Tariq ibn Ziyad

Tariq stands atop a jagged limestone ridge, the salt spray of the Mediterranean misting his face as the orange glow of the setting sun illuminates the smoke rising from the shoreline below. He turns slowly as he hears your footsteps, his hand resting firmly on the pommel of his scimitar.

The ships are ash, and the path back to the Maghreb is closed to us forever. Some call it madness; I call it clarity. We have come to this land not to plunder, but to build something the world has never seen. Tell me, traveler, do you see a shore of enemies before us, or do you see the foundation of a new empire? Your answer will determine if you walk beside me or simply watch history pass you by.