While Arete’s troops march to the north. The rear hastatis were the lower rank soldiers that carried all the items. They set up camps nearby the battle ground. Most of them were without armour. Thus, easier to work on minuscule tasks.

The handsome spearmen are the highest rank hoplites within the troops. They were all wearing shinny bronze cuirass and heavily armoured. Most of the food resources were reserved to them.

“Let me tell ya, Matea. Greeks do not send their rear soldiers to the front like the Romans. And that’s why I register myself to join Syracuse when I see the oportunity.” Paullus continued his chatty talks.

“Those Romans are the worst. They use the weak hastatis as their frontliner simply to be killed, just to exhaust the enemies. And then, they attack with their stronger soldiers following behind.”

“Look at them…” Paullus tapped Matea’s shoulder, and pointed his finger at the marching spearmen. They were Hector and his assistants.

“Those bulging muscles, handsome and strong. They are the frontliners. There’s no way the enemies able to break through them.”

Hector arrived and bowed to Arete who was sitting on top of Aethon. The lady was extravagantly armed with golden cuirass, intricately carved. Even Aethon was covered by golden scaled armour.

“Luckily Lady Arete is the one who will lead this expedition. Else General Hector might put us in the frontline. Man, I really wish my daughter can be as smart and graceful as her.”

“Thank you for lending me your soldiers, General Hector.” Said Arete while she was greeted by the men.

“It is our duty, my Lady. It’s our honour to be on the frontlines.” Hector replied.

Hector’s troops consist of 3,000 of strong and well trained spearmen. Distributed to three front phalanx, each supported by another 3,000 spearmen in ten ranks formation. Totalled of 12,000 spearmen. As Hector and Arete both guarding the middle phalanx, Arctus and Petraeus were placed at the right and left phalanx.

The environment was not an advantage, since the Thapsos side was towards the higher ground. It did not bother Arete though. As the enemies will gain clear view of their majestic frontlines and the artilleries at their side flanks.

Arete had send the messenger to Thapsos weeks ago, demanding them to surrender. She saw a horse slowly riding towards them. Carrying a dead body tied on top of the animal. He was the messenger!

Her soldiers immediately stopped the horse and untie the body. They found a scroll, written by the statesman of Thapsos. The soldier unrolled the scroll and read the texts out loud.

What is this insanity?

Bow down to that wretched Roman scum?

You submit to those who slaughtered our ancestors!

And now you threatens your own brother to surrender?

How dare you!

The sound of war trumpet raised their awareness. They saw no signs of the Thapsos, just the trumpets. Arete’s troops started be anxious as they continuously heard the Thapsos’s war trumpet. Left and right they try to seek a sight of their attacking enemies, but they saw nothing, not even a shadow.

Until they heard their war cries, the Thapsos attacked their flanks. With archers on their elephants, they pulled their catapult.

They have artillery!

Only one catapult on each side of the Thapsos attackers. They charged from both left and right, towards the Syracusean flanks. The catapults were not loaded with heavy cannons though, but a bag of something… When they releases the payload, the bag uncovered in the mid-air. Caltrops!

The sharp spines rain on Arete’s side flanks, as the cavalries panicked.

“Move back! Move Back!” Arete shouted in panic!

Hector raised and gave his hand signal to turn his troops back, but to his horror, their flanks had been disarrayed. The Thapsos seized their artilleries and frozed them from moving back. The caltrops had slowed them down as they move back while trying to defend their flanks.

The war trumpet continued to roar as the Thapsos front phalanx appeared, charging towards the rear Syracusean troops.

“Wha… what!?” Paullus staggered, when he saw the fully armed spearmen of the Thapsos charging fiercely towards them.

“For the sovereign of Thapsos!” The enemy spearmen stormed them, mercilessly stabbing those poorly trained, light armed swordsmen. It was in complete chaos.

“I must stay alive! For my family! For the ones I love! Argh!” Paullus let out his war cry as he threw away his bow, picked up a sword and buckler, charging towards the Thapsos spearmen.

“Break into their shield!” The swordsmen shouted. As close encounter was the best position for them to kill the spearmen and survive. Using his buckler to divert the tip of the spears, he get close to the spearmen, and slashed them with his razor-sharp gladius. The swordsmen followed through, and so did Matea. Some choose to run away, but the Thapsos threw the javelins, killing them in instance.

Their frontline spearmen carrying long heavy spear with one hand, another hand carried a large square shield. When the swordsmen able to get close to them, they have no defence agains the double-edge sword at all. Aiming neck after neck, they took down the spearmen.

Let the glory of the empire goes to the crow!

Sovereignty is a bullshit!

Just want to go back to my home and live a peaceful life.

Simple it may be, coward it may be, I do not want to be a hero.

I am a coward, every slash includes a little hesitation.

Every swing ends with some regret.

Aren’t he too have a family?

We just need to live on a piece of land.

No matter who owns it!

After all, we are here for just a few decades.

I just want to go home to my family!

A spear thrust through Paullus chest, while his sword slashed the head off the spearmen who attacked him. His muscles continued to waved the sword frantically, until he took his last breath on the ground. Matea cried, running towards him in the mist of chaos, but another spearmen attacked her. She had to continue her own battle. A fellow swordsmen reached to Paullus body, and he loosen his belt, took away his pouch of coins.

Roaring in anger, filled with wrath, she grabbed a spear after beheading a spearmen, throwing it towards that fellow swordsman. That agony of betrayal. Just like fighting in the amphitheater, only one shall survive, all others must die!

* * *

Original on RoyalRoad: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/51152/tales-of-teleios

Arete moved her frontlines to reinforce the left and right flanks which were almost seized by Thapsos troops.

“Ma’am! We heard the trumpet and war cries from the rear!” Arctus shouted.

“We split! Arctus, Patreaus, follow me to reinforce the rear! Hector, continue to reinforce the left and right flanks!” Arete ordered.

Arete brought her horse to a leap, leading her greatest riders through the field full of caltrops, they rush to their rear formation. They were located some distance away, near to the oak jungle.

To Arete’s horror, they found a field painted with blood and piles of bodies. two thousands swordsmen and about three thousands Thapsos spearmen. They