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 Illyrian stronghold was nothing like the palaces of Epirus. No marble halls, no golden statues—only stone, iron, and fire.

Alexander stood among the warriors of Illyria, feeling their eyes upon him.

The elder who had welcomed him, Bardyllis, stood before the gathered warriors. His gaze swept over them before settling on Alexander.

"This boy claims to be the son of Pyrrhus," Bardyllis said. "But blood alone does not make a warrior."

A murmur ran through the crowd. Some nodded. Others scoffed.

Alexander's jaw tightened. They still saw him as a weakling. A prince, not a fighter.

Bardyllis turned to him. "If you wish to stand among Illyrians, you must fight like an Illyrian."

Alexander stepped forward, his hands curling into fists.

Alexander sparred with hardened warriors, men who had fought and killed in countless battles. They did not hold back, nor did they offer kindness.

Every day, he was knocked to the ground, bruised, bloodied—but he always stood back up.

"You fight like a king's son," one of the Illyrians sneered after throwing him to the dirt. "Soft."

Alexander spat blood, glaring up at his opponent.

The Illyrians laughed, and for the first time, Alexander felt something shift. They respected defiance. Strength. Resilience.

His strikes became faster, his defenses stronger. He learned to fight with brute force, to grapple, to break bones, to survive in the harshest conditions.

He hunted with them, tracking prey in the frozen wilderness.

He learned to ride like them, mastering the Illyrian warhorses, which were smaller but fiercer than the ones in Epirus.

Echecrates watched from the sidelines, his expression unreadable.

At first, he had trained with Alexander, but as the weeks turned into months, he grew weaker.

His cough worsened. His once-powerful stance became slower, unsteady.

One evening, as Alexander returned from training, he found Echecrates sitting alone by the fire, his hands trembling.

"You haven't fought in days," the boy said.

Echecrates let out a tired chuckle. "Because I do not need to prove anything anymore."

Echecrates exhaled slowly. "I am old."

Then, the general placed a hand on Alexander's shoulder.

"You remind me of your father," he said softly. "The same fire. The same stubbornness."

Alexander looked into the flames, his chest tightening.

Echecrates nodded. "And you are all that remains of him."

For the first time, Alexander felt the weight of what that meant.

And soon, he would have to fight for it.

As the years passed, Epirus fell deeper under Macedonian control.

News reached Illyria that Antigonus II Gonatas had fully taken the throne, ruling over Epirus as a vassal king.

The Epirote nobles did not resist. They had lost their will to fight after Pyrrhus's death.

Macedonian soldiers patrolled Epirote cities, treating them as little more than subjects.

Alexander listened silently as reports of Macedonian rule poured in.

With each passing day, his hatred for Antigonus burned deeper.

One day, Epirus will be free again.

The Making of a Warrior