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 torches flickered dimly in the war council chamber of Ambracia. Maps and reports lay scattered across the marble table, but Pyrrhus barely glanced at them.

His thoughts were elsewhere—on Cassander, on Macedon, on unfinished wars.

His generals had gathered, their faces tense. Echecrates stood beside him, arms crossed.

"The Romans are expanding into Magna Graecia," one of the commanders said. "They threaten our allies in Tarentum."

Pyrrhus's jaw tightened. "Then we prepare to fight them."

Echecrates sighed. "Another war, my king?"

Pyrrhus turned to face him. "Would you have me sit idle while Rome spreads like a disease?"

"The men are tired," Echecrates said. "They have fought Macedon, Syracuse, and now you would have them cross the sea to face Rome?"

Pyrrhus slammed his fist against the table. "We are warriors! And warriors do not rest."

Then, the doors to the chamber creaked open.

Lanassa stood there, her green eyes unreadable.

"The council will excuse us," she said.

The men hesitated, but Pyrrhus waved them away. As the room emptied, Lanassa walked slowly toward him, her silk robes whispering against the floor.

"You are preparing for war," she said.

She studied him for a moment. "And what of your kingdom? What of your son?"

Pyrrhus poured himself wine. "He will inherit a legacy greater than any king before him."

Lanassa's lips curled into a bitter smile. "And if you die before he is old enough to claim it?"

Pyrrhus met her gaze. "Then he will take it from my enemies' hands, just as I did."

She let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.

"You see only battlefields," she whispered. "And you wonder why I grow weary of you."

Pyrrhus felt something tighten in his chest, but he ignored it.

Lanassa stepped closer, her voice sharp. "You may be a great warrior, Pyrrhus, but you are a terrible husband."

Then, without another word, she turned and left him standing alone in the firelight.

And for the first time in years, Pyrrhus felt truly lost.

The Cost of Greatness