The Legacy of Megas Alexandros - a seleucid AAR

[Lysimachos]

No idea. But this was a great update!

Thanks
The picture is supposed to show the landscape at Carrhae, where Crassus, as representative of a great military power, was soundly beaten by a combination of horse archers and cataphracts, which was my connection to this battle (although I have to admit that Kallinikos' army is (was) mostly composed of rubbish
You'll get the balloon anyway. Here we go, red, just like blood that has been spilled:

[I of the Storm]

The picture is supposed to show the landscape at Carrhae

That was hard...

(although I have to admit that Kallinikos' army is (was) mostly composed of rubbish

Is there someone trying to get some Cataphracts of his own? I think I smell a plot ...

You'll get the balloon anyway. Here we go, red, just like blood that has been spilled:

Cool, thank you!

[Lysimachos]

That was hard...

I would have given a hint if you had asked

Is there someone trying to get some Cataphracts of his own? I think I smell a plot ...

Haha, no need for a plot. I have already (long before fighting this battle) decided to cheat the cataphract reforms in the time that I think it would fit in the story. But that point has not yet come and it will still take some time, so much I can reveal

Cool, thank you!

No problem, you've earned it with lasting loyalty. Btw, I'm considering to raffle some more balloons for special occasions in the future, so stay tuned

[Lysimachos]

Hi folks!
I'm not completely satisfied with the following chapter, but I was in need to get something posted and waiting would have delayed the update for yet more days, so here we go

Chapter 38: At the Neilos

The army has travelled over a wide and flat plateau, but at its edge an astonishing view opens itself. Below Antiochos' men the ancient land of Kemet lies, the valley of majestic Neilos, the awe-inspiring king among the rivers, who has come the long way from unknown lands even beyond Nubia, where the dark-skinned people dwell. Uncounted numbers of small sails see-saw on the slowly flowing waters which are bordered by fruitful soil, lush green palm groves and outspread acres, from which the bread-basket of the east is filled.
Some scattered cheers sound from the leading parts of the army and spread, when the soldiers learn from the news that the scarce and dusty plain has been left behind and the rich land of Aigyptos lies right below them.
But there is one man who is in no cheerful mood, for he knows that although the enemy's wealth seem to be in reach of his hands, he knows that in reality the challenge is still to come, for the heart of Ptolemaios Philadelphos' kingdom lies beyond the protection by the Neilos' wide and deep waters and is secured by the king's best soldiers and the vast manpower that he is able to command.

The Basileus gathers his officers before the owl-light falls. "Companions," he calls out, "We shall not be fooled by our easy advance." Antiochos stands among them, the setting sun enclosing him in a fiery red halo. His eyes seek contact with the ones watching him and his voice is insistent.
The men, some if them seasoned commanders themselves and notably older than their king, hang on every word, as if he has bound his spell again. The euphoria which was dulling their minds has given way for the necessary concentration.
"Our scouts have reported enemy spotters regularly over the last days. Our adversary is aware of every move we make, while we still don't know what he has in store. It is imperative that whatever action we take, it has to be planned and executed with care. We are far from any reinforcements, while those of the foe see no end."
The king pauses, giving the obvious time to become realized.
"We might be able to supply ourselves for a while on this bank, but I am sure that Ptolemaios has taken care not to leave too many reserves back where we can access them easily. To feed the host and to win the war we have to defeat the river first."

The next day the army proceeds to descend into the Neilos' down. The men soak in the rich air and marvel at the soft and fertile black soil, but safety remains an illusion. On the river float warships observing every step they take and beyond the waters lies the camp of Demophon, the Galatian Boar, with his now reinforced army. More disquieting news are soon to follow: a second army in the north, hiding behind fortifications.
Again, the king calls upon his council of officers.

"No arrow has been shot, no spear thrusted and no shield shattered, yet has Ptolemaios taken position to deal his first blow," proclaims Antiochos with hoarse voice. "If we try to cross the river we will be driven into the water from two sides, but if we turn against the northern detachment, the fleet will be used to quickly strike in our back, before we can overcome the defenders."
Conciliatory he raises his hands. "But we are far from lost! Too convinced of my eagerness to fight is he, too confident in the temptation of offering me battle, to close all gates of his country."
His speech has become very low, but everyone around listens with care not to miss a word.
"A day, when destiny is written, has come, but this time, this time I do not choose the call of thunder, but the cloak of the thief, to accompany my move."

[MarcusAureliusAntoninus]

Good to see you continuing. I'd forgotten what's happening and am going to have to go back and review old updates.

[Maion Maroneios]

That's a very nice update, Lysimachos! I've been catching up with several AARs lately, yours included

Maion

[Vasiliyi]

Very nice, Im glad you updated.. (this is my favorite aar, I like it even more than mine.) Keep it up!

[Lysimachos]

Thank you, guys

[I of the Storm]

An update!! Great!

