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"They're inside the First Wall" came the cry, and all turned their eyes as the Makedonians stormed through the west gate, as they have done to Troy over a century ago. All turned their eyes as the Makedonians poured through the streets of Byzantinos, pushing away all defenses and slaughtering the innocent where they might find them.
Yet, even as hundreds of the barbarians milled into the West District, thousands of his loyal troops rallied behind the Second Wall. Justinian smiled, their success is merely a footnote in his own.
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"Tell me again... tell me about their true nature" whispered a hooded man. Even then, his beard flowed out of his featureless visage and over his robe.
"They are demons, they are devils, they are abominations" answered a voice, a voice slick with hatred. "They fight to destroy the truth, while we fight to preserve it. "
Silence. Outside, men grew uneasy. The balance of times; the Zirilist attack on his home, the slavers, and battles and defeats.
And yet here, the same story is repeated.
"Shall you join us?" asked the voice in the darkness.
"We are brethern" replied the bearded figure, "And we shall unite under the faith and sword against them."
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Once, he would think himself lucky to be called "Chief" by a thousand warriors.
Yet now, ten thousand voices lift outside his growing palace. They are calling him King. King of the Frenks. A leader to resist the invasion of the traitorous Jarviso and his ally, Cernyd of Osisimied.
King Davinsa, First King of the Frenks, Kelt slayer, Devastator.
Good times. Good Titles.
Good to be king.
He was ready for battle.
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It was almost like the Great Egyptian Empire all over again. Year in year out, like the tides, came the forces of Thebes. And year in and year out, they would advance slighty further, convince another valley to stop resisting, gather a few more coin in taxes. Year in and year out, the fragile coalition breaks apart slightly wider.
All to protect Petra, they said, from the coalition.
Few of the chiefs listened to him now, few of the many who once listened to his great hall, when he called for the liberation of Timnia. Few, too few, rallied to his banner to resist the invasion.
He sighed and readied his chariot, captured from a Egyptian patrol. If he cannot convince them to join his new Kingdom of Canaan with words, he will do so with swords. It's all the same, really.
Ridding out of his palace, he gave his battle cry, and smiled as soldiers and militia poured into the lines behind him. Banners from many places he coerced, or bought, or simply controlled from inheritance. It was good that the others are now so divided and weakened, then, for now is the chance to reunite the land.
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