Chapter II: The Long March
It was nearly midday when Nikolas again set foot on the muster field at the centre of town, which was currently filled with numerous of his fellow spearmen and even a freshly trained detachment of local archers, he had been ordered here by a runner that had left immediately to alert more men, many of whoom were streaming onto the field from all sides.
Wondering what on earth could be happening, he turned to the nearest man from his Enomotia and asked him "What on earth is going on?", the man, a burly immigrant from the now-rebel satrapy of Bactria, simply sheathed the short sword he had been studying and said, "We are being ordered to march for Amaseia to releive the garrison there"
"Wait, what? What happened to the army that Prince brought North from Mesopotamia?"
"That army has been ordered to attack the Persians at Phraaspa to try and regain the iniative"
"God, thats suicide!"
"Well yes Nikolas, but those were the orders, but he is rather better equipped than you were when they sent you into that death-trap"
Suddenly the voice of an officer of militia called out from the back of a cart that was dispensing spears to the light infantry that comprised the force soon to march from the South gate and start the long trip to Amaseia, and to battle.
"Many of you know me, for those who dont my name is Artipatros, and I will be leading this detachment during our trip to Amaseia, and possibly during the battle that may follow, depending on if the seige of Phraaspa by our professinoal comrades from Mesopotamia persuades them to withdraw to defend the territories they already hold, our spies report that the enemy have constructed a battering ram and will assault imminently, thus we must march immeditaely and fast, for if we do not we will arrive only in time to disrupt the victory celebrations of the Pahlavan foe, and many of you know what that will mean to the loyal populace of the town. Onwards now my friends, on to glory and victory on the field!" He raised his sword and turned the last few words into a shout, which was taken up by many of the men, especially the younger ones, as they formed up into marching columns and started to march towards the South Gate, through streets lined with people, Nikolas did as he was ordered, but could not help noticing thatt he hand that was holding his spear was shaking as he walked through the gate, out into the wilderenss.
History couldnt repeat itself, it just couldnt.