⟬ Letalis Serpentia Encampments, Outskirts. ⟭
Tycondrius smoothed out the folds of his thick cloak, thankful for the warmth it provided against the hillside wind. Far in the distance below, the city of Caeruleum glowed by the light of their nighttime lamps.
He didn't like fair fights.
His plans to siege the city had been set in motion. They were anything but fair.
He was the leader of Sol Invictus, an arena guild full of Gold-Ranks that fought against Bronze and Irons. He was the Warlord of Charm, a territory that fielded thousands of mixed-species formations against indignant ancients who preferred tradition to victory.
Tycon had plans. He had contingency plans.
He had allies. He brought as many as he could, promising them honor and glory... wealth and slaves.
Caeruleum would fall.
It was inevitable.
Complications would arise. They, too, were inevitable.
