AndyB_writes

Born in exile, Pyrrhus of Epirus rises to reclaim his lost kingdom, proving himself a warrior as fierce as his ancestor, Achilles. From the battlefields of Greece to the war-torn lands of Italy, he wages war against powerful enemies, including Macedon, Rome, and shifting allies who betray him at every turn. As he builds an empire through blood and conquest, Pyrrhus seeks not just victory, but immortality—a place among the greatest legends of history.

But war demands sacrifice. And the price of ambition is steep.


Years after his father’s fall, Alexander II of Epirus is forced into exile, raised in a land of warriors. As a young king, he reclaims his throne and seeks to restore his father’s legacy. But he soon faces an even greater threat—Rome, an empire that will not bow to kings or gods.

Outnumbered and surrounded by betrayal, Alexander must decide what kind of ruler he will be—one who fights for his people, or one who fights for history. As war consumes the land, his destiny unfolds in a battle that will determine not only his fate, but the fate of all who defy the rise of an empire.

Crown and Blood

The walls of Pella stood high against the horizon, a fortress of stone and iron that had once been the stronghold of Alexander the Great's ancestors.

Now, it was Pyrrhus's next conquest.

From his vantage point on a nearby hill, Pyrrhus watched as his forces surrounded the city. The Macedonian banners fluttered above the battlements, their defenders ready.

Echecrates rode up beside him, his face grim. "Cassander won't surrender easily."

Pyrrhus smirked. "I would be disappointed if he did."

His war council gathered around him, their expressions tense.

"We must strike fast," one of his generals advised. "If we let this drag on, the city's reinforcements will arrive."

"No," he said. "We will let them believe we are patient. We will make them comfortable. And then—we strike when they least expect it."

The generals exchanged glances, but none dared question him.

That night, the Epirote army feigned exhaustion, keeping their torches dim and their campfires low. Pella's defenders grew overconfident, believing Pyrrhus had settled in for a long siege.

Then, just before dawn, Pyrrhus led a secret assault.

Scaling the western walls with a select force, he moved like a shadow through the enemy stronghold.

Steel met flesh as his warriors cut down sentries in the dark, their deaths swift and silent.

As the city stirred, Pyrrhus signaled his main army.

The gates burst open, and his forces stormed Pella.

Cassander's soldiers fought desperately, but Pyrrhus was relentless, carving a path through the streets.

Then—he saw Cassander himself, retreating toward the palace.

Pyrrhus gave chase, his heart pounding with the thrill of battle.

But as he entered the palace courtyard—he realized too late.

A hidden force of Macedonian warriors emerged from the shadows.

Pyrrhus cursed under his breath. Cassander had played him well.

The young king gritted his teeth. He refused to die here.

Raising his sword, he prepared to fight his way out.

The Siege of Pella