A Tryst with Destiny

I think I'll sit the whole minster thing out here.

On the proposals of Amatya Buddhagupt :

On the proposal to cut research funding to the point of profitability, I give unconditional ratification .

On the proposal for disbanding of mercenary companies, I give no ratification as this point is now moot. As per our agreement with the Persian king, we have pledged these mercenaries to the Persian war effort, they shall be lent to the Persians. Their upkeep is no longer our headache.


On the proposals of Amatya Chanak II :

I give my unconditional ratification on all proposals made.


On the proposals of Amatya Gyananand :

I give my unconditional ratification on all proposals made. However, I would remind the amatya, that we presently have 8 worker guilds present who more than satisfy our immediate needs. Avanti has already had a harbor built, centuries ago by Pradyota kings, and the same functions till today.

It is also the ancestral seat of my house and I would like to see it develop further.


On the proposals of Raja Perun Gilli :

I give my unconditional ratification to all the proposals made.


On the proposals made by Senapati Dushyant :

I give my unconditional ratification to all the proposals made. I also allow his request to transfer control of the emissary to Europa to the control of Amatya Chanak II .


Thus, I, samrat Mallakarni, first of his name, Third of the Satavahan dynasty, emperor of Bharata, give my ratifications.

Thank you graceful leader of our Indian Empire.

What's the status of the Second Greco-Persian War? For instance, what cities are currently being besieged?

@Atlantic Pacf. : I have already played out the next update and implemented the minister's proposals. During the course of the update, The Greeks and Persians maintained a de-facto ceasefire, the Greek army at Seleukeia Sushana did not move out of there, the Persian army was greatly depleted fighting off Greek hoplites. Only a small garrison of 2 archers remain in Persepolis and 2 archers in Artaxatra. however, the Greeks themselves were invaded by an overwhelming force of Romans who took out both Sparte and Athenai. The state of war remains between both sides.

I say we team up with the Romans in the future. Everyone knows about their legendary rivalry with Persia.

adhiraj.bose said:

I'd like someone to help me with modding barb spawns. The triremes in the Arabian sea makes sense, but the elephant barbs spawning randomly around East and South India doesn't. I'd like to stop these spawning rather than have to worldbuilder them out every time. Also there is no room for barb 'parthian horse archers' spawning in Iran when the Parthians actually rule it .

Click to expand...

Perhaps give the Parthian Horse Archers to the Parthians. Seems like VGL could use 'em.

As for the elephants, I guess those were meant to be the Tamils, but since the Tamils are now their own civ, then it doesn't make sense to keep 'em. It doesn't help that they make the UHV harder than it needs to.

Samrat Satakarni ruled for 50 years. Before dying, he left a vast realm stretching from Gandhar to Chola Nadu. For the first time in its history, Bharatvarsha was united under the rule of Magadh. Acharya Chanakya Vishnuputa's dream was fulfilled at long last. With peace and unity achieved, the new Satavahan Dynasty would have to rebuild the bleeding realm. In this task, Samrat Satakarni had left an untrained and inexperienced emperor on the throne but at the same time, left an able ministerium and a political system where the emperor's capability or incapability would not bring down the realm. The task of taking forward the united realm would thus fall upon the shoulders of the ministers of Magadh.

Senapati Dushyant was the commander-in-chief of the armed forces of the empire, he initiated military reforms with a view towards the needs of peacetime. The army of Magadh stationed in the South would now be transferred to the North where it would be rebuilt and replenished as a more potent fighting force. Similarly, the garrisons of Takshashila, Herat and Pataliputra were altered and expanded. The Army of Magadh was now stationed in the Western border at Takshashila.



Amatya Gyananand as the minister of domestic affairs, was tasked with overseeing the developments of the various provinces. All provinces but that of Chola Nadu were under his administration. In this time of peace, it made no sense to devote precious resources to training elephant divisions. Samrat Salisuka's military projects were thus disbanded in favor of building projects.