[Lysimachos]

Time to feel guilty again

Chapter 39: The Early Bird Catches The Worm

Wood is creaking rhythmically while the stream is gently dandling the vessel on its waves. The sun already has risen above the eastern plateau and the light of her rays carefully feels its way through the curtains hanging from the shelter on the ship's deck. A thin finger of light touches Demophon's nose and its tickling provokes a loud sneeze, pulling the Galates out of his doze.
In an eye's blink he is fully awake. In a smooth motion he rolls over the slave girl by his side and with the feet first on the wooden ground. The Boar slips through the curtains and at the sight of the sun immediately frowns. "Why haven't I been waken?" he calls out and one of his officers approaches. "Commander, there hasn't been a reason. We haven't received any news."
Demophon grunts. "That doesn't feel right. He is not the man to just sit and wait there!" With wide steps he takes the distance to the back side of the ship, where the captain shares the idleness of his crew. "Bring us closer to the shore, quick!"
Unrest and anger rise in Demophon's heart, while he waits for the oarsmen to move the vessel against the Neilos' powerful flow.
The captain raises his arm, pointing on white awnings visible among the palm groves at the eastern shore. "You see, sir, nothing changed!"
An angry, piercing look hits him from above and the large general grunts scornfully at the Machimos. "Send a boat to Ankhwennefer's camp. He shall investigate this."

Some time goes by, way too much for Demophon's liking, until another ship comes up the stream, the oarsmen rowing with brutal speed. Quickly it catches up to the Boar's provisional command ship, carrying the anticipated message. "Commander! They are gone! All gone in the night!"
A furious roar sounds over the rhythmically moving waves, discharged from the huge Galatian's lungs.
"Return to Ankhwennefer and tell him to advance and secure what ever they left behind!" he shouts over to the other ship, which immediately falls back, when the oars are lifted from the water and the stream takes the vessel with it.
"And you," Demophon turns to the egyptian captain, "call two ships to go upstream at once to warn every garrison along the river." His light blue eyes follow the course of the king of rivers.
"Then we will cross. We have to buy time, time for the upper kingdom to mobilize."

[Vasiliyi]

Awesome. I was just about to PM you to ask you if it was time for another update.

[Lysimachos]

Awesome. I was just about to PM you to ask you if it was time for another update.

Thanks It's good to have a personal reminder

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 40: Lessons

A young man strides along the lanes between the encampment's tents, the light of fires and torches reflecting in his keen eyes. The heat of the day has been driven away by the chill of the night and he has wrapped a dark green Chlamys, a short coat, around his shoulders.
The Hypaspistai guarding the king's tent salute him and he enters through the curtain that is functioning as the door. "Basileus," he respectfully addresses his sovereign, who thoughtfully reclines on a divan.
Antiochos Theos wears a simple Chiton and the tent also is sparsely decorated, shadows dance on naked tarpaulin, thrown by the large fire in the middle of the compartment.
"Sit down, cousin," the king speaks and watches his visitor.
"Sire." Antiochis, eldest son of Andromachos, the Satrapes Persikos, gathers his coat and takes a seat on a chair cushion face to face with the Basileus.
"I have completed my walkabout. The watch has taken positions as instructed and is alert."
Theos silently nods. His eyes are moonily directed in the distance, as he sips at his goblet. In the past days Antiochis has noticed that the king waters his wine, due to the increasing shortage in the army's provisions. It might not be for the worst, after all.
The befalling silence is disturbed only by the crackling of the fire eating away wood.

"Basileus, allow me a question." Some minutes have past in silence, before the young man finally speaks out again. The king's eyes focus on his young visitor and his mouth produces a muted, approving sound.
"The enemy is closely following all our steps, always almost upon us. Shouldn't we attack, before they can reinforce themselves? You don't seem to be bothered by their presence in our back, instead rushing the army further up country. Why is this?"
With a sigh Antiochos sits up, stretching his arms. "Why is General Demophon following us so closely?" - "He is trying to impose pressure on us."
Antiochos nods and slowly raises himself from the divan, forcing his young cousin to stand up as well. "So, what's he going to achieve with that?" He is staring into the fire, watching the flames.
"Perhaps he is trying to push us into a trap," speculates Andromachos' son.
"No." The king decisively shakes his head. "There is no trap. Our turn south has not been anticipated or else we would have met an army already, but there is none, not in the range of weeks. Demophon doesn't try to push, but to hold us." The fire's dry heat hurts Antiochos' eyes and he turns toward his cousin. "He is following in close distance to pose a constant threat, in order to force us to adapt and to delay our progress. Once he realizes that it isn't doing much good, Demophon will attack, I have no doubt."
Theos slowly lowers himself on the divan. "And then, we will teach him a lesson."

Spit fizzles in the fire. The huge Galates brings himself onto his feet. "So let's just do this. At dawn we'll be upon them." Taking a deep breath, the general's hands close in front of his face and slowly slide over his shaven skull, before resting behind his neck.
"We will prey on them," the older Galatian answers, a man who has been a brother to Demophon for years, not by parents' blood, but by the blood they shed together in battle. Gaisio's broad and leathery face is adorned with a long, diagonal scar, still marking where once a blade split his nose. His hair is ash-grey, falling untamed down his shoulders.
Demophon looks up, his grinning teeth reflecting the fire. "Make sure the men are ready." - "They will be, commander, they will be."
Gaisio already is, the warrior's heart that is beating in his chest longs for the fray, but he also knows, the day of the deciding battle still is uncertain and he may need to wait for the time to come, when he himself will fight in battle with his brothers in arms.

A new day is born and under the warm, red light of the morning's sun the battle lines are closing in on each other. Despite the Boar's ruthless resolve, the men on the field have little doubt about the outcome of the day. Too few are rallied among his banner, too hardened the seleukid king's veterans. The men don't know they were not led here to win, but only to inflict as much damage as possible. They march into battle, in hope their commander's plan will soon unfold and turn the tide. They march and they die, die to buy someone else the time to sharpen his blade, die under the merciless shower of kretan arrows, die on the pikes' tips of seleukid Pezhetairoi, die by the lances of the Hetairoi, die beneath the indian beasts in their rage, while their commander silently watches and rearranges his hand.

