Ancient History:
Prologue
Part One
Part Two
Part Three:
“There are three ways in Tellus to get what you want: War, prayer, and both. Traditionally Veritas has chosen the ‘both’ option.”
-Stratikrator Celian I, 355 P.D.
---
Veritas, the Catastrophe, 912 P.D.
The world had changed, and the skies knew it. Yesterday, the sun shined as a new day greeted the Light of the World, the shining peak of the Arch of the Exodus reflecting the sun. Today, no sun shined on the mourning ruin of a Republic. The High Assemblum was destroyed, for the first time in history.
A light rain began to fall on the corpse of a beautiful place. It would seem that the Prophecy of the First Elder would go unfulfilled.
Adrian screamed, but there were none to hear it. Sliding off the fallen column where he had woken, his eyes widened with horror at the scope of the disaster. The Great Haggles…the Court of Dominius, the Gardens of the Elders…all utterly destroyed! A millennium’s work undone! He wept softly.
“And so that a greater city might be built in its place…”
The words of Strategius echoed in the boy’s head. He straightened his back, and wiped off his tears. It was all a game, really. Like a great game of Strategy. The black side had captured the fort, that is all. It can be retaken, if the white side manages to control its actions. The greatest opportunity lies in the greatest defeat after all.
These were words that he had heard from his father Sempronius. Repeating them in his head, he tried to stay calm. What would he do now, though? There was something that he had to do…with knowledge…and the Truth.
"You shall begin in the deep places. Seek the first who died.”
Deep places…first who died. What could that possibly mean? Adrian struggled to remember the dream, but it was like holding water. He almost sunk into despair again.
Then, a vision.
Soldiers, wearing little or no armor at all, were carried through the streets in honor. A city wept, and a world wept…because they had never seen war before. All through Veritas there was a great digging, and a massive shaft cut deep into the ground. Lamps were lit, and incense embalmed the heroes who knew not their fate. They would sleep in darkness, and in light…
The Catacombs. That was where they buried the victims of the Zibonian War. Or the First War, as some called it.
Adrian began to walk away from Veritas towards the Shepherd’s Hills, just as the great burning began. Warriors cried, and peasants wept, but he heard none of it. Soon, Adrian reached the spot…though he didn’t remember the journey. Walking like a man entranced, he was drawn towards the gaping tunnel entrance. The door was ripped off, and the shaft gaped like the toothless mouth of a huge beast.
He slowly walked inside.
---
Khadon, Khemri, 913 P.D.
King Rhama Khemr III was not a happy man. Sure, Veritas had been destroyed in a massive earthquake…that was good. And the Nurmaferis were retreating, as always. But nonetheless, things were not always as they seemed. The Ramids had come out of nowhere, in that great battle that Khemr witnessed as a mere child. It devastated the Khemran troops before a hail of arrows brought it down.
What would be the next Ramid for Khemri?
Perhaps it was just nervous anxiety, the type that all rulers get after a while. The king sighed, and walked to the great balcony in his palace. He could see the sunset, and gaze at the great harbor that held what was now the largest city in the world.
---
Quintalis and Sempronius were wearing black. Most of the army was. The sun was setting, that was good. Hopefully they would be able to secure the capital within the night. Using handsigns, they motioned the contingent of Latismen to the front of the ship. It was always said that the Latismen were the closest to the One in the army…because they died so often. But many men signed up, for the handcrafted latis, the extra pieces of silver, or a love of danger.
They glided through the muddy waters of the Khim, grounding the galleys among the shoreline weeds. A gangplank was lowered, and the Latismen padded silently onto shore. Their task was to secure the western bridge over the Khim, and then storm the Palace.
“Goodbye, my lord Stratikrator.”
“I wish you well, Oceanus.”
As the Biremes slid back into the ocean to encircle the city, Sempronius lifted his blade. It was forged in Lux, one of few existing in Veritas at the time…pure bronze. Shorter and flatter than a spear, and longer than a latis, it could only be called a sword.
A lone Khemran sentry stood on the causeway, staring at the road towards Alexandria. What a boring job he had…if only something exciting would happen. Like Nurmaferi spies! He made the usual hourly call to the guard tower, or at least he tried to.
“One past dusk, and all is we---“
At that point his speech was cut off by a Veritasan arrow, proving that all was definitely not well. As the copper head neatly severed his vocal cords, he collapsed to the ground, gurgling. His comrade in the tower peered out of the window to see what was wrong, and saw the sight that all soldiers secretly fear.
The bridge-guard lay dead, and the bridge itself filled up with the dark cloaks of enemies. Dull latis-blades shone red in the setting sun, and the young sentry gasped with horror. Retreating inside the tower behind a hail of arrows, he rang the alarm bell. It clanged twice, and fell silent, as soldiers collapsed the wooden tower.
Soon the latises silently filtered into the city, harbingers of the Republic as the sun set over Khemri.
---
For a moment, King Rhama Khemr III failed to believe his eyes. As the sun retreated behind a bank of cloud to disappear for the day, the clash of weapons could be heard from the city below. How could this come to the heart of his empire?
Suddenly it occurred to him. Veritas! They were the only ones that could have gotten here. They had to be thrown back…for Khemri’s sake.
Turning and rushing back into his throne-room, he called for his servants.
