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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.