The frontier cities of Avanti and Herat were set to building barracks and military infrastructure owing to their roles as poor frontier provinces. In this, the senapati cooperated with the minister for domestic affairs to strengthen to defense of the frontiers. The prosperous cities of the mainland, in the provinces of Kuru, Matsya, Kashi and Magadh were set on a new course that befit its position in the empire. Takshashila built grand religious works while Indraprasth, with its productive base was set to finish an armored elephant division, then set to building public works. Kashi, the centre of the brahminical wisdom and the nerve centre of the vedic faith, continued to build the monumental project initiated by Samrat Satakarni. The first temple in the grand temple complex was already completed, now thirty more grand temples would be constructed sourcing marble from the province of Matsya.



The grand capital of Pataliputra was the leading cultural and commercial centre of the empire. It was geared towards enhancing commercial and cultural activities, led on by the priesthood who worked with the support of the state.

Lastly, road connectivity was enhanced between the far flung provinces of Avanti and Gandhar. Herat was at last connected to the mainland via roadway and its diamond mines opened for mining.




While the ministers administered their realms ably, Raja Perun Gilli steered his people. The Tamils were no longer an independent people, but subjugated to the suzerainty of the north. Kanchipuram, the former capital of the Cholas, was by treaty the domain of the Chola kings for a hundred years. This much, Samrat Satakarni had accorded to them. It meant the kings at least would live with the dignity of kings, though the Tamil population never truly forgave the conquering northern armies. However, there was peace, however superficial and temporary it may be. This allowed raja perun gilli to commission religious and cultural works.



Whilst the North was under the firm grasp of the brahmins, the South was still Buddhist. Samrat Satakarni's edict forbidding the building of any more Buddhist monasteries or temples, and the closure of state funded maths caused a degree of resentment among the people. Avanti was the most cultured of the Buddhist centers in the South, where the local maths enjoyed state patronage under the Mauryan emperors, but now the maths were closed and with it development of Buddhist culture and religion in the region.

The realm was at peace after years of bloodshed and turmoil. There were no enemies within or without. The great cities of Bharatvarsha prospered and grew large again. But where there was peace in Bharata, war loomed large over Europa and the Persia.

In this complex time, Amatya Chanak II held administer the foreign affairs of our realm. After two decades of war, the realm required time to heal. It was not in our interest to commit ourselves to Persia's losing war with the Yavanas. Likewise, it was not for us to determine the outcome of the Yavana's own war with their Roman cousins. In Samrat Satakarni's last act, he committed three mercenary companies to the war effort of the Parthians. This would aid their war efforts greatly against their Western foes.



The path for the future was laid down by Amatya Chanak II, where we would trade technological know how and keep friendly relations with the Chinese to the East and the Romans to the West, while retaining our special relation with the Parthians.

Events would test our resolve as karmic justice befell the once conquering Yavana people.



A massive army of Praetorians landed on the Western coastal city of Sparte. The Yavanas who committed their best troops to fight and subjugate the Persian people could not withstand the Roman assault. Soon after Sparte fell, a weakly defended Athenai followed. It was now the turn of the arrogant sons of Alakshendra to know how it feels to have one's homeland conquered and subjugated by a foreign army. To watch their sons and daughters killed and ravaged by a plundering horde, their cities burnt and their monuments desecrated.

It was not without reason that the proud emperor of the once mighty Yavanas had his emissary beg on his knees before the emperor of Magadh.



"Your eminence!" the emissary said, "Our people are at the mercy of the Roman legions, city after city, isle after isle falls to their might. Our people, our culture, our faith, and most importantly, our pride lies in ruin. It is in the worst of times, that proud Greece stands before you begging on its knees, to help us in our fight against the Romans."

Samrat Mallakarni stood up, for a moment there was silence. The emperor looked into the emissary's eyes with indignation and disapproval. "Two centuries ago, your people had come to eastern lands, laid waste to empires, destroyed the culture of many people. You had no shame in claiming a false superiority in subjugating them. Neither did you have any shame in continuing your subjugation of them. When the Persians revolted to take back what was rightly theirs, your armies waged war to crush them and continue to deprive them of the independence that is their right. You who are unjust, now face the very injustice that you had meted out for two centuries. For what reason then, can you claim to ask the support of Bharata ? My father, samrat Satakarni supported the war of the Parthians against your hordes, and which I too continue to support that righteous war. Count your days Yavan, till you meet your enslavement". The samrat then ordered the Greek emissary to be dismissed, yet he would not leave the court, he had to be dragged out back to his chambers in the imperial palace. It seemed as though the great empire of Alakshendra was crumbling to an ignominious end.

