• This was a bad day. As of now, the screw up list was above the horizon. We are lucky we didn't lose the battle today, though now, we resign to our beds as fools. Foolishness in combat can be very hard to find, but we did not find it. We gave it. The Persians fought like true warriors. The Spartans fought as the rulers of combat. But on this day, millennia after those dates, we fought as fools, lambs to the slaughter. And though we did so, our god shined upon us today. He gave us the power to win, even as lambs. He transformed wool to steel, hooves to daggers, and foolishness to strength. We won the battle in our eyes. Though the Phusians may see it differently, we saw victory. We prayed for victory, and got our wish.
    Phusi (FU-see) was a small country, ruled entirely by one family, the Selkirks. We were long time rivals, the Harrshaens and the Selkirks. I had the burden of being the strongest of my family. Tajik Harrshaen the Strong... I hate that nickname. The only reason I ever earned that nickname, is because of my masterful strategy and great agility. But, alas, it's time to return home for me. Although I would receive a scolding from my father, they would never forgive me if I decided to go my own way.
    "Alright men, pack it up, it's time to head back to Kaenre," I ordered them. We had conquered Phusia through foolishness and faith, and the Selkirks were no more. I heard a man gasp, and immediately looked to the horizon (as my father had trained me), and what I saw startled me. A single cloud, black as the abyss, was riding toward us, shadows emanating from it. I gasped aloud as a man stepped out of it. In later days we called him the shadow man.