“Steward! Rally the royal guards! We must go down into the city, Veritas is attacking!”
“The Steward of the Palace is in the custody of the Republic, king.”
A man in a deep purple cloak sat in the throne. He had white hair, and a long blade in his hands.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Sempronius. I am here on the behalf of the Assemblum of Veritas, who calls for your present surrender and withdrawal from Nurmafer.”
“A pity, soldiering dog. Apparently your little Assemblum is dead…I suppose your “One” doesn’t like you much at all.”
Sempronius tensed. His fists shook with rage.
“King Rhama Khemr III, I now pronounce your present death, in the name of the Assemblum, the One, and the Republic of Veritas.”
The absolute ruler of the largest nation on earth spat on the floor.
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
They circled each other, slowly. The King of Khemri always carried a long dagger with him, probably a relic of his old fighting days in Nurmafer. He charged Sempronius, who swiped his enemy’s blade to the floor, and then brought it upward in a vicious slash. It cleaved open Khemr’s chestplate, who then jumped backwards, heavily bleeding.
“Surrender and you’ll survive. I promise that.”
“No, I will die. And you will as well.”
Withdrawing another dagger, he came in slashing from the left, then stabbed the Veritasan in the face from the other side. Sempronius’ knee slammed into his stomach, but nonetheless he held his ground. As the blade of the king cut into his face, the two warriors faces closed together. Bleeding as he was, the Stratikrator smiled.
“Goodbye.”
“What?”
That was the last word the King of Khemri ever spoke. A small group of Phoenix Archers had filtered into the throne room during the duel, and the Oceanus herself fired the arrow that pierced his chest. Openmouthed with shock and surprise, he died the death of a warrior.
Then the successor to Strategius too collapsed, under the weight of his wounds. And he was as worthy of a great death as his forefathers.
---
Eldrar, 863 Postum Diasporum
The door was beautiful. It probably took some Eldranian craftsman months to make. Beautiful polished oak with a solid finish, flowers and vines were painstakingly etched into the wood with a chisel, and then painted. An intricate, beautiful portrait of some ancient priest formed the centerpiece, with elaborate gold leaf surrounding his face.
Of course, it was smashed to splinters by the armored boot of Strategius. Finally, at long last his life would be fulfilled. The great evil would be vanquished.
Even the rage-filled Stratikrator took a moment to gaze at the immense main chamber. It wasn’t beautiful…it was bare. A huge vaulted ceiling reached up into the darkness. The entire room was dark, except for a single torch. It sat next to a tall, thin man wearing a gray robe. He was kneeling in front of a massive statue of Eldos, over seventy feet tall.
“High Priest Eldan.”
“Hello Strategius. I’ve been waiting here for you.”
He clenched his fist.
“You are the very symbol of evil in our world. The poisoned words of your demon brood…look what they have done to this world! So many slaughtered, and your own people! I could never imagine a more monstrous demon.”
The High Priest smiled.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
But Strategius had no words. He knocked an arrow to a massive longbow that he’d been carrying on his back, and fired an arrow. To his shock, Eldan caught it.
“You know, it may be a bit more difficult to kill me.”
In his hands appeared a half-spear, a slim copper blade attached to the end of a quarterstaff. He walked steadily toward Strategius.
The Autorex stood still for a split second…and charged towards Eldan, a latis appearing in his hands. Their blades met.
In the sputtering light from the torch by Eldos, they fought. Whirling his spear, the High Priest brought it down onto the head of the Stratikrator, who stepped to the side as it grazed him. Before Eldan could react, the Veritasan thrust his latis down, snapping the unprepared spear of the High Priest in half.
But the Eldranian picked up the spear-blade, using it as a dagger. Finally he hurled it at Strategius, who dodged and got behind him, tripping his legs in the robe.
The High Priest fell to the ground. Strategius merely stared…and then his massive, gauntleted fist smashed Eldan in the face.
As his mouth bled, the High Priest wept…and Strategius let his axe fall. It was over. They had lost the will to fight. Coughing on blood, Eldan spoke haltingly.
“Now that your rage has calmed, Autorex, look at the statue of Eldos. What is in his right hand?”
“A spear.”
“And in his left?”
“A tree.”
“Does that remind you of anything?”
He thought for a while, trying to calm a mind that was blank with hatred and fatigue. But nothing came.
“No.”
“Any…One?”
The Arch of the Exodus, in Veritas far away. The Statue of the One! Strategius fell to the ground, sobbing like a child.
“Almighty One, how can it be? Eldos is evil! How can he be the One?”
“I understand now, Strategius. All the evil done by the High Priests, all their false visions of Eldos, all their lies. Eldrania was a horrible land, and its people became fanatical demons. You did well to destroy it. But the legends of Veritas and Eldrania being of the same race were true.”
“I do not understand.”
“And neither did I. But I found this buried in the hands of the first High Priest as I examined his grave. Strategius, it is the Truth.”
He placed a small scroll into the Autorex’s hands.
“Those who seek knowledge will find it, Strategius.”
“Leave me.”
“Die in peace, my friend.”
The figure of Eldan faded into the darkness.
I still like you. (And I would like you even more if you reclaimed Clous...)
Next summer you'll reach 10k at this rate.
