The Legacy of Megas Alexandros - a seleucid AAR

Chapter 32: The Leap

A moderate breeze has arisen and refreshes the wearied men. It is the cold season, but in these latitudes this doesn't change much. Antiochos has reverted to his accustomed attire as a soldier, chosen for practical reasons. The men he is leading don't need a glamorous appearance to believe in their king's divinity, they have seen him striking upon his foes, like an Avatar of the dreadful Ares, hardly ever wounded, despite him always seeking the midst of the fighting.
With no obvious reason the Basileus stops his steed and dismounts. He stoops down to take a handful of sand and watches it run through his fingers, just like the two years that have passed since he defeated his brother at the shore of the Tigris.

These years have been quiet years, but the king has been busy. His son was proclaimed as Basileus too, because Antiochos knew in the near future it would be almost impossible for him to rule the empire alone and his son needed the authority to silence opposition, an authority that now was fed from the divinity of their blood.
Antiochos himself used the years to form an army, smaller than those he commanded before, but professional to the last man. As always it would rest on a phalanx of Pezhetairoi, among them the Argyraspides, the silver shields, the senior part of the Pezhetairoi. Those soldiers who have distinguished themselves most in the past campaigns were assigned to an elite corps, consisting of three elements: the Thorakitai Agematos Basilikou, heavily armored assault infantry, the Hypaspistai, royal guards fighting in the fashion of hoplites and the Peltastai Makedonikoi, light troops in the prime of their physical strength.
From Galatia hails a band of Tindanotae, fierce warriors, who fear no enemy and are now loyal to the seleucid kings. Antiochos' ranged troops are composed of cretan archers, who are famed for their skill all over the hellenic world.
The cavalry consists of Prodromoi, fast and skilled light cavalry, Lonchophoroi, cavalrymen well protected by their Aspis shields and of course the Hetairoi who are riding as bodyguards of their king.
Adding to this do asian elephants which are descendant from those that Seleukos acquired from Sandrakottos of Maurya and trained by indian Mahouts.
Now it is Antiochos' sixteenth reigning year, the sixty third year of the Seleucid Era and the beast, thirsting to take revenge, takes its leap.

Antiochos straightens up, with closed eyes deeply inhaling the air, and it comes with an almost physical realization: The soil beneath his feet belongs to the land of the Pharaohs, the ancient land of Aigyptos.

Chapter 33: The Boar

Beneath a baldachin, that is protecting from the sun, sits a huge man. The nakedness of his upper body reveals bulging muscles under the tanned skin. He is wearing trousers and a massive golden torque lies around his neck.
Demophon is comfortably resting on his chair, the light blue eyes closed, while a nubian slave woman shaves the dark blonde hair off his skull.
Unlike the seleucid kings who lead their armies themselves to prove their worthiness, Ptolemaios Philadelphos prefers to trust professional generals, experienced soldiers.
Demophon is one of them. It is, of course, not the name he was born with, but it has proven useful in his business to bear a name in the language of those whose silver coins he was paid.
He is a Galates, a descendant of one of the celtic tribes that invaded Greece and Asia Mikra not long ago. He came to Aigyptos with his father, who has been allured by the prospect of the fair sums that the Ptolemaioi pay their mercenaries.
However, his father did not find his happiness in Egypt and soon died of a fever, so it was up to the only son to support his mother and sisters. So he, barely a man, took up a greek name and his father's sword. Demophon fought with the ptolemaic army and excelled in several battles against the Kyrenaioi and was rewarded with a Kleros near Paraitonion. From then he was known to his hellenic masters as Demophon Paraitonios, while his name amongst his galatian brethren simply is "The Boar".
In the following years he served in several campaigns against Kyrenaioi and Nubaioi and was trusted with increasing responsibilities. Now Demophon is assigned a challenging and very reputable task: The defense of Aigyptos.

Another man enters the cooling shade under the baldachin. He is a Galates like Demophon and uses their celtic language to address him. "Commander." The Boar squints, trying to recognize the man. "What is it?" - "They are approaching on the route you anticipated."
The dark skinned slave finishes the shave and rubs a scented oil on her master's scalp.
"How many?" - "About twice as many as our soldiers, well equipped, with elephants. They are much closer than our reinforcements, commander."
Demophon reaches out for the slave girl and pulls her on his lap. "We don't wait for the reinforcements. We'll give them a short welcome fight, show them we have no fear and test their resolve. In the long run we have the greater reserves and with constant attacks we will weaken their will to fight, until there is the opportunity to break the army in a capital battle. Tomorrow morning we will leave the camp."

:charge:

Ahaaa! Finally going to Egypt then! Will he triumph in Alexandria or will the desert swallow him and the great Neilos wash him away like so many before him...?

:drama3:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by I of the Storm

:charge:

Ahaaa! Finally going to Egypt then! Will he triumph in Alexandria or will the desert swallow him and the great Neilos wash him away like so many before him...?

:drama3:

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That is a good question, indeed :beam:

Or should I say: :egypt: ?

Edit: Oh, by the way, I of the Storm, you are now beside me the poster with most contributions in this thread, so thank you for your loyalty :bow:

Cool. Hehe, that's why I'm posting this now:

It's almost half a month since the last update and this thread was dangerously close to page 2. So...

:whip::whip::whip:

Hey, thank you :2thumbsup:
I'm in the last stages of preparation for an important exam, so it will have to wait a little bit longer.

Hi there, a little something to announce my return for now ~;)

Chapter 34: Tusks

The air still bears the pleasing chill of the night, the sun doesn't yet show above the horizon to the east, but the sky already lightens up. Down in the basin, protected from the sharp desert winds, the camp of the syrian army is about to awaken.
Neolaos dozily rubs his eyes. The coming morning marks the end of another uneventful watch and soon would be time for the changing of the guard. Neolaos looks up to the top of the ridge in the west, where the morning's sunlight will first hit the ground, before slowly descending into the basin.
There, a bright spot appears on the slope and starts growing. Reflections flash up along the ridge. The startled guard blinks and it takes a moment for his perceptions to go through his dozy mind.
"Alarm!" Neolaos, suddenly fully awake, shouts at the top of his voice. "Alarm!"

The Boar has come to show the might of his tusks. Demophon's soldiers are positioned along the ridge, utilizing the high ground to which only a narrow natural ramp leads up between steep acclivities. The basin, which has been useful against the sandstorm, now serves as a trap.

https://img16.imageshack.us/img16/653/35nb6.jpg

The galatian commander's men fiercely fight at the bottleneck, where their enemy's greater numbers count for nothing, while the seleucid Taxiarchoi try to bring order to the ranks of their regiments.
The king's adjutant is galloping back to the center of the camp, where his master awaits him. "Basileus! It is futile, we can't advance a single foot. They will be able to hold the ramp for ever this way!"
Antiochos Theos grimly nods. "So let's see what brute force we have left."

Among the noise of the fighting, of clashing iron and bronze, of crying and shouting, a new sound is mixing, the powerful trumpeting of the majestic indian beasts, Antiochos' elephant corps. They are fearsome animals, larger than the ones that dwell in Aithiopia and at the eritrean coast and mounted with archers who rain death from above. The mere sight of their charge brings disorder into the enemy's ranks and the pure brutal force of their weight ploughs deep gaps through the ptolemaic formation. Into these gaps Antiochos sends his Peltastai Makedonike and his own Galatai, the Tindanotae, who show the foe their disdain by fighting naked. With furious anger they charge into the chaos left by the elephants, irresistibly carving their way through Demophon's terrified men, for whom the day had began so promising. Soon the line finally breaks and Antiochos' heavy infantry sweeps away the remaining resistance.

https://img22.imageshack.us/img22/5229/36xf8.jpg

The galatian Boar has proven to be a dangerous adversary, able to spot opportunities and willing to take risks in order to utilize them, but for today the longer tusks of the seleucid king's indian elephants remained victorious.

