As many of you probably remember, I released this story about 5 years ago, also in other forms as a pitch to Ubisoft for a plot to what would become The Two Thrones. Because of this, I was never completely satisfied with my story and figured I would give it another shot. This is the remake.
Prologue
Fire consumed the great city of Nebuchadnezzar. Yet again, Babylon had been sacked by a cruel enemy and her population slaughtered. Babylon was no stranger to such cruel events. The Hittites, The Assyrians, The Chaldeans: Three great empires that were not merely content to conquer and plunder the city, they ravaged the it, raped the women, massacred any man old enough to be a soldier, and burned everything in sight; all this in the name of showing might and ensuring obedience. However, the Persians had been different. The army of Cyrus entered the city without spilling a drop of blood, arrested the corrupt Babylonian king, Belshazzar, and declared the captive populations free to return to their homes. Under the Law of Medes and Persians, the people enjoyed a freedom they could never have imagined under previous civilizations. Sadly, the kindness that they had shown was not returned by this enemy.
The assault on the city was unexpected. A birthday celebration for the Persian king ended in a slaughter. Cheers and praises turned quickly into screams of pain and horror. Evil-looking, almost inhuman soldiers, unlike any soldier Babylon had seen, seemed to appear out of nowhere. An announcement by the king turned into a sickening gargle as a spear was thrust through his back. Even the Immortals, the king's elite soldiers and guardians, were unable to react to the appearance of enemies fast enough. Most were slaughtered within the first few seconds; the surviving Immortals attempted to rally and drive off the invaders, but were quickly cut down by the ruthless, quick moving enemies.
In the predawn hours, a cloaked figure strolled through the now blazing city of Babylon. The attack he led could not have gone any better. All resistance had either fled or been cut down. The city that he so hated was destroyed, and he now had control of everything. Suddenly, a golden crown rolled in front him and stopped at his feet. He bent down to pick up the symbol of royalty.
He chuckled evilly as he gazed at his sign of the Persian defeat.
"All that is yours is rightfully mine," he said in a dark, remorseless voice, "And mine it shall be."
His thoughts were interrupted by the loud protests of a woman tied to a wooden crossbeam.
"Let me go! Do you know who I am? If you did, you wouldn't dream of doing this! I am the daughter of the Indian Maharajah!"
The dark figure walked over to the captured girl. With his hard, callused hand, he took the chin of the angry, frightened captive. She was quite beautiful; high cheekbones, full lips, dark brown eyes, long jet-black hair, and medium tone skin darkened even more by the hot Babylonian sun. The cloaked one knew this girl, and he knew of her significance. He had not planned on her presence; it was just his good luck. The Persians' treaty with India had unwittingly condemned India's much-loved princess. The cloaked figure would use her as leverage against his targeted enemy. He released her face, which she turned away in fury, then motioned for her to be taken away, for he had more important matters of which to attend.
The figure strolled out of the city toward the Euphrates River and looked out to the brightening horizon. He smiled to himself though no one would have seen as a hood obscured his face.
"Now, I wait for you. Your death will make me complete."