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Greeks could rule the world. Alexander did. He took a Greek army to the far Indus. There was nothing left to conquer; the world was his. But Alexander is dead. His empire is gone. And so we live in evil days; the free men of Greece have turned on each other, instead of their proper enemies: those who envy all the Greeks have done. Alexander must weep, if the dead weep. I will weep in his place, but I will also hope. The world turns; what was may come again. The Fates still spin the web of men's lives. So now, perhaps the gods wish Greeks to be great again. Perhaps a new Alexander will take up the sword, bring order where there is chaos, remake the world of men into a better place...perhaps.