[Companion Cavalry]

[Vasiliyi]

And he's back! Thats awesome! Great update Lysimachos! I actually reread the chapter previus to this one this weekend and was hoping that this wasnt dead.

A baloon is deserved for resurrecting it.

[Lysimachos]

Thanks

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 41: Days of Despair

Led by a rugged, dusty track half a dozen men ride toward their destiny. As rugged is the surrounding landscape, rough hills covered by meagre grass and poorly grown bushes.
The horses are lean and weak and so are the men on their backs, wrapped in dirty coats, bearing the history of their travel in matted hair and written in dark rings around their eyes.
"Off the road! Quick!" barks the man at the front, turning his horse to the side, off the pitiful path and into the barren land, where the other horsemen unhesitatingly follow.
In the west, whereto the track leads, a cloud of dust slowly grows at the horizon, signalling the approach of a larger group.
While crossing a slope the second rider catches up. "Won't they see our trails?" - "They will," the first one grimly answers. "But only if they look for them."
The man turns around and then leaps from his horse. "Dismount here and make the horses lie down!" With some quick steps he runs up to the ridge where he hits the ground to watch the road.
A moment later the second rider crawls up beside him, releasing a suppressed groan.
"It is good to have you here, Gorgias," mumbles the man and Gorgias Dahaikos answers in a low voice: "My ancestors come from these lands. It seems there is still something left from it in my blood, my king."
Silently the junior Basileus and his right-hand man lie upon the hill, watching a host of several hundred horsemen passing by. Their spare horses are laden with goods and a considerable number of the men bears signs of a battle, not long ago.
Seleukos Kallinikos buries his face in his hands. His body is shaking, the travails and privations of the last weeks finally breaking his resistance, taking their toll. His voice is feeble, barely audible. "It is over. There's nothing we can do. So futile."



Grey clouds obscure the sky, chilly wind comes down through the gorge. A forgotten place, left alone by all but who seek reclusion. Two wanderers slowly ascend the gravel covered inclination. They are disguised with hooded cloaks, assisting the cumbersome ascension with wooden staffs.
A lonesome homestead, almost leaning against the rocks for protection from the wind, is what they are heading for.
An elderly man steps out of the enclosure, a steadfast grip around a sword. "What is your business here, strangers? If you come for robbery, you'll have to buy it with your blood," he calls out.
The two strangers hold their advance till one steps forward, recognizing the shield in the man's hand as the one of a Pezhetairos. "We are no robbers. I'm a makedonian myself, like you. All we seek is a place to rest for the night. And we have silver." Some coins sparkle in his hand, which emerges from the shadow under his cloak.
The older man closely examines them. They don't look trustworthy with their wildly grown beards and their dirty cloaks, but their eyes look tired and matt, too matt to hide falseness from him.
Slowly he lowers the sword. "Your silver is worth nothing out here. But a roof over your heads you shall have tonight and a hearty soup, if you wish."
The stranger slides the coins back in the pouch at his belt. "We are grateful for your kindness, good man, a kindness that life has not often bestowed on us in these days."
He points his hand towards his companion. "This man's name is Gorgias and I am..." He slightly hesitates, just enough to be noticeable, before he finishes: "... Demetrios."
"Very well, Demetrios. My name is Akakios and I welcome you to my home."

[Vasiliyi]

We get 2 updates in a week? your spoiling us. Nice work. I like how different the father and son are.

[Roka]

reread this whole thread tonight because I had pretty much forgotten what had happened, really enjoying your AAR, keep it up!

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 42: A Fateful Farewell

"Come, sit down." Akakios points toward his fireplace. "I'll put the cauldron over the fire."
Gratefully Kallinikos and Gorgias alight onto the tamped floor, trying to shake the exhaustion out of their limbs. They have been bereft of the comfort of a warm place and a roof for a long time indeed. An odyssey led them to Akakios' home and it is far from over yet.
Only few survived the massacre which Artabarzan's troops inflicted upon the army and the following flight. Then, the king and the last of his men tried to reached the supposed safety of the Hyrkanian Wall, but soon they had to realize that Hyrkania, the province which nestles up against the south of the Caspian, with its capital Zadrakata has already been overrun. Filled with despair, the small group turned east, up into the hills of Astauene, but they had not seen the worst of it: In an ambush they lost the last of their companions and their horses to a gang of ordinary robbers.
Trying to avoid attention they finally found themselves in front of Akakios' humble home, a harbourage in an unimagined site.

