The morning after the council, the horns of war blew across the camp.
Not the quiet roll of assembly, but the thunder of full mobilization.
The legions stirred like a giant roused from slumber — standards unfurled, wagons creaked into motion, cavalry pawed at the mud with eager hooves.
Julius had chosen his moment.
Francia was fracturing, the Concordat shattered, and before rumor could ossify into truth, he would strike.
Four fronts.
Four spears.
Four fires set against a kingdom already gasping for air.
To the north, the Brittania would continue to press down from their coastal holdings to secure territory deeper inland, as additional spoils in the war against Francia.
