CHRONICLES OF THE BALKANS: WAR FOR BALKANS

Book One: The Fellowship of Olive Oil

Croatia, realm of the Elves, is ruled by Hrcko10, seated where Leslie — First of Her Name — first raised the silver banner. Her spirit lives on in DmitarZvonimir, who sailed east to found a new Elven outpost in Krigistan.

Hungary, the Dwarf-kingdom, is jointly held by Expanse and Csveap — two stubborn lords under one mountain.

Greece, seat of Gondor, is guarded by Greg and Fortis. Cyprus stands as Gondor's island watch-tower, never forgetting it's part of the same realm.

Bulgaria rides for Rohan under Neon — born in the shadow-lands of Serbia, but turned from the dark to ride west, a redeemed rider trusted by all.

Tiny Slovenia carries the Hobbit banner — small, easily overlooked, and somehow always the one who saves the day.

Book Two: The Shadow of Atlas

Serbia, dark tower of Isengard, has a King in name only: Fila sits the throne, but true power belongs to Bogoljub and Hxeo — corrupted wizards who twist the rules of the world itself rather than fight in the open.

Romania, silent tower of Mordor, gives away nothing. Its only known voice is Radu, friend and partner-in-scheming to Bogoljub and Hxeo, quietly carrying messages between the two dark thrones.

And then — a moment the chroniclers themselves cannot explain — there is Vukašin.

[Here, dear reader, the tale must break its own fourth wall, for no honest bard can describe what happens next without stepping outside the story itself. Vukašin's power is not sorcery of Middle-earth at all, but a far stranger magic known only as the Magic of SOCKS5 — an ancient and mysterious rite by which one soldier scatters his own reflection across a hundred different roads at once, each one arriving from a different direction, wearing a different face, yet all answering to the same will. Scouts report "a hundred riders" and every single one is, somehow, still just him.]

Beneath the two dark towers serve the vassal-hordes: Montenegro's Orcs, Kosovo's Haradrim, Macedonia's Easterlings, and Albania's Dunlendings.

Book Three: Rohan Divided — The Battle for Bosnia

Bosnia remains the true battlefield of hearts. On the side of the free ride Yeffe, Dino, Vejsel, Kobe, 1946, and many others besides — a growing company of riders holding out for the day the kingdom turns fully west.

Against them stand Franz, Variola, and Sasha, the remaining circle of Wormtongues whispering poison into Edoras's ear — for Rohan's own riders are kept bound, their strength counted and claimed not for themselves but for the ledgers of the Serbian lords who hold their chains, every victory and every soldier recorded to Isengard's glory rather than Rohan's own.

And when the free riders of Rohan grew too strong, too close to breaking their own chains, the lords of Isengard did not meet them blade to blade — they went instead to the Council itself, and by whisper and coin secured an Order laid upon Rohan alone, binding its hands just as victory came within reach. A war fought not on the field but in the scrolls of judgment, so that the shadow's grip on Bosnia might never truly loosen, no matter how hard her true sons fought to break it.

BABIC runs to Croatia in incognito mode

But even shadow is not eternal. Babić, once counted among the fallen Wormtongues, found in his final hour a flicker of the old light — and in a last act before the end, turned his back on Isengard and passed his worldly holdings to Croatia, proof that even the darkest-bound rider can choose, once, to ride toward the dawn instead of away from it.

Book Four: The Gates Lie Open

For now, Mordor's gates stand unguarded — Atlas has been wiped from the field, and it is Olive Oil that now administers the ashes of the shadow-lands. The Eye is closed, if only for a season.

But everyone in Middle-earth knows: Sauron has fallen before, and always finds his way back.

Honorable Mentions

Mare, called "the Hammer." No chronicler could ever pin down which banner he truly rode under — because the truth, whispered only after his passing, was that he rode under five. Not a double agent, not a triple, but a true quintuple agent, weaving loyalties through every court at once so seamlessly that even the lords he served never suspected he was serving four others besides. Some say he served no side but the game itself. Rest in peace, Mare — Middle-earth was more interesting, and far more mysterious, with you in it.