"So this is what it comes down to then? War?" a man clad in bronze whispers to his comrade. They both are perched upon the palisade enclosing an unimposing encampment in the outlying region of northern Macedonia.
"It seems so. Ever since the philosopher arrived at the camp, strange things have been happening. The air has grown cold and the grass near his tent has died." the comrade grumbles. Their attention is suddenly drawn to a tent with several foreign patterns stitched onto it. The entrance folds open and a man with a cyan garb appears from the tent. He is carrying two cubes with what appear to be runes.
"That's him. That's the one. The philosopher, Aristotle. He and his cubes. The commander said he crafted these walls with those." the bronze emblazoned man mutters. "Preposterous!" his comrade replies "You do not believe that to be true, do you Val?" "I've heard rumor from recruits from the southern provinces that he constructed the new fortifications there. Rumors or not, we shall see for ourselves, watch."
Suddenly, the ground near Aristotle begins to shake. His hands are moving faster than the eyes of the soldiers are able to see; they are a blur, a flurry of flesh and stone. They stop and the tremors around grow louder and louder. A stairway of earth rises in front of the philosopher, which he promptly climbs. He silently made his way to the two men.
"Any strange phenomenon occurring near or far from the walls my friends?" Aristotle inquires. "Nothing that we could notice. It is rather dark out." Val responds somewhat sarcastically. "Aside from those fissures you caused just now..." "Well, if you do happen to see anything that is not of my doing, be sure you raise the alarm immediately. There is trouble afoot. The oracle preaches of a great danger near. Even my instincts are warning me." Aristotle then turns and treads down his stairs, which crumble back into the earth with behind each step he takes.
Val and the archer remain vigilant throughout the night, finding nothing out the ordinary from their post. A fog rolls in as it nears dawn and their vision is obscured. Chanting is heard in the distance through the fog. The chanting excels to an uproar. It is a barbarian raid. Sparks and flames are now seen in the thick fog. The soldiers scramble towards the earthen gate to raise the alarm...
