Surrounding what seemed like a small, yet prosperous settlement were the flames of war. The fire, the hatred; it all kicked it up, destorying what precious life had built in this humble hovel. This was Toulouse: it had a quick rise, but also a quick fall. The Occticans would be forced out of their homes. Some what survive to recollect this tale: but many would be sold into slavery, to die in agony.
Dark eyes opened quickly to it's surroundings. The room was rather bare, made of wood and stone. Yet despite such furnishings, it seemed homely. Furs drapped the walls and floors, and a warm fire roared in the corner. The eyes blinked, searching for something, for anything..
"Did you have another bad dream?" A cool, collected voice inquired. "Pahra, they are only stories. You shouldn't get so worked up over the sacking of Toulouse..it was centuries ago. Besides, the priests say it was divine punishment. Our people should've never followed the orders of that man..that usurper."
The brown eyes belonged to a boy named Pahra. He was not very old: about twelve at the most. He wore rather elaborate garb, despite such humble furnishings. This was because Pahra was the King of Occitania. Despite his youth, he was the sole authority in his land, although due to his youth, most authority had been delegated to a council.
"I apologize, master." Pahra replied with a frown. "I cannot help it, however. I feel so connected with our roots, with our faith. I fear it is addling my mind; it is giving me these ill thoughts..the thoughts of the Gauls sacking Toulouse."
Ears decieved no one. Pahra referred to the voice as master. Obviously it was a woman: indeed, the "voice" was a very enchanting beauty. Her eyes however were brutal. She dressed gruffly, like a warrior. A bow hung, ready to strike down all foes. This woman loved Pahra, for he was her son. She hated everyone else however, including herself. This was her fault: she would never see good, except in her innocence Pahra.
"Well at any rate," Pahra's mother replied. "I have come to fetch you. The council believes work on Paris will soon finish. Obviously no one can settle the land until you have taken residence there."
"We're leaving?" Pahra replied, heart-broken. "I have known this place all my life! I cannot bare to live without the mother Sayn[1]..I cannot leave the camp!"
Pahra's mother sighed. "You must. But the council is not cruel. Paris is founded on the Sayn river..you will be able to recieve her nourishment as always. If it helps, we have to keep the camp intact. While we can easily move about, the peasants are less than lucky. They will toil here; a lucky few will move to Paris to take up there craft."
Pahra smiled. He was happy that he wouldn't abandon his mother river.
[1]The Seine; Because I'm lazy and lack a more creative name.
but I think EQ said you can only expand in one direction:
