The southern princedoms, much like the city-states of old Hellas, were never truly at peace. While full-scale wars were rare, there was always at least one border burning, one feud reignited, one castle exchanging hands in the smoke of conflict. Warfare in the South had become more a tradition than an exception—an endless game of shifting alliances and brief campaigns, waged not to destroy, but to negotiate from a stronger position when profit no longer favored the sword.
It was precisely this climate of fractured ambition that made the region so unpredictable, and Alpheo knew it well. The chessboard of the South was crowded with self-interested players, and in a land where war was routine, his conquest would not go unnoticed.
He expected reaction. In fact, he expected many—and none of them favorable.
