Prologue 1
They called the land Little Acre but they left out the word God’s for the land was cursed by those who travelled
through it. They called it Hell’s Gate. The land was in actual description a system of mountains that was formed
centuries ago and with the harsh weather it was eroded to form a dividing terrain with a series of alternating
ridge lines with valleys. The natural mountains divided the land giving each side its flow of cold streams that will
irrigate the land on both side of the divide with fertile soil. For centuries, the mountain had seen peaceful seasons
without the cries of mercy or blood that will seep into its soil. Its growth then tells the tales better for it flourished
well with its stout trunks that reached the skies.
Initially, it was inhabited by the four legged creatures which sought its natural growth for food. With the abundance
of such creatures and growth, the attraction of man was soon drawn to it. The first arrivals were the wanderers;
nomadic tribes of Man. Soon these tribes learned to stay on the land and named themselves Goths. They were lived
in close association with the land; nurturing it, growing on it and claiming on the animals that fed on it. They were
simple people with simple thoughts; living in isolation from the others. They worshiped the spirits of the land, and
feared nobody alive or dead. With their isolation from the other groups, they harbor mistrust on strangers but when
they do meet, it was with to end with bitter killings and kidnappings of the young and women. Nevertheless, they
strive and survived for centuries until the new people arrived.
The new people to the lands were named the Romans came from a different background of the infamous nation.
They adopted the name for themselves for these new people viewed themselves as civilized and knowledgeable in
many skills with bravery as one of it. Like their namesake, they came to the land to expand their empire. They were
told the land there was open for settlement. As once mentioned in the words of one great leader; they came, they saw
and then they grabbed. There were vast lands for everyone, but the two groups had to meet eventually. Both groups
viewed the other with mis-trust and have only one syllable to describe the other.
“Savages!”
It was that cry that made them clashed. Since then they have fought over many battles and more lives were lost to
both sides. It was no different from any battles fought by others in the annals of history but the tale here needed to
be told. It’s a tale that reside in us despite all the civilized and faith teaching, we still hold savagery inside. All it
needed was a provocation for it to surface.
Act 1
Scene 1.1.1
The home of the Land Baron Julius Caesar was without its usual fanfare of merry making during that evening. The
sixteen chambers of the large mansion were all quiet although it had some guests in there. They were not frolicking
at the back pool or the open yard with the burning flesh of the hog nor were they at the rooms indulging in forsaken
acts of arousals. They were all at the grand library chamber in the mansion. It was considered a grand library for it
housed three decks of bounded books with great array of subjects. The library was built within the rectangle design
covering over a thousand feet in space. The sixteen guests; all elders or leaders of their own lands were all seated on
the available seats and for those who were derived of it had to make do with the leaning on any free standing
furniture or the wall. None of the guests were in the mood to discuss the contents of the books nor were they into
any conversable subject.
They were in wait of the new master of the mansion; the son of Julius Caesar. The later was reported to die in recent
battle with the Goths. The sixteen guests were then drawn to the doorway of the library when it was opened to admit
its new appointed master.
Saturday Julius Caesar was a young handsome man despite his dust coated clothes and weary look on the face. The
man was tall in his youthful frame with the inherited wavy blonde hair of his father; left to grow long to flow freely
past his shoulders. He was dressed like any of the land riders; long sleeved hand stitched with motif shirt with the
tough denim sewn leggings covered with the leather covers to protect the rider when mounted on the horses. The
man had his waist belt with the twin holster slung low on the side. In the holsters were the pearly mounted pistols
that were a gift of his father. The man was without his hat which out of courtesy was left hanging by the front door.
So was his hunting rifle that he could reach the target at two hundred feet. He stepped in with his step brother
following close behind.
Bastion was the name and it was given by their father for he was to protect the former like a bastion at all times.
Bastion took his role with diligent; standing up for his younger step brother in any situation. Both brothers have a
shared understanding to watch out for each other. Bastion was dressed like Saturday, but he had one extra pistol on
his waist belt. On the left side of his belt was the foot long machete which he was skillful with it.
Saturday proceeded to the standing bar and then poured himself two glasses of the wine there. He offered one to his
step brother before he drank his own. He then looked to the assembled guests who were giving him the look over.
They should for filling his father’s position was not easy. The man was the Lord Baron of the Barons there; each of
them owning large vast of lands, while Julius held the biggest and most fertile one. The barons did not earn their
lands without loss of blood and loved ones; but they were hard men there. And more to it, most of these barons does
not consider him as worthy successor to the rank as Lord Baron or Leader as they preferred to call it.
“Noble patricians,” Saturday addressed them with care. He used his words carefully. The baron term was their honor
namesake, but in that room they liked to known as patricians; a rank that befits them in the ruling hierarchy
structure.
“Patrons of my right, defend the justice of my cause with ….arms.” Saturday eased his word at the end for he knew
there are more capable contenders for his father’s position. There they were not promoted on the heritage but on
valor. Anyone of the sixteen could challenge him for the position. Such was the law of the Romans.
“And countrymen, my loyal followers, plead my successive title with your might.” Saturday studied the glare of
some. They were sizing him with his earlier address and he took the master over servant tone on them. He hoped
then that they will back down and favored him. It was what his father taught him before; never show your fear to the
opponents.
“I am his first born son.” Saturday attest that point across. He could feel the glare of Bastion but he had to do that to
win the support. “His son that made me his rightful successor. Let my father’s honor live in me. Don’t wrong mine
age with this.”
Saturday knew that some will consider him unworthy with his age. His battle scars were few with his heroic acts
fewer. He hoped that they will ignore that. He turned to look at Bastion for the next cue. The later reluctantly
stepped forth and rehearsed his lines.
“Romans,” Bastion chose to sink his words with the people. He was not truly family there; the illegal son of the
patriarch with one of the servants during one of his delirious moments. Julius Caesar had the ailment of possession
by the devil at times, much of it hidden from the other patriarchs for fear they will considered it as his weakness. It
was not an issue anymore with the man dead then. He owed his worth then to Saturday with Caesar dead.
“I am Bastion, Caesar’ …son. I am ever gracious to be in your company. I would like to keep the passage of
succession to my father’ rank, and suffered not the dishonor to approach it myself. The rank belonged to Saturday
for he will do justice and invoke nobility to it.”
Bastion took his bow to the patriarchs before he took his place behind Saturday. The later was to speak when
another person intervened.
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