Akakios without haste takes a seat on a small and simple stool. A groan escapes his mouth and a hand involuntarily moves to his lower back, but obviously he overcomes the pain and begins to observe his rugged guests.
"I have chosen this place for its quietness and solitude, but it is a necessity sometimes to have a talk, just to preserve a sound state of mind. Rarely I travel down to the next village to trade and even more unusual are visitors. So, would you mind telling me about yourselves?"
The two guests trade quick glances and Seleukos reluctantly starts to speak. "We are merchants and were on our way to Asaak, when we were robbed."
Their host slowly lifts his brows. "I see." Encouraged by this reaction, the young king continues his tale. "Sadly we lost our way thereafter, because our guide has been killed."
"In all your misfortune, you must have been very lucky, as those robbers have left those magnificent swords in your possession," Akakios retorts in a calm voice. Kallinikos and Gorgias again glance at each other, obviously concerned this time. Telling tales wasn't among their greatest talents, after all.
"You know, young man," Akakios continues, now watching the water in the cauldron, "you bear a striking resemblance to someone I once served with, or rather served under."
Kallinikos intuitively covers his forehead with a hand, turning his face into the shadow. "I, uh, I get that a lot."
The older man slowly nods. "I'm sure you do. But enough of these pleasantries. Not long ago, when I went to the village to barter wool, I met some... merchants not much unlike you. They had uncomforting news from across the ridge and I'm quite sure, you'd like to know. The gate to the north has fallen and the Satrapes of Margiana is slain. And Theodotos, his colleague in Baktra, claims that the dynasty of Seleukos has failed to protect the Hellenes of the east. He now calls himself a king and accepts no master any more."



The news that Akakios delivered came as a shock and the two travellers decided there was no time to allow themselves a longer rest, a rest they longed for so desperately. And another decision has been made to rescue the empire.

"This is where we have to part, my king. I wish you farewell," Gorgias mumbles. A sigh comes from Kallinikos' throat. Abruptly he grips his companions shoulders and embraces him. "You will always be my friend, my brother. Your strength has always been my avail and I will need it again. I will not allow you not to meet me again. You hear me?" He pads his friend's back and then releases him. "See you then, Gorgias."
The addressed silently nods and turns away, heading for Hekatompylos, capital of the Satrapy of Parthyaia, where he shall organize the defence against the Parnoi and their Dahae brothers.
The sadness fills Kallinikos as if it was poured into him. Here I send him away, the only friend that I have left, perhaps send him into his death, a worthless, futile death. But I do not dare to face the devils again! Cold fear grips his heart at the thought of his most memorable day, that day when he had to watch his soldiers being slaughtered by Artabarzan's skilled butchers, the day when he repaid the trust, which his father and the men who were to serve had put in him, with failure.
Silently he watches Gorgias walk away towards his destiny, before finally the young king breaks away from his idle contemplation and turns towards his own, to the east, towards the pass that will lead him over the ridge and down to the valley of the Ochos river.

[Lysimachos]

We get 2 updates in a week? your spoiling us. Nice work. I like how different the father and son are.

I hope there's no damage done

Edit: It might surprise you, but I can do even better than twice in a week

reread this whole thread tonight because I had pretty much forgotten what had happened, really enjoying your AAR, keep it up!

Thanks

By the way, for those who grow tired of all the talking, some honest, straightforward violence is sure to come soon

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 43: A Good Day To Die

"I'm tired of this," Gaisio bawls. His speech is slurred and his motions not as firm as usual. The fires paint flickering shadows on his face and naked upper body. "I've had enough!" he growls. The grey-haired warrior reaches up with his right hand and grabs his commander's neck, pulling Demophon's head down a little. Their faces are a few centimetres apart and the men smell each other's breath. Gaisio rolls his head and distorts his scarred visage in a drunk man's grimace.
"I've had enough of watching others fight!" He raises his left hand and watches it while he slowly closes the fist and spins the forearm in a pulling motion. "I want to spill someone's blood, rip his damn guts out of his jerking body!"
A hearty laugh arises from around the two of them, they are among their brethren, Galatai, all decorated warriors, wearing their golden torques and their scars with pride.
"You will," Demophon barks into Gaisio's face, leaving drops of spit on his cheek. With a primal scream the galatian general closes his muscular arms around Gaisio, with a sudden pull unbalancing the old warrior and then hurling him away in a spinning motion, accompanied by a loud hoot from the watchers.
Gaisio absorbs the momentum with some staggering steps, then turns around and in playful rage sounding his battle cry. Demophon braces for the attack, but Gaisio's shoulder hits him hard in the upper belly and this time the taller man is caught off balance. Gaisio bounces back, unable to balance himself, succumbing to his insobriety and together they go down.
Another hoot sounds from their comrades and they both fall into a gasping laughter. Demophon turns himself around with a jerk and lifts himself up.
"Soon, Gaisio, soon you will!"



"This will be the first time that we will actually be tested," Antiochos Theos addresses his young cousin. "For the first time, Demophon outnumbers us. Today he will not fight to distract us or to pose his resolve. He will hold back nothing, because he fights to defeat me and I will not allow that, because it would be our undoing."
Again the king observes the enemy's battle formation, then turns back to Antiochis. "Now go, take your position on the left wing. This will be a day to remember!"
"Yes, Sire!" The young man's face gleams, he is proud of the command assigned to him, eager to prove his worthiness and to write history. With a yell he drives his horse forward and hurries to the left wing, his wing, in front of the assembled army.

It is the third time that Demophon Paraitonios faces the seleukid king. But today things are different. Today he is needed at the front and around him he has gathered his fellow Galatai, the most deadly fighters that Ptolemaios Philadelphos commands.
Antiochos has brought the elite of his empire, but Demophon has the numbers in his favour and his men are used to the unique climate of the Neilos valley.
Although a Galates, he leads an army trained in the fashion of the Makedonians and so he employs one of their simple tactics: holding the left flank while crushing the right one in order to break the enemy's phalanx from the side. And a general who wants to win, chooses his place there, among those men who he expects to deal the decisive blow.