There are some IMG and SPOILER tags unused, and some imgur links not properly set.

I think I may do your map in the next hours. If I can't then I'll only be able to continue the work later today.

If you can fix those I think I'll have more pics to work with right? I'll start in a few mins your map.

Amatya Buddhagupt had finished most of his tasks for the day. When evening came, he decided to close his office for the remainder of the day and return to his manse. For some days he had been examining certain records from the time of Samrat Ashok. The records were ledger records retrieved from earlier finance minister and he in turn had received them from his predecessor.

They were simple ledger records and no one thought to give much thought to encrypting specific codes hidden within the entries. Amatya Buddhagupt however, being a student of linguistics and learned in Panini's theories of grammar, decided to unravel the mysteries of the code. "Why must you waste your time with these parchments? What good are they?" his wife asked "Thats the question isn't it ? We don't know. There are so many mysteries in this world Sarada, and this is one of the more stranger ones. I believe I am already close to understanding these entries and soon, the mystery would be revealed".

Indeed, he was close to breaking the code. Samrat Ashok was a truly lager than life character, and it was but natural for such a great man to have more legends and rumors being weaved around him. One of such rumors, was the creation of a secret society of scientists and philosophers who had unravelled the greatest mysteries of the universe and would protect and preserve this knowledge for the ages. It was rumored that the immortal scribe had overseen their formation. For Amatya Buddhagupt though, these were just rumors. He like most in Magadh and Bharata, had dismissed them off hand. That was until later that night.

It was unusual for anyone to stay awake beyond the sunset, but that night, Amatya Buddhagupt had stayed awake till beyond midnight. His wife and son had pleaded him to rest, but there was no stopping the Amatya. Hours after hours he spent in translating and double checking his conclusions. The Amatya's face grew pale with fear. He had revealed something which he refused to believe, "No there must be a mistake, this can't be ... right. This place does not exist!"

The Amatya hurriedly changed his clothes and made for the Mahabodhi shrine to meet the eldest mahant there. Unlike some of his colleagues, he had shunned the glamor and wealth that came to the sangh after Samrat Samprati's time. He lived in a modest thatched hut within the compound of the Mahabodhi. Amatya Buddhagupt found his way through the compound to reach the Mahant's hut. "Mahant Yogesh! Mahant Yogesh !" The amatya knocked on the wooden doors of his hut and took his name in a hushed voice.

"Amatya Buddhagupt... what brings you here so late at night ? .. you look pale like you've seen a ghost.." The Amatya was breathing heavily, he was visibly unnerved. "Mahant Yogesh... I have uncovered something which I refuse to believe" "What is this you carry?" the mahant's attention went to the sack he came with, from which a few wooden scrolls protruded out. The Amatya took out the ledgers, and explained in great detail his recent discovery. The mahant was an aged man, some said he was over two hundred years old, and he claimed to have lived through the time of Samrat Ashok. Regardless of whether these claims were true or false, he was considered one of the few authorities on the history of the Mauryan empire.

"If what you say is true, then it is indeed a fantastic discovery.. and a dangerous one. We must ensure this truth remains buried in the sands of time. The only way to do this, is to find out this truth ourselves and see an end to it. It is good that you came to me Amatya" the mahant rose up, and walked slowly to a great chest which lay in a corner of his hut. After opening it, he took out a sheepskin parchment "This is an old map of Pataliputra, it has remained a secret with me for all this time. I have succeeded in keeping this hidden from prying eyes, but now I am giving it to you." The mahant handed the rolled up parchment to the amatya "Don't let it fall to the wrong hands".

When the Amatya unrolled the parchment, he could see the markings which indicated the palace of Pataliputra, the central garden, the Maha Bodhi and the surrounding fortifications of the city. The river Son to the South and the river Ganga flowing north of it. Beyond these were markings he had never seen in any map ever made. One of these markings which lay roughly a dozen leagues North East of the main city beyond its fortified walls and on the banks of the Ganga was marked "Ashoka's hell".

listen to this music when reading from the third paragraph onwards


Link to video.

Great chapter adhiraj! Best quality as usual. Also, thanks for making that paper on the current in-game dynasties! I just saw it and thought it was cool.

The young man, half-naked, his garments torn and tattered, his hair matted, his feet calloused, was dragged into the palace in chains. His condition contrasted with the room around him. The throne room was palatial. Each square centimeter was decorated with either a precious metal, a precious stone, or an ornate carving. The two soldiers bringing him in were decorated in a similar matter. The man could only guess, then, what the Emperor wore; he kept his eyes on the red silken carpet, not even daring to make eye contact with the most powerful man on the planet.

"Who do we have here?" Samrat Mallakarni asked as the prisoner was brought to him. Mallakarni looked down at the prisoner, then at his soldiers. "Surely, you could've dressed him. You could've combed his hair and repaired his wounds. But no, you decided me to bring this stranger in the most unclean form possible! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

The man, his neck straining from having to look down, was worried. A little comfort could be found in that the Emperor's harsh, frigid words were not directed towards him. But at any moment, they could.

Mallakarni readjusted himself in his throne. He clapped twice. At once, from two rear doors came two people, one from each door. One was one of the most distinguished scholars on the history of Bharat, known in his foreign tongue as William Sayer. The other was one of the most trusted spies of Bharat, Nicholas Bionat. Both took positions at the side of the Emperor, and stood, at ease, until further instructions.

"But I digress," the Emperor said to the soldiers. "Where did you find this man?"

"He was wandering in a village on the banks of the River Vitasta," the soldier to the Emperor's left said. "The villagers said that he appeared out of nowhere; there was just air where he was, then he materialized."

"He speaks a very strange form of the local language," the other soldier continued. "It is, save for some words, utterly unintelligible with what the locals speak."

"Interesting," the Emperor said. "Nikōlasa!" the Emperor said as he turned around, referring to the spy in Sanskrit. "I wish for you to translate whatever I say and whatever the stranger says. If you can, please inform me of the dialect he speaks."

"Your request is my command, my liege," Nicholas said.

The Emperor looked back at the man. "Tell me, what is your name, and what language do you speak?" Realizing that not even Nicholas knew what language the man spoke, he hastily pantomimed speaking by pointing to his mouth and letting it open and close.

The man was unsure of what to say. He knew that the Emperor wanted to say something, but he did not want to anger him by something inadvertently inappropiate.

"Cagī savēra nū, mērē samarāṭa," he stammered, after a good minute of thinking and sweating.

"He means 'Good morning, my emperor," Nicholas said.

"Well, that was a response," the Emperor said. "Tell me, Nikōlasa, what tongue does this man converse in?"

"He converses in a language called Punjabi," Nicholas replied. "It is a modern language, spoken in the area known tautologically as Punjab."

"Never heard of it," Mallakarni said. "But you do understand this 'Punjabi,' right?"

"Yes, as I do all Indo-Aryan language of all times."

"And the man is from the future, right?"

"Yes, apparently," Nicholas replied.

"Ah, so this is the third visitor from the times untouched. I wish to ask him his name. I also wish to inform him that he may look at me."

"Okay," Nicholas said. He turned to the man, and switched from Sanskrit to modern Punjabi. "Tuhānū samarāṭa'tē vēkha sakadē hō. You may look at the Emperor."

The man looked up, and saw the Emperor's face. It was as decorated as he predicted. It appeared that the Emperor was not about to slay him at any moment; he had a look of genuine curiosity. That, and the fact that his neck muscles were in a more comfortable position, relieved him a bit.

"Tuhāḍā nāma kī hai?" Nicholas continued. "What is your name?"

"Mērā nāma sāhiba kapūra hai, para mainū taka am, jithē, mainū sēbāsiyana dē taura tē jāṇi'ā hai. My name is Sahib Kapoor, but where I am from, I am known as Sebastian."

"Sebastian, hmm," Nicholas mused to himself. "Ākhō, tuhānū agarēzī gala karadē hō? Say, do you speak English?"

Sebastian was genuinely surprised. Here he was, in ancient or medieval India, speaking a form of Sanskrit equally as old - dang, now I lament neglecting my study of Sanskrit - and there was this guy speaking English. Then again, he thought, perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. Since when did Indians have blond hair and blue eyes? And this guy speaks modern Punjabi perfectly! Why should English get special treatment?"

