Prologue – The End of Civilization
I stand at the walls of Athens, my loyal Spartans at my sides as the Makedonian army marches forward against us. We were outnumbered more than three to one, but a single Spartan is a match for more than four of these pretend warriors. Yet, as I look around, I see only one other band of Spartans under the command of my father, Areus Agiados Lakedaimonios. The rest were helots or free Athenians who decided to put down their dusty books and pick up a spear for the first time in their lives. The siege engines roll forward and I watch as death comes to greet me.
There was a loud crack, a splintering sound of wood from below, and I know the gate has been breached. Makedonian conscripts rushed in, perhaps hoping to gain the riches of Athens, but instead found themselves face to face with the Athenian citizen soldiers. They were no Spartans, but they are honorable warriors whose discipline in the face of such a hopeless situation must be respected.
The first to scale the walls with their ladders was a band of Galatian mercenaries. They were lucky enough to avoid my Spartan brothers, but facing the Athenian Royal Guard was not a trivial matter.
The helots that came along with my father’s army were struggling on the far side of the wall as a stream of Makedonians poured out, throwing many of those wretched slaves off the wall and plummeting to their deaths.
At last, the enemy showed their face to me and died before they knew what killed them. The Makedonian king was sending nothing but peasants and slaves at us, perhaps hoping to tire us out before he risked his real infantry. I stabbed another hoplitai effortlessly in the belly and watched him wriggle on the ground as blood poured from his wound. If the king was expecting us to tire from this, he would be sorely disappointed.
When all were defeated on the walls, the Makedonian king led the rest of his soldiers in a charge through the gates. Boiling oil was poured on them as they passed through, but they were so many that they could have crossed a sea of fire and still outnumber us. My father rushed down to aid the struggling Athenians while he ordered me to stay on the wall and make sure none gains control of the gatehouse.
However, even with my father and his Spartans aid, I saw the men begin to falter. The weight of the enemy was too great as their numbers surged forward and smothered the defenders with their corpses.
“Down the ladders” I ordered as I pointed my spear at the siege ladders still propped up against the wall, “Go!”
My men must have thought I was thinking of fleeing, but they were loyal to me even if I had become a coward. They did as they were told methodically and soon we were down on the ground, nothing to stop me from escaping out into the wilderness and quickly on my way back to Sparta to be crowned king.
But alas, I am not that kind of man. I led my Spartans back to the gate and charged at the engaged enemy from behind. The enemy must have thought another Spartan army had arrived to slaughter them as they all turned to flee, fighting amongst each other to break through the gate.
Each and every last one of them died at the point of our spears.
It was a great victory, but it was a single battle in a long war. The Makedonians with their mines and wealth will come again with their armies. We are broken. The governor of Athens was killed in the fighting. Rhodes was blockaded by the Seleucids. The Ptolemies were nowhere to be seen. My worthless brother was probably indulging himself in women and alcohol even as the helots plot revolution against him. The war cannot be won. All will be lost.
My father came to me at night, his old cracked face looking weak and beaten for the first time in his life. He put a hand on my shoulder and stared me in the eyes.
“My time in this world” he said to be in a coarse whisper, “is coming to an end”
“As is mine, father” I replied, “As is all our lives”
“No” the old man shook his head and pointed at the sea, “We will not die together, it is not yet your time. Take what men still live and leave this place”
“Sparta will fall as well. If I am to die, I will die in battle alongside you, father”
“Sparta?” my father looked at me with a sad smile, “Sparta has died many years ago. Sparta has fallen when our men became weak and docile. Your brother will die in Sparta. You, my son, will go to Massalia”
I could not protest. I did not know of this land that my father spoke of, but when my father spoke, one could only obey. I boarded the ship with a handful of soldiers, the Athenian and Rhodesian royal family, and enough gold to hire mercenaries when I arrived at my destination. My father presented me with his sword, an ancient relic which my grandfather and his grandfather wore before him.
“The blade yearns for Sparta” my father whispered to me as he bid me a final farewell, “One day, it will return home”
The journey to Massalia was long and hard. Pirates harassed us everywhere we went and we lost many ships along the way.
We rested near Syrakousai where I learned that my father was killed and Athens in the hands of the Makedonians. We found refuge in Roma and news reached my ears that my brother was speared while he was bedding a house slave and Sparta was taken as well.
After nearly a year limping across the waters, we arrived in a cold place with many trees. A messenger arrived and informed me that Rhodes had revolted against my rule and declared their independence. The old Greece was no more.
I, Akrotatos Agiados Lakedaimonios, son of Areus Agiados Lakedaimonios, warrior Sparta, will build a new one.
The Long Road Home: A Massalian AAR
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Ah, a migration campaign. I will be following this one.
Originally Posted by Cute Wolf
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