Don't explore, CONQUER!

[Silver Rusher]

*A story loosely based around RTW*

I am sorry if this takes a long time, and I am also sorry if it seems rushed. You must know everything that happens in the prologue for the later stuff to make sense.

Prologue

The Kingdom of Armenia flourished under Artaxias' rule. Farms were cunningly built in very efficient places, like in the large gaps between the endless mountains for example. Baths and Sewers were built across the cities. All the gold to be had was mined out of Kotais, and shipped across trade as far as Carthage with other spices and exotic goods. It was truly paradise, and agree did many of the merchants who came. A perfect kingdom it was.

The people of Armenia were happy to live there. Civil strife never once broke out under the rule of Artaxias. The Kingdom grew a large military force also, soon becoming on of the mightiest in the known land. Even their allies, the Pontics shivered to hear the sound of the Armenian army's name.

The Turquoise Horde...

In this paradise of a kingdom, a second heir was born. The second heir to the throne of Armenia. Rusa was the heir, and the newborn Aramu was his little brother. In this great land he grew up slowly, to be a great warrior, a great thinker... a great tactitian. He faced off with his 16 year old brother Rusa with blunt wooden swords and still he won. He was a uniquely talented boy. When he reached the age of six, he was called into the Royal Chamber of his father.

"Son, you are amazing. You fight so gracefully, think so marvellously. And all at your age." He smiled, "You'll make a great king one day, yes you will. You will take this land and turn it into an empire. And as you grow older, I want you to have this. Hold out your hands."

The king reached within the pocket of his robe and pulled out a pendant. The string was made with diamond and the pendant itself was beautiful. It had a gold outer rim with a ruby in the middle, made into the shape of a sun.

"Every prince of Armenia has one. I have one," he said, pulling out a horse shaped pendant with a gold outer rim and an emerald imbued in the centre. "These will show people who you really are, and how they should really respect you."

"Thank you, father." And so the little prince left.

The King and his two Princes grew older over time, yes. Aramu continued to get better at thinking and fighting, and became a fit, agile boy by the age of 14. His skill was unmatched among any Armenian man under the age of 20. He became very proud of himself. And so he grew, until the next year the special day in his life came. He was to come of age.

He was brought into the grand palace hall, were priest and peasant alike gathered for the ceremony. It was a tremendous day, there was plenty of dancing, music and eating going on afterwards. When the new prince Aramu came of age, everybody was happy to hear it. The night lasted for a long while, and when the prince's crown was finally placed upon Aramu's head, he felt a surge of power which seemed to drown out the large screaming in his head.

But the King was growing old at the same time. And as he grew old he grew greedy. The neighbouring kingdom of Atropatene was a tempting target, as their army was weak and their lands rich.

So a year later he sent Aramu on an invasion of Atropatene, with a sizeable force of around 500 loyal and well trained soldiers. The march took a few weeks, and they soon arrived at the city of Phraaspa. There was no fighting to be done, as seeing the Armenians over the hill the soldiers within the town immediately surrendered.

Read on in chapter 1, coming soon.

[Ludens]

Nice story, Silver Rusher. It sounds like you have some interesting events planned. Are you trying to turn this in a historical sounding narrative or is it going to be lighter?

[Silver Rusher]

It will be a bit like that sort of, yes. And yes, I do have some huge events planned. But you gotta wait and see... There will be a new chapter every week.

[Silver Rusher]

CHAPTER I: THE COUNCIL

The young prince woke up with a start. The sunlight had entered through the windows, and it was another beautiful day in the gleaming desert town of Phraaspa. He was tired and hung over, after having a few too many drinks the night before...

He realised a few seconds later that it was not the sunlight that had awoken him, as he heard a bang on the wall by the curtained doorway.

Knock Knock- "My Prince, I bring desperate news from watchtowers afar!" Knock Knock- "Please my lord, let me in!"

Aramu was a little too tired to really figure out what was going on- the poor guy had only just been startled and awoken. So he replied, "Err... OK, come in."

A boy ran in, panting in exhaustion, holding a letter in his hand. He was about 15 years of age, and so only 3 years younger than the prince. He extended the note out to Aramu, and he looked as if he could have fainted any second.

Aramu looked curiously at the thirsty boy who had obviously been running very far across the desert. "Go outside to the well- I don't want any dead messengers in my palace. Come back immediately afterwards though."

The prince looked down to the letter. It read-

My Prince,

Earlier this week we at the far-eastern tower noticed a cloud of smoke upon the horizon. It seemed queer, as if there was a bonfire going on. What we saw was in the Parthian land of Media, of course. Later we did find out though that the Parthian army was moving closer. So close in fact, that we became scared. Soon they were no less than 2 miles away. I hope the boy I sent to you gets there in time...

It seemed to trail off at the end. By the time Aramu had finished reading the letter the boy returned from the well, and still seemed very faint.

"Tell me, what is your name?" he asked the boy.

"I am Kruga, my prince." the boy replied.

"And tell me, why the letter did not finish and instead trails off?" Aramu asked again.

"The man was shot by a Parthian arrow just as he was about to finish the letter. I picked it up and ran off just afterwards. I could see, as I was running, the watchtower being torn down by Parthians."

"So they are invading us... There is very little time. Hurry, you must go now, take this news to Artaxarta!"

And with that the boy nodded his head and ran off again.

"Wait..." Aramu called after him. "Come with me."

The two instantly ran down the steps and hurried quickly towards the stables. Aramu went to a large brown beast of a horse, obviously very fit.

"This is my horse. 'Tis one of the finest in all the Armenian kingdom. Take it, and be off!" He said, as the young messenger climbed on and hurried off to the west to inform the king.


* * *

Aramu shortly had informed all the captains of the garrison of the new threat, and they soon joined into the basement of the palace. A long conference soon begun to discuss what was to be done.

"As the Parthian horde comes ever closer, the time is at hand for us to bring every man capable of holding a spear to the barracks for a short instruction on the weapon. We are likely to fall, but if we are to fall graciously it shall be worth it."

A short, bearded man stood nearby. "The town has no walls! How are we to defend against them? Surely our Prince would have earlier had the sense to build some walls!" Many agreed with him, and the Prince replied:

"We have owned this desolate town for merely 5 years! Any wall we could have built in that time would be wooden and flimsy. Blame the mede, the previous owners of the town if you wish to complain. In my palace, you must hold your tongue! I suggest we gather the villagers to make haste and line up a small palissade around the town."

"But my lord, we have neither the time nor the resources!" said the captain of his bodyguards, a well built Greek deserter from the nearby Seleucid Empire.

"Then we must go into the small nearby palm woods to get some. Everything must be done to ensure that we inflict as many Parthian casualties as possible on the upcoming battle."

Another huge man stood, with facial hair everywhere. He was the captain of the cataphracts. "My lord, we only have 1000 men within the force in this settlement. Only 500 others are even slightly capable of fighting. The Parthian Army is likely to be in 10,000 or higher."

"Then we shall train day and night until the battle comes. Our men must be ready to stand up to any onslaught of Easterners."

The horse archer man replied, "But we have no hope..."

"THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE, DAMMIT! Even if we fall this day, we shall be sure that as many Parthians die as the grains of sand in the desert. None shall be spared, no matter what happens."

The Greek then pointed out, "How are we to prepare ourselves fully? We have but less than a week as you said earlier."

"I'll tell you how. You'll do as you are told, that's how! Now listen. Every man is to be given a spear or a sword from the armoury. Those with skill shall be given a shield. All the villagers shall be rounded up to build a palissade around the town. Go now!!!"

And so, in a fit of panic, the men rushed outside, ready to carry out the Prince's orders.