The dawn came at last, sending bright rays of yellow and red and orange across the rocky fields and rolling hills of the Atlantean homelands. The sigil of the Arsenikos dynasty displayed a bright golden sun, with a black stag contained within. [i]Let us hope that both suns are truly rising once more.[/i] 

Ioannes Arsenikos rose from his bed, leaving his wife snoring softly within the canopy as he crossed the chamber to dress. It had been three days since the city of Helorus surrendered itself under siege to the growing Empire of Acharnae, one of the dozen remaining heirs to have been birthed from the corpses of the Philosopher-Kings. Until Helorus had capitulated, the number of claimant [i]polis[/i] had stood at thirteen -- luckily, the self-professed king of the city had had the sense to capitulate and swear his sword (and, more importantly, his levies) into fealty towards the growing Acharnaen realm. With any luck, he would not be the last. 

Ioannes had left the spearmen and archers that made up most of his army under the control of his wife, the ambitious and cunning Anthousa, whom he had married but a few months ago, as he rode with his cavalry to encircle the city and take its forces by surprise. They had swept over the farms and mills and wells that surrounded Helorus, cutting down what few scouts they came upon, and as a result the Helorians had no time to burn their fields or poison their waters in preparation for a siege. When the main armies arrived a few days later to properly encircle the city, Ioannes had called for a parley with the so-called King of Helorus and offered him a pardon if he should give up his crown. After a brief argument rife with insults, the now-lord had come to his senses and surrendered meekly enough.

For the next three days, then, Ioannes had made himself, his household, and his army a tolerated if not entirely welcome guest in Helorus, allowing time for his weary levies to recover and assimilate the forces of Helorus that were now Ioannes' to command. Ioannes had also feasted the lord of Helorus and his family for each of the nights he had imposed himself on them, and perhaps managed to convince them of the righteousness of his cause. 

Ioannes was no fool, of course. He had arranged for the lord's two eldest children to be escorted back to Acharnae -- as wards to be educated by Ioannes' own family, he insisted, but the unspoken agreement was that they were hostages to their father's loyalty. And so most of the levies of Helorus had been called up to join to Ioannes' own, though the lord of Helorus himself was content to remain behind his walls when the army marched off. 

Today would be the day of marching, Ioannes knew. He had commanded that the army be drawn up into ranks outside of the city by dawn -- looking out his window from the chamber, he could see them assembled just outside of the gates. Ioannes dressed quietly before rousing Anthousa, who in turn dressed and joined him as they slipped out of the city. No doubt Helorus would wake more easily to be rid of the thousands of intruders with whom they had been forced to share their homes for a few days.

As he rode to meet the head of his army, Ioannes thought on his chosen destination. There were no lack of possible opportunities. The cities of Acharnae, Ephyra and Helorus stood in a roughly straight line along the coast, but around them several [i]polis[/i] continued to claim themselves the remnants of the Atlanteans. Beyond those, the northern savages and eastern hordes continued to sweep across the outskirts of the once-Empire, sacking what villages remained. But the most tempting targed lay east along the coast, to where the ruined city of Aquilonia stood, its marble columns broken and scattered. Ioannes was not prone to flights of fancy or fond of ceremony, but his wife had proposed the idea of being formally crowned as the next Emperor of the Atlanteans from the capital of the Old Empire. He had already sent birds and messengers to the dozen remaining independent [i]polis[/i], inviting them to travel to Aquilonia themselves to pledge Ioannes their fealty. 

And so it came to be that when the army had finally been assembled they turned east, following the contours of the bay to their right. It would be a long march to Aquilonia, even if Ioannes followed his earlier precedent and raced ahead with his cavalry, but he was content to trot along and watch the crashing of the waves. Depending on events once his forces arrived at the capital, it might be the last moment of tranquility for some time.