"Yes, I do speak English," Sebastian replied in the language.

"I see," Nicholas said, in English as well. He turned back to the Emperor and returned to using Sanskrit. "As you see, he is definitely a person from my time period. From the accent alone, he comes from the state known as America, a state that will not exist until around seventeen centuries into the future. I would not be surprised if he was immortal as well."

"Very well then," Mallakarni said. "I hope that he would, as you and your friend are, be a productive and important part of Bharat. Since you three are from the future, perhaps it would be good to have a conversation just among you three?"


The three men occupied a round table in a windowless room. It was lit by a couple candles, but due to the gold foil being such a prominent part of the ornamentation, the room was surprisingly bright.Two guards, both trained by Nicholas to understand English, were posted at the door, mostly to make sure that nobody was plotting anything. William and Nicholas were in the same fancy clothes as before, while Sebastian got a new set of clothes to match that of the others. He also got his hair untangled and his uncleanness removed.

"So, what are your occupations now?" Sebastian asked, twiddling his thumbs. "And what were your occupations in the future. Well, I meant what 'will' be your occupations. Gee-whiz, time travel makes tenses confusing."

"I'll start. Currently, I work for the government as a historian. I chronicle the achievements and failures of both the current Satavahana dynasty and the previous dynasties, going back as far as two thousand years ago. Hopefully, I'll be remembered as one of the founders of history, just as Herodotus and Thucydides were for the Greeks. It actually worked out well because I held a master's degree in history in my past - future? - life, though in American history, not Indian. But the methodology remains the same; I use evidence - mainly writings in this context, but in other subfields archaeology and oral histories count as well - and interpret them in order to construct a narrative."

"Cool," Sebastian said. "What aspect of American history did you major in?"

"The history of American race relations; I'm sorry that I left that out. Which brings me up another point. As I was completing my master's degree, I dabbled in writing. When I finished it, and found out that history was - er, will not - be the greatest field in terms of employment prospects, I decided to become a full-blown writer. Hate to admit it, but that didn't pan out very well."

"Sad to hear that," Sebastian said. "And what about you, Nick?"

"Ah, I went to the same school as Bill here, but we went on wildly diverging paths. While he cooped himself up into the ivory tower, I became an Olympic sport shooter. Won two gold medals. Also somewhat of a survivalist; after I retired from sport shooting, I went to Siberia and lived alone in a cabin."

"That's actually very cool! Are you a soldier here now?"

"Well, mostly I work in the bureaucracy with Bill, writing reports and copying stuff. But whenever I can, I go out and hone my shooting skills. And sometimes, I do go out and do soldier stuff."

"Like what?"

"That's a state secret," Nicholas said.

"So, what was, or will be, your occupation?" William asked.

"Editor of the New York Daily News," said Sebastian.

"The New York Daily News? The tabloid?"

"Hey, that offends me!"

"Okay, okay, okay. Let's not get tensions too high right? *Nicole sucks.*"

"Oh, you can do better than that!" Nicholas said. "Back on topic. Did anyone else castigate you for being part of such a fine establishment?"

"Not really," Sebastian said. "Actually had a decent living before the apocalypse."

"Wait, the apocalypse?"

"Yeah, the nuclear apocalypse. I don't think that you lived far enough into the future to experience it?"

"Um," William stammered, "what year were you whisked away from?"

"Year? 1961."

"What, 1961?" William and Nicholas looked at each other nervously. "I'm pretty sure that the world didn't end in a nuclear fireball in 1961," Nicholas said.

"Yeah, are you from an alternate universe where you goaded Kennedy and Khrushchev into firing their missiles?"

"Um, I think we have a misunderstanding here?" Sebastian said, trying to defuse the tensions. "Okay, let me ask you guys, what year were you guys from?"

"2014," William said.

"No wonder," Sebastian said. "And I suppose that the world was all fine and cheesy for you all?"

"Yep," William said.

"I guess that settles it," Nicholas added. "You were from one universe; we're from another."

"Alternate universe," Sebastian said. "And I thought that time travel was confusing enough?"

"Well, the many worlds hypothesis is a popular 'theory' out there to explain the true nature of time travel these days," William said. "I guess that all this time travel messed up the space-time continuum and managed to make Kennedy and Khrushchev send missiles flying at each other."

