Morning came bitter and dark over Carthage.
The mountain's deep halls seemed quieter than usual, the silence sitting like the calm before a storm. There was a kind of anticipation in the air, as if everyone was waiting for the hammer to drop.
No army had ever attacked Carthage in its entire history. It just hadn't happened before. The Elders were always on the lookout for such things, squashing them before they could even form.
But now, most soldiers were waking up to a new reality. Six of their Elders were gone. Dead. They'd heard rumors that it was a coup, but this was not the time to dwell on that.
While the soldiers fretted in their positions, something different was happening deeper down.
Torches burned low along the corridors of the Elder's Hall, their flames restless in the cold drafts sweeping down from higher chambers.
