The year is 370 AD.

The Roman Empire is one of the largest states that the world has ever known.

From the windswept shores of the Atlantic to the crystal waters of the Red Sea,

some 70 million people live and die under the rule of just two individuals.

For the most part, the dark days of the third century are in the past. Now divided into two politically aligned but autonomous parts, one based in Rome, the other in Constantinople.

The empire is prosperous once more.

Capable of fielding hundreds of thousands of soldiers and accumulating a staggering amount of wealth.

From the Scottish marches to the deserts of Arabia,

all roads still lead to Rome.

In fact, for the majority of Roman citizens, all they have ever known is peace and prosperity.

Yet somewhere, out there, beyond the Danube and the Rhine rivers,

the naturally imposing frontiers of the Roman world, studded with the watchful eyes of

border forts and legionary garrisons, unseen forces stir.

Forces that threaten the very existence of the known world.

Out there in the dark forests and ominous mountains of the east relates a historic meeting taking place on the Danube. On the one side stood the Emperor of the

Eastern Roman Empire, bedecked with all the pomp and imperial regalia befitting his position,

and accompanied by his elite retinue of soldiers. Valens was rowed out into the deep waters of the river, huge fortified castles

and strongholds along the shore, clearly visible behind him, brutal siege engines and the steel

of the Roman war machine, glistening proudly in the heat of the day. As far as the Roman people

were concerned, the man the emperor was going to meet came from a

different world entirely. Behind Valens, lay civilisation, towns, cities, prosperity, wealth, home.

Out there across the Danube lay barbarism, fierce tribes of pagan warriors, eking out a living on the scraps thrown to them by the Romans.

...