The Legacy of Megas Alexandros - a seleucid AAR

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 5: Defeat in Victory

The sky is dull. A moderate breeze is blowing from the east. Theodoros is squinting. The daylight hurts his eyes, not because the sun would be gleaming, which it doesn't, but because he still has a serious hangover and the new day still isn't welcome.
This farewell banquet has been a little too much for sitting upright on a horse.

Almost a year has passed since he arrived in Antiocheia-Margiana and met his uncle. The following months he spend by training new warriors, by improving his own skills and by accompanying Achaios on excursions through the province, occasions on which he learned of the sweet margianian wine and made friends with it.
Sometimes he thought about his wife Laodike and children, who still were in Seleukeia, but Achaios, who had experience with living at the edge of the world, taught him how to feel comfortable with how the things were and at large Theodoros was well.
However, there were some duties waiting for him. Parnoi still were raiding seleucid land and Theodoros felt that his father would expect him to do something about it. So he decided to force them into submission, again.

The army has left Antiocheia-Margiana in western direction, marching deep into the land of the Dahae. People leave their homes, soldiers avoid a fight, while the seleucid host is slowly crawling forward like a centipede, through the meager country.
Theodoros has been informed, that a powerful leader has his headquarters in a town called Nisa. This is where he heads to, in order to deliver a decisive battle, against the barely tangible dahaen horse armies.

Finally, after a long journey full of privations, Nisa is in sight. It is a small settlement, even without any defensive structures. Still, no sign of an enemy army.
Theodoros has ordered his Arachosians, who have proven themselves as reliable scouts, to explore the vicinity, before taking offensive actions, but they have found no sign of a trap.
The phalanx slowly marches forward. This should be no long fight, only a small garrison has been reported. But it smells so wrong! How can the Parnoi let them strike so deep into their land without even giving a fight? Theodoros is calm in appearance, but in turmoil inside, deafening himself against the uncertainty with a hearty draft from his wineskin.
He watches his men overcoming the few enemies. Only a young warlord and his guard put up a harder fight – an opportunity to through himself into the heat of battle, where he will have no time for worries. Theodoros spurs his horse, leads his Somatophylakes into the mids of the fight, without any sense of danger. He hacks his bloody path through the enemy, inwardly unmoved, emotionless, until not one enemy is standing anymore.

Theodoros is still suspicious, he still fears a trap, so he takes drastic measures. All food found in the city is confiscated, all men estimated fit for military service sold into slavery. Theodoros is awaiting the enemy and a battle, his battle, but the Parnoi deny it.

A shame. They don't follow how it should be, they don't abide by the rules of warfare, how civilized people would do. How can someone stand this mess being sober? Have the gods deserted me?
“Strategos!” A shout disrupts his foggy thoughts. “Strategos, the town is burning, we have to leave. Do you understand? It is burning everywhere. I'll get you out of here.”

No general, no army had the courage to meet Theodoros in battle, but women and old men fought on. They have put their own town on fire, on several places. A conflagration started and thousands decease in the flames.
An army, defeated, but not in battle leaves behind smoking debris. The morale is low and the supply is short and now they fear battle, fear the host that has to be there, in the steppes, waiting for their weakness.

Hunger and austerity mark the men's faces. They have suffered on the long march that began when their supplies burned down, in the mids of the Dahaen's lands. Every day, they suffered thirst and hunger, every day they had to fear the enemy might descend upon them, until they saw the walls of Antiocheia-Margiana and they realize: he did not come. Theodoros, a shadow of his former vigour, leads the army into the town, defeated victors.
Courtiers welcome him and he dismounts his horse. “I have to speak with my uncle, as soon as possible.” Unease is increasing around him. “Strategos, the satrap Achaios is dead.”
A twitch appears in the corners of his mouth. Then, he slowly ascends the steps to the residence.