Debts of the past

"As you deem best, Lord Minos. I will give you some time," You clasp his arm in yours gripping him firmly. "I would never presume to tell you how to do your job, but it might be worth reminding your friends of Kalion's contributions when King Cyrus threatened the Hellenic City-states." Reminding the coalition leaders of your prowess on the battlefield both as a combatant and a leader would not hurt. "Who was it that gave us the advantage by out maneuvering the invaders forcing them to leave due to lack of supplies?" Lord Minos' eyes darken as he remembers the Achaemenian war.

Flashback
You remember it yourself. It was the first major conflict you fought in; you were only sixteen, an inexperienced prince leading 500 Hoplites representing your adopted father, King Achilles. Your king wanted you to experience war first-hand and not just through dusty scrolls and diagrams. In hindsight, you suspect that had you botched any critical decisions, the unit's commanders had orders not to follow them. Your father likely wanted to give you a taste of leadership, but even he was surprised by your success.

After ten days of hard marching you arrived atop the hills above Thrace. The field below was in chaos, with the warriors of Polares and Apollopol holding the center with the hoplites of Thrace against the highly trained Immortals of the Persian infantry, but with poorly trained auxiliary skirmishers routed their flanks had been dangerously exposed.

You took decisive action. Splitting the Kalion army in three, you sent 100 men to rally the scattering reserves back to the front and split the remaining warriors to reinforce the buckling flanks of the Hellenic line. As your hoplites deployed rapidly to their stations, you sprinted to the stand of Thracian spearmen in the center. There was no time to lose, from the heights above the battleground you saw the Persian's renewed advance.

When you arrived at the Thracian position, you were recognized by at least some of the assembled leaders.

"Young Prince of Kalion where are the Riders promised by your father?" You shook your head.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, but those Riders are engaged elsewhere." The senior officer had scowled at the news but escorted you to the Lord Commander none-the-less. You arrived just in time to see a majestically thrown javelin launched from a circling chariot plant itself in the chest of the Thracian Commander shattering the morale of the assembled forces.

"Warriors, stand fast," you remember raising your voice and calling out to the city's hoplites. "The next wave is coming!" The bloody spearmen had looked at you in a combination of weary amusement poorly disguised irritation, and the senior officer who had first greeted you shooed you away from the shield wall with perhaps even less respect. This might have been the first time in your life you were so completely ignored.

From that position away from the front line, you refused to sit by idly. Drawing your bow, you launched a half-dozen arrows at the fast-moving chariots. Others followed your lead, and from behind the massed phalanx a growing number of arrows rained down onto the swarm of circling chariots. You could not know how many of your shafts found their marks, as you were searching for your next target before each arrow reached its target, but even at that age you were a remarkable marksman. At first, the effect of this barrage went unnoticed, but by the time your last quiver was emptied, the chariots had pulled back, giving the shield wall a chance to regroup.

"Well done young Prince!" To this day, you do not know the name of the barrel-chested war-captain from Polares hailed you from the front line, but to your surprise, you saw a few of the veterans who had scorned you earlier nod in agreement.

"Look to the East!" You warned the hoplites, "The next wave is already on the move." Your warning this time is taken more seriously, although you can still remember the rolled eyes of the more than a few of the spearmen as you strode to the front of the line and turned back to address the double line of hoplites.

"I know you're tired," you bellowed to the long row of surprised warriors, "I know you've already pushed back these invaders more times than you can count, but if we fall here what will happen to your families back home?" A low growl of anger rumbles from the line, and you continued on without a pause. "Will you see your wives and daughters serving in the harems of the Achaemenian palaces, or your brothers and sons toiling under whips at their galley's oars?" This time you sensed that your words were having an effect.

"If we fight with no fear, we will win today, and again tomorrow and however long it takes to regroup our forces and push the sand-dogs back across the sea with their tails between their legs!" The roar of anger answering your challenge comes mostly from the flanks led by the men of Kalion, but you can see the center straighten as well.

"They can't hear us." You raise your swords above your head. "Are we warriors fighting for our family's, or cowards awaiting to become slaves?" This time nearly all the men of the wall are banging their shields and screaming a war cry loud enough that you know King Cyrus can hear.

The renewed resolve of the Hellenic hoplites does not go unnoticed, and a quick glance across the battlefield confirmed the movement of massed men has come to a halt. Determined to keep the overwhelming surge away for as long as possible, you pull out a parchment and begin to write a message to King Cyrus, carefully using the formal language of the Achaemenian court. While writing the note, two of your father's war captains approach from the Thracian commander's position.