It lives! Cool.:2thumbsup:

Lysimachos! I have finally caught up with your story, no book. It is quite the read. It is because of you I play the AS and enjoy them so much. i must say the detail you put into this is very good. i hope you can get back to writing more often. but i know what you mean when it comes to exams at school. Good luck with them!

Thank you! In fact the exam was the very final one in my time at university and school exams were a cakewalk compared to it ~;)
I was in need of some recreation but I hope I'll be able to update regularly in the near future.
I'm currently thinking about how to make the following chapters a bit more unique instead of just lining up events, which happens sometimes when I'm not fully motivated while I'm writing.

Yep i know what you mean. But all of your chapters seem very unique to me. Actually im kinda copying your idea of 'internal struggles within the faction itself' in my aar. keep it going man.

Seleukid AAR ! Just what I need. :bow: And I find it very interesting. Keep up, I'll be one of your top readers. ~:cheers:

I'm looking forward to your next update!

Chapter 35: A Chain of Gold

https://img13.imageshack.us/img13/1879/35a.jpg

The Golden Jackal's howl sounds in the night. A chilly breeze blows from the Hyrkanian - or Caspian - Sea. The carnivore strides the sleeping land, restless and alone. This little creature, despite struggling for its bare existence day by day and night by night, must seem most enviable for another restless and solitary mind, awake under the hyrkanian sky. Its only ambition is to live and to stay alive in the blood of his offspring, the only sorrows it has to bear are its own, the only rules and codes it has to obey are the capacity of its legs and fangs.
The restless and envious mind belongs to a young man, sitting atop a large rock. The man is looking down to the shy and playful dance of the waves, adorned by a magical sparkle of reflected moonlight, and the glimmer of thousands of thousands stars on the clear and indefinite sky, a spectacle so simple and unsophisticated, yet so unfathomably beautiful that its mere sight might make the unguarded man's heart forget to beat, a spell that has to be conceived and cast by an entity of higher virtue and imagination.
But still, this invaluable gift of nature fails to attract the young man's attention, fails to lift his spirits, fails to spark the inspiration, the exaltation which leads people to think the unimaginable and achieve the impossible. Perhaps, in this very moment on the face of earth there is no being with a greater opportunity to experience the divine touch in the simplest things in nature, to feel the freedom to do anything, but still he feels imprisoned, chained to a certain destiny, an inevitable fate, chained with an artful and golden, but firm and heavy chain.
While his mind is traveling through the deepest depths of his emotions, his fingers subconsciously wander along the hem of his Chiton, where they find a small rip in the cloth, an unsteadiness in the garment's flow, the sensation of which allures the finger tips to run along the edge, again and again, unintentionally unraveling threads of the expensive fabric.
The young man's conscience does not perceive this, does not waste effort on what his fingers do, but bathes in the painful solitude of his fortune, enduring the cold grasp which firmly, relentlessly closes around his chest, squeezing his lungs, allowing only a dolorously straining breathing.
A deep sigh heaves from his breast. Is this really what he is supposed to be? Is it not his place to be with his family, with his wife and son? But no longer is this his decision to make, a stronger mind that doesn't tolerate contradiction has made this to be his place, made him, who suffers under his own destiny's weight, a wielder of destiny himself, a king beside the king, a general, a leader, leading men, who can resist his word just as little as he can resist his father's, leading them - to what?
The stars' glow and the night's innocent beauty slowly fade away, as the canopy goes pale and grey, bearing the signs of yet another day. A day, when the soldiers again will look up to him and await his decisions, trusting in his judgment, more than he himself ever could.
Seleukos Kallinikos, joined king of the Arche Seleukeia, slides down from the silent and lonesome rock, which in its intimacy with solitude has been like a sympathetic companion in this late spring night. He feels the cold gravel under his bare feet, sharp edges carving tiny cuts in the skin that is used to be protected by soles of the softest and finest leather in the east. The slight pain which is itching in his feet while slowly walking upwards the rocky beach is an anchor, fixed somewhere in reality, a rope which he gratefully takes to pull himself at least a small way out of the gloom - not of the dying night, but inside his mind. Slowly follows step after step, each one accompanied by a bite from the solidly real gravel, each one carrying him closer to the camp and closer to awareness, each one a small victory for the sense of responsibility, acceptance of the inevitable, hardly won against the desperate cravings of every fiber in his body.
"Who is there?" A barking voice ruptures the barrier build up around his conscience, only a small breach, just enough to make him notice and decide to ignore.
In the moment of cognition the guard gasps and goes down on his knee. "Basileus!" Kallinikos cringes, when the cold grip around his heart closes again, inflicting a sting of pain. A free Hellen on his knee - for him! It was hard enough to accustom to the men abasing themselves in front of his father, paying Proskynesis to the king after his victory over Sarpedon Prodotis - Sarpedon the Traitor - but for himself? Oh, now he was called a king too, still - how could he possibly find himself worthy of this salute?

More please!

You really know how to use discriptive words there. Awesome stuff once again. I'm guess kallinikos is not going to be like his father?

Thanks to both of you for the continued support!

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Originally Posted by Vasiliyi

I'm guess kallinikos is not going to be like his father?

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Probably not very much although there might be more parallels than obvious.
When Kallinikos came of age I had a look which of his traits I could work with and I noticed he was pessimistic (later he gets the trait "gloomy", my use of the word "gloom" in the chapter is a hint in that direction) and uncharismatic + some traits regarding his inability to handle people (this was getting better while he was at the academy).
The most obvious difference between them is the fact that Kallinikos is sceptic regarding his own abilities and if he is doing the right thing, while his father has - or at least seems to have - not the slightest doubt about his actions and never falters, which is one thing that makes him so inspiring for the men he leads. The son is also more prone to let his decisions be influenced by ethical motivations unlike the more practical Theos (see the introduction of the Proskynesis for rational reasons, which is against Kallinikos' feelings).

However, not all dice have been cast yet. Theos certainly had a reason to become the heavy drinker that he is (his most obvious weakness) and who knows? Maybe will Kallinikos overcome his inconclusiveness and self-pity and become a strong leader himself...

Maybe not.

:laugh4:

Well, I'm planning to retain a strong focus on the characters in the future and there are some things I really look forward to write about. Sadly it spans over a long ingame timeframe and might take many months until I got all of it in the story.

Chapter 36: The Moment of Truth

The junior king yawns loudly. Recently he neither sleeps much nor restorative. Deep, dark circles around the bloodshot and only with effort half-opened eyes mark his face, the pale and greyish colour of which makes an unhealthy impression. The metal of his armour and the colour of his clothing are matted from a thin cover of dust. He looks weak and worn out, crookedly sitting on his mount.
He is accompanied by his staff, the leading officers of the army Seleukos Kallinikos has taken under command. The fewest of them seem to be in a much better condition than their Basileus, but at least they mostly strive to maintain a degree of dignity.

When Antiochos went to the west, to Aigyptos, his son travelled in the opposite direction, to the iranian possessions of the Arche. In recent times the incursions into the northern border regions of Hyrkania, Astauene and Margiana had increased to a dimension that could no longer be ignored. Raiding parties of the Dahae and related people were more and more roaming freely in the empire's lands, acting as lords by their own right. It was the father's wish for Seleukos to restore seleucid authority and give a sign that the Arche was capable to defend her subjects.
The largest of those parties, which was headed by Surenmehr, a powerful warlord of the house of Suren, had intruded far into Parthyaia. After some skirmishes Surenmehr decided to retreat, the seleucid army slowly following down to the Caspian Sea and further north. The steppe people, who were always outnumbered, evaded major confrontation time and time again and instead resorted to harass rear- or advance guard and supply troops, steadily drawing Kallinikos behind them.

