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Scene 1: The Divided Franks
EXT. FRANKISH BATTLEFIELD - DAY
The year is 466 AD. A chaotic
battlefield sprawls across the
landscape. Roughly clad Frankish
warriors, their faces streaked with dirt
and blood, clash with crude weapons -
axes, swords, spears. The air is thick
with the smell of sweat, blood, and
smoke. A young boy, around ten years
old, watches from a slight rise, his
eyes wide and observant. This is CLOVIS,
future King of the Franks. His father,
CHILDRIC, King of the Salian Franks,
fights amongst them, his armor battered,
his movements slow with age.
CLOVIS
He grips a small, crudely fashioned
wooden sword.
CHILDRIC
(weary)
They will never unite, my son. Never.
CLOVIS
But why, Father? Why do they fight?
CHILDRIC
(gruffly)
For land. For power. For glory. Foolish things,
all of them.
Childeric wipes blood from his brow, his
gaze sweeping across the brutal scene.
He sighs, a deep sound of despair.
CHILDRIC
One day, you will learn that uniting them will
require more than a strong sword.
Clovis looks intently at his father, a
flicker of ambition in his young eyes.
He tightens his grip on his wooden
sword.
CLOVIS
I will unite them, Father. I will.
A particularly brutal clash erupts
nearby. Childeric is pushed back, almost
falling. Clovis flinches but remains
rooted to his spot, observing the chaos
with a grim determination.
CHILDRIC
(coughing)
Perhaps... perhaps you will.
FADE OUT.
