I am Mithridates, King of Pontus. This may seem, to the ill-informed, a high and mighty state of being. Those who have been to my lands, however, know the poverty of my people and the weakness of my armies. My great capital Amaseia is a mere hamlet, and our wealthy port city of Sinope but a decrepit wharf. Pontus must grow in might, wealth, and land. Not for my own aggrandizement, but for the survival of my people. If we aspire only to cling to this sliver of seashore, we will not cling to it for long.

All is not, however, so bleak. We are a Greek people, and our brethren across the Aegean and Euxine Seas look favorably upon us. Bithynia to our west is an ally, and Trapezos to our east a Grecian friend. We have secure flanks, and a sea upon which Greek trade may flow to Sinope, however small its docks may yet be.


Pontic homeland

Enemies we have as well. The grubby Cappadocians hold lands to our south, and have been at war with us for generations. A fragile peace holds with neighboring Galatia, but ere long the rattle of spears will doubtless be heard in this direction as well. So be it. Pontus must have land. Galatia et Cappadocia it must be. Pontic armies have only Eastern spearmen and slingers to fill the ranks. This is just as well, as these meager wages are all my treasury can support.

I place our soldiers under the command of my kinsman Praxiteles and charge him to recruit more men in the countryside. He styles his host the Scions of Sinope. A fine-sounding name for such a rabble. At least it IS an army of sorts; I remain at Amaseia in command of "the Lykoi"...which consists only of my personal bodyguard. All others I've stripped away for Praxiteles. Our hopes are pinned on the Scions...our only army.

After two seasons' recruitment, Praxiteles marches south through the passes into Cappadocia, and falls upon the town of Samosata. The small garrison valiantly sallies forth to defend their homes, but the Scions easily overwhelm them with numbers. Praxiteles has done well, and the Scions of Sinope have won a fine victory.


The armies meet outside Samosata

In Amaseia, meanwhile, I secure a formal alliance with Trapezos. Long friendly with us, they readily agree. Bithynia, heretofore merely a defensive ally, enters into full military alliance with us as well. The Bithynians, of course, take this opportunity to pull us into war with Galatia. A bit annoying, but Galatian lands have been our object in any case, it fits with our plans. War it is.

Mazaca is Cappadocia's only remaining settlement. Praxiteles, however, cannot march there directly from Samosata without traveling through Seleucid lands. The Seleucids are friendly enough with us, their Greek heritage derived from Alexander. Not so friendly, however, as to allow Pontic armies to march through their fields without a prohibitively expensive toll. I bid Praxiteles return home to find another path through the mountains to Mazaca. I am concerned that Samosata will try to rebel without our spears patrolling their streets, but the Scions are Pontus' only host, I must have them home. Praxiteles returns to Amaseia, and prepares to march west.

Praxiteles, I am pained to say, fails me. Bithynia promises a reward to our treasury for the capture of Ancyra, the Galatian capital. My kinsman seeks glory, and proposes to march direct on the Galatians. I must confess I allow myself to be swayed. The Scions debouch from the mountain pass and upon the plain before Ancyra. Praxiteles has neglected to send spies ahead, and knows not the Galatians' strength or nature. It is to be his undoing.

I have heard of peoples far far to the west, called "Kelts". The chroniclers and poets speak of their valor and fierceness. Apparently the Galatians are of this ilk. As large a host as the Scions of Sinope may be, the Galatians' Wandering Warriors horde is still larger, and supported by another substantial army. They march forward from Ancyra and fall upon the Scions on the plain. Spears and slings they have as well, much like our Pontic levy...but theirs are a fiercer variety, and are supported by some horse. This bodes ill for the Pontic cause.

Praxiteles vainly endeavors to retreat, and falls back to the foot of the mountain pass. The Galatians pursue and bring him to battle on unfavorable terms. The Scions pick a small hillock as the best ground available - meager though it is - for their stand. The Galatian host, however, overwhelms them. Our spearmen break, our slingers rout. Praxiteles' bronze phalanx guard fights hard, but cannot be everywhere at once. My kinsman falls on the field, the Scions of Sinope are no more, destroyed.


The Scions of Sinope await their fate on the Galatian plain, their foes approaching in the distance

Our plight grows grave. We have always been poor....now we are poor and without an army. My family retains unquestioned power...but the Battle of Ancyra causes murmuring among our nobles. I must confess before Zeus that they have valid cause. Praxiteles, my kinsman, led our only army to ruin, and I as king allowed him to do so. Amaseia is virtually defenseless, without even walls for its small garrison to man. Philotheos, first among equals in the noble circle, remains unswerving in loyalty and offers his services to the Pontic state. I am gratified, of course, but also see that other men of wealth and power (such as they are in impoverished Pontus) may come to view Philotheos as a leader...perhaps a king.

The gods, however, smile upon us, as the Galatians seem content to remain in their own lands. No doubt the threat from our Bithynian allies plays no small part in keeping them close to their capital. We have time to rebuild our armies. I post our spies in the mountain pass, and charge them with keeping an eye on Ancyra and the activities of the Wandering Warriors. I begin recruiting spears and slings in earnest for the Lykoi, my own (soon-to-be) host. I also charge our philosphers and armorers to focus their knowledge and wits upon developing tactics and weapons, so that we may achieve a more hardy soldiery than that available to us now.

I can see, however, that for the foreseeable future, I must meet the Galatians with such troops as we can produce. I cannot beat them man-for-man, so I must outnumber them. The Lykoi will not be sufficient in and of themselves. A second host must be raised. Reluctantly, I bid Philotheos to raise such an army in Samosata (which, as foreseen, has meanwhile grown progressively more unruly). While not hardened for battle, our citizens are loyal, and they flock to our banners. Pontus will soon march again.