"Those are too many to be Surenmehr's troops. Anyway, they are sitting on that hill like they want to give us a fight. We should take positions and show them the stock we're made of," barks Lasthenes Akkadikos. He dons his most baneful expression, although a meagre tuft of grass, which has somehow found a way to entangle itself in his beard, does its part in undoing the effect.
Seleukos examines the thin line of light infantry, screened by a larger number of riders, then looks along the columns of his own contingent. He nods. "Yes, form the phalanx. The cavalry stays back, close with the light troops."

https://img514.imageshack.us/img514/8195/36a.jpg

Kallinikos' force, more than sixteen thousand souls, line up across from the hill, where the foe has positioned himself. A vibration flows through the ranks and with effort they start to move slowly. Most of the soldiers have little experience at marching in lockstep and need all the help the Auletai, the flautists, can give to follow the tact, the long and heavy Sarissas reaching into the sky. Officers with sticks run up and down the formation, forcing those back into line and rank, who fall behind. Close after the Phalanx, in the centre, where the overview is the best, follows their Strategos.

The enemy sits atop his hill and watches. Patiently he is waiting. Artabarzan, the warlord, has a good eye-sight and he is proficient with the bow. He knows how to use the wind to carry the arrow in its goal, he knows the strength of his men and their bows. He doesn't haste, for he is in no need to waste an arrow. When Artabarzan lifts his arm, he knows his men will hit the mark.

More than three thousand short dark lines rise from the hill, where the parthian footsoldiers stand, firm ground under their feet and strong bows in their hands. The arrows climb into the sky, higher and higher, before they start to fall, lowering down to the approaching army. Many arrows bounce against the lifted shafts of the Sarissas, lose their momentum and drop without effect, but many hit the barely armoured men, with unreduced velocity easily penetrating leather and lives.
The first cries of pain and death are heard, but the line of men only shivers shortly before continuing to crawl towards Artabarzan's humble hill.

With composed mind and calm heart, with deliberateness and steady hand the archers loosen another volley, and another, before Artabazan's mounted warriors join in the concert of snapping bowstrings. Now every single man under the warlord's command is contributing to devastating volleys, each composed of more than eight thousand deadly arrows, while their leader is waiting for his plan to unfold.

It is a terrifying sight, the dark clouds of thousands of simultaneously loosened arrows rapidly approaching, a sight that is able to inspire awe even in the most confident hearts, a sight that mutes all other senses and paralyses the mind, yet still is the phalanx rolling forward, so despondently slow. Quickstep could be in need, but with these untrained men, chaos would ensue, the line would rip apart, rendering the phalanx's strengths non-effective.
"Sire!" Kallinikos turns his head to the right, where Gorgias Dahaikos has stopped his mount and points to the east. There unobserved another band has come up and is now quickly riding over a slight slope, which runs some way to the right of the seleucid host, in full speed already shooting the first arrows into the back of the right flank.
The junior king is petrified, staring at the riders in the east, his horse nervously prancing, while the line is still advancing, unperturbed by the new threat.
His eyes meet Gorgias, who closes up to his king. The adjutant is on the verge to grab Seleukos by the shoulders and yells into his face: "Do something! Now!"

Chapter 37: Shattered Shield

When Seleukos Kallinikos awakes from the apathy, which the shock imposed on him, already twelve thousand bowmen guide their missiles against his army.
"Hold the advance!" the king shouts. "We have to fold in the right to form a crescent and then retreat!" - "Yes, Sire," replies Gorgias with a grim face, relieved that the king has found his balance again, and drives his heels into the flanks of his horse. He dashes along the line to the right, where Lasthenes Akkadikos waits at his wing.

The advancing Phalanx comes to a halt. Its right wing is split into the taxeis, which march backwards, describing a curve, to get to their new position. Very slowly the infantry swings around, still under the constant shower of arrows.
The enemy's horsemen now have reduced the distance to a few dozen feet, shooting from close range and more and more weak points in the phalangites' position result. Then, a horn loudly calls and Artabarzan descends from his hill, at the head of his bodyguard and another squadron of equally heavy armoured riders joins this force. They are clad in iron from tip to toe and their mounts wear strong barding. The horses can't move fast under all that weight, but it seems like once they are going nothing may stop their ride. Artabarzan's light horsemen quickly make way for the cataphracts, while the Dahae Nobles take position right behind.
The fearsome iron-clad men couch their lances and as one wall made of metal charge into the weakened Phalanx, simply shoving the pikes aside, cutting through the formation, which immediately breaks into pieces. The shield is shattered and now the Dahae pour into the gaps.

"Charge!" the general cries and his companions follow him into the fray, a last attempt, not to win the battle, but to gain time for the infantry to retreat. Chaos has already ensued, the soldiers desperately try to escape, the steppe riders chasing them down, only the Hetairoi remain on the field, unavailingly trying to prevent the inevitable, fighting the Kataphraktoi, who seem to be moulded in steel, until the horns call "Retreat!" and the finest soldiers of the empire are also hurrying to flee the battle, flee the plain that bears witness of the humiliating defeat of the junior seleucid Basileus by the hands of robbers and shepherds.

https://img26.imageshack.us/img26/5215/37am.jpg


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The photo that I'm using here is actually from a different region, but still has a (slight) connection to the chapter. Who can guess what the picture shows (or is supposed to show, I couldn't check it) gets a balloon ~:)

No idea. But this was a great update!:2thumbsup:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by I of the Storm

No idea. But this was a great update!:2thumbsup:

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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 :laugh4:
You'll get the balloon anyway. Here we go, red, just like blood that has been spilled: :balloon:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Lysimachos

The picture is supposed to show the landscape at Carrhae

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:stupido2: That was hard...

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Lysimachos

(although I have to admit that Kallinikos' army is (was) mostly composed of rubbish :laugh4:

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Lysimachos

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

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Cool, thank you!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by I of the Storm

:stupido2: That was hard...

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I would have given a hint if you had asked ~;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by I of the Storm

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

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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 :yes:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by I of the Storm

Cool, thank you!

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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 ~;)

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."

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

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

Maion

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

Thank you, guys ~:)

An update!! Great! :smash:

Time to feel guilty again :shame:

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."

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Vasiliyi

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

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Thanks ~:) It's good to have a personal reminder ~;)

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.

https://img34.imageshack.us/img34/7923/009xxz.jpg

https://img34.imageshack.us/img34/3004/010ssz.jpg

:smash::smash::smash:

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. :balloon2:

Thanks ~:)

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."

https://img198.imageshack.us/img198/5625/004lxj.jpg

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."

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

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

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."

https://img193.imageshack.us/img193/4941/008dwp.jpg

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.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Vasiliyi

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

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I hope there's no damage done ~;)

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

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Roka

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

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Thanks ~:)

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

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!"

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"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.

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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.

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

We need another update!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Vasiliyi

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

We need another update!

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Urm, no, please read again. :book:
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 :stupid:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Lysimachos

Urm, no, please read again. :book:
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 :stupid:

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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.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Vasiliyi

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.

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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? :whip: Who knows what else you've got wrong ... :no:

:laugh4:

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.

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"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?

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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.

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"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.

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

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. :grin2:

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!”

https://img688.imageshack.us/img688/3945/018si.jpg

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.

https://img42.imageshack.us/img42/2190/019sne.jpg

Hey, thanks for the nice welcome back :disappointed:

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!”

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!

I'm following. Don't feel discouraged and keep it up.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by 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!

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Brave Brave Sir Robin

I'm following. Don't feel discouraged and keep it up.

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Thank you guys. It will remain a slow process, but I promise it will continue.

For weak memories:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Important or recurring characters and members of the royal family as well as some characters from the latest chapters

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 does not exist 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. Alexandros Syriakos
Function: Satrapes of Susiane
Seat: Susa
Father: Achaios Syriakos, brother of Basileus Antiochos Soter
Brother: Andromachos Syriakos, Satrapes of Persis
Son: Miltidades

12. 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

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

14. Gorgias Dahaikos
Right-hand man of Seleukos Kallinikos

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

16. 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 aide of Antiochos Theos.

