Out of the Rubble I – The Byzantine Empire

I can't believe you're attacking poor Gandhi. He never attacks any one you know.. ;)

Great story so far. It took me a while to catch up since the screenshots are very slow loading with my 56k (I think it's due to the file size).

request: screenshots of minimap & score
 
CHAPTER SEVEN: The Return of the King
Excerpts from The Second Melian Wars, Written and Illustrated by Charlemagne Elsar.

Sunrise at Delhi gave start to the burial procession of Danier Elsar, slain in the Siege of Delhi. On a case near his coffin was his great sword which was said to have slain hundreds in the great battle.
Ralse stood by solemnly. In the absence of Danier, he was given provincial charge of Delhi and the rest of India. The true rule goes to Danier’s heir, but none gave claim to the throne.
“You know, they say his sword that betrayed him to his death,” his wife whispered.
“Yes, I know,” Ralse answered. He had seen it himself. “Danier’s Bane.”
All went without further interruption. Ralse had an early leave. He had to plan the assault in Calcutta, where Gandhi had fled. After all, he had caused half of the attacking Swordsmen to be killed. He needed the rest of the paycheck. Taking the Sword from the case, he skulked out of the courtyard.

--------------------------------------------------

“Well, Theodora. It seems we have come to an agreement.”

Hannibal teased Theodora as they made out deals of peace. Troops of Carthage had passed through Byzantine’s borders now, and they needed relief.
“You realize that the only reason of our enmity was the Koreans,” Theodora apologized.
“Oh, yes, I understand that all,” Hannibal mocked. “They were giving you great gifts. So why not toss around poor Carthage around?” He got up and stood eye-to-eye with Theodora for a moment. “Well, poor Carthage will not have peace for free. Give us this Polytheism.”
Theodora was thrown aback at this demand. “Call in the Science Advisor,” she started. Her first maiden received the order.
“Oh no you don’t,” Hannibal blocked. “My terms: my rules. We speak alone. By bare margin your little maiden was allowed by an oath of silence. We are both unarmed. I want this to be an uninfluenced decision.”
Theodora backed off. Obviously, he was pissed off.
“Polytheism was a great advance in honor of our sage advisor Jack Nerdian,” Theodora added. “This was a product that was owed in part to his great age and wisdom. Such advance is not freely given away.”
“Two hundred hectograms of gold,” Hannibal interjected.
“Three hundred,” Theodora urged. Now she was in control.
“That’s impossible! Such does not exist. Carthage only has 267 in all its treasury!”
Theodora raised an eyebrow. “Then give us all that.”
“You’re asking us to empty all the gold in our possession.”
“Exactly.”
Carthage himself now backed off. Slowly he paced the floor. “Do you want me to do this?” he asked Theodora.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about…”
“How much do you want me to take this deal?”
“I am still reluctant at the small sum you pay in your part, but yes, I want this deal to go through. Peace between our countries is integral.”
“Well, then, water my mouth a bit, if I may say.”
For a moment, Theodora was not sure if she understood. “Very well,” she started. “Polytheism is the practice of worshipping more than one God. Each household can depend on its own deity. The practice will create happier citizens and a stronger and more durable government structure in case any of it starts to fall apart.”
Hannibal’s smile vanished. “But each household having a separate God is flawed, because when it does fall apart, wouldn’t factions form? Not exactly what you would want, is it?”
“You’ll fix all that with the knowledge we will give you,” Theodora assured. Though, in truth, all that was false. Some kind of monotheism was more efficient, but it was yet to be researched.
“Okay, I’m enticed. It’s a deal.”


--------------------------------------------------

Twenty years later, Borand Reinad stood on top of the highest tower, looming over all of the Swordsmen of Byzantines. They stood in the city of Calcutta, just recently taking it over. Far beyond, the Indian Sea stretched forever into the horizon. Myein and China on top could be seen not too far off the coast.
“This city was once the jewel of their kingdom,” Borand announced, starting his speech. “A place of light and beauty and music. And so it shall be once more!” He unsheathed his sword and held it high into the air. Rounds of cheer spread through the soldiers. “Let the armies of India know this: Never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands! This city of Calcutta has been claimed for Byzantine!”
The crowd grew into frenzy.
“For Byzantine!” they echoed.
“For Byzantine!” Borand repeated.
“For Byzantine!”
Borand gave one last hearty cheer. “For Byzantine!”

