146 BCE - Carthage, in modern Tunisia

“We can never let this happen again "

“No… we underestimated them.”

Both Arcsa and the High Priestess regarded the city below them. It was a beautiful day, and the sun shown down on the Roman soldiers carting away slaves from the ruins. Smoke drifted from the burning ships in the harbor and what was left of the city.

“Humans, they were vermin once but now this world is theirs. These Romans, their equipment is terrible, but they are able to armor the entirety of their legions. And they are persistent, like ants.”

The High Priestess was flipping a coin, a silver denarius taken from a dead soldier. She continued, “The People are nowhere to be found. The bastard traitor Utu is hiding somewhere. Innana has not shown. And she will come with magic restored to the world.”

Arcsa said the ritual blessings, “May we serve the Blessed Inanna.”

“There is too much heresy among the Blooded. We must root out those who have become enamored with this world, we must remain true to our service. And while we wait, you shall enforce orthodoxy, Arcsa. Kill all the blasphemous.”

“Of course I am happy to do so. What will you do?”

“I will go to Rome and establish ourselves there. And to this rising power of the East, these Han. And wherever else war and power concentrate themselves. From now on we shall be on both sides and thus always win and continue. Our Blooded will refine and modernize their understanding of war, we shall accumulate wealth untold, all to be prepared for Her.”

Arcsa bowed his head. “I shall clean our ranks. We shall be ready whether it is one year or two thousand.”

The Priestess looked down at the Roman army. “This Scipio the Younger, he is quite clever at war. I look forward at seeing what these Romans do and how long they will last. I shall take a Roman name and cloak myself in their ways. Find me when you have cleansed our people. Bring me their venom for the rites.”

Arcsa smiled sadly. “It shall be done.”

538 AD - Rome, Italy

“Well met Arcsa!”

“Hail, High Priestess. Or I hear you go by Antonina now?”

“Shhh… I am not supposed to be here. Belisarius would be quite displeased to find his wife dressed as a cataphract in his own army!”

“They say you have Belisarius wrapped around your finger like an ornament.”

“And by they, you mean that little shit Procopius.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps.” Arcsa put thumb and forefinger to his chin and nodded.

“And I am not Arcsa now. Call me Totila.”

“Ah… I hear rumor of Totila. Come to cast out the arrogant Justinian and show him the presumptive nature of his ambition to bring the West back under the fold of Rome?” The High Priestess laughed slyly.

“Perhaps I will declare us the true heirs of Rome. That will be fun.”

“Bah. Who cares. Let us talk of business "

“It took me hundreds of years, but our ranks are pure once again. We join wars as advisors, as mercenaries, as conscripts. We slaughter humans and our own kind in endless war. We grow strong and skilled.”

“Any sign of the People?”

Arcsa frowned for he knew where the High Priestess was building up to, and it was not their way to take the circuitous route.

“Innana has not shown. And she will come with magic restored to the world.”

The High Priestess bowed and finished with the enconium, “May we serve the Blessed Inanna.”

“We have run into the occasional of the People. Mostly lost or forgotten. Sometime they knew not themselves. They were left alone then. But the People have not returned. They may be in their own hells as we were.”

April 1204 AD - Constantinople, Ottoman Empire

Arcsa felt the flush on his cheeks as he rode down the infidel. His cloak and mail hauberk flapped behind him as his horse raced down the flats. His sword, steel - what a wondrous material - flashed down when the peasant suddenly dodged under his galloping horses belly with preternatural speed.

Arcsa felt the saddle give and leapt before he fell, crashing in a clatter of steel and rolling to his feet.

“Damn, that will hurt. Good trick though” he said to himself in his native Akaddian.

“I should hope so, and thank you” called the peasants voice and shifted her long hair from her face to reveal the High Priestess.

Arcsa threw his sword and it pierced his fellow Templar who had been following him and was about to ride down the peasant in front of him.

The High Priestess winked. She looked alive and vibrant.

“Innocent the Third’s folly.” mused Arcsa. “These crusaders are greedier than the last bunch. They know not what war is, what belief is, what faith in the divine and in their fellows mean. We were supposed to be sacking Jerusalem. And here we are, in Constantinople, looting and pillaging. It is kind of fun, although I did cut the balls off of a bunch of them for rape.”

“Yes, I wasn’t paying too much attention and was taking a break from the East before coming to find you. And yet here you are.”

“The East? What have you been about?”

“It has been busy times. We fought a good war to take control of a small island nation. My husband died and I got to be regent - can you believe it? Such a tedious job keeping Tsuchimikado, that fatuous fool, thinking he could depose me at any time. And then my son, Yoriie, has taken over. So I thought I would travel some.”

Arcsa could easily fill in the blanks, the patterns never changed.

“Another son? Is he one of us?”

“No, sadly. He is human. He does not know. I think we will not be able to breed true without the magic. Innana has not shown. And she will come with magic restored to the world.”

“May we serve the Blessed Inanna.”

December 25, 1972 - North Vietnam

The High Priestess sat in the front of a B-52 flying over North Vietnam. She watched with a dull anticipation as she pulled the bomb trigger and they flew on, often not even waiting to see where they landed. After all, another bomber would be coming by soon enough.

She had never thought about weapons in the way that these humans had. Impersonal and effortless. So unlike a sword and dagger, just pull a small triger and deliver death to ones you never saw.

Arcsa was behind her, piloting the plane and speaking on the comms. They had killed the other crew members and pretty much planned on taking the plane for disassembly.

“Arcsa, I doubt.”

“Shall I cut off your head then, like I do to all who lose the faith? And drain your venom to bring the dreams of the Goddess?”

“No, I do not doubt that she will come. I doubt that we will be worthy. We are dealers in death. We know every way to kill both known and forgotten. But is this to be it? How can we guard her in this era of weapons which burn cities? We are warriors beyond measure, and control the will of all. But I press this button and a poison gas which burns the flesh is released.” And she pressed the button and a bomb dropped, filled with a rainbow cocktail of chemicals, dropped down.

“Our defense can only be incomplete without magic,” Arcsa reminded her.

“And will these humans also gain magic and turn it to these ends? Is it sufficient. Our last mages died in Nagasaki. We will have to learn again.”

“Blessed Inanna will show us the way.”

“May we serve the Blessed Inanna.”

“We are the sieve and the winnow. What is left are just the Blooded. And our people are strong and powerful.”

“Yes, but we have begun to see other People. Some of whom were right under our noses.”

“The dragons are powerful. And are still loyal to Utu or just to themselves. They will not greet Innanna properly.”

“We shall have to kill them all.”

“If I don’t kill that fucker Nixon first.”