"I'm actually somewhat lost," Sebastian said. He readjusted himself in his wooden chair. "Who's Kennedy and Khrushchev."

"Wait, so you're not from 1961?" William asked.

"Well, I came from the year 1961; the nuclear war started in 1960. American society collapsed in 1959, or so they said. I presume that the guys you're talking about got killed in the nuking."

"Perhaps," William said. "Though you probably should know Khrushchev, if the Soviet Union existed in your universe. He became General Secretary in 1953."

"It's so sad that your world ended in 1960," added Nicholas. "Now you'll never see the glory that is Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove."

"Did you mention Dr. Strangelove?" Sebastian asked. "He was the guy who brought me back to life - yeah, I died from drinking irradiated water, then I came back to life - and time-travelled me."

"Dr. Strangelove is real in your universe?" William asked, shocked. "Man, this is just super-crazy!"

"Oh, shut up Bill," Nicholas said, his face red. "You never watched the damn movie!" He turned back towards Sebastian. "I'm sorry. It's just that this numbskull here doesn't know true art when he sees it."

"It's okay," William said. "It's one of those things between us. So Strangelove is to you as the blue-robed wizard was to us. Dunno how that would go but meh. Did he grant you a wish? My wish was for this massive pile of wealth the wizard promised, which he never gave me. Nicole's wish is to be able to speak every language out there. Considering that he can speak all the Indo-Aryan languages, and that he already knows English, Filipino, and Russian, I say that's a decent compromise."

"He did, actually," Sebastian said. "He promised to bring my wife - who killed herself as the apocalypse was going on - back to life, and for her to become young and whole again - she was disabled during a shooting during her teenage years. And- wait."

"Let me guess, your wife's not here," Nicholas said.

"That bastard!"

Nice story

Am I alive?

She could feel the warmth of the sun, the tingling sensation of the dirt under her back, the dampness of each tiny droplet of dew on her hair. She slowly moved her right hand across the ground, to feel each individual pebble, each singular clod of dirt. An ant walked on her right ring finger; she could feel it moving its tiny feet up the finger, then it pausing, then it coming back down on the ground.

I am alive.

She knew that she could move her right hand; she tried her left. It works. She moved it onto her body. She was wearing some sort of light fabric, she discovered.

Eyes next, she thought. She opened them. The brightness was overwhelming. She could barely see anything. She shut her eyes immediately. But she didn't care.To see light after an eternity of death was a spectacle in and of itself.

A chilly breeze flowed down the plain. It's cold, she thought. Warmth, then cold. She sat up. She could feel her hair flutter in the wind. She touched it. Wet. She brought one of her long curls around her face to her nose. She sniffed it. Rosewater.

She tried to open her eyes again, even slower than last time. One by one, she could make out the trees, the clouds, and the hills in the distance. She could make out the rays of the sun. Sounds too, became clearer. The chirps of birds, the sounds of her breathing, the pitter-patter of insect footsteps. Strangely enough, one thing she did not hear was the chatter of others.

Another breeze. Colder. So cold, in fact, that she curled herself into a fetal position.

Wait. She noticed something. She tried to wiggle her toes. They wiggled. She then moved her right foot forwards and back, then her left. She started to smile.

Yet another breeze. It did not feel cold this time, however. She was too busy playing with her liberated legs to notice. Forwards, back, left, right.

She decided to stand up. Little by little, she placed her right foot under her, then tried to extend her right leg. First time, she fell, face first. The metallic taste of the dirt was her second feel of gustation, after that of her saliva, in this brave new life.

Second time. Steady, steady. Right leg. Then left leg. She wobbled. Yet she persevered. She steadied herself, then she stopped wobbling. She is standing.

Walking. The next logical development. She outstretched her arms. Right foot first. The wobbling returns. She lifted her right leg, her knee locked. Out of balance. Catching herself, she put her foot down. She tried again. This time, she kept her knee bent. Up. She lifted her right leg. Forwards. She brought it forwards. Down. She placed it down. The the same thing happened with her left leg. Up, forwards, down.

