Pontic

Side Alley

Evening: In a dark side alley in Pressburg, a man and a boy sit next to piles of garbage. The man is bearded, has a prominent nose, curly long brown hair, and is hugging a rusty blacksmith's hammer. His clothes are dirty but reminiscent of blacksmith gear. Small leather pouches contain additional small hammers, whetstones, and tools. He is sleeping peacefully in the corner. The boy has dark skin, black hair and eyes, and is wearing a gold bracelet. His clothing seems expensive and strange but is dirty. He appears to be keeping watch and regularly looks around.

When the man wakes up, he laughs in a half-asleep state. "Bwahahaha, Ari'au, I had a fantastic dream!" He stands up from the garbage and holds his hammer to the sky. "I think today is going to be a good day after all! I feel a tingling in my fingers!"

Ari'au responds, "Urgh, Giorgius, you're hurting my ears! And about your tingling, I'm sure your hand is just asleep..."

Giorgius starts walking outside the alley.

"Ehhh?! Where are you going?!" Ari'au runs after Giorgius.

"No idea!" Giorgius says loudly.

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Pressburg Fortress

Dràcëtu Blinishtë, a brown-haired man with an unkempt beard and blue eyes marked by dark circles, sits in his office working on documents. His clothes are dark green with a brown fur collar, and an ink stain decorates his right collar.

"Ahhh... The state treasury is running low... People in all ranks are corrupt, and we are DAMN WELL SURROUNDED BY ENEMIES! The aid to the poor hasn't solved the beggar problem but worsened it. WHAT IS ALL THIS?! AM I ONLY SURROUNDED BY INCOMPETENCE?!"

The door to his office opens slightly, and a face peeks into the room. "My lord..."

"WHAT?!" shouts the king.

Såmiu Turiscë opens the door and steps in. "A shaman woman with antlers and a Futhark of the Skirien tribe wants to speak with you. Their names are Frijja Jütnasdotir and Anton Lombard."

Dràcëtu Blinishtë looks skeptically at Såmiu and says, "They should wait in the throne room; I need to finish working through this document... I'm going to go crazy or die from overwork..."

After some time waiting, Såmiu Turiscë arrives and brings both of them into the throne room. The throne room is lit solely by the evening sun and a few sparsely placed candles. Besides the guards, there are also bureaucrats going about their work. The tables seem to be set up temporarily, with scrolls scattered chaotically for processing on the tables.

Frijja enters the throne room, and the bureaucrats are running back and forth. Frijja sees the faces of the bureaucrats and the king, and they all seem extremely exhausted. Frijja steps forward, and the king of Kontinien sits on the throne.

"Good evening, Shaman Jütnasdotir and Futhark Lombard. I am King Dràcëtu Blinishtë. As you can see, I can hardly spare any time for you today. State your request."

Frijja and Anton are surprised. They thought the king had let the country fall into ruin and poverty. However, seeing the ruler's dark circles, they realize he is doing everything he can to improve the situation.

Anton bows and begins to describe their situation. "I am the Futhark of the Skirians and ask to stay a little longer. You said we have until sunset, but we need more time until the next noon to gather ourselves."

Dràcëtu looks dissatisfied and says, "And why should I grant your request? What is the reason?"

Frijja responds to Dràcëtu with a neutral expression. "We are taking in the Pontic Greeks and migrating west beyond the Alps."

King Dràcëtu asks skeptically, "Why do you want to take the Pontic Greeks with you?"

Anton responds promptly, "Because otherwise, they will starve here, and we need good settlers. Some of them have skills in viticulture, fishing, and shipbuilding. These abilities might be needed."

King Dràcëtu asks, puzzled, "If I remember correctly, they are all Christians. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," Anton says confidently to the king.

King Dràcëtu's expression changes from distrustful to serious, and he says, "On the condition that you also take in the beggars."

Frijja's expression remains unchanged while Anton seems surprised, leaving the negotiation to Frijja. She adds, "Then a discount of 4/10 on grain and firewood."

Dràcëtu: "1/10"(･ิω･ิ)

Frijja: "3/10"(・・）

Dràcëtu: "2/10"(^^;)

Frijja: "3/10... (・・）And we will be gone by morning."

Dràcëtu: "Agreed..." (**)

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Skirian Camp

Anton stands on a wagon, surrounded by a large crowd of people. "The Futhark is making a speech," someone shouts. Everyone is talking amongst themselves. Skirians, Pontians, and even strangers have come, all wondering what's going on.

