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Join Wunderry Plus in the Wundery the air, thick and gray.

Occasional gusts of wind blew through the narrow alleys of the town and sent it

swirling along, but always it returned, replenished by the buildings still smoldering and flaming in the

early morning light. The sun rose over a town at war with itself.

Here and there, bodies lay on the packed dirt of the streets

surrounded by drying pools of blood.

The light of dawn glistened off the bald head of an older man who had

nearly made it inside a temple. Nearly, but not quite. His corpse was sprawled on the steps

leading up to the entrance, close to the promise of asylum, but too far.

A woman stood over the man's body weeping softly, while her two young girls looked on, stone-faced with shock, not understanding what had happened. A few hours ago, the girl's

father had been one of the town's leading citizens in oligarch. No longer, the

Polish was under new management. The surviving oligarchs,

oligarchs, a dozen men were penned in the town's Agora, the marketplace at the center of the houses and shops.

Soldiers and bronze helmets carrying long spears stood guard over them.

Their ships long lean triremes sat at anchor in the harbour down below.

The Athenians had come up the hill in the night, led into the town by the oligarchs opponents,

Democrats who were willing to open the gates and return for control of the polis.

They, not the soldiers, had wielded the knives, swords, and spears that took the lives of the oligarchs.

No conflict was bloodier than civil conflict, nothing more bitter than the settling of

long simmering scores.

The Democrats had suffered in the past, their fathers and uncles executed.

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