He gripped his sword hilt and smiled. The conquest had just begun.
By sunset, he had five denars and a bag of moldy bread. It was a start. He gripped his sword hilt and smiled
His first recruit was a drunken farmer named Rolf, who claimed to be a noble. Together, they chased down a group of looters near Praven. Alaric didn't fight with grace; he fought with the desperation of a man trying to rewrite his own code. He swung his blade, and for a moment, the world slowed. The physics of the strike felt real—the weight of the steel, the thud against leather armor. and for a moment
The year was 1257, and the air in Calradia smelled of horse sweat and rusted iron. He gripped his sword hilt and smiled
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