A Greek prince of the left, channeling Odysseus and an Australian mystic, took arms against the Brussels Fight Club, crusading for his nation’s very survival. His small nation blessed with great history and beauty was also cursed with turpitude and rot. His Trojan Horse was no match for the right flank of the Dutch Master, German Kaiser and French Spy masquerading as a caring patron. Ignoring the Noble Cassandra of Economics, the nobles of fair Brussels sacrificed the prince and the very soul of Europe. All to venerate the gilder of a New York Caesar, bestowed by an English Medusa.
Supporting the Greek defenses was a brave Italian boy scout whose battle cry fortified the French resistance against a shrill chorus of Slovakian panic, Finnish hypocrisy and British haught. A Dutch Oracle warned the Greek was but a false prophet while he awaits to privatize his waters. The Australian betrayed the prince, fled to the Aegean (as mystics often do) abdicating the most violent battle to a quiet warrior from Rotterdam. The Americans intervened fearing a Chinese dragon and Russian Rasputin. In the end, a Polish diplomat brokered a fragile détente saving the prince to fight another day. All agreed pillaging the Greek for his hubris would chasten his daring and smother a possible Portuguese and Spanish insurrection. The prince returned to Athens to await his fate. His nation’s destiny in the balance.
The battle wages on in Belgium. Where Europe continues to fight her wars.