Control(working title)

This is the second short story excerpt that I put on her. It takes place in Ancient Greece and this one is the prolude to the story. The Main character(He is not yet mentioned in this excerpt) is Lucis, a warrior that was thrown out of his country for not killing his brother for reason of treson. They killed his brother and sent him out of his country with nothing more than a spear,a sheild, and some provisions. And as he journeyed across the land he gathered up other men and created a small army and now roams the land fighting whatever gets in his way. After having one of their towns attacked, Greek soldiers try to find a man that will help them battle the enemies that did that to their town. That would be wear Lucis comes in, but i have yet to write that part of the story. READ AND RATE! NOTE( i put one sentence in Arabic, but i dont think it turned out right, i say what it means in the story, but you'll know what sentence it is)

Aetsos watched as yet another town burned to the ground. Smoke was rising higher and higher into the air, and it wouldn’t be long until Arsen would find out. Aetsos looked at the remains of the town of Krokos. A once lively town fill of proud farmers, wealthy merchants, and happy families, was now reduced to nothing but a flaming wasteland. Their amphitheater that could seat the entire population, plus 10,000 more, was now a giant fire pit, with flames spewing out of all sides in a cascade of fire. And hall, in which, on happy occasions, the townspeople would drink and dance and celebrate, was not there anymore, but about 20 feet away from its previous site, for the winds that day were great.                                             He looked at the ground, covered with ash, and he looked back up again. 5,000 people. The entire population, gone with one crippling blow. This made him think long and hard. He glanced quickly at something that was on the ground. A doll with a singed dress and black, lifeless eyes. Like the child that owned it. Children! For Oden’s sake! They murdered the children. “Those savages!,” Aetsos said aloud, “Have they no bravery? The cowards!”  Soldiers near him looked up at him, but quickly went back to work. It was useless, really. Everyone, including Aetsos, knew that there were no survivors. With each passing hour, a soldier or two would think about what better things to do with their time. But it was their duty to at least try. But there was an even more bothering thought that came to Aetsos. How could this all happen in one day? How could such a vicious invasion with barbaric results all happen within the course of 24 hours?  He sighed and hung his head low towards the ground. And it was here that he made a stunning realization.                                                                                                                                                                        The ashes that lay upon the ground were grey. Every good soldier knows his elements of battle and what stood out from the site, but he let his senses sneak past him. How this could have happened today and the ashes are already grey? It couldn’t, and he brought this to the attention of his soldier, and best friend, Corban. “How could we not of known of this earlier?,” Aetsos asked,  “This could have happened days ago.” “It is beyond my knowledge, Aetsos,” Corban replied. Three soldiers were running towards them in a sprint. The leader of the charging pack, some private whose name could not cross Aetsos’ mind, ran right through the crowd of soldiers and stopped in front of Aetsos. As he gasped for air, he started to say, “My-… leader-..there-…is-. ““For Oden’s sake boy, spit it out,” Corban said. And with one huge breath of air he said, “You must see this.”                                                                                                                               Corban and Aetsos walked with the soldier until he was by a group of five other soldiers that were staring at a lump on the ground. “It’s a messenger,” Corban said. “That could explain a lot,” Aetsos said. There were three arrows sticking out of the man’s chest, shot before he could make it seven feet out of Krokos. One arrow stuck out more than the rest of them. Attached to the middle arrow, just below the heart, was a note written on papyrus. Aetsos snatched it up and read its content. It read: ترحÙ?بإÙ?Ù?جحÙ?Ù?, Ù?بدأÙ?Ø­Ù?Ù?تÙ?Ù?Ù?Ù?Ù?Ù?Ø·Ù?Ù?Ø·. Aetsos put down the note, and then he picked it back up and read it again. The curiosity of the soldiers finally exploded, “What does it say Aetsos?” He looked at the note again. He then showed it to Corban, who had a look of confusion on his face, “I don’t know of that language friend.” Aetsos let out a sigh and said, “It’s Arabic. It says that this is only the beginning of their attack.” “Whose attack?,” Corban asked. “It could be any country,” a soldier said, “ We are close to many Arabic speaking countries.” “Yes we are my fellow soldier, but there is one thing that gives them away,” Aetsos explained, “It was written on papyrus, the writing material of an Egyptian.” “But what would Egyptians be all the way up in Greece?,” asked one soldier. “Control,” Corban answered, “ and what country doesn’t want that?”