The round began with a decade of buildup. Justinian won the Apostolic Palace election and, ominously enough, completed the Manhattan Project (Thank the Spirits for his lack of Rocketry!). The Native Americans, meanwhile, sent offensive ordnance to Babylon and City Garrison Infantry to Tolosa:
(The Tolosa garrison is moused over, while our Stack of Doom is selected)
It was time to bring the hammer down. Diplomats were recalled from the embassies at Constantinople. All intercontinental passenger flights were suspended, to make the runways available for military use. Justinian was told, in no uncertain terms, that our years of uneasy peace had finally come to an end:
On the Tolosa front, the soldiers hunkered down, preparing for a long siege. In the south, meanwhile, Native American forces barreled into the Georgian mountains, prepared to strike at Byzantium's Slavic heartland.
Hannibal and Wang Kon were too busy preparing for their own clash to listen to Justinian's requests for aid in repulsing the invaders from across the seas. His entreaties did not fall completely on deaf ears, though:
The Zulu, seeing only the riches to be had in Europe and the Middle East, and paying little to no attention to their own lack of relevance in world affairs, jumped at the chance to join Justinian's "Coalition of the Willing." Unfortunately for them, they were the Micronesia of said coalition. They sent half a dozen Riflemen and a trio of Cavalry units to the gates of Babylon, whose Airport was a major troop depot at the time. Thank you for playing, Shaka.
Ragnar, meanwhile, sent his crack troops out in a very real bid to expand his European possessions:
Had Justinian followed through on his promise to reinforce Ragnar's efforts, Tolosa may well have fallen. Finding themselves alone, though, the Viking Infantry had only a scant few hours to reflect upon Byzantium's betrayal before they were pummeled by Bombers flying overhead from as far off as Britain. They were wiped out to a man in what came to be known as the Massacre of Fort Tolosa.
The Bull was pleased to hear that Europe had held as easily as it had, but he was greatly perturbed, as well. Where had Justinian's forces gone? A young lieutenant burst into his office with the news:
Word had come in that the Southern Army, bivouacking in an abandoned Holy Roman military base along the coast of the Caspian Sea, had come under a surprise assault from Justinian's combined forces. Michael Bull powered up the small radio sitting on his desk and listened intently to the confused chatter from half a world away. The Byzantine forces had extensive maps of the complex, and so the fortress walls were of little use. Yet, despite the size and desperation of the assault (eventually even crude Macemen threw themselves into the automatic weapons fire of American Infantry), it was repulsed with only minimal casualties. After the smoke had cleared (and The Bull allowed himself a silent fist pump in celebration), the soldiers credited their Guerilla training for their success. The Infantry had been educated in rapid movement through broken terrain, so that they could keep up with the Tanks in Russian hill country. This had the side benefit of making their stand in that old Fort wildly successful. Justinian's army was smashed. It was time to claim some territory.
In Tenochtitlan, the Eiffel Tower was finished shortly after the battle:
Construction had begun years before, but now, as Fredo Bull said at the Commemoration Ceremony (The Bull sent him out from Cahokia for the occasion), it would stand in remembrance of those who had given their lives in defense of the American way of life, and those who stood so bravely against the Byzantine Horde. More importantly than those stated platitudes, though, the building spread culture across the globe, allowing every man, woman, and child living under the Buffalo Flag to know the Native American way of life.
As the world watched solemn broadcasts of Fredo's speech, Michael set his plans into motion. First to fall was the traitorous city of Bibracte, which should have been taken in the war against Babylon:
A small contingent of the Babylonian heroes struck west to sack the Holy Roman city of Lagash:
Hammurabi's men drove Suleiman's Turks from the Indian heartland:
And the Scottish highlands were brought entirely under The Bull's control:
With Ragnar's stack already decimated, this lightning-quick culling of Justinian's vassals forced the Byzantine emperor to face the combined might of Native America and Babylon alone.
Justinian made a solid showing for himself. The Bull's focus on air power left the seas to the Byzantines. The resulting blockades cut off commerce to isolated coastal cities and forced anyone living off the sea to the brink of starvation. He even made a weak play on Portugal:
Had the Cavalry attacked directly from their Transports, the strike may even have succeeded. As things stood, though, they did little more than distract the Western European forces, keeping many of them from the assault on Prague.
Which is not to say that their assistance was necessary:
Of course, this merely conceded much of southern Italy to Hannibal's inexorable culture. But that will be a reckoning for another day.
By this point, the Babylonian army was able to claim its first real prize, the modern city of Antioch:
Later in the war, once Antioch was well away from the fighting, Michael Bull even visited the city to hear a mass in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. To hear its bells singing for his cause rather than Justinian's made his heart glad.
Wang Kon, seeing an opportunity to strike at the Khmer while The Bull was occupied in the west, took his chances:
He quickly overran Suryavarman's northern possessions and then entered into a stalemate with Native American Infantry in the eastern Chinese city of Navajo.
In 1760, a young student of Engineering in Tolosa, having seen firsthand the barricades and embankments built during the war, rose to prominence:
Combined with English Spies and the Scientists and Merchants of Hawkeye, he set into motion what will likely end up being Native America's final Golden Age.
By 1762, it was time to push the Vikings from their European foothold:
They were welcome to Scandinavia and the icy north.
Justinian, feeling a bit generous, opted to haul Wang Kon's butt out of the fire, rather than his own:
It ended up being a hollow gesture, though. Most of the world agreed to it, but Hannibal, smelling blood, defied the resolution and pressed his attack.
In 1764, Aachen fell, effectively exiling Charlemagne to Central Asia:
There was no Buddhist shrine. Rest assured that that will be a priority if a Great Prophet shows up anytime soon. You can also see that Ragnar completed Rock and Roll with Cahokia being one turn away. The extra gold is nice, but War Weariness is becoming tiresome, and so Ragnar has once again become a target.
With Wang Kon's peace resolution lying in tatters on the Apostolic floor, covered in Carthaginian bootprints, The Bull looked over his poll results and saw, plainly, that unrest over foreign wars was getting out of hand. It was a show of weakness, but it had to be done. He extended the olive branch to the Koreans:
The added gold was simply a bonus.
By this point, the war against Justinian had ceased to be a conflict and had become simple butchery:
It was a matter of slicing out the choicest cities at our leisure.
By this point, seeing the hornet's nest he had stirred up, Shaka asked for peace:
He was even willing to throw in the city of Zhou, on the southern tip of India.