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

18. 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.

And the new chapter, enjoy :yes:

Chapter 47: Three Noble Persians

Fravarti closes his eyes and raises both hands to his face to softly rub his lids in a circling motion, but the travails of a laborious day won't go away. He sighs deep and drops his arms. His work is not done yet and lamenting won't help it. Fravarti looks up, searching for Tiz, the shepherd's best friend. Just as Fravarti himself, Tiz is no longer as quick as he once was, but the trusty dog remains the most reliable helper the ageing shepherd has known.
Fravarti frowns, as he can't spot the dog. He sounds a sharp whistle and perks up his ears in search for a reply. There, in the distance sounds barking. Shivers run down his spine, as Fravarti notices, it is not Tiz calling. He spins around, whistles once again for his dog and starts running toward the sound, his fingers nervously reaching for the pouch of sling-stones.
Then the shepherd spots Tiz, running towards him, and further away another dog, unknown to him. It is a huge mastiff, Fravarti realizes and the thoughts run through his mind. For generations the Persians have bred and trained wardogs, fearless animals that, following Alexandros and the advent of hellenism, have been exported all over the known world, where they are drilled to fight man and beast alike. A predator like this could easily rip him and Tiz both into pieces. A lucky shot with the sling, perhaps, but then?
An animal like this, carefully bred and trained, is an extraordinary luxury, only a wealthy man could afford such a specimen and which nobleman would hold an old shepherd's life higher than his hound's?
A voice calls out: “Karda!” and from one moment to the next the huge dog flips around and runs to where its master approaches. Tiz arrives at Fravarti's feet and the shepherd goes on his knees, both so he can comfort his scared quadruped and so he will not offend whoever commands Karda, the warlike spirit. When he lifts his gaze, Fravarti spots a rider, only a young man, but everything in his affectation seems... excessive, out of place. He wears his hair and attire in the way of the Persians of the old days of glory, clad in the finest of silks, riding a horse worth a few towns. His face shows pride, but also a certain softness, a merciful touch of divinity. Beside his leg a quiver with bow and arrows reveal his intent to be the hunter's occupation. The hound frolics around his master's horse's legs, but the playful sparkle in his eyes cannot conceal the deadly threat.
Not far behind two more riders follow the one. Just as he, they wear the attire of old nobility and over their horses they have attached, with surprising craftsmanship, a holding from which a hind of red deer is dangling.
“Rise, good man,” their leader speaks in a soft voice and, with hesitation, Fravarti follows his command. “Say, what is your name?” The eyes still directed to the ground, he answers. “I am the shepherd Fravarti, my lord. You are too kind to inquire, my lord.” - “A shepherd you are. Tell me, Fravarti, where do you live?” - “It is not far from here, my lord. My village lies that way, my lord.”
Fravarti covertly watches as the rider looks towards the horizon, slightly nodding.
“My lord, if you suffer me asking, what leads three noble Persians such as you to these humble hills?” Bright laughter sounds from the young man's mouth, confusing the old shepherd, for he does not know what funny thing he may have said.
“You see, Fravarti, the days grows old and we have strayed too far from the city to reach it in time. So, if you choose to invite us to your home for this night, we will invite you and your people to our hind. What do you think of that, Shepherd Fravarti?”
Knowing, he indeed has no choice in the matter, and cursing the day, he accepts. “My lord, I know of no honour greater than that. But, my lord, whom shall I announce to my people?” - “Rightly you ask, Fravarti. I know your name, so you shall know mine. I am called Euphorion and I ride with the princes Miltidades and Xenoitas.”

re-read this entire story recently, glad to see your still updating it from time to time

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Roka

re-read this entire story recently, glad to see your still updating it from time to time

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Glad you are glad :smiley2: Thanks for the comment!

Chapter 48: The Fruit of Trust

Antiochos is leaning forward heavily on his steed, his eyes are dry and his front is wet of sweat. He is just standing there, breathing heavily, while trying to suppress the vicious headache and watching.
“Sire,” a voice raises behind him. The king recognizes the speaker, but he doesn't lift his gaze from the city across the plain. “Athenaios, what ails you?”
“Basileus, we cannot go on like this. The situation is becoming severe, the men are weak and soon there will be nothing left to eat. Perhaps we should put down the elephants.”Antiochos' voice seems absent, when he answers: “Trust me, Atheniaos, trust me. It's what you do, isn't it?” - “My life is yours, Sire,” is the Hetairos' stoic reply.
“So I have all the more reason to keep it safe. You are dismissed, Athenaios.

https://img829.imageshack.us/img829/2953/024vy.jpg

A smile plays around Antiochos' embrittled lips. His instinct has never let him down and it won't this time. The day has come that the Pharaoh's son has been lured out behind his walls.

https://img20.imageshack.us/img20/4039/022ss.jpg

An air of relieve surrounds the men. They are tired of idleness and welcome the coming action as a refuge from the relentlessness of hunger, a foe that can't be hit or hurt, and for them this battle is a giver of hope, something to cling to.
Antiochos rides along the line and he watches the soldiers' faces. They are emaciated and weakened, but still faithful and today their face shall be rewarded.

Terpnos, the ptolemaic Strategos, is an experienced commander, but, just as many of Antiochos' enemies have done to their own peril, he values numbers to much. A small reinforcement from downstream, turning the numbers in his favour, is enough to prompt him to test the seleucids' strength in battle.

Antiochos positions his Taxeis in a thin line. Thin, but strong enough to hold for some time. Just as many of his enemies before, Terpnos has no means to counter the king's horseman and he marches with a plan, damned from the beginning. His army is swept away and scattered into the four winds, leaving behind the Diospolis, like a fruit ripe for the taking.

https://img600.imageshack.us/img600/548/023ht.jpg

From the moment that Antiochos had turned his army south, toward upper Egypt, the ptolemaic bureaucracy and military started working on one goal: hindering his campaign by denying him the supplies to feed his army. It almost worked, bringing the army to the brink of dissolution, but ironically the bursting storages of Thebes, where all the riches of upper Aigytos have been brought to, now feed the invaders' host.

Athenaios and Kratippos, another Hetairos, have started to register the supplies, suddenly made available behind the city's gates. It is a huge task and so the two Hetairoi inspect the laden magazines. “So,” Kratippos comments at the sight of a long row of Amphoras filled with egyptian wine, “first things first. The king's temper is taken care of.”
Athenaios glances at his companion. “You didn't know? Ah, yes, you were with the rearguard. The king hasn't drunken a drop of it in weeks.”

The next update will show you how badly I suck with pictures. It's the lack of practice, I'm sure.

Have fun.

Chapter 49: The Watch on the Margos

Over the last centuries the pressure from the nomadic barbarians against the north-eastern border of the Arche continually increased. Two pillars still hold them back: In the east, between the hordes of the Sakai nomads and the central iranian uplands stands the junior king of the seleukid house with his tribal and mercenary army. The victory against Hagana costed a bitter price, but Seleukos Kallinikos clings to the southern parts of Margiane, his right flank leaning firmly against the Margos river, that runs from south to north through the province.
In the west stands Gorgias Dahaikos, Seleukos' closest friend, guarding Parthyaia against the Dahae.

https://img140.imageshack.us/img140/8610/019dv.jpg

The king knows, it is only a matter of time. He knows, he will not hold the enemy for ever, but does he have another choice?

https://img690.imageshack.us/img690/9042/020to.jpg

When again the barbarians come, Kallinikos lines his troops up with their back protected by the river's bank.

https://img703.imageshack.us/img703/104/020afl.jpg

Again, he commands the larger force, but is aware that another victory like the last may be his army's end. A cloud of worries hangs over his head, when the Sakai position themselves in the west.

https://img543.imageshack.us/img543/9954/020bo.jpg

While the nomads have masterful archers among their ranks, the sheer number of missiles favour the Basileus' Iranians.

https://img24.imageshack.us/img24/6595/020ed.jpg

Lijugula, the barbarian commander, throws his army forward against the seleukid line.

https://img21.imageshack.us/img21/8586/020dvx.jpg

The attack is vicious, but soon repelled by the greater numbers and the battle finally is decided, when Lijugula's heavy horsemen turn around and flee.

https://img824.imageshack.us/img824/1202/020cr.jpg

https://img815.imageshack.us/img815/5807/021vo.jpg

It is a second victory against the Sakai for the young king, but he turns back south with half the army with which he came, leaving southern Margiane behind to the Sakai.