Both armies have completed arranging themselves, like huge beasts lurking above the Nile, and almost simultaneously start to move again, like answering to an unwritten agreement between their leaders. So many battles start alike, the Phalanxes moving forward till they meet, but for those who march in the lines it is always new and threatening. But it is not the ones inside the tightly packed Phalanxes who are the least fortunate.
While those centrepieces remain in almost beautiful order, at the flanks the ferocious chaos of battle quickly sweeps aside the deceitful safety of a companion fighting close at either side.
Here fight those, who can be trusted most, and among them are both leaders, each at the right side of his host, trying to break the other one's left.

Antiochis tries to get a general idea. His responsibility is to hold his wing together. He hurries back and forth, pushing the men forward, plugging holes that open, stepping in wherever necessary.
An imposing figure catches his eye: A huge man, towering above all around him and Antiochis recognizes how they look up to him, how he poses a linchpin in the enemy's movement.
Only a blink of an eye separate the moment of this sight sinking in and the following decision. "Hetairoi, with me!" calls Antiochis and his Ile closely follows, with their strong mounts pushing aside whoever gets in their way.
Battle cry on their lips the Hetairoi forcefully break into their foe's ranks. Antiochis has his aim fixed, nothing is able to distract him, violently he pushes the horse forward.
There, the huge man, oh, how powerful his movements, how much joy he seems to find when his heavy sword comes down on his victims. He raises his arm again, someone has to await another blow - but! - he hesitates and astonishment shows on his face. He looks down and the shaft of a Xyston protrudes from his side, blood running down the wood. Demophon's sword descends on the lance, cutting a deep cleavage without breaking the wood. He tries to lift his arm another time, but his strength volatilizes and with a triumphant yell on his lips Antiochis thrusts the Xyston deeper into the Galatian's body.

Demophon feels anger and disappointment. Had it to be this way? A moment of negligence and some milksop finishing him off? He is angry, but his body refuses to react, refuses to allow the rage to burst out. The pain becomes numb and his vision blurs. At least, it somehow is a good day to die.

"Forward!" shouts Antiochis. Skewered on the top of his Xyston is Demophon's severed head and the enemy's right wing crumbles at the sight of their Strategos' untimely end. The right wing, which had been supposed to win the battle!
"Forward!" Antiochis pushes, exhilarated, euphoric in triumph. A snap sounds below him, as his mount breaks down in pain, the hamstrings in its hind legs severed with one cut of a sharp blade. Antiochis tumbles, falls. Too sudden the shock, too unaware of the things around him. The hard impact benumbs him for a moment, but a piercing pain in his belly jolts him from the drowsiness. He just realizes that a sword has been plunged into his lower body, just below the edge of his cuirass, when a hand grips his hair and jerks his head around. Two cold eyes stare into his, embedded in a broad, leathery face with an ugly diagonal scar.
"When you meet my lord in the afterlife, tell him, Gaisio has taken revenge for his death," the grey-haired warrior snarls and bares his teeth. An unbearable pain surges through Antiochis when Gaisio violently sways the blade in the young man's body and relieving unconsciousness closes its arms around him.



The warrior king looks down on the cold body at his feet and anguish suddenly rises in his chest. He kneels and carefully closes his hands around Antiochis' head. He knows, what he feels is regret, a feeling which for a long time had not been at home in his heart. But now, seeing his cousin's innocent face, now mutilated by a cramped grimace, framed by the dark hair clotted with blood and dust, something moves inside the tough man fate has meant him to be.
"I'm so sorry. I failed you, I failed you," the Basileus ton Basileon mumbles with a hardly audible voice.

[Vasiliyi]

My my my! That was quite a surprise! Theodorus, Baselius ton Baselous is dead.

We need another update!

[Lysimachos]

My my my! That was quite a surprise! Theodorus, Baselius ton Baselous is dead.

We need another update!

Urm, no, please read again.
Their names are just very similar (Antiochos - Antiochis). The one who's dead is the king's cousin, not he himself. I actually didn't describe how the battle went on Theos' side of the formation at all.
I thought it was clear

[Vasiliyi]

Urm, no, please read again.
Their names are just very similar (Antiochos - Antiochis). The one who's dead is the king's cousin, not he himself. I actually didn't describe how the battle went on Theos' side of the formation at all.
I thought it was clear

bah! Thats what I get for reading it at work. Read it too quickly. Makes more sense now. I was wondering how yo were going to write your aar without your main character. Anyways, looking forward to more.

[Lysimachos]

bah! Thats what I get for reading it at work. Read it too quickly. Makes more sense now. I was wondering how yo were going to write your aar without your main character. Anyways, looking forward to more.

Hm, maybe I just could have killed Kallinikos in chapter 44 and announced completion

Oh, and never again read this AAR quickly, are we clear? Who knows what else you've got wrong ...

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 44: Turning a Trap

The air bears a certain smell. It is a smell only few can sense. To do so requires a sort of premonition, a premonition which is given only to old warriors, veterans who have dodged death's blade more than once, but have been his willing deliverer, too. It is a sense of thick, light red blood which has not been shed yet.
Antiochos slowly fills his lungs with the heavy air, deeply inhales its gruesome presage. His motionless face is directed to the sky, his chin lifted up and he is carefully listening.