Back on the ground, Borand made way to his brother.
“Good speech,” his brother noted. Farand was his name. “Nice and short.”
“Leaves more time for drinking!” Borand laughed. “Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!”
Two filled cups arrived, and they gave a toast. “Remember today, little brother. Today, life is good.”
Farand drunk along, but stopped suddenly.
“What is it?” Borand asked.
“He’s here,” Farand answered grimly.
They both glance and see their father, Ralse Reinad, nearly forty years old, walking towards them, conversing idly with the crowd as he did.
“One moment of peace,” Borand muttered. “Can he not give us that?”
“Where is he?!” Ralse called out in joy. “Where is Byzantine’s finest? Where is my first-born?”
“Father!” Borand forced a smile.
They embraced, leaving Farand out. “They say you vanquished the enemy almost single-handedly,” Ralse congratulated.
“They exaggerate,” Borand noted. “The victory belongs to Farand, also.”
Ralse looked at Farand grimly. “You let the enemy walk in and kill us on a whim… Always you cast a poor reflection on me.”
Borand shook his head, but Farand answered. “That is not my intent.”
“You give him no credit!” Borand told his father. “Yet he tries to do your will!” Borand stormed off, to find more conversation than bitter old Ralse, who ran to catch up to him.
“He loves you, father,” Borand reminded him.
“Do not trouble me with Farand. I know his uses, and they are few. We have more urgent things to speak of. Vanadorn of Theodora’s advisory council has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have guessed its purpose. They plan to stage the next phase in the war: an attack on Kolhapur. You must go.”
“No,” Borand denied. “My place is here, with my people. Not in Kolhapur!”
“Would you deny your own father?!”
“If there is need to go to Kolhapur,” Farand asked, cutting in, “then send me in his stead.”
“You? Oh, I see. A chance for Farand, captain of Delhi, to show his quality. I think not! I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me.”

--------------------------------------------------

It was a gloomy night, arising dawn, as the garrison of Calcutta was rudely awakened.
“To the coast,” Farand whispered, arousing his men. “Quick…”
It was a rather sad and shabby crew, most of whom had just awoken and had little time to gear up completely. The small harbor at Calcutta provided little shelter for what would come.
It was a fleet of Indian Galleys that had been drifting off of the coast for a long time now. However, they had never been considered a threat, because Galleys cannot damage this town like Dromons could. The possibility that the galley harbored an invasion force never passed through Farand’s mind.
But the fleet looked menacing in the maroon dusk, nevertheless. It was heading straight for Calcutta.
“Faster…” the Indian commander ordered. “Draw swords.”

--------------------------------------------------

“Hail Ralse, great general, Lord and Steward of Delhi. I come with tidings in this dark hour, and with counsel.”
The old and wizened science advisor Jack Nerdian, pioneer in the Republic and many other technologies since, stood before Ralse in the ruins of the Great Palace of India.
But Ralse simply tuned him out. “Perhaps you come to explain this.” A hint of sadness crept into his voice. “Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead.”
Jack was set aback. He expected Ralse to be easy-going, but this man was not. He had already explained that while their combat calculators were accurate, there was always a chance of loosing.
“My Lord, there will be a time to grieve for Borand. But it is not now. War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep! As steward, you are charged with the defense of this city! Where are Delhi's armies? You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight. Send word to Theodora of the Byzantines.”
Ralse snarled at Jack. “You think you are wise, Jack, yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of India’s Bane are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against India, and with your right you would seek to supplant me! I know who rides with Theodora of Byzantine. Oh yes! Word has reached my ears of this Vanadorn, heir of Danier, and I tell you now I will not bow to this Ranger from the West, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship.”
“Authority is not given you to deny the return of the heir, Steward!”
“Provincial rule of Delhi is mine!” Ralse yelled in frustration and anger, “and no other’s!”