Chapter 50: Rock Bottom

Heavy, angry steps approach from the corridor. “Deja vu,” mumbles Ikadion, cowering in the corner of the cold and dark cellar-room. The door is violently thrown open and a torch's flickering shine illuminates the chamber and the lord of the house. The stout Nomarch enters and puts the torch into a fixture next to the door. Behind him the weasel-faced man comes in and closes the door.
“So, Babylonios.” The Nomarch looks down on the picture of misery that is left of the former poet of class and epicurean.
“I hope your accommodations are to your satisfaction.” - “Indeed they are. Too much light is not good to my eyes. Thank you for asking, anyway,” is Ikadion's dry reply.
“Stand up!,” commands the Nomarch. “I've been told you were close with Sarpedon.” - “I suppose, you could come to that conclusion.” - “Then you must know him well, know how his methods and weaknesses. I can be very grateful for adequate advice,” he looks around, pointing to the naked, cold walls, “and I understand there have been times when you were used to a very different standard of living. I can make that true again.”
Ikadion smirks. “You want me to help you understand what kind of a man Sarpedon is, but you should let it go. You do not have the mind to comprehend him.”
“You dare mocking me under my roof!” the stout man shouts enraged. The sudden impact of his fist on Ikadion's jaw is so hard that a pain travels along his arm and the Babylonian is struck to the ground. Ikadion groans and rolls on his side, blood dripping from his mouth. “It is my nature, I can't help it,” he mumbles with effort.
The Nomarch stands above Ikadion, grips the long curly hair and pulls him up. “If there is anything useful at all, you better talk now, Babylonios.” - “What do you expect me to tell you?” Ikadion grunts. “He made me lose everything and by now I haven't seen him for years.” Again he spits blood and sighs deeply. “Although it doesn't much look like it right now, you are man with a code of moral convictions, Nomarchos. There are things you would not consider doing and there are other things which are even unthinkable to you. To Sarpedon, such a thing does not exist. It takes a deeply immoral man to understand Sarpedon's mind in its full beauty.”
Ikadion sinks to the ground as his hair is released. “You scum are a waste of my time.” - “You take him for weak, but his teeth are poisonous. I tell you, watch your back and beware the trickery.” The Nomarchos snorts and turns to go.
“What shall I do with him?” asks the Weasel. “I don't care, I have no use for him any more.”

(In case you don't remember who Ikadion is, check chapters 16, 18, 28 and 31)

Great work one of the best AAR's Ive read so far.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Pyrrhus The Great

Great work one of the best AAR's Ive read so far.

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Thank you.

I'm sorry for not checking the thread lately, but at the moment I'm a bit distracted with a Shogun 2 AAR I recently started. I haven't posted it here on the .org (yet), but if you click here, you can find it on TWC.

I'm still working on this too, but the next chapter is in a way a rather tough one, that resists getting into any useable form :laugh4:

Definitely in the top 3 EB AARs
I liked it, thanks Lysimachos

Chapter 51: A Rural Beauty

Euphorion and his cousins are in no hurry. They slowly ride into the sunset, while the shepherd Fravarti runs ahead to tell his village the news about their royal visitors. When they finally arrive, the villagers have gathered in the central place.
Fravarti, the shepherd, hurries to meet them and goes on his knees. One moment he shies away from Karda's drivelling snout, but he collects himself and addresses the royal guests.
“My noble princes, I welcome you in our midst. Please, let us take care of your horses and join us for the feast.”
The cousins dismount from their exquisite arabian horses and Euphorion magnanimously accepts Fravarti's welcome. “Rise and show us where we are seated.” - “As you wish, my prince.”

The common men stay on their knees, as the royal princes stride among them, led to their seats of honour, which are elevated above those of the villagers. The three cousins, ignorant of the lesser men's perspective, do not know it, but their visit – as much as it may be an honour – is also a curse for the lowly villagers. They dread the anger of the powerful and so they have clad themselves into their finest garments and they have prepared the finest of their foods, not to disappoint their betters.

The cousins take their seats and Fravarti carefully places himself at their feet, close – nay, too close – to the king's son's huge hound's muscular body. A number of men proceed to prepare the hind over the fireplace and an ensemble of villagers with lyre, flute and drum strikes up.
Fravarti's wife presents the guests with cups of wine and the cousins, unaware of the uncomfortable mood around them, start an unwound conversation.

Not much later the sun has retreated into her resting place and Fravarti announces: “My noble princes, now the maidens of our village will perform a traditional dance in your honour, if you please.”

Euphorion is just about to end a sentence, when he looks over to where three young of the village start to move to the rhythm, performing a centuries old persian dance for their community's royal guests. He loses his thought and himself, when his gaze meets the deep, dark eyes of one of the girls. The world fades away and only she remains and the rhythm guiding the movement of her tender body. Euphorion breathes heavily and only slowly comes back the awareness of his surroundings, after the young women finished the dance and went off. At first his voice failed him, but then he touches Fravarti at the shoulder and asks: “Who is that girl, the third one?”

The pupils in the shepherd's eyes widen in terror. Hesitantly he responds: “She is Esmet, my only daughter.” - “Esmet.” Fravarti's heart beats wildly in his chest while he watches the prince's gaze wander off into the distance. Then it breaks out: “I will not have you make her your whore,” he gasps, but as their eyes meet his heart almost stops. What madness has befallen me?

Euphorion bends down towards the shepherd and whispers: “It takes courage to talk to me that way and I appreciate courage. Fravarti the shepherd, I promise you, I will court her and I will make her my princess and there is not a force in the world that can stop me from doing so.”

(for context see chapter 47)

Good to see work started on this again.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Populus Romanus

Good to see work started on this again.

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Indeed. I had a blast starting to write again yesterday, I couldn't really stop myself. I just don't want to post too much at once. :-)

Chapter 52: Swords and Spears

As always, a grim stone face hides the Basileus' thoughts and feelings from the world around him. He never was prone to talk more than necessary, but in the last months the soldiers witnessed their king becoming close-lipped. Giving up the wine mitigated his mood swings, but it didn't seem to better his mood in general.

Antiochos spends much of his time walking the streets of the city, which for now provides the base for his army: Diospolis Megale – the great city of Zeus, Thebai, formerly the proud capital of upper Aigyptos. It is a city beyond its former glory, a shadow, a reminder of transience. Is this what aggrieves the king? No longer is he a young man. What ambitions are still locked in his taciturn heart? So close to everlasting greatness – two weeks by boat to Alexandreia, where the Seleukid's Nemesis, Ptolemaios Philadelphos, reigns, two weeks to the grave of Alexandros.

Alexandreia is the mirror image of Diospolis: A rising star, a blooming flower and for Theos the scene of revenge and the gateway to eternal glory. With Philadelphos defeated, who could dare and resist the Seleukids' iron fist? The prize of a lifetime, so close, but still so far away.

“What is it that bothers you, Kratippos? Speak your mind,” commands the king. “Basileus,” begins the Hetairos, “the men have greatly enjoyed the opportunity to rest, but there is talk. They wonder, why we remain here and don't take action.”

