North of the Novissime, across the Dain River, The Urzoth Kingdom dominated the western portion of the Tuculli Forest. They were an untamed people in an untamed land, sheltering from the harsh climate in structures of wood and animal skins designed to be torn down, transported and rebuilt with ease.

In the largest of these structures, the largest of these men, Chief Otto, sat with Brennus the Urzoth King and a small council of advisors. Across the crude, wood slab table, a little man gave another rambling answer to a question Otto could not remember. Otto’s attention drifted from the subject of the meeting. He glanced at the soft light that shone through the hut’s sides and roof and the shifting shadows of the dozen or so men standing around the perimeter of the room. He could pick out a word or two of their separate conversations. The men were guessing at what decisions would be made. They shared the whispers of the uninformed. Some were right, others much further from the mark. The entrance flap whipped up and snapped as a gust of wind blew through. Otto smiled to himself when his wandering eyes once again found the little man across the table. He was still speaking.

The man was from the eastern Urzoth-Alan border. He was dressed the same as any Urzoth, in furs and heavy cloth accented with bone and wood. But he bore the features of a southerner; olive tone skin, hairless face and black curly hair. He was however far more weathered than a true Novissime man. Otto looked to his king, Brennus, who sat stern faced as ever. He appeared to listen with grave concentration.

The little man had apparently made his point. Either that or he said all the words he knows. An extra beat of silence let Otto know it was his time to ask another question. “You traveled with these invaders? These horse people?” Otto asked, unimpressed.

With two shaky fingers, the little man twisted what looked like the rib bone of a small hare or rodent that dangled from his ill-fitting coat sleeve. “I-I was sold. No, I was given to them when I was a boy. A tribute from the Consul of The Bryer to make sure- Well no I was given to the Nu when they threatened to attack. Like a captive?” He paused, waiting for confirmation. None came. “They were at our borders, then, in The Bryer, now they will soon be at ours. Yours. Here. They're coming.” The rib bone broke from his jacket and fell to the dirt floor. The little man started to reach for it, then stopped, unsure what to do.

“Why would you be tribute, Worm?” Otto asked in near amusement.

"Well, its Ves- it's Vespasian." The latter portion of the man's name was barely audible. He shook his head before answering Otto's question. "The Consul was my father. The Nu demanded payment and I was given to make sure they were paid. Many of us were.”

“Sent his most womanly son?”

“Maybe. His first born, but probably happy to be rid of me.” A certain fire seemed to be lit in the little man.

“The Bryer is a province of the empire. Why would they pay a band of horsemen when they have the legions?” Brennus questioned for the first time.

“A band of horsemen? My King, have you not heard the stories? They are a storm of death! And besides, this is the Gilded Age for the Novissime! They are pretty but rotted out.” The Worm lowered his head after his outburst.

“What of these Nu then? They have found some magic?” Otto spat the last word. He nearly rolled his eyes at his utterance of it, but he caught himself.

“Magic? No, none that I have seen. I-I think all the magic is gone. Gone when the Old Gods left us. These Nu though,” he said, sitting up straight, “they are put on horses from birth and learn to ride before they can walk. They can shoot arrows at full gallop. When The Bryer was at war, I was just born then so I don’t know which fight, one hundred Nu riders came and offered to ride with us. They rode so fast and shot so many arrows they could collapse entire flanks by themselves. That was only a hundred. It was ten years before the horde came. That is when I was given to them. I was with them for seven years. Since then I’ve been with your people. I know these things to be true!” The man was near a panic. Otto was unmoved by the Worm’s passion. He turned to Brennus.

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“Yes, The Alans seem to think the same. They intend to flee north with what they have left. Into the Ferrus Mountains," the King said.

Otto had spent the past season leading skirmishes in Alan territory. He had noted their numbers dwindling and it was his scouts that had first discovered their intentions. As much as Otto knew it didn’t matter, he felt a degree of satisfaction hearing Brennus mention the information he had provided. The Worm relaxed his shoulders and almost beamed with the king’s agreement of his own statement. Otto recognized the common feeling between himself and the Worm.