--------------------------------------------------

The battle raged on in Calcutta as the naval ambush drove the garrison away. The battle fought was evenly matched, but soon the Indians regained the city that was Calcutta.
“Farand!” his first-in-command cried. “We cannot hold them! The city is lost!”
Farand knew that it was true, surveying the scene with despair. “Tell the men to break cover. We ride for Delhi.”
Screech of machinery shook the air as the Indians found the supply of catapults laid garrisoned at Calcutta, and eliminating those guarding it.
“Catapûlts!” a swordsman cried.
“Take cover!” another yelped.
“Fall back!” Farand commanded. “Fall back to Delhi!”
The swordsmen fled, avoiding what casualties they could. The second-in-command fell, finally, unable to go any further. Farand and the swordsmen could not help him, but they run with great haste towards Delhi, unobstructed by formation that slowed them down. “Retreat! Retreat!”

The Indian Commander looked into the eyes of the fallen second-in-command without pity. Taking a spear from another, he plunged it straight into the dieing man’s heart. “The age of Byzantine is over,” the Indian Commander said. “The time of the Indians has come!”

As the hapless Swordsmen fled towards Delhi, catapults launched from far back, their black rocks sailing the sky and decimating many troops from their well-aimed attackers. Hope seemed low for the fleeing Byzantines, with the stones raking them form the ground like ants. The Indians soon came after, to finish it.
Then from the road a white rider came, holding in his hands a pot of the sacred Greek Fire. Gallon after gallon was hurled towards the Indians like rays of sunlight until they eventually backed off.

The Swordsmen slackened their pace, now far out of the range of the catapults. They saw Jack Nerdian, who had come to their rescue.

“Jack!” Farand called after they safely entered the gates of Delhi days later. “They broke through our defenses. They've taken the city and the east road. Battalions of Indians are garrisoning the city.”
“It is just as the Lord Ralse predicted!” a defender noted. “Long has he forseen this doom!”
“Forseen and done nothing!” Jack scolded.
 
CHAPTER CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST

“I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses,” Ralse scolded the commander, not caring that he was his own son. “Defenses that your brother long held intact.”
“What would you have me do?” Farand asked.
“I will not yield the coast and the Blue Divide unfought. Calcutta must be retaken.”
“My Lord, Calcutta is overrun.”
The simplicity and realism of the statement hung steadily in the air for a moment before Ralse continued.
“Much must be risked in war,” Ralse reminded. “Is there a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?”
A tear crawled down Farand’s face as he realized what was happening. His voice breaking, he replied, “You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Borand had lived.”
The expression on Ralse’s face remained serious and fixed. “Yes, I wish that,” he said, almost to himself.
“Since you are robbed of Borand, I will do what I can in his stead,” Farand replied, choking back a subtle tear. As he walked out of the halls, he added, “If I should return, think better of me, father.”
“That will depend on the manner of your return,” Ralse said coldly, without even bothering to look up.

A company was immediately prepared to retake Calcutta. They marched through the passageways of Delhi, drawing despair as they went. People lined up to pay their respects for the men, for they knew the mission was doomed from the start.
“Farand!” Jack shouted, catching up to the leader. “Farand! Your father’s will has turned to madness! Do not throw away your life so rashly.”
“Where does my allegiance lie, if not here?” Farand answered stiffly.
Jack stopped, and watched as the son of the steward marched onward. “Your father loves you, Farand. He will remember it before the end.”

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“Can you sing, Master Obbit?”
The question was presented to an Indian Worker named Obbit who had taken in Calcutta and had recently been evacuated. The worker was a friend of the kind Farand.
“Well, yes,” he answered softly. “At least, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs for great halls and evil times.”
“And why should your songs be unfit for my halls? Come, sing me a song.”
Obbit stands in thought for a while, searching his mind. Satisfied, he starts a song.
“Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread.
Through shadow, to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade,
All shall fade! All shall fade…”

--------------------------------------------------

“Open the gate! Quick!”
Soldiers rushed to make way for Farand, fallen in battle on his horses. Amazing how the Indians would let all die except for the captain.
Farand’s body was soon rushed into the courtyard, where Ralse rushed towards him. “Farand!” Ralse cried, half in tears. It was a surprising move for all. “Say not that he has fallen!”
“They were outnumbered,” a soldier noted. “None survived.”

