27 November 2011

WHAT IF THE WORLD WERE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN...chapter one

I have awakened yet again staring at the stars moving between the branches of leafless trees. Tracking them across the skies for hours before I dare move. I grow weary. For decades my banner men have stomped a steaming shit-filled mud hole out the sorry excuse for an army left of the Roman Empire...what is left of it. Of late, they relentlessly attack the Southern boundaries of Erin with half a horse between them. They are nothing if not redundant and stupid. Our Welsh brothers at bow have to this point put down every charge by half before they reach my infantry. I am forever in Sir Bowen's debt for that. My heavy Calvary has on five occasions finished the job with scarcely a scratch, mowing down the ragged leftovers as though they had offered themselves up to a man a blood sacrifice to my throne. Rumor has it that some of the more base of my legion have had their way with those toothless faces before dining on the flesh of their cheeks.

I have been decisively isolationist in my foreign policy. I could send over air messages to the gargoyles of every single keep in the strongholds of Erin and raise an army of a size to easily swarm all of Briton. The legions could span the channel by locking arms and climbing back over back. I could stroll into Spania and Italia as easily as I stroll through my garden on my best mornings. I have to this point chosen not to do so. Not hard to figure. All of Euros is beset by plague, and has been for twenty years. Their food rots in the ground before they can eat it. Erin has been blessed by good fortune. The strong winds off our shores have staved off plague thanks be to Gods. There has been no reason whatsoever up until now to use my legions for anything other than defense of the realm...

I should be relaxed. I should be raising Hades at the tourneys and bending my Queen over the colors(allowing my Man At Arms to step in in the middle...I am half the man I used to be). Yet my nights are restless...

I could crush all of Euros on a moment's notice...the whole of that sad continent is brought worm level...so sad as to be a joke. Yet with the coming of the Iroquois,Cherokee,Creek and Chickasaw upon the shores of Spania, I feel my hackles rising on behalf of an already besieged countryside. Not that the beloved green flags of my home would EVER be threatened by such orange savages. In fact, I appreciate their seamanship...I just think it'd fun to kill a score of orange dogs. I need a fresh trophy for my mantle. If only I could drag myself out of bed for the event.

The first chapter of a novel yet to be named...

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