And thus she played out Arianne's first new day. By sunset, despite spending the majority of her life paralyzed, the ability to walk had returned. Her gait was somewhat stiff, but it was enough. Happy and laughing, she, through this literal miracle, could live a new life, unhindered by the tragedies and terrors of the old.

Or so she thought.


Author's Suggestion: Listen to this as you read

Lucius Mummius Achaicus was happy. As the commander of the Roman force in Greece, he knew that he was making history. In front of him was Athens, the greatest of the Greek city states, the city of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, the birthplace of Western democracy. It was the juiciest of the fruits on the Hellenic tree. And it was Rome's to take. Once this battle is over, Rome's power would be unmatched by no other.

Of course, these were but abstract ideals. What really drove him to happiness was his insatiable desire to fight. And not just to fight, but to massacre. It did not matter if his victim was a soldier of equal strength or skill or a crying helpless toddler. Each brought the same amount of joy and euphoria into his heart. Honor was not something he prioritized; though he had to pay lip service to it, on the ground, it was yet another useless abstract idea.

And what was to stop Mummius? He had already taken Sparta, the apotheosis of military might. The men there were famous for spending their entire lifetimes training in legendarily hellish conditions, from childhood. Even the babies were left to die if they were deemed to weak. It was not limited to Spartan men either; the women were to be strong in order to give birth to strong children. It was shameful for a Spartan to not die in battle (if a man) or in childbirth (if a woman). What chance did the decadent Athenians have?

And so the Battle of Athens commenced. As soon as the walls were broken, Mummius shouted to his comrades, indicating to them to enter the gaping hole. Waiting for them was the citizen militia of Athens. They were brave, but they were doomed. The militia had some soldiers clad in full armor and equipped with high-quality weapons. Most were just farmers or such who grabbed whatever they could in order to save their city - hoes, clubs, even wine jugs. Predictably, they were overwhelmed and massacred by the well-armed legionaries who stormed the hole.

Good, Mummius thought as his men cleared the initial hurdle. But it was not the end. Snipers, armed with arrows and rocks, were plentiful on the rooftops. The deadly rain did not stop just because their ground comrades died.

"What are we going to do?" a legionnaire next to Mummius asked. In a stroke of extraordinarily bad luck, an arrow pierced the man's neck; he fell to the ground, withering.

"I know what we're going to do," Mummius said as his subordinate laid dying. "It was done in Carthage; the Carthagenians too resorted to cowardly 'tactics' such as hiding in the roofs of their pathetic buildings. And Scipio Aemilianus knew how to deal with them."

"Men," he shouted to his soldiers, "we're taking the roofs!" He then ran towards and through the fallen wall, where the action was, leaving the fallen man behind to choke on his own blood.

As good soldiers did, Mummius's legionaries obeyed his command. In a brutal form of urban warfare, the soldiers fought their way into the Athenian buildings. Progress was slow and bitter, despite the material disadvantage the Athenians had. Gains would be made room by room; fighting would be done in the bedroom as the kitchen was secured. In many buildings, blood pooled until it created a crimson sheen on the floor, dripping down from stairs and windows.

None of the men were to be spared; women and children would be taken prisoner to a life of eternal servitude. That is, if they did not resist; even the slightest hint of such resistance (in some cases just raising an eyebrow) could result in a quick death. That is, if the legionnaire was nice to his victims. Many, including Mummius, were quite skilled in the dark art of mortally injuring people in ways that induce slow, painful deaths.

Fighting dragged from sunrise to sunset to the next sunrise. In order to maintain morale and energy, Mummius made his men fight in shifts, ensuring an endless stream of misery and terror onto the Athenians. The darkening of the skies were thus in no power to diminish the potency of the Roman legions; if anything, it made the terror more visible, literally. The spectacle of houses going up in flames as soon as the people in them were liquidated, with the blue of night as an otherwise serene backdrop, was indeed something to behold. The sounds of the night were nothing to sneeze at either. The screams of people running around in the streets, as they were lit ablaze accidentally or deliberately, or as they lost their limbs, or as they saw their entire social circle slaughtered in one fell swoop, was comparable to the imagery in terms of magnitude and shock.