“Fear,” the Indian Commander laughed, to the south. A great army of archers marched behind him. “The city is rank with it. Let us ease their pain. Fire the catapults!”
“Catapults!” his second-in-command ordered. The twang of the catapults filled the air. What they fired was not stone, but the severed heads of those in Farand’s failed attack. The defenders of Delhi cowered in fear.

“My sons are spent!” Ralse sobbed. Insanity was quickly taking over him. “My line has ended!”
Obbit started towards his friend Farand, sad at his fate. He checked for a pulse. “He’s alive!”
“The House of the Stewards has failed!” Ralse sobbed futher, ignoring Obbit.
“He needs medicine, My Lord!”
Rlase yelled in fury. “My line has ENDED!”
“My Lord!” Obbit called futily.
Then, Ralse saw the sight that broke the last string of his sanity. From the courtyard, he peered over the walls and saw to the south the armies of archers from India coming to attack Delhi.
“Byzantine has deserted us…” he muttered, his eyes widening. “Theodora has betrayed me!” He called to his soldiers. “Flee! Flee for your lives!”
The guards watched helplessly as Jack Nerdian came and knocked Ralse unconscious. “Return to your posts!”

And so, the Seige of Delhi started.

--------------------------------------------------

Ralse got up slowly, in the palace, after being knocked unconscious. He saw Farand on a cot next to him. Dead, he supposed. Quickly he gathered his soldiers and brought them into the highest point in the city. “No tomb for Ralse and Farand. No long, slow sleep of death embalmed. We shall burn, like the heathen kings of old!” The turned to his loyal servants. “Bring wood and oil!”

“The house of his spirit crumbles. He is burning. Already burning.” Such were the words of the insane Ralse.
“He’s not dead!” Obbit cried in frustration. He would not let Ralse burn Farand alive. “He’s not dead!”
“Hear now, Obbit. I release you from my service. Go now and die in what way seems best to you.”
Ralse threw Obbit out of the room, kicking and screaming every inch of the way. In anger, Obbit ran to find Jack in all the mess and fighting. Only he could stop this.

“Jack! Jack! Jack, Ralse’s lost his mind! He’s burning Farand alive!”
Jack’s eyes widened in horror. He ran quickly to the scene.

Ralse stood ceremoniously on the pyre of wood, his soldiers surrounding him. “Set a fire in our flesh.”
Wood cracked in a dramatic performance as Jack forced his way into the room. “Stay this madness!”
The guards all stop in surprise. Then impatiently, Ralse took a burning torch and dropped it into the pyre, slick and wet with oil. The fire spread.
Quickly, Jack grabs a spear and knocks Ralse off the pyre. Obbit jumps onto Farand, rolling him off before it is too late.
“You will not take my son from me!” Ralse yelled hysterically. In fury he charged at Obbit. Just in time, Jack pushes Ralse back into the fire.

In the middle of the madness, Farand finally opens his eyes in time to see his father burning in the fire. Suddenly, all comes back to Ralse as he realized how crazy he had let himself become. Flaming, Ralse gave a last wail as he jumped off of the palace rooftop.

“So passes Ralse,” Jack muttered to himself.

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From across the fields, re-inforcements from Theodora arrived, finally.
“Arise!” Vanadorn Elsar III started his speech. “Arise, swordsmen of Theodora! Spears shall be shaken! Shields shall be splintered! A sword day! A red day! Ere the red sun rises!”
The Indians brace themselves for the attack. Already, they had breached the walls of Delhi and were flooding in. But there was a new threat – re-enforcements from Byzantium.
“Charge!” Vanadorn cried. “Charge now! Charge! Charge for ruin, and the world’s ending! Death!”
“Death!” his soldiers all cried after him.
“Death!” he roused. Again, they echoed.
“Death!”
In a rousing finale, the swordsmen repeated him in such enthusiasm that scared the Indians as they did the night of Lahore.
“Forth, Theorlingas!”
In a thundering march, the Swordsmen charged towards the Archers, who tried their best to brace themselves. They fired two rounds of shots, each falling many of the Swordsmen. But, in the end, the Indian Archers fell.
“Make safe the city!”
And in that manner, the true heir of Danier Elsar took the throne.

