, her beauty evident even in the low light. She was tied securely, and struggled in her bonds with near rabid fervor.
One of his men was sitting nearby, he’d taken his helmet off to press a bloody cloth to his face.
“Our guest’s handiwork?” The Commander asked.
“Yes Lord.” Said the runner who fetched him, his voice filled with begrudging admiration. “She was…impressive, in the struggle she put up.”
He knelt by her head, her struggles redoubling. He fished the gem the Emperor had given him out of his belt pouch and said. “For what little worth you will find in it. You have my apologies for what has been done.”
The girl glared at him.
He held the stone over her, the clouds parted in a perfect circle directly above him, the light of the greatest moon shining down on him.
The girl’s eyes became glassy and her struggles immediately ceased. The gem shone, its glow intensifying until he could feel scalding heat through his gauntlet. A beam of shining silver light shot out of the gem, striking the girl on the forehead, yet leaving no mark.
The light remained for interminable seconds before dimming. The gem once again becoming naught more than a sphere of crystal.
“We have found her.” The Commander said as he levered himself to his feet with a quiet sigh. He felt sorry for the child, but he had his orders. “Sound the retreat.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The soldier said and ran off to deliver his orders.
He looked down at the girl, and for the fleetest instant, he considered cutting her bonds and throwing himself at whichever of his men would not join him in mutiny.
“You have done well, Commander.”
His hand was holding the hilt of his sword without conscious thought. His guards had drawn steel. But they all stopped themselves attacking the man wearing the black and silver cloak.
It would not do to attack the Emperor’s favored advisor.
He turned to look at the man’s pale, chiseled chin, the only part of his face not obscured by the shade cast by his cloak, he gestured at the burning town around them. “Was this all truly necessary just to capture one girl?”
“This was commanded by his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Doel.” The Advisor said, the tilt of his head indicating he was studying their captive.
“Who is she?” He demanded.
“That is not your concern.” The Advisor said, turning his back on the Commander. “You have your orders.”
He looked down at the girl, her eyes blinking as light returned to them.
The thought of mutiny flitted across his mind once again before he ruthlessly crushed it.
He had his orders.