Despite his death and defeat had Demophon done a good job: Upper Egypt was not left unprepared for Antiochos' advance. A son of Philadelphos has taken command in Upper Egypt and raised an army. On his order the grain storages along Antiochos' route were emptied, reserves taken away or destroyed, to deprive the seleukid king's army of the occasion of plunder. And it worked: The invading host's shortage on supplies became noticeable and lesser men might already have turned away from their king.
The days were grim indeed. Many good men have already been lost and little has been gained. But Antiochos knows, he can rely on his men to follow him to the last step. And there is another thing which he knows: The enemy needed supplies too and he would never strip himself completely. So, there had to be a place, which the ptolemaic general would consider safe enough. This place was where Antiochos decided to go. He also had a certain hunch on its location and did not intent to let someone stop him from reaching it.

Theos takes another deep breath. Euergetes, the Pharao's son, has amassed twice as many soldiers as the seleucid army numbers. His goal is to force his enemy into a decisive battle against the odds and he is gathering his troops around the location, were he assumes Antiochos' whereabouts.
But the Strategos made a mistake.

The Basileus' blank Kopis cuts through the air without a sound. It is a matter of some blinks of an eye and the signal is relayed. Idyllic palm groves suddenly spit out a roaring horde, descending on a long, but unprepared column. Forgotten are hunger and deprivation when it is time to slay the foe.





"Don't pursue. Reassemble, form the phalanx," Antiochos commands. "There were horsemen who got away early. They certainly take the message to Euergetes and he will not hesitate to attack. We shattered one link in his chain, but he still outnumbers us and he won't leave the initiative to me."

The wounded leave their place and retire behind the line, damaged weapons and shields are exchanged, the Mahouts calm down their beasts, the Toxotai replace their used arrows. The opening has been performed, but now the main part is about to commence.
The march columns of Euergetes' host mount up like threatening, dark clouds heralding a storm to come.
Not long ago, when his cousin fell at the hands of Demophon's intimate, a small crack appeared in the Basileus' iron mantle, but none of his sworn men had a glimpse through the fissure into the great man's heart. He remains their unbroken and unbreakable paragon, whom they follow without hesitation. As long as he is among them, numbers cannot scare. And why should they? Every single one of them is a master in his trade. Is there any foe that can be more than a nuisance for the seleukid king's veterans?



The storm clouds form into a wide surge and sweep against the rock of Antiochos' Phalanx. Wave after wave they break on the shields, until the sky darkens and the surge powerlessly subsides, again leaving the seleukid army to be the last to stand.



"Sire, we have secured provisions, which the enemy left behind at his camp. It will help us for some days, but not long," Athenaios, an elder Hetairos who has been given responsibility for the army's supplies, explains with worry sounding in his voice.
Antiochos lifts his arms, while the Pais Basilikos removes the king's cuirass. "Soon there will be relief," he responds hoarsely. Spotting Athenaios' uncertain look the Basileus adds reassuringly: "We will manage until then." He sighs. "If there is nothing more, you are dismissed." - "Thank you, Sire. May you sleep well." - "The same to you, Athenaios, you need rest."
Theos watches the Hetairos leave the tent and takes seat on his divan. The Pais Basilikos approaches with quick, eager steps and hands his lord a goblet of wine. The king inhales its smell and looks down into the goblet, into his own eyes, reflected on the dark red surface. A moment passes and another one and suppressed thoughts and emotions arise, send a shiver through his body and anger spreads through his veins. It erupts in a burst and with powerful motion accompanied by an irate yell Antiochos hurls the goblet away. The vessel recoils from the tent wall and clankingly lands on the ground, where it comes to a rest. Red wine slowly sinks into a carpet, while the frightened boy hides in the shadow, his face covered by his hands.

[Lysimachos]

Well, hello! I'm terribly sorry it took so long and to be honest, I wasn't really aware how long exactly it was.

In all that time I just haven't found the inspiration to continue writing, although the first lines of the next chapter were written shortly after chapter 44. I tried to continue several times, but I didn't know what to write, so I put it off again and again, until now, when I decided not to go to bed until I had a chapter to post. So, here is chapter 45.

Most of you have probably forgotten what happened until now, but you know where to find page one, don't you.

For those who rather not read everything again, I have prepared a little help, namely a list of important or recurring characters and members of the royal family as well as some characters from the latest chapters, as things are before the events of chapter 45 take place.

It is to be found in the following spoiler.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Year: 247 BC = 65th year of the Seleukid Era = 18th year in the kingship of Antiochos Theos = 4th year in the kingship of Seleukos Kallinikos

1. Antiochos Theos (ingame: Theodoros Syriakos) *291 BC
Function: Basileus ton Basileon; Ruler of the Arche Seleukeia
Parents: Basileus Antiochos Soter and Stratonike
Siblings: younger brother Sarpedon; Two sisters, one of whom was married to Magas Kyrenaios (and is not existent in game)
Wife: Laodike
Children: Basileus Seleukos Kallinikos; Euphorion; Kleopatra; Pamphile
Son-in-law: Timarchos Mylason Karikon
Personality: Charismatic, uncompromising leader; Known for his prowess as General, for his defiance of death and for being a notorious drunkard

2. Laodike
Husband: Basileus Antiochos Theos
Father: Achaios, brother to Basileus Antiochos Soter

3. Seleukos Kallinikos (ingame: Kallinikos Syriakos) *273 BC
Function: Junior ruler of the Arche Seleukeia
Parents: Basileus Antiochos Theos and Laodike
Siblings: Younger brother Euphorion, younger sisters Kleopatra and Pamphile
Wife: Agathe
Children: Nikomachos
Personality: Rather introverted and uncharismatic; Pessimistic and insecure about his abilities, especially concerning the rule over the empire; had an exceptional education at the great Academy in Antiocheia on the Orontes, which helps him with his problems at interacting with others; earlier it was thought he would "take after his father", but it seems he develops in a different direction; suffers from the still fresh impression of a devastating defeat by the Dahae warlord Artabarzan

