The Field Marshall was sat at the table with his government. His new government. There had been talk about some of those brought to a position of power by those who trod in the corridors of the house on the hill. He was not too concerned with it however, for today he had awoken from the strangest dream. In it,
She had appeared to him once again, and told him to look towards France, for France had given the seeds of Carthage., and there the storm would break... eventually.
He had awoken with her still on his mind in the early hours of the morning, and had looked out of the window. It was near dawn, and he had heard a lion's roar. He had risen from his bed, and stood on the parapet above his garden, and seen the lion that was more like a wolf than anything he'd seen on the Veldt, saw the Dove sat on the treebranch above it, and had looked up, toward the morning star and it seemed to flicker in reply to his looking.
And so, he looked North and West, towards Marseilles, or Massilia as
She named it. After a moment he lent over in his chair and pointed it out to De La Rocque, as the sky darkened, brooding clouds emerging from nowhere. "
There, do you see it?"
The Colonel stood and squinted...
"I think I do. Is this what you brought us out here for?"
"This is proof, to all of us."
"Proof of what, mon Marshal?"
"They are real..."
The words were not out of his mouth before the darkness, but not the clouds rolled southwards, putting the shores of Northern Africa beneath a Twilight Gloom...