By dawn, it was clear that the Athenians had lost. With a heavy heart, the commander of the Athenian forces came out of hiding in order to beg for a surrender. Mummius agreed to these terms. Athens, or what was left of it, would be placed under Roman rule, ruled by a governor appointed by Rome. Meanwhile, many Athenians would face the prospect of either being forced into slavery or the prospect of being executed. Perhaps in time, Athens would regain its position as one of the leading cities in the West, even if it was to be eternally submissive to Rome. That, however, was clearly a long-term proposition.

And thus ended the Battle of Athens. Mummius, after leaving a Roman garrison behind, continued to trek northwards, in order to subjugate additional towns and city-states. An astute man, he noticed that many of the farms were abandoned; all the people fled to Athens in order to barricade themselves and not be subjected to the whims of the pillage-happy Romans. In many respects, Mummius felt quite disturbed by the sheer lack of locals, as if he stepped onto another planet.

Of course, the fields were not completely abandoned. Mummius, being the sharp eye he was, noticed a girl frolicking up on yonder hills. Feelings boiled in his stomach. One of them was the piercing shock of there being anyone out there, let alone this free-spirited lady. On the other hand, there was the feeling of anger, that he had failed to subjugate everyone and everything in the area, that there were some things that he had failed to spot and thus remained outside of his control.

"Listen," Mummius confided with some of his cavalry. "See that girl up there? Bring her to me. Now."

"Yes sir," the commander of the cavalry said. Immediately, they charged up the hills and rode half a mile to where she was standing. The girl, noticing the angry horsemen, started to run in a rather awkward fashion. However, even an Olympic runner would not be able to escape the clutches of the horsemen. The girl tripped and fell, the horsemen surrounded her, and Mummius cracked a broken smile.

OT:

@Caterpillar

I think this is a nice example of what I was saying on baseballpie's story:

The young man, half-naked, his garments torn and tattered, his hair matted, his feet calloused, was dragged into the palace in chains.

This is just the first phrase and yet all underlined words either I don't know or I'm not used at all:

garments - I guess this has something to do with clothing (many rpgs use that word so I'm almost sure I'm correct);

torn - I have seen this word many times before but never truly checked its meaning. It seems to be something related to cut, slice, destroyed, split, a lion scratch would sure torn your clothes, if not torn yourself too;

tattered - I have no idea. By the context it must have something to do with his destroyed clothes;

matted - Never seen this word before. I have no idea about its meaning and the context couldn't give me any hint besides that this is proper to someone chained (so surely isn't a beautiful and stylish hair);

calloused - Never seen this before too. But it reminds me Calo in portuguese that means exactly a problem you have in your feet (or another part of the body) when they were excessively used. They get bigger, red or even brown and it hurts a little.


Now going to google translator I see I was right in garments and torn. Tattered indeed means destroyed clothes, like if you get your shirt and put one half of it to pass through a "paper slicer" (I have no idea if you have a name for that machine). That would result in a tattered shirt. Matted is the same as tangled by the translator, and I know the word tangled (although not for hair, but many games use that word). And finally calloused indeed is the state where you're with at least one callus (calo in portuguese).

So for understanding I'm ok, but for writing I'm not. Because all those words in portuguese are part of my common vocabulary, but in english they aren't. So if I truly want to write interesting stories I'm forced to go to the translator all the time. And even though this can't solve many problems because as I'll have to think in portuguese to write, the phrasal structure in portuguese is completely different from english in some cases, and this the translator can't really help me. E.g. Adjectives normally come after the noun, while in english they normally come before it.

This is frustrating TBH. So the best I can do now is to read a lot in english, and read things with interesting words like the text where I got this example. I'm not really complaining here, I just wanted to bring this back because the example was so perfect that I couldn't resist explaining this.

@adhiraj
Sorry for the Off-Topic adhiraj. BTW I have just got back home and I'll finish your map and send you by PM.

The paper slicer is just called paper shredder Nothing fancy Tattered doesn't necassarly mean shredded, in this case I suppose it does, it just means they are ripped and are often called rags at this point. You could theoretically do a Portuguese story (or Brazil just don't copy mine ) and do what adhiraj is doing and show your knowledge of the history of the nation and its language and be all fancy and stuff But I do understand. At least Portuguese is a European language like English so there are more similarities than Hindi and English or Mandarin (Chinese) and English or whatever.