4. Agathe
Husband: Seleukos Kallinikos
Children: Nikomachos

5. Nikomachos *255 BC
Function: Second in line of succession after his father Seleukos Kallinikos
Parents: Seleukos Kallinikos and Agathe

6. Euphorion *267 BC
Function: Third in line of succession after his brother Seleukos Kallinikos and his nephew Nikomachos; attends the Akademia of Persepolis
Parents: Basileus Antiochos Theos and Laodike
Siblings: older brother Seleukos Kallinikos; younger sisters Kleopatra and Pamphile
Personality: unflagging and intelligent, despises his father's drinking habits

7. Sarpedon Prodotis ("the Traitor")
Function: Former Co-Regent; Currently wanted for high treason and suspected to be in exile in Aigyptos
Sons: Omanes; Athenaios (both fallen in 251 BC)
Personality: Poet, Philosopher, Gourmet of Life; Skilled Politician and Schemer; Egocentric

8. Andromachos Syriakos
Function: Satrapes of Persis
Seat: Persepolis
Father: Achaios Syriakos, brother of Basileus Antiochos Soter
Brother: Alexandros Syriakos, Satrapes of Susiane
Sons: Antiochis; Xenoitas
Personality: Similar to his father and his brother, a man with little ambition; His passion is the beauty of life; Has proven a lucky hand with governing the province, although his enthusiasm starts to lack.

9. Antiochis Syriakos (killed in 248 BC)
Function: Aide to Basileus Antiochos Theos
Father: Andromachos
Significant achievement: played a great role in the defeat of Demophon Paraitonios, by leading his flank of the battle order to victory over the ptolemaic elite and killing their Strategos with his own hands, prior to being killed himself.

10. Timarchos Mylason Karikon
Function: Governor of Antiocheia on the Orontes; Elephantarches of the empire
Parents: descendants of old hellenic nobility of Mylasa in Karia
Wife: Kleopatra, eldest daughter of Antiochos Theos
Children: Artemesia (maybe more by now, but I don't have it in my notes, am too lazy to look it up and it doesn't really matter)
Personality: Proud Hellen; Extroverted politician and bureaucrat; Athlete (Olympionikes of the olympic games in 256 BC)

11. Apollonides Damaskenos
Function: Satrapes of Phrygia and Commander-in-chief for Asia Mikra
Seat: Ipsos, which economically is of less importance than Sardis in Lydia, but the centre of the military facilities in the peninsula
Personality: Power-hungry politician

12. Lysimachos Sardikos
Function: Satrapes of Lydia
Seat: Sardis
Father-in-law: Sarpedon Prodotis

13. Gorgias Dahaikos
Right-hand man of Seleukos Kallinikos

14. Ptolemaios Philadelphos
Pharao of Egypt and head of the ptolemaic house; Nemesis of the seleucid kings

15. Demophon Paraitonios (killed in 248 BC)
Galatian mercenary general; was given the task to defend Egypt from Antiochos' attack and fought several battles against the seleucid king; killed by Antiochis, the young cousin and aid of Antiochos Theos.

16. Artabarzan
Powerful Dahae warlord; Inflicted a devastating defeat on Seleukos Kallinikos' army.

17. Gaisio
Galates; Despite growing old one of the most skilled fighters among Demophon's Galatians; it was by Gaisio's hands that Demophon was avenged only short after his death.

Chapter 45: What has to be done

What a ragtag bunch I have here, Seleukos Kallinikos thinks. Descending from Astauene like a lonesome pilgrim, he gathered what able man would follow him: Scattered units of the dead Satrap's army, mercenaries and local tribes, who fear for their possessions in the face of a Sakai invasion. The presence of their king, who was thought dead, lifts their spirits and a faint hope fills their hearts, fed by the trust in the divinity of Seleukos' blood which also runs in the Basileus' veins. It is a trust Kallinikos has to use, has to rely on, if ever he wants to be successful, although deep inside he feels he already misused it.
From the border to Areia he departed north on a careful advance into the fallen province Margiane, in order to find out how strong the Sakai forces were and to disturb them in establishing control.
Ahead lie the river valley and uncertain destiny, perhaps by the hand of the fearsome riders who hold no respect for Alexander's heirs.
Still, what gain is there in contemplating the things that inevitably have to be done?

“Enemy ahead, Basileus!” sounds the call. “Speak, Medios,” demands the king of his scout. “How far, how many?” The median for a moment pets his horse's neck, trying to calm the beast, which is trembling of exhaustion after a flying tantivy. Looking up, he speaks: “We number three for one of them, but they have many horses and close in quickly. We have a few hours at best, my lord.”
Seleukos suppresses a sigh and puts on a face of grim resolve. He jerks his mount around and with a yell drives it up a height which is idly watching the army slowly passing by.
The junior Basileus draws the Kopis from his side and thrusts the gleaming blade into the sky, at once commanding all attention.
“Listen to my call, soldiers, men of the iranian hills and valleys! Robbers and vagabonds have come to take the land you have worked all your lives for. They've come to steal your wives and cattle. We have not asked them to come, but today, we will show them home!”



