Alpheo had a far more conflicted view of Romelia than most men did. As he rode through the main avenue of the so-called Eternal City, fifty of the Golden Steed rode at his side, their polished cuirasses glinting in the sun, their presence a statement as much as an honor guard for the Prince-Consort.
Of course they were just that pretty faces, when shit hit the fan, he always preferred Vosk with his hard-fuckers, but when it was time of manners, he had to put down the club and take up the pommeled sword. Even though the first may be much more effective in bloodshed.
The locals watched in silence as the white banners of Yarzat fluttered through the heart of the city.They may have not known the banner but they knew that war was coming.
He had expected something grander, perhaps even magnificent. The title Eternal City conjured images of gleaming marble, triumphal arches, and soaring columnsstreets lined with statues of emperors, the pulse of civilization itself.
