This is life.
A long time ago, there was a great kingdom nestled in the mountains. Millions of peasants toiled at the behest of the Lords, and knelt at the feet of their king. Life was hard and the sickly and the poor withered and died through the winter. The ancient walls of the capital – meticulously cared for by stonemasons and slaves – kept the tradesmen and the nobles safe, despite the hardships of the outside world.
In the lowlands below, tribes of barbarians gathered to raid one of the villages at the border of the kingdom, in the foothills of the mountains. A scout from the kingdom spotted one of the attacking tribes, but was captured and killed before she could make it back. The tribes arrived in these villages without warning. The village elders narrowly escaped with the children as the brave young men and women fought for what was theirs. By the time the army made it out into the village to drive out the invaders, the outlying villages had already been pillaged and burned. Hundreds of people lay dead and brutalized.
As the tribes receded back into the lowlands, a drought set in over the lands. They spread rumors of a land with bountiful food and weak men. They showed their friends the trophies and trinkets they had brought back, otherworldly technological wonders and beautiful artworks. As the river dried up, the tribesmen grew hungry and desperate.
As the crops began to die, the king set forth a decree to preserve the glacial meltwater and spread it carefully over the staple crops. They dammed up creeks and dug new irrigation channels through the rocky terrain. A priest was caught smuggling out of the grain stockpiles, for which he was tried and publicly executed.
The barbarians climbed up into the mountains once again, this time in far greater numbers. The army engaged them almost immediately and deployed cavalry to intercept them. The cavalry charged bravely into the barbarian hordes, crushing the chests of the front line of warriors. The barbarians, brave as a bear, crowded around the knights, dragged them off their horses, and forced spears through the chinks in their armor. They ran across the foothills raiding farmhouses and slaughtering anyone they came across. Some of the peasants cut rope ladders as the crowds of nomads drew closer. They downed trees and leapt gulleys in their inexorable approach.
The armsmen of the kingdom met the barbarians in towns and cities across what remained of their lands, fighting ruthlessly against the crowds of berserkers. Bodies piled up so high in some towns that even moving through them was hard. Civilians evacuated into the safety of the capital as legions of footsoldiers covered their escape. Conflagrations spread across the dry vegetation of the highlands. Smoke billowed into the sky like a funeral pyre. The nomads retreated into the towns they had taken over – protected by fire brakes – while the guards took up defensive positions in the capital.
In the ensuing days, a pox would spread across the capital, especially among the wounded, of whom there were many. The city’s apothecaries desperately brewed tonics and potions, but nothing stopped the spread of the disease. Of the brave few farmers who ventured out to reclaim the scorched lands they had once worked, only one returned – and she returned with horror stories. The barbarians were now accompanied by a contingent of armsmen from a neighboring empire, towing ballistas and trebuchets, with halberts in hand. They had seen the fires as an opportunity to seize. The king sent messengers to allied city states, but no help would arrive. His generals wondered if they even made it across the border.
Within three months of the incursion, 15% of the remaining population had died of hunger and disease.
The barbarians positioned ballistas on the ridges across a gulley from the castle walls. They assembled trebuchets atop the cliffs and, with great effort, a team of their strongest men pushed a battering ram to the roadway leading to the city gates. Armsmen approached the walls with ladders, but were shot off by city archers. The sieging armies launched rocks into the city streets, destroying buildings and killing people at random. The kingdom positioned scouts on the castle walls, who would report the positions of enemy siege engines. The king’s army fielded trebuchets accurate enough to snipe enemy trebuchets and ballistas, arching their shots over the city walls.
Still, the King’s forces were attrited from the constant, unceasing fire. As arrows depleted, archers dumped buckets of excrement and rotting corpses over the castle walls. The barbarians would launch some of these corpses back into the city center. The priests, now accustomed to death and suffering, hauled them off in carts like the rest, to be burned with the rest of the dead.
In the dead of night, the raiding nomads rushed the battering ram to the city gate. Archers fired down at the attacking force, but were suppressed and killed by a contingent of well-placed enemy ballistas. The city’s men at arms surged to the gate. They hauled furniture, rubble, anything they could to try to block the entry, but their efforts were in vain. They fought desperately all through the night to contain the breach. The king’s guards gathered the children in the keep, armed them with daggers and sticks, and locked the doors. As the screams and the clashing of steel grew close, the king knew there was not much time left. He pulled his sword off of his wall and prepared for battle.
By morning, the battle was over. All of the former inhabitants of the cities had been killed. The soldiers embarked set off again for home. The barbarians feasted on the spoils of their conquest. As time went on, the little food that remained was depleted and the sewers became clogged. Not knowing how to fix them, the ground would come caked in a mush of rot and feces. Many of the nomads died from infections. The rest returned to the lowlands to return to the life they had lived before.
The spirits of the dead gathered before God like stars in the night sky. They spoke in a chorus of pain and misery, asking God why he abandoned them, why he let them suffer the way he did.
God responded that he was testing his nation, and asked to speak with the king. The king emerged from the congregation and stood before God. God told the king that the kingdom was being tested. The king protested that the test was impossible. The enemy armies which faced the kingdom were far superior. We had been wracked with death and disease.
God explained that his test was not a test of strength or skill. It was a test of resolve, and his people had passed. His nation stood strong against impossible odds. Thanks to the fortitude of his people and the fight they put up, the barbarians never went on to sack the surrounding kingdoms. The technology this kingdom left behind and their attempts to cure the pox would go on to inspire generations of scientists and scholars.
