1-885 CE
From 1 to 885 CE, the Armenians were highland Christians who carved churches from living rock and held their faith against empires that rose and fell around them. First among nations to embrace Christ as state religion, they defended their mountain homeland where Ararat's snow-capped peak reminded them of Noah's covenant.
The Armenians were an ancient people of the mountainous plateau between the Black Sea and Mesopotamia, speakers of an Indo-European tongue unlike any neighbor's, who forged an identity so durable that neither Persian fire-worship nor Arab conquest nor centuries of partition could dissolve it. Their homeland sat astride the routes connecting Mediterranean civilization to Central Asia — a position that brought wealth, learning, and endless invasion. Every great power of the ancient and medieval world marched through Armenia at some point; the Armenians survived them all.
What crystallized Armenian identity was Christianity, adopted as state religion around 301 CE under King Tiridates III — before Constantine's conversion, before Rome itself turned officially Christian. This was not mere royal whim but transformation: within generations, Christianity became inseparable from being Armenian. The church preserved language and learning through occupations, provided leadership when kings were absent, and gave Armenians a sense of chosen-ness that sustained them through catastrophe after catastrophe.
The Armenian highlands formed a natural fortress: volcanic peaks rising above fertile valleys, harsh winters that discouraged invaders, and mountain passes that a few determined defenders could hold against armies. Mount Ararat — where Noah's ark was said to have rested — dominated the landscape, a permanent reminder of divine covenant. The capital shifted over centuries — Artashat, Vagharshapat, Dvin — but the heartland remained constant: the region around Lake Van, the Ararat plain, and the valleys where the Euphrates and Tigris found their sources.
Armenian life balanced agriculture and trade. The valleys produced grain, fruit, and the wine that Armenian merchants carried across continents. The highlands supported sheep whose wool clothed half of western Asia. Armenian traders established communities from Constantinople to Canton, their commercial networks rivaling any in the ancient world. But the land always called them back: Armenian identity was rooted in specific mountains, specific monasteries, specific villages where families had lived since memory began. Exile was tragedy; return was redemption.
Armenian military tradition combined the heavy cavalry of Persian influence with the defensive tenacity of mountain peoples. The nakharar nobility maintained armored cavalry forces that could match Sasanian knights or Byzantine cataphracts in open battle. But Armenian strategy was fundamentally defensive — hold the passes, retreat to fortresses when overwhelmed, preserve the army to fight again when invaders inevitably withdrew. They could not match the great empires in sustained offensive warfare, but they could make conquest so costly that empires often preferred alliance.
This strategic reality shaped Armenian politics. The Arsacid dynasty ruled as Persian clients, Roman allies, or independent kings depending on the balance of power between their giant neighbors. When that balance shifted permanently — Persia and Rome partitioning Armenia in 387, Persia abolishing the Armenian monarchy in 428 — the nakharars continued as local powers under foreign overlords. Military resistance never entirely ceased: Armenian revolts against Persian religious persecution produced martyrs celebrated for centuries, and Armenian contingents served with distinction in Byzantine armies. But independent military power was gone, replaced by the cultural resistance of a people who refused to disappear.
Armenian Christianity developed distinctive characteristics that set it apart from both Byzantine Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism. The Armenian Apostolic Church traced its origins to the apostles Thaddeus and Bartholomew, claimed independence from any external patriarch, and after the Council of Chalcedon in 451 followed its own theological path regarding Christ's nature. This ecclesiastical independence reinforced national identity: to be Armenian was to belong to the Armenian church, and to belong to the Armenian church was to be Armenian, regardless of what empire claimed political sovereignty.
The invention of the Armenian alphabet around 405 CE by the monk Mesrop Mashtots transformed cultural preservation. Before Mashtots, Armenians wrote in Greek, Syriac, or Persian scripts; afterward, they possessed a unique writing system perfectly fitted to their language. Monasteries became centers of translation and original composition, producing theological works, histories, and literature that preserved Armenian learning through the darkest centuries. The alphabet was itself a sacred achievement — tradition held that Mashtots received it through divine revelation — and literacy became a religious duty.
Armenia's position guaranteed constant contact with surrounding civilizations. Persian Zoroastrianism left deep marks on Armenian culture even after conversion — feast days, social structures, artistic motifs bearing Iranian influence. Hellenistic learning entered through Greek-educated clergy. Syrian Christianity provided early missionaries and liturgical traditions. Later, Arab conquerors brought Islamic administration while Armenian merchants carried goods and ideas along Muslim trade routes. The Armenians absorbed, adapted, and transformed what they encountered, creating a synthesis unmistakably their own.
The Arab conquest of the seventh century ended Byzantine and Persian competition for Armenia, replacing both with the Caliphate. Armenian princes — later called sparapet or generalissimos — served as intermediaries between Arab governors and the population, maintaining autonomy within the Islamic system. By 885, when Ashot I received recognition as King of Armenia from both the Caliph and the Byzantine Emperor, the Armenians had survived yet another imperial transition with their identity intact. The Bagratid kingdom that followed would prove a golden age before new catastrophes — Seljuk invasions, Mongol devastation, and the long displacement that scattered Armenians across the world while their heartland fell under foreign rule for centuries.
In Glory of Civilizations, the Armenians embody a people whose faith permeated every aspect of existence. The strength bonus in controlled religious communities reflects how Armenian identity concentrated around churches and monasteries — sacred spaces where Armenians fought most fiercely. Gaining faith cubes from military and cultural technologies captures how Armenian learning and warfare both served religious preservation; every achievement reinforced divine purpose.
Converting drawn white cubes into resources represents Armenian commercial genius — turning chance encounters into material prosperity, as their merchant networks transformed opportunity into wealth. Adding faith cubes when overcoming adversity reflects the Armenian conviction that suffering had spiritual meaning, that endurance itself was holy work.
Faith cubes dilute the bag, improving your odds. When you draw white cubes (including faith cubes you added), you don't pay for them as you would for black cubes. This makes overcoming adversity less costly — your faith literally cushions misfortune.
No — only in religious communities you control. If another player shares your religion and controls some communities, you don't receive the strength bonus in those communities. You must control the religious community yourself to benefit.
You convert the white cubes into resources by placing them on your resource warehouses. Each white cube becomes one resource of the type you place it on — essentially transforming luck into tangible goods.
Yes. You're not required to place all drawn white cubes on a single warehouse. You can distribute them across different warehouses as you choose — 1 wood, 1 stone, 1 food, for example.