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“There is an emissary from Cleopatra from Egypt, milady,” Theodora’s maiden told her.
“Bring her in,” Theodora replied.
An Egyptian man stumbled in, bowing towards the Empress. “Lord Theodora,” he said. “I bring word from Egypt. Cleopatra demands tribute, unfortunately. She wants your advances in the Republic.”
“What does she offer in return?” Theodora asked.
“Nothing,” the man smiled, a crazed look in his eyes. “Your pitiful people should be paying your respects to us.”
“Well, I’ll give you your answer,” Theodora answered. “There is no way I am relinquishing the Republic.”
“Then we give you war!”



“I guess this isn’t the perfect time for me to make my report then, Theodora,” Jack Nerdian II said. He had come to report news.
“No, it is a perfect time,” Theodora replied. The Egyptian messenger had just been booted from the Palace.
“Well, if you recall correctly, my father made the promise that there would be a great new unit ready. The Medieval Infantry.”
“Go on,” Theodora beckoned.
“Well, it is now ready.”



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“To the gate, you slugs!” the Indian Commander called. The new one, that was.
“Let the lord of India come forth!” Vanadorn Elsar III yelled. “Let justice be done upon him!”
They stood now at the gates of Madras, the newest capital of India, where Gandhi had fled yet again.
The gate opened, and spearmen poured through, surrounding the Swordsmen thinly.
“Fall back! Fall back!” Vanadorn commanded. “Hold your ground,” he said, after things seemed to settle. He started his speech.
“Sons of Byzantine! Of Delhi! My brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Byzantine fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of the Byzantines comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!”
His speech quickly roused the attacking Swordsmen, who were ready to charge.
“For Danier,” Vanadorn added. Then, he charged, dragging with him the entire attacking force. They were engaged in combat. Swordsmen against Spearmen. For once, it was evenly matched. The catapults of Madras flew into activity, only to be answered by the catapults of the Byzantines. Long days the battle waged on, the number of live spent soaring higher and higher.

Victory was at hand. The king had returned.
 
Wow...Lord of the Rings...
 
You even left some of it like it was exactly in the movie and the book. For example, you called the provincial governer Denethor once.
 
MSTK said:
Well, I'm sorry, but it was so alike!

The retaking of Calcutta, the naval invasion, the seige of Delhi...

It just fit so well!
Click to expand...

True, it fits well, but it's just not original. :sad:
 
Very Nice, MSTK. I'm honored that I made it into your story (as Aragorn none the less :) ). And don't get down with the LOTR comments, anyone who doesn't like the LOTR is most likely a 1/1 Goth stone axe warrior and a hater of the color blue. (j/k).

Keep it up.

V
 
Well, find another volcano! You must smash all who oppose you in the name of finding at least one volcano so you can have a guy who's name sonds like frodo to bring the sword to it! :crazyeye:
 
CHAPTER TEN: The Fall of India
Excerpts from The Second Melian Wars by Spiel Stevenberg.

FADE IN:
BYZANTINE FLAG as it waves in the NIGHT SKY. Zoom out to see SWORDSMEN ARMY approaching KOLHAPUR. SWEORCAN FOREST looms in the background.

TORCHES dot the army, and KOLHAPUR SPEARMEN gear for combat. WAR TENT is established. CAMERA zooms in. We see FARAND REINAD chatting with SECOND-IN-COMMAND.

. . . . . . . . . . FARAND
. . . . . Yes, Kolhapur will fall tonight. I will make sure of it.

SECOND-IN-COMMAND sighs.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . This is all in memory of your brother, isn’t it?

. . . . . . . . . . FARAND
. . . . . Borand died for this cause. The least I can do is to see it through.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . It was Danier’s Bane that betrayed him. That sword has been nothing but evil.

Both glance at DANIER’S BANE, the sword that killed all who wielded it. It lays on COFEE TABLE.

. . . . . . . . . . FARAND
. . . . . Sometimes I think we should just find a volcano and throw it in. But no! This was the first sword ever forged by our smithies. This sword armed the swordsmen who had died in the Varna Ambush in the First Melian Wars!

S-I-C laughs nervously.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . More like a Varna Massacre. That swordsmen battalion died straight off.

. . . . . . . . . . FARAND
. . . . . Never mind the past. What matters now is the present.

FARAND walks S-I-C out of the tent to overview the army.

. . . . . . . . . . FARAND
. . . . . My fear friend, how can the weak garrison of Kolhapur withstand this army!