Antiochos nods understandingly and turns to Athenaios. “My friend Athenaios, tell me about the situation of our supplies.” - “Sire, we have great amounts of food at our disposal. We could easily afford a campaign of considerable length.”

Again, the king nods. “You see, Kratippos, my friend, an army is nothing without food and water, but food and water are nothing without an army. Coming here, we have lost many of our men, too many. Still each of them is worth three of our enemies, but Philadelphos' reserves are more than thrice our numbers. To win the war, we don't need more bread, we need more swords and spears and men to wield them.”

Antiochos pauses, as a patrol passes and salutes their king, their living god of war, who walks among them.

“The Nubians are no friends of Ptolemaios and neither are the Aithiopioi. And also many Machimoi have only to gain by supporting me. Unlike my forefathers have the Ptolemaioi never bothered to make their people one with the people they rule. They mimic egyptian customs, but they will never be egyptian. I am heterogenes, a bearer of both greek and persian blood. I am the living testament to the unity of the great peoples, to the dream of Alexandros. The Machimoi know that. Under Ptolemaios they can never be more than lowly servants, but under my rule they can become Satraps, Generals or Princes. We raise them into our army and then, then we will march down the Nhile.”

Chapter 53: Ill-Fated

South, further into Iran, into the province Aria is Seleukos Kallinikos headed with his army. Behind him, the Sakai warbands. Thank the gods, they don't seem to be in a hurry: The Sakai could move quicker, if they wanted and they hit hard when they want to. A depressing sight indeed: the marching host, by a hair eluded destruction – for now.

Kallinikos, who rides at the front of his host, notices a rider, who quickly catches up and passes the marching army. Bad news, without a doubt, sighs the junior king. He turns his mount and awaits the messenger, who dismounts from his exhausted horse. Seleukos watches the man catching his breath, before he commands: “What evil tidings to you bear, messenger? What ghastly shadow do you carry to darken this hour?” - “Sire, I ride by the command of the Satrapes of Parthyaia. The Dahae have marched on Hekatompylos and met us in battle.”

“So spit it out, man!” grunts the king impatiently.

“Sire, the battle was badly lost and Strategos Gorgias has fallen.”

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“Is all lost then?” whispers the king with a feeble voice.

“The enemy warlord has been wounded and the army has turned back north. The city is safe for now, Basileus,” explains the messenger, but his king doesn't listen any more. The one person in the world whom he called his friend was gone. He feels a great emptiness inside. But this is not the time to mourn! “I see you in the afterlife, my friend,” mumbles Seleukos.

With a sudden outcry of anger he pulls his horse around. “Aspianas!” he shouts and the courtier, who has served the Seleukids as an emissary many times breaks away from the entourage and awaits his king's command.

“Aspianas, I need you to ride to Baktra. If we want to survive this, we can't allow us to keep on sulking, but we must work together. Bring Theodotos my offer: I pledge to recognize him as Basileus and sovereign over Baktria and in return I ask for active military support against the Sakai. Eat and drink now, but then ride day and night. We are but a breeze away from toppling over.”


(To avoid confusion: The Aspianas mentioned - a diplomate - is not the same as the one in the battle screenshot. They just incidentally share names.)

Finally caught up! Its been a good read, and I had to go back and go back and refresh myself. Im looking forward to more.

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Originally Posted by Vasiliyi

Finally caught up! Its been a good read, and I had to go back and go back and refresh myself. Im looking forward to more.

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I'm glad to see you are still following. I hope the inconsistency of my posting here is not too much of a bother.

Chapter 54: For the Realm

“My Master,” the eunuch carefully whispers in Sarpedon's ear, who indignantly shakes his head and looks up from his desk. “What is it now?” - “The Pharaoh has requested your presence. A little bird told me, this request was issued on behalf of your... friend...” - “I see,” mumbles Sarpedon through his finely trimmed beard.

The two hurry down the far reaching corridors of the palace. Philadelphos has been a benevolent host to Sarpedon, but it is never a good idea to let a king wait. As they reach the Pharaoh's audience chamber the eunuch dutifully stays back and the seleukid king's brother proceeds alone. Ptolemaios, marked by the signs of his age, awaits him seated behind a massive marmoreal desk. To the table's right hand side sits the Nomarch, who acknowledges the newcomer with his most scornful look.

“My dear guest,” the Pharaoh begins to speak slowly, ”I hope you are well. A proposal regarding the nature of your sojourn in these halls has been brought to my attention and I choose to hear your own thoughts on the matter.” He turns to his right and signals the Nomarch to take the floor. “Would you mind to reiterate what you told me?”

“It is my pleasure,” states the stout man, while rising from his seat. “We are at war, my king, and the enemy stands deep inside the realm. While we, the members of the court, ... appreciate the presence of your guest, we cannot forget, that the empire is in a time of need. One thing, which it needs especially, are educated noble men to lead its taxeis into battle. I could, in fact,” – he rests his gaze on Sarpedon – “use a gifted man like our guest here in my own staff. I believe, his service for the mutual cause would provide him with an excellent opportunity to show his gratitude for savoured hospitality, which already lasts several years.”

This is all you can do, amusing, but pitiful. Sarpedon imperceptibly shakes his head. “What say you,” addresses him the old king.

“My lord, as you know, I am not a military man. My value in your court lies elsewhere. I have eyes and ears in every harbour, in every city and on every trading route. My services here can be invaluable, but in the field I have no access to my contacts, while in battle I can't contribute anything more than the next man. I do not like to brag and far be it from me to presume myself more than a puny tool, but sending me away means cutting out one's own eye.”

Philadelphos looks back and forth from one rival to the other. “You are, of course, both right,” he reflects, inciting expectations in both men. “I would greatly appreciate your service as an officer,” he addresses Sarpedon and the Nomarch's corners of the mouth start pointing up. “But I do value your contributions from here.” The smile fades from the Nomarch's broad face. “I would also miss our delighting conversations.” A suppressed grunt sounds from his right. “Therefore I shall grant both your wishes to the same extent.”

The two men watch the Basileus with confusion, while he leans back graciously. “Scribe,” he calls and from the back of the chamber a dutiful servant hurries to his king's side. “Let it be known that, by order of Pharaoh Ptolemaios Philadelphos, Beloved of Amun, Chosen of Re, and so on and so on, henceforth Sarpedon of the house of Seleukos is appointed commander of the royal household guard. Royal seal, yadda, yadda,” he waves the servant away.

For a moment the Pharaoh squinches up his face. “From now on you will serve me both as an officer and a master of spies. Do I have your fealty, Sarpedon of the house of Seleukos?”

Sarpedon notices with satisfaction the deep sigh coming from the Nomarch and he takes the liberty to construe the Pharaoh's expression as an impish grin. “As always, oh gracious lord, my loyalty is all yours.” - “You are then dismissed, both of you,” the king rises from his seat, looks his two subjects in their eyes and with sudden energy and sharpness in his voice he ends the meeting: “I shan't have any more of this matter!”

Just finished reading the whole thing. Simply wonderful, keep it up. :2thumbsup:

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Originally Posted by Arthur, king of the Britons

Just finished reading the whole thing. Simply wonderful, keep it up. :2thumbsup:

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Thank you! New chapter coming up!

Chapter 55: Passion and Pride

Euphorion diligently inspects his image in the polished silver mirror. He pauses shortly, only to proceed by carefully aligning his hair. He is a vain young man and a special occasion demands special care. Time has past since he first met Esmet, the shepherd's girl. It became habit to secretly ride out to her village. Now he would finally elope and make her his wife.

He breathes deeply before he forced himself to turn away from the mirror and rush to the door. He peeks into the corridor to the right, then to the left – and jerks back as a grim, fat face stares into his. It is the grey, old Satrapes Andromachos, a nephew of Antiochos Soter and appointed as Euphorion's guardian by Antiochos Theos.

“Excellency, what brings me the honour?” the young man stammers.