With that, the spirits of the kingdom ascended into Heaven
In the lowlands below, tribes of barbarians gathered to raid one of the villages at the border of the kingdom, in the foothills of the mountains. A scout from the kingdom spotted one of the attacking tribes, but was captured and killed before she could make it back. The tribes arrived in these villages without warning. The village elders narrowly escaped with the children as the brave young men and women fought for what was theirs. By the time the army made it out into the village to drive out the invaders, the outlying villages had already been pillaged and burned. Hundreds of people lay dead and brutalized.
As the tribes receded back into the lowlands, a drought set in over the lands. They spread rumors of a land with bountiful food and weak men. They showed their friends the trophies and trinkets they had brought back, otherworldly technological wonders and beautiful artworks. As the river dried up, the tribesmen grew hungry and desperate.
As the crops began to die, the king set forth a decree to preserve the glacial meltwater and spread it carefully over the staple crops. They dammed up creeks and dug new irrigation channels through the rocky terrain. A priest was caught smuggling out of the grain stockpiles, for which he was tried and publicly executed.
The barbarians climbed up into the mountains once again, this time in far greater numbers. The army engaged them almost immediately and deployed cavalry to intercept them. The cavalry charged bravely into the barbarian hordes, crushing the chests of the front line of warriors. The barbarians, brave as a bear, crowded around the knights, dragged them off their horses, and forced spears through the chinks in their armor. They ran across the foothills raiding farmhouses and slaughtering anyone they came across. Some of the peasants cut rope ladders as the crowds of nomads drew closer. They downed trees and leapt gulleys in their inexorable approach.
The armsmen of the kingdom met the barbarians in towns and cities across what remained of their lands, fighting ruthlessly against the crowds of berserkers. Bodies piled up so high in some towns that even moving through them was hard. Civilians evacuated into the safety of the capital as legions of footsoldiers covered their escape. Conflagrations spread across the dry vegetation of the highlands. Smoke billowed into the sky like a funeral pyre. The nomads retreated into the towns they had taken over – protected by fire brakes – while the guards took up defensive positions in the capital.
In the ensuing days, a pox would spread across the capital, especially among the wounded, of whom there were many. The city’s apothecaries desperately brewed tonics and potions, but nothing stopped the spread of the disease. Of the brave few farmers who ventured out to reclaim the scorched lands they had once worked, only one returned – and she returned with horror stories. The barbarians were now accompanied by a contingent of armsmen from a neighboring empire, towing ballistas and trebuchets, with halberts in hand. They had seen the fires as an opportunity to seize. The king sent messengers to allied city states, but no help would arrive. His generals wondered if they even made it across the border.
Within three months of the incursion, 15% of the remaining population had died of hunger and disease.
The barbarians positioned ballistas on the ridges across a gulley from the castle walls. They assembled trebuchets atop the cliffs and, with great effort, a team of their strongest men pushed a battering ram to the roadway leading to the city gates. Armsmen approached the walls with ladders, but were shot off by city archers. The sieging armies launched rocks into the city streets, destroying buildings and killing people at random. The kingdom positioned scouts on the castle walls, who would report the positions of enemy siege engines. The king’s army fielded trebuchets accurate enough to snipe enemy trebuchets and ballistas, arching their shots over the city walls.
Still, the King’s forces were attrited from the constant, unceasing fire. As arrows depleted, archers dumped buckets of excrement and rotting corpses over the castle walls. The barbarians would launch some of these corpses back into the city center. The priests, now accustomed to death and suffering, hauled them off in carts like the rest, to be burned with the rest of the dead.
In the dead of night, the raiding nomads rushed the battering ram to the city gate. Archers fired down at the attacking force, but were suppressed and killed by a contingent of well-placed enemy ballistas. The city’s men at arms surged to the gate. They hauled furniture, rubble, anything they could to try to block the entry, but their efforts were in vain. They fought desperately all through the night to contain the breach. The king’s guards gathered the children in the keep, armed them with daggers and sticks, and locked the doors. As the screams and the clashing of steel grew close, the king knew there was not much time left. He pulled his sword off of his wall and prepared for battle.
By morning, the battle was over. All of the former inhabitants of the cities had been killed. The soldiers embarked set off again for home. The barbarians feasted on the spoils of their conquest. As time went on, the little food that remained was depleted and the sewers became clogged. Not knowing how to fix them, the ground would come caked in a mush of rot and feces. Many of the nomads died from infections. The rest returned to the lowlands to return to the life they had lived before.
The spirits of the dead gathered before God like stars in the night sky. They spoke in a chorus of pain and misery, asking God why he abandoned them, why he let them suffer the way he did.
God responded that he was testing his nation, and asked to speak with the king. The king emerged from the congregation and stood before God. God told the king that the kingdom was being tested. The king protested that the test was impossible. The enemy armies which faced the kingdom were far superior. We had been wracked with death and disease.
God explained that his test was not a test of strength or skill. It was a test of resolve, and his people had passed. His nation stood strong against impossible odds. Thanks to the fortitude of his people and the fight they put up, the barbarians never went on to sack the surrounding kingdoms. The technology this kingdom left behind and their attempts to cure the pox would go on to inspire generations of scientists and scholars.
With that, the spirits of the kingdom ascended into Heaven
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