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . There is no way.

FARAND walks up to PODIUM, where his voice spreads far.

. . . . . . . . . . FARAND
. . . . . Swordsmen of Byzantines! You stand now in the footsteps of our predecessors who fought here years ago. Now, fulfill their forgotten dream! Take them the treasure they died for! Give me Kolhapur!

ARMY cheers. They charge towards KOLHAPUR and engage in BATTLE. FARAND wields DANIER’S BANE.

. . . . . . . . . . FARAND
. . . . . For Byzantine!

INT. Courtyard of Delhi
It is a funeral in the courtyard. The CARRYING PEOPLE carry COFFIN to the BIG HOLE IN GROUND. PRIEST flips through PRAYER BOOKS.

. . . . . . . . . . PRIEST
. . . . . We are gathered here today in the union of Farand and our many Gods. He has fought valiantly in the Battle of Kolhapur, and lead our people to victory where many have failed. He sought vengeance for the dead and brought it to them upon their very graves.

As PRIEST rattles on, SECOND-IN-COMMAND whispers in conversation to VANADORN ELSAR III.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . It was the Sword.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Yes, I know. A cursed thing, isn’t it? The battle was won but the commander was lost.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . We have to do something about it.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . It has already been planned. The sword is being buried with Farand.

. . . . . . . . . . PRIEST
. . . . .Blah blah blah, and so we say goodbye, Farand Reinad. You now join your father, Ralse. Hey, did anyone else notice that Reinad is Danier spelled backwards? Wait a tick, Ralse Reinad spelled backwards is Danier Elsar! Talk about coincidences.

CARRIERS slowly lower COFFIN into BIG HOLE IN GROUND and start to bury it.

. . . . . . . . . . PRIEST
. . . . . Well, goodbye everyone. Have a good day! You learn something new every day, eh?

PRIEST leaves FUNERAL SCENE and goes HOME. As SPECTATORS file out, S-I-C and VANADORN exchange tactics.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . So, what city is next on our plans to attack?

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Next is Bengal. Then we go to reclaim Calcutta.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . Are we skipping Hyderabad?

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . No, these new units are taking it. “Medieval Infantry”, they are called. They are supposed to be superior to Swordsmen.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . How is such possible?

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . I’m not sure. But while that is going on, we will march on Calcutta.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . If I recall correctly, Farand tried that. His father ended up throwing him into the furnace.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Not this time. This time, we have something new.

INT. The S.S. Minë
The DECK of the DROMON are engaged for combat. Throughout the DECK, CREWMEN load up cannons of GREEK FIRE.

. . . . . . . . . . ADMIRAL
. . . . . Fire!

CANNONS unlease the GREEK FIRE upon the city of CALCUTTA. The COASTLINE explodes into FLAMES. INDIANS try and put it out with WATER. They fail.

. . . . . . . . . . INDIAN GARRISON
. . . . . Aaahh!

From INLAND, VANADORN’S TROOPS watch the FIRE. They are refreshed from the BATTLE AT BENGAL.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . How much longer?

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . I think right now is just fine.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . It feels strange now to walk upon the paths of those dead, after I have experienced it first-hand.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Charge!

SWORDSMEN charge towards CALCUTTA. DROMONS cease bombing. In GIANT SUPER-LONG OSCAR-WINNING OVERRATED BATTLE SCENE, SWORDSMEN triumph. I will spare you the details. Just watch the movie!

INT. The Council Room
THEODORA sits in her throne, her SIX COUNCILERS surrounding her.

. . . . . . . . . . THEODORA
. . . . . I have been told that our Exploring Dromon has found us new providence.

. . . . . . . . . . FOREIGN ADVISOR
. . . . . That is correct.

. . . . . . . . . . THEODORA
. . . . . What is it exactly that we have found?

. . . . . . . . . . FOREIGN ADVISOR
. . . . . It is a new tribe known as the Inca. The fairy-tale monsters in the stories of the great Daftpanzer.

FOREIGN ADVISOR lays out REPORT on TABLE. ADVISORS look.



. . . . . . . . . . SCIENCE ADVISOR
. . . . . Why, this is impossible! They are far ahead of us in technology!