“Where do you think you are going, young man?” Andromachos hisses and lays his heavy hands on Euphorion's shoulders and pushes his young cousin forcefully against the wall. - “Wha..., what are you talking about? I wasn't going anywhere.”
“Don't what me, son, do you take me for a senile fool? You damn well know what I'm talking about!” Euphorion turns his face away, when he feels drops of the old man's spit on his skin.

“Tell me, are you out of your mind?” Andromachos, who is known for the soft hand, with which he rules the Satrapy, raises his voice in anger.
“If your father learned I'd let you do that, he'd spill my guts and do worse to you. You have the blood of the king, you are a commodity for him to give and only for him. How dare you presume to steal from your father and run off to marry yourself to a damn shepherd?”

“I love her,” Euphorion barely gets through his lips, earning only an angry grunt from the Satrap of Persis. Andromachos pulls him to the door and pushes him into the chamber. Euphorion struggles to maintain his balance, but before he can turn around, he is pushed again and narrowly avoiding a table he succeeds to support himself against the wall.

“Love,” Andromachos spits in his ear. “By the hound of hell, what do you think you know about love? You are still a boy who just found out how to use his cock. She may be your favourite plaything, but that is all she is and you will find another one. No one denies you that, but get that foolish idea of marriage out of your stupid, empty head.”

The Satrap turns his cousin around and stares in his eyes. Euphorion looks away and whispers: “I understand. I will not marry her. Just let me arrange for the wedding to be cancelled.” - “Oh, don't you worry, I already sent someone to take care of that. I must, however, make sure that you learn your lesson. You will never see her again, are we clear on that?”

After a long pause, Euphorion gives in, at least on the surface. “Yes, we are.”

“Just so we understand each other: There will be two guards at your door and they will not let you leave this chamber without my permission.”

As soon as the door closes behind the Satrap, Euphorion rushes to his chamber's window. Silently he opens the shutters and leans out. Below runs a narrow ledge along the wall. Euphorion climbs out and stands on the ledge, leaning against the wall. He takes a deep breath and starts to slowly move. Carefully avoiding to be seen, he finally arrives at his destination few rooms further. The young man quietly knocks on the shutters and after a pause again, louder this time.

Finally they open and the inhabitant discovers his visitor on the ledge. “What are you doing out there? Have you caught a fever?”

“Xenoitas, quiet! I need your help. Your father has learned about Esmet and forbids me to leave. I need to see her! Where is Miltidades?” - “He is away, running an errand for father. I am not sure, how I could help you,” Xenoitas hesitantly answers, while Euphorion climbs into the room.

“He is running an... It was him, wasn't it? Miltidades told him!” Euphorion cries out.
Xenoitas takes his cousin by the shoulders. “No, he did not. I did.” The two young men stare at each other motionlessly, until Xenoitas breaks the silence. “He is my father. I can't let him be punished for your caprices, as much as I love you.”

Euphorion breaks free. “It doesn't matter now. I have to see her,” he insists.

“Don't go,” Xenoitas implores. “There is nothing for you any more.”

Euphorion stares at his cousin, with effort processing what happens around him. He shakes his head with contempt. “What have you done?” - “What I had to do.”- “Then brothers we are no more.”

The prince climbs out again and stands on the narrow ledge. Xenoitas watches him in silence, until Euphorion sounds an outcry of anger and frustration, before painfully slowly returning into his comfortable prison cell.

Wow! What an AAR. Never seen one before in which a Crushing Defeat is suffered by the human-controlled faction. Brilliant stuff! I really wish that battle had been described in more detail.

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Originally Posted by Titus Marcellus Scato

Wow! What an AAR. Never seen one before in which a Crushing Defeat is suffered by the human-controlled faction. Brilliant stuff! I really wish that battle had been described in more detail.

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Thank you. The battle was auto-resolved, so I don't really deserve the credit for the defeat (although I believe I used the auto_win cheat to make sure I lose the battle). Since it didn't have any of my (blood-related) main characters in it, I thought it wasn't fitting to describe it in detail, though it had to be mentioned to show how the Palahva grow ever more bold and dangerous.

Ah, I see. I never auto-resolve land battles where an FM on either side is involved, so rarely have crushing defeats.

A small reminder:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Important or recurring characters and members of the royal family as well as some characters from the latest chapters

Year: 245 BC = 67th year of the Seleukid Era = 20th year in the kingship of Antiochos Theos = 6th year in the kingship of Seleukos Kallinikos

Seleucid royal family

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 does not exist 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, but currently sober, 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: In younger years rather introverted, uncharismatic and insecure about his abilities, but despite regular setbacks has started to accept his responsibilities.

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
Parents: Basileus Antiochos Theos and Laodike
Siblings: older brother Seleukos Kallinikos; younger sisters Kleopatra and Pamphile
Personality: unflagging and intelligent, passionate and spontaneous

7. Sarpedon Prodotis ("the Traitor")
Function: Former Co-Regent; Currently wanted for high treason; in exile at the court of Ptolemaios Philadelphos in Alexandreia, 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

9. 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
Personality: Proud Hellen; Extroverted politician and bureaucrat; Athlete (Olympionikes of the olympic games in 256 BC)

10. Alexandros Syriakos
Function: Satrapes of Susiane
Seat: Susa
Father: Achaios Syriakos, brother of Basileus Antiochos Soter
Brother: Andromachos Syriakos, Satrapes of Persis
Son: Miltidades

Seleucid officers, politicians, noblemen

11. Gorgias Dahaikos (killed in 246 BC)
Right-hand man of Seleukos Kallinikos.

12.-13. Athenaios & Kratippos
Hetairoi.

Foreigners

14. Ptolemaios Philadelphos
Pharaoh of Egypt and head of the ptolemaic house; Nemesis of the seleucid kings and host to Sarpedon Prodotis.

15. Artabarzan
Dahae warlord.

16. Zeionises
Saka warlord.

Chapter 56: Down Neilos

Sharp steel cuts the air with a hiss. “Maaaaarch!” A shudder goes through the ranks before they set themselves in motion, the sound of thousands of nailed soles echoing like thunder, accompanied by the nervous trumpeting of Antiochos' fearsome grey asians.

“What do you say now, Kratippos, that we march again?” - “Basileus, I'm looking forward to do what I do best, killing the foes of my king,” answers the trusted Hetairos.
A hoarse laugh sounds from the king's mouth. “I see my Kratippos has found his spirits again!” With a shout he drives his steed forward, galloping ahead, but then he turns around, with a broad smile on his face awaiting his Hetairoi catching up. “To the north,” he shouts, “to the sea, to Alexandreia!”

The host of Antiochos Theos has grown again: Machimoi, Nubaioi and Aithiopioi have joined ranks with the seleukid king. Some of them are mere mercenaries, but others fight for the prospect of advancement. The old nobility of Kemet knows that they never will be more than lowly servants to Ptolemaios, but they sense the smell of opportunity surrounding the charismatic warrior-king and those of them who dare now ride with him.

Laden with all supplies it can carry, the army quickly advances along the Neilos. At Hermoupolis, just past half way between Thebes and Memphis, the army crosses over to the western bank. The king marches past Memphis, he does not deign to give it a second look. His designs lie elsewhere - in Alexandreia – and he is not a fool in whom the ease of the march north could induce any illusion about the power that Philadelphos still wields and whether he himself has any strength to waste.

The enemy does not give battle, but as certain as day follows night and night follows day is he gathering, just out of sight. Not far from the great Metropolis lies a small Polis, chosen by the king for its walls. Here he puts up his banner and sets himself up in the largest manor. Here the ptolemaic armies make their first tentative approaches since the Diospolis was left behind. Swept away like vermin by the Neilos' great flood are the fools who challenge the man, determined to reforge the image of the world in war's hot blazing flames.

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Antiochos gathers the Hetairoi in his humble hall. “You can almost smell the sea, can you not?” he muses with a smirk. “But now, retire and rest well, for in the morrow we will ride and have a look at Alexandreia.”

