From atop the citadel, Zus watched his empire face annihilation. His walls had fallen, his warriors were dying, in a matter of moments, it would be the end of everything three generations of kings had built. He did not fear for himself, for his father had taught him to never fear death. And surely he would die. He feared for his people, the wives whose husband’s had been slaughtered, the children who would become slaves. He feared for the looting, raping and burning that would occur once he fell. A tear dropped. The first one in years. It was then that Zus knew the true meaning of despair. He had no options to save his people, he was out of tricks and he had no allies to come to his aid. Zus only had one thing left to do. He left the citadel and as he stepped into the battlefield, everything seemed to slow down. He walked forward, weaving between his men, watching them die, watching them fall. He walked until he was in front of his enemies and he did what no one expected. He went down on bended knees and surrendered himself that his people may live.