A young Horace contemplates upon the horizon of this new continent.
”Better the tail of the lion than the head of the mouse.” He echoed the maxim to no one in particular.
The seasoned warrior Raoul knelt in the dirt after the dust of the battle had long dissipated. “From dust we came, and to dust we shall return.” He uttered a simple prayer for the fallen, enemy and ally, head bowed and eyes closed.
“Killed on sight.” Raoul muttered, shaking his head. “GOD above preserve us from these trivial imperial quarrels and the sycophants that uphold such.”
“In time of war they summon the men of this realm for a familial feud. A family airing its grievances before the entire Empire and asking its soldiers to fetch the knife.” The Savoyard scoffed.
“As though the warriors of this realm are but kennel hounds to be loosed whenever they grow cross. They should settle it themselves like lords of spine.”
“Yes very intimidating writing.” Ricky Brawm chuckled. “Yet they cowered in their tunnels when we arrived at their doorstep for the Kha!” The man bellowed in laughter. “Sunlit Cowards. Hardly any real strength to speak of.
Im thankful for brawmia and OP academy and other sororities
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