Chapter 57: Zeionises

“Sound the retreat,” Seleukos Kallinikos grunts through his teeth. “Sound the retreat,” his order is relayed and the horns sound over the battlefield. Another defeat – and what a kind. Granted, it may have been doomed from the start. The derisive words of the Saka emissary still are burned into Seleukos' memory. “My lord Zeionises has no regard for your begging,” he had said. “My lord Zeionises does not care whether you now fall on your swords or be killed by his warriors. My lord Zeionises will have his herds graze on your land, whether you fight him or not. You are weak and there just is nothing you can do about that.” How aggrieving to know he might be right.

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Dayuan, Sogdiane, Margiane, Astauene, Hyrkania and sooner or later Aria, Parthyaia: The list of provinces fallen to one kind of nomads or the other steadily grows. For now the Basileus takes refuge in Aria. He is brooding over maps that give no answers, only headaches.

The drapes at his tent's entrance rustle as they give way to a guard entering. “Basileus, your wife is here.”

Seleukos is caught unprepared. “My wife – here?” He takes a moment to gather himself. “Send her in and leave us.”

Agathe, his wife of no longer few years, enters, looking older than when last they met, but who could be surprised? It has been years. “My lord husband,” she greets him and goes down on one knee.

“Rise, rise, my love” her king and husband implores. “What brings you here, to this forsaken piece of land?” - “I have come to comfort you in these dire times. On my journey hereto I visited nobles and cities, reminding them of their duty and my journey back I will do so again.”

Agathe gently pets the king's beard. “I also thought you might want to know about your son. He is a truly dauntless adventurer, that little one. Seleukos Nikomachos will make a great warrior one day.” - “So he will,” Kallinikos muses.

“You worry too much, my lord husband. Take this one day to think about what is good in life and you can start worrying all over again tomorrow.”

Chapter 58: Terrors of the Night

“It is unwise to remain out here,” insists the Weasel and his master concedes: “Perhaps you are right. Their hubris made the fools Pasikrates and Lampon into dead fools. I would not want pride make me join them.”

The Nomarch reaches out to his right hand man. “You ride to the city and organize carriages and an escort to fetch my possessions. In the morning I will take the remaining guards and meet up with Hermon, discuss strategy.”

He sighs. “It saddens me to leave the estate empty, but you have the right of it, it would be folly to remain with the enemy so close by.”

“As you command, my lord. I will need to leave soon, if I want to reach Alexandreia before nightfall.” - “Do so. I leave the details to you, you have my trust, use your best discretion.”

The master of the house retires, but sleep does not come easily and in the middle of the night he wakes with a start, finding himself exhausted from a disturbing dream in his thoroughly sweat-soaked bed. He rolls from his sleeping place, groaning.

Semi-somnolently he stumbles through the dark, to the water bowl to alleviate the distress. He moistens his heated face and sighs, when he catches an unfamiliar sound. Water still dropping from his beard, he exits into the corridor.

Wandering through the dark halls, he spots a shadow passing by. “You there, slave, what's the disturbance?” A torch's light falls on a strange face.

“Who are you?” demands the Nomarch. A fighter's instinct prompts him to turn around, just in time to see a blade flash in the dark. His left catches the attackers forearm and his right rushes forward to punch the smaller man's face – the massive golden rings crushing bone on impact. With an angry roar he pushes forward and drives the blade in the stunned attacker's own belly.

Pain surges through him when a second blade enters his back. He throws himself backwards and the assassin lets out a moan when he is squashed between the heavy man and the stone wall.

The Nomarch stumbles, turns around. The assassin has regained his balance and thrusts his dagger forward. The blow is deflected, but the blade bites deep into the Nomarch's thigh. The big man grunts of pain while his hands close like a vice around the assassins neck. His injured leg gives in under his weight and both men sink to the ground conjoined in mortal struggle. Blood splatters the wall as the stranger's skull crashes against it. Blind rage strengthens the nobleman's arms and again and again he hurls the other's head into the stone, again and again until his strength fades and he sinks to the floor, his opponent's life long gone from this world.

Chapter 59: To cast a Noose

“I must admit, I am guilty of a crass underestimation. I have never seen the likes of this.” The city of Alexandreia stretches along the coast of the mediterranean sea, across the island of Pharos. Its southern side is protected by another body of water, the lake Mareotis. The western and eastern sides of the city are open to the land, but massive fortifications surround it.

“If this city can be taken without a fleet, it must be done with a wide grasp. I need to control the river and the hinterland, then perhaps I will be able to control the city. So, let us ride south again and cast a noose around Ptolemaios' neck,” Antiochos shouts angrily.

He returns to his base and breaks camp, setting out for Memphis with his army. Memphis lies not far south of the Delta, where the Neilos still runs in one stream. It was the capital of Kemet for many native dynasties and still remains to be the second largest city in Aigyptos.

The Basileus' enemies take his turn for weakness and fiercely pursue him. Their numbers are overwhelming, but they cannot succeed.

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On the way along the densely populated Delta Antiochos sends out his men to makedonian Kleroi, enlisting every willing man into his Phalanx. With newly enlarged numbers he meets the defenders of Memphis in the field.

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Before the end of the year, the city is taken and the king can start to knot his noose.

Chapter 60: Blessings of Family

The soldier winces, as lightning bathes the metropolis in white light and a roaring clap of thunder erupts in the sky right above him. It is deep into the night, but Seleukeia does not sleep. Her people wake in anguish for the tempest to move on, praying to mighty Zeus to spare their lives and homes.
So does the lonely soldier. As of now he still is protected from the pouring rain by the overreaching ceiling, but he knows, soon he will receive the message he has to carry to his lord and king, with haste and without rest. Shivers run down his spine and he wraps himself even tighter into his coat.
He feels a gentle touch on his shoulder and when he turns he looks into his steed's dark, anxious eyes.
“Here, here,” he mumbles and gently strokes the horse's forehead. Filled with worries he glances into the turmoil in the night sky, when suddenly the ground starts shaking under his feet. He instinctively braces himself and wraps his arms around the mount's neck, but the tremor subsides as suddenly as it came and – like it was swept away by Zeus' own hands – the storm is cast into the four winds. The thick layer of clouds rips apart and opens up the view unto the night sky, where the moon benignly offers his light, so unlike the brutal terror of the previous lightning storm.
The soldier respires in relief and he relishes the silence after the storm. Somewhere in the distance he believes to hear a baby cry.

The doors open abruptly and an older man in priest's attire steps out. The torch in his hand illuminates a face, red of excitement. The soldier straightens himself and turns around towards the priest.

“You are the messenger, I presume?” asks the man in a hoarse voice. - “Yes, I am,” replies the soldier and tightens his grip around the reins.

“Good. Go and tell the king he has a second son. Both child and mother are alive and healthy. And tell him this: The gods watch the boy with favour and his steps will make the earth tremble.”

* * *

“It must be the fever,” murmurs Seleukos Kallinikos. Rest can not be allowed and neither can weakness. He is struggling to remain straight in his saddle, for he cannot allow his lack of strength be seen, not now, not here.

Is it really a feverish dream, the armed host crawling down into the valley from the south? The sick junior king convinces himself that the armed men are no creation of his impaired mind and he calls out: “Who rides there? What is your allegiance?”

A small group of noblemen rides ahead of the newcomers and their leader, who must have recognized his insignia, addresses the king: “My divine Basileus, I am here to serve you,” before approaching further.

“Basileus,” he continues, “I present to you an army, raised by the nobles of Persis and Media following the call of the Queen, your wife. I do not begrudge that you do not recognize my person, for we were mere children when last we met. My king, it is me, Euphorion, your little brother.”

Rarely do you see someone pick up an AAR years after the last update. I enjoyed this and I hope to see more from you in EB or EBII!