Ari'au sits on Giorgius's shoulders, both looking confused. "Why did the king say that all the beggars and Pontians should be in the Germanic camp?"

Giorgius laughs heartily, "Bwahahahaa, I have no idea! But I have a good feeling about it!"

Ari'au, still puzzled, asks, "Why?"

"Ari'au, during my time in Damascus, I learned to always trust my gut feeling. And it tells me that something good will happen today!"

Anton raises his hand, and the crowd quickly quiets down. "My friends! We have now covered half the distance, and the other half will be a strenuous march over the unforgiving Alps. I want us to take the Pontic Greeks and the beggars of Pressburg with us to the new land... This is not up for discussion. We need more settlers, and the Pontians are most welcome!"

A harsh voice rings out, "And we should take in these strangers? What if they are criminals?"

"Yeah, exactly! We don't know these people!"

"What is this anyway? What kind of Futhark are you? You're as soft as straw!"

"Why is Frijja standing next to this softie?! Is she an idiot too?"

All the Skirians from the village of Iwòrzin glare at the speaker and shout: "Who are you to talk about Frijja like that? Be grateful if she saves your worthless hide when you're sick or injured!"

"Yeah, exactly! She healed my child from a wolf bite!"

"She relieved my back pain and set my dislocated shoulder!"

Many people debate about the Pontians, who look visibly worried. They don't understand a word of Germanic and only see the furious Skirians ready to bash each other's heads in. The topic changes mid-debate to what Frijja has done to heal people, leaving the Pontians and beggars confused.

Frijja shouts loudly, "QUIET! IF YOU KEEP SHOUTING, I WON'T HEAL YOU ANYMORE!"

The villagers are shocked and quickly stop the argument as suddenly as it started.

Ari'au whispers in wonder to Giorgius, "Frijja seems to be an exceptionally skilled healer and a respected woman. I've never seen a barbarian tribe be so... democratic."

Giorgius adds loudly, "Bwahahaha! Even in civilized Rome, it's uncommon to let women speak! How refreshing!"

The place falls silent quickly, and everyone looks at Giorgius in surprise. Anton seizes the moment of quiet and speaks to the crowd, "The Pontians bring a lot of knowledge, and their numbers are crucial, as we cannot protect a territory adequately on our own."

She points to Giorgius and Ari'au and adds, "Also, among the beggars, there seems to be a blacksmith and a..."

Ari'au finishes the sentence in perfect Germanic, "Former prince of Nasamonia in the region of Libya on the Great Syrtis. Ari'au Sira Azulay Mid'rah Iz'mrash of Zagros. Friends call me Ari'au, and you can too... Not that my title holds any value here."

After much discussion, everyone agrees in favor of Anton. Now the caravan consists of various peoples collectively seeking a safe place.

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Western Rome

At the border between Kontinien and Western Rome, a Roman climbs a ladder up to a border tower at the edge of a forest in the region of Norica and speaks to a border guard.

"Lucius, I'm here to relieve you. Greet Lutizia and your children for me. We'll meet tonight for the celebration."

"All right, Basilius. Have a good watch."

Lucius climbs down the ladder, and as he nearly reaches the bottom, Basilius shouts, "Alert! Border breach!"

Lucius immediately runs to the border marker and sees a large crowd. The border guards light a signal tower, and the signal spreads rapidly inland.

The watchtower guard in Italian Rome sees a tower ignite to the east. "Jesus! An attack from Norica?"

He gets no respite as a second tower ignites. "Gallia too?"

A third tower ignites, this time from Britannia.

And to make matters worse, a fourth from Raetia (Helvetia).

What the watchtower guard didn't expect is a signal fire

 from Grikonia on the island of Sicily.

The fire watchman, visibly tense, prays to God: "Oh Lord in heaven, keep the evil at the borders of the empire out of our beautiful realm!"

A war on five fronts is madness, and with the crumbling economy, it is unsustainable.

Thus, the Western Romans could not defend their land, and barbarians by sea or land simply took over without resistance.

The Franks and Burgundians made their way to Gaul.

The Suebi embarked on a long journey to Iberia.

The Lombards and Alemanni invaded Italy and Helvetia, and the Vandals went by sea to North Africa to the breadbasket of Carthage and South Grikonia to the island of Sicily.

The Breton Celts fled to Gallic Brittany, and the partitioning of Western Rome to the Germanic tribes began.

The Skirians are still on their way, trying to find their place.

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Today, a bit more background on the Skirian

Historically, the Skirians were a tribe that settled in what is now Ukraine and were eventually wiped out by the Huns... Sad. :(