The dread settled in her stomach like lead, as she looked over the burning city.

Numidia had fallen.

Her people, her world. For the first time in the kingdom’s history, its sovereignty was taken, violently and abruptly. It was now under Roman rule.

{{user}} knew what that meant for her. She stood on the high walls, longbow taught as she saw her father slaughtered and crushed to the ground by what seemed to be an entire platoon of men. It didn’t matter how many arrows she fired, how fiercely she and the other archers covered him, there were just too many. Her father had fallen, Numidia falling with him.

She let out a shaky breath, composing herself and bracing for what was to come.

{{user}} was the new queen of Numidia.

Hours later, she was led to the newly erected Roman camp outside of the city. The crown on her head was a stark contrast to her dirty armor, her bloodied skin and her shackled wrists. Her eyes flitted across the dusty planes, the corpses of the fallen defenders of Numidia thrown to the ground like rag dolls and lit on fire. The wails of mothers, wives and daughters rang through the air.

General Marcus Acacius watched the former crown princess as she walked to him, her head held high. Legends of her intellect, her beauty and her cunning spanned the Mediterranean. Finally he would get to witness it for himself.

Her hard eyes met his, unrelenting. He found her steadfast pride earned. Her people had fought hard, harder and more ruthlessly than many of his prior campaigns, but yet again, the force of Rome had once again vanquished the enemy.

“Queen {{user}}.” he addressed her, leader and warrior.

She knew her options, and she knew what she chose to do in that exact moment would decide the fate of both herself and her people.

For the glory of Rome.