"My Prince, the Commander of our alliance has summoned you." Captain Lu Ming, pointed back to where the generals were gathered, you smiled at your golden-skinned mentor and searched the area for an unbroken arrow. Your other senior war officer, Captain Pendas, an old friend of your father, shakes his head in annoyance.

"Now, young Prince." The generals are waiting for you.

"Yes fine, but first what would you say is the distance from here to the enemy encampment - 400, 450 paces?" Captain Pendas' irritation had grown at your apparent disrespect, but Lu Ming stroked his thin white beard as he scanned the field between the two armies.

"Perhaps 40-50 paces more, my prince." The Easterner's accented voice was gentle and measured, and you smile as you remember his influence on you. He watched you attach your message to the arrow and draw the bow back, focus your breathing and fire the arrow at a high angle into the sky using the wind to carry it into the enemy command post piercing the chest of an Officer within 10 paces of where King Cyrus stood. Only then do you stride quickly to the waiting commander.

"I'm Bruce Kalion Adopted son of King Achilles and Queen Karissa." You had announced your presence with the confidence of a true prince. "May I ask your name, Warrior of Thrace?" The blood-spattered man stared at you for three full breaths before he finally extended his arm in greeting.

"My name is Lord Sacerus." You could feel the muscles of his forearm as he grasped your arm. "I'm now acting commander of the Thracian Military and from what I've seen so far you've shown promise as a Warrior." Behind him you sensed only partial agreement from the other generals, but you appreciated his words even as he got to the point. "I thank you for your timely arrival and for the hoplites your city has committed on behalf of my people, I can certainly use them." Lord Sacerus' assumption that you were going to relinquish leadership of your troops to him irritated both your captains, but you had stifled their protests and allowed the Thracian Commander to continue.

"For now, use your people to move the wounded back up the high ground; guard them until our supply requests arrive." You nod and lead your men away from the general's tent.

"Are you going to allow him to disrespect us my prince, we should be at the center of the line along with the hoplites of Apollopol and Polares." Captain Pendas had asked loudly as you signaled for the Kalion hoplites to reassemble at your banner.

"Lord Sacerus thinks that we will win if we can hold this position," you soothed the experienced officer, "but I suspect that King Cyrus is deliberately keeping us tied down here outside of Thrace while divisions of his army we cannot see attack other fronts cutting Thrace off from her allies and supplies."

"Does your plan have anything with the message you just fired?" asks Lu Ming.

"Yes, my perceptive teacher." You smiled easily. "I thought it only polite to let the Achaemenian King know that by now his second army has been set upon by our Riders and **** to a standstill." Lu Ming looks happy, but Pendas was not fully convinced until you explained the implications. "Cyrus dares not advance here if his second column has failed to secure the supplies he'll need as he moves away from his ships. He'll be **** to confirm the information, and that hesitation will give us a chance to take the initiative."

"What do we do about our orders then." Captain Pandas asked and stared at you in stunned silence when you saluted him like a new recruit.

"Congratulations, Commander Pandas." You told the surprised officer "You are now in charge of our hoplites. Follow the Thracian Commander's orders, let him think that I stormed off like a spoiled brat." That night while King Cyrus waited for his runners to return, you and Lu Ming led a small stealth mission with thirty of Kalion's best archers. The volleys of flaming arrows that set fire to the Achaemenid supply depot destroyed only a small portion of the rations, but the following night the flaming arrows were a diversion and the Kalion spearmen struck the Immortal's camp while Cyrus's troops tried to catch the archers.

You lost men, more than you wanted. The elite warriors of the Persian army were deadly fighters even when caught by surprise; but for the first time in the Achaemenian conflict, warriors of Hellena soundly routed Cyrus' feared heavy infantry. Lord Sacerus had **** but to relinquish control of the Kalion hoplites back to you.

Your father's Riders had indeed, as you told King Cyrus, halted the fast moving surprise attack of the second Persian column and for next two weeks you led Kalion's forces separate from the main army while they held their defensive position. You hit again and again, never in the same way twice, and thanks to your use of ambushes, traps and misinformation the Persians in the end had **** but to retreat back across the sea.

Both you and Lord Minos come out of your memories of the past.

"Yes that war was bloody and if not of your arrival Thrace would have certainly fallen and who knows how many other cities once Cyrus had a foothold in our lands." The ambassador of Helios studies you thoughtfully, and you wonder if the look is one of fear or just respect.

"Yes, your Majesty." He smiles easily, once again wearing the mask of a diplomat. "I'll be certain to remind them that it's in our interest to keep you neutral."