From the outside the king has maintained an air of strength, but inside is turmoil. He watches from afar how the Sakai form their line of battle. Thousands of hooves stir up dust and shining reflections on the riders' armour stirs up memories, images of armoured Dahae in vain defiance looking down from their great and proud horses. Dark impressions of what those Dahae did to him and his men try to crawl up into his consciousness, obscure the view on reality, sedate his will, but he almost violently shakes away the threatening thoughts, puts his mind on the sound of the flutes, while the last of his men take their positions.
Today will be different, there already is so much different. Today the height is Seleukos', as it was his turn to chose the site of engagement and today he will allow no surprises.
It will be different. It has to be.

Three to one is the count, but the Sakai don't seem to mind. Slowly they advance, some arrows fly from both sides, to far to cause much harm. But suddenly, the men of the steppe surge forward, pushing their mounts quickly towards Kallinikos' fragile line. The archers and slingers frantically launch their salvoes, as they are most clearly aware there is only a thin line of spearmen between them and the approaching horses.
The lancers close in quick as lightning. With a resounding noise they clash into the awaiting shields and like a predator's sharp fangs they cut into the flesh of Seleukos' light troops. But the mass of their numbers brings the attacking riders to a halt and bereft of their momentum they become prey themselves. Axe-armed hunters descend upon them, hunters who do not know a code of honour, who do not seek a fair competition to prove their huntsman-ship.

Seleukos' light infantrymen cleverly isolate the well armoured horsemen, swarm them, attack their horses, where their masters cannot defend. It is a grim but quick fight, until the Sakai loosen themselves from the fray and the seleucid king's own horsemen dash forward to break the steppe lords' resolve for good.

A bloody toll is what had to be paid, but Kallinikos allows himself a faint smile, as he watches the enemy disperse over the wide valley, for this day is his.

[Lysimachos]

Hey, thanks for the nice welcome back

Anyway, taking a long pause (or several ones) has benefits, too. I had and took the time to think about how I could make this AAR more interesting, not only for my readers, but especially for me, since being interested in your own writing in my opinion is the most important prerequisite to write something good.
So, I will try and hopefully succeed in adding new dimensions to the story. To achieve that I start with introducing and re-introducing additional characters, leading to additional story arcs. The last chapters included exactly two threads (one linear following Antiochos Theos and one linear following Seleukos Kallinikos) and perhaps this one-dimensionality had its part in boring me away (it's more complicated than that, but still).

I hope you enjoy. Or rather, I hope someone enjoys.

Edit: oh, and that other thing... don't hit me... it made me do it... /Edit


Chapter 46: A special guest to the house

Heavy steps sound over the atrium's marmoreal walks, which are shaded from the brutal midday sun by date palms, neatly strung like pearls on a necklace.
The steps are those of a dozen men, who purposefully stride through the garden courtyard. They walk upright with a presence of pride. Most of them are clad in heavy armour and bear the two-plumed helmet of the Hetairoi.
Only two of the leading trio dress in civil attire. To the left walks a slim man who has been blessed with a rodent's face, while the obvious leader is stoutly build and slightly taller than average and his grim face shows broader features, though these are not crude, but rather of some peculiar grandeur.
Although these two do not wear the ornate armour of the Hetairoi, the making of their Chitons betrays an elevated social standing to the knowing eye.

“Oh, my fellows, look who's there! Who lets the eunuchs linger about here,” the group's leader loudly announces, as two men enter the crossing which lies before him.
Those two frown upon the new comers with visible discomfort. While one of them indeed bears the signs of a eunuch at the royal court, the other one's upbringing certainly did not prepare him to be looked down upon.

The stout men beckons his posse to wait and slowly advances towards the duo. “I am blessed, have I not dared to hope my eyes would have the exalting pleasure to rest their gaze on a royal traitor and dog-lover.”
He positions himself in front of his bearded opponent and looks down on him. “Tell me, forked tongue, what kind of poison are you about to divulge this time?”

“I am a guest to this house and last time I checked, you were not its master,” Sarpedon retorts. The two men now are only a few fingers apart, with bared teeth fixating each other's eyes, like two beasts about to maul one another.
The taller man suddenly thrusts his head forward and smiles satisfied, when Sarpedon instictively jerks back.
“Then I suggest, you enjoy your stay,...” he adds, slowly backing off, “... as long as that lasts.”
He snarls on more time before turning around and calling his entourage in order to speedily leave the seleucid king's brother behind.

“Nomarchos, now you scared him and he will run to our sacred Pharaoh and wet the old man's beard with his tears. Was it worth the trouble?” muses the scrawny, weasel-ly man at the left.
“Ha!” laughs the nomarch. “We better hurry, so we don't need to smell his piss running on the floor.” He heartily grunts with disdain.
“Shall he run, shall he. Perhaps then, finally our guest will make evident to anyone what a puny creature he is. I pity the fool. How can he even endure being what he has become?”
Few steps further he adds: “Oh, yes, I will need to see that Babylonian, who's rotting in my cellar.”

“My master, do you think it wise to arise his enmity? He is a mighty and popular man and has the ear of the Pharaoh.” - “So do I!” barks Sarpedon.
“But – my master – you are not his blood!” the eunuch shyly whispers. Sarpedon wheels around and grips his servants collar, his eyes fiery with anger. “I will deal with the brute! My way!”

[divulse123]

Hey man. I loved this AAR back before I left the forums, and I just re-read about the first half. I have not made it to your new chapters yet, but if they keep up the quality, then bravo! I love the Seleucids (historically) so it's nice to get some good alternate history fiction. :) Welcome back!