On Saturday, the fourth day before the Ides of October, ballistic missiles launched from Yemen struck King Khalid Royal Airport—the kingdom's second hub of traffic after Jeddah—in the very heart of the capital of Riyadh. Thirteen people were killed and more than three hundred wounded as ceiling panels collapsed and public halls filled with smoke and blood. Nor was this a solitary strike: on the preceding Thursday three citizens had perished, and on the following Sunday another projectile took a life, even as the Saudis ordered airstrikes against Sanaa, the capital of Yemen. Shaken by these developments, the authorities were forced to shut down the civilian airport, while the mountain tribesmen publicly urged foreign nations to steer clear of Arabian airspace.

Caesar, having surveyed the terrain and the nature of the fighting, notes the vast gulf between wealth and valor. The Arabian kingdom commands a treasury so immense that scarcely any kings purchase heavier munitions or more advanced aerial batteries across the Ocean; nevertheless, it cannot protect its own terminals, on which its commerce and foreign visitors depend, against sudden strikes. The mountaineers, on the other hand, though subjected for years to continuous bombardments by the Saudi fleet and American missiles, have neither broken their resolve nor ceased their fires; indeed, they recently seized the straits of Bab al-Mandab for a time, striking terror into shipping lanes.

Meanwhile Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, aware that he dares not commit his own legions into the mountains of Yemen on foot, has turned to foreign alliances. He invoked the newly concluded Mecca Pact with Turkey and Pakistan, and even attempted to solicit auxiliary forces from Syria. But these maneuvers rest more on hope than on reality: the Turkish assembly has not yet ratified the treaty, Pakistan steadily refuses to spill its soldiers' blood on behalf of a foreign realm, and Donald Trump, the American president, after promising in an initial reaction to examine an expedition of reprisal, appears disinclined to take up a new war.

While these things unfold at the gates, the mass of Riyadh's citizenry carries on with the utmost levity and ease. They gather in the capital's fashionable cafes, smiling and trusting that the disturbance will swiftly blow over; others, while the airport walls are shrouded in smoke, watch soccer matches between rival factions and care far more for spectacles than for war. For the same outcome occurs that always attend opulent societies: men generally believe what they want to believe, and imagine disaster to be much farther off than it truly is.

This state of affairs undermines not merely the kingdom's security, but the sovereign's very standing. Mohammed had summoned an assembly of international merchants and financiers, known colloquially as 'Davos in the desert,' for this very month, seeking to draw rivers of gold into his realm's newfound glory. But envoys and traders, with missiles flying overhead and transport terminals shut down, quickly lose faith and confidence; commerce demands stability, not the smoke of collapsing ceilings.

Caesar judges that no kingdom can be defended from a rugged mountain adversary by treasury or aerial missiles alone, if its citizens shun the toil of military service and beg for foreign auxiliaries. Towers are raised and gold is displayed to the enemy in vain when there is no hand to wield the iron: for he who merely bombards his foe from afar does not conquer him, but incites him to greater audacity.