. . . . . . . . . . TRADE ADVISOR
. . . . . This is obviously because they traded with the Egyptians, Persians, and Portugese.

. . . . . . . . . . SCIENCE ADVISOR
. . . . . No matter. Theodora, you must gain us these technologies at once.

. . . . . . . . . . MILITARY ADVISOR
. . . . . Hold on, there, little man. There is no way we can obtain any of that without war.

. . . . . . . . . . TRADE ADVISOR
. . . . . He’s right. We have nothing to offer to them in return.

. . . . . . . . . . FOREIGN ADVISOR
. . . . . There’s more.

. . . . . . . . . . THEODORA
. . . . . What is it?

. . . . . . . . . . FOREIGN ADVISOR
. . . . . We have found others, as well. They call themselves the Arabs.

FOREIGN ADVISOR lays out SECOND REPORT.



. . . . . . . . . . SCIENCE ADVISOR
. . . . . Wow! We are actually ahead of someone besides those dwelling in Melian!

. . . . . . . . . . MILTARY ADVISOR
. . . . . I am surprised that the Persians and other powers had not eradicated them yet.

. . . . . . . . . . CULTURAL ADVISOR
. . . . . Hold on! They are far ahead of us in Culture.

. . . . . . . . . . TRADE ADVISOR
. . . . . No bargains are to be made with these inferiors.

. . . . . . . . . . FOREIGN ADVISOR
. . . . . Agreed.

. . . . . . . . . . THEODORA
. . . . . Anything else on the agenda?

. . . . . . . . . . MILITARY ADVISOR
. . . . . Yes, Empress Theodora. Our campaigns in India are going splendid. India is now reduced to merely two cities.

. . . . . . . . . . THEODORA
. . . . . Splendid indeed.

INT. Battle of Jaipur
Jaipur rests on the FLORIDA PENINSULA. CALM SEAS surround it, broken by the FLAMING CANNONS OF DEATH shooting GREEK FIRE at the CITY from the DROMONS.

. . . . . . . . . . ADMIRAL
. . . . . Good going, crew!

Zoom to VANADORN and his dwindling ARMY.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Drat! We have suffered way too many casualties. My army is too low!

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . Captain, we will not survive much longer.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . I know that.

. . . . . . . . . . S-I-C
. . . . . Oh, and you have someone who wants to see you.

VANADORN ponders this. He nods solemnly.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Let him in.

MEDIEVAL INFANTRY CAPTAIN appears. He is dressed in the latest weapons in technology. A SHINING CHAIN BALL is grasped in his hands.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . So, you’re the new Medieval Infantry, right?

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . Yes, I am, Captain Vanadorn. My troops can assist you.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . My swordsmen can handle it, thank you, captain.

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . Your swordsmen are all dead.

VANADORN glances out of the TENT to see that it is true.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Yes! But your army is not nearly numbered enough to defeat the Jaipur Garrison!

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . Do not forget that we have taken out Hyderabad.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . That was when your troops here high. Let me guess – Hyderabad has killed all your numerous elite forces except for one battalion.

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . Actually, only two battalions attacked. The other waits at Madras.

VANADORN is amazed

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . So, you are saying that you suffered no major casualties from the Spearmen?

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . None.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Here, you are outnumbered. There are still two Spearmen battalions left. You only have one third of a battalion.

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . We can win.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Give me your best show.

CAPTAIN gathers MEDIEVAL INFANTRY and attack. They win with another BATTLE SEQUENCE THAT I WILL NOT EXPLAIN IN FULL DETAIL.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . I must say that I am impressed. You will join us in the Final Attack, correct?

CAPTAIN laughs out loud.

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Why not?

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . Well, remember when I said that one of the Battalions are at Madras? They attacked Karachi, the Capital of India, and the last city they have, save this one that we just razed.

. . . . . . . . . . VANADORN
. . . . . Go on.

. . . . . . . . . . CAPTAIN
. . . . . They have re-enforcements. Six more battalions of Medieval Infantry arrived. Karachi will be no more in a matter of time.

INT. Council Room

. . . . . . . . . . MILTARY ADVISOR
. . . . . We have destroyed the Fledgling Indians, Mistress.
 
@MSTK

Great story, once again!:goodjob:

Now, I must ask, what are the world parameters for this story?
 
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