The Roman Challenge

Pyrrhus stood atop the battlements, staring out over the plains beyond Ambracia.

The wind carried the scent of rain, but it was not the storm he feared.

It was Rome.

Echecrates approached, his expression grim. "More messengers have come from Tarentum. They beg for your aid."

Pyrrhus's fingers tightened around the stone railing.

Tarentum—a Greek city in southern Italy, under threat from the Roman legions.

"If we do nothing, Rome will take all of Magna Graecia," Echecrates said. "And then, they will come for us."

Pyrrhus took a long breath.

A new war. A greater war than any before.

Echecrates frowned. "You hesitate."

Pyrrhus shook his head. "No. I was merely thinking—" He turned to his general, his golden eyes burning. "I was thinking that perhaps this is the war I have been waiting for."

Echecrates studied him carefully. "Rome is not Macedon. Their armies do not break easily."

Pyrrhus smiled. "Then we will make them bleed."

He turned away from the battlements. "Prepare the fleet."

Echecrates hesitated. "And what of Queen Lanassa?"

For a moment, Pyrrhus felt a flicker of unease.

But then, he pushed it aside.

"Lanassa will understand," he said. "This is destiny."

Echecrates said nothing.

But in his heart, he wondered how much longer Pyrrhus could ignore the cracks forming around him.

Because even great men can fall.

And sometimes, they never see it coming.