“And how did you come to live with us? A daring escape or did the Nu get tired of being paid?” Otto asked, only slightly less critical.

“I was told that the Consul of the Bryer was replaced by the Novissime. They killed my father so the deal with the Nu was, was tossed out. It wasn’t good anymore so they killed most of the others and fed them to their children. They let three of us go to spread the word.” The little man held his head high for the first time. He seemed to wait for a reaction to the horrors as if his ability to be stoic at their mention was his greatest source of pride. Neither Otto nor Brennus gave the slightest hint of bother, and he cowed again. Some of the other Urzoth stirred uncomfortably.

“So the Nu want gold then?” Otto broke the silence calmly.

“No, well not from us. I don’t think they even know of us. They know west Novissime has wealth and is as hollow as the east. In-In my time with your people I have not broken any laws. I haven’t lied or misled anyone. The Urzoth gave me a home and I owe everything for that. You have to believe me! You have to know how terrible they are!”

Otto readied another question, but an almost imperceivable motion from Brennus stopped him. The room was silent for a time, a mere collection of moments that seemed to last longer than they should. Eventually the whispers of the advisors and the men standing around the room grew to a dull roar.

“Enough." The room fell silent again. “Don’t just gossip like children. Control yourselves or get out.” Brennus didn’t yell, but his voice filled the room. “Otto?”

The chief took in a breath and shrugged. “Simple enough. They are passing through, so we move the villagers north. We can stay behind. We’ll attack the vanguard as they pass then disappear. Their horses and bows won’t be much of an advantage in the forest and if we harass them enough, they will find another way back when they’re finished with the Novissime.” Otto spoke with such obvious confidence that men present seemed to accept the plan like it was their fortune spun for them by a Druid. Otto gave a slight nod to Brennus, proud of his speech. The King gave the smallest chuckle, not enough for anyone else to notice.

“It's good what the Alans are doing. We should send the young and old north in the same way while we fight,” Gregor, an advisor seated beside Otto said. The others simply nodded or gave a quick affirmation of their agreement.

The hide flap whipped and let out another snap.

Then it was Brennus’s turn. “The winds are bringing winter in. That far north, in those mountains, is no place for the children. Now they are filled with Alans. They will be desperate and more than happy to raid the ones we send north. And if the coming horde is as big as it is said to be, there will be no disappearing after our attacks. And if they have their eyes on the Empire’s gold no copper from us will be enough to deal. The Tuculli, our forest, our home is burning. As the flames grow close, I see only one option.”

Otto had known his king long enough to hear the unsaid. “You suggest we leave the forest. If not north, then south. Cross the Dain into the empire.” Otto didn’t like the idea, but he saw the reason in it. “It’s a fine time for it. The whole lot of them are in the capital.”

“True, it’s their festival.” Titus, another advisor said.

The other men shifted and began to chatter again. The Worm had been too lost in his own thoughts to follow the decisions that had been reached and now struggled to hear each individual conversation at once, frantically trying to piece it all together.

“Ulrich, take some men ahead of us,” Brennus said to an advisor. “We will have to send for permission, lest they see our move as a provocation.” Brennus stood and addressed the room, “Alright, it must be said. These are our lands and the lands of our father. But there was a time when our people roamed free on both sides of the river. Why should our dead be buried only in the Tuculli? Why not in the fertile hills of the south? Why do we accept the borders placed on us? It is now best for our people to move south, and so as free men we will do so. And when it is best to move north we will do that as well. East, west, who is to tell us not to go?” The king returned Otto’s nod with a quick raise of his eyebrows. Otto's smirk served as his concession.

If Otto had the men convinced, Brennus had them inspired. There was no history known to the Urzoth or the Novissime that noted their people roaming free south of the Dain, but there didn’t need to be. Otto saw the game from his oldest friend and gave the king a knowing look of support. He stood and said, “We will send word out before night, gather on the Dain and we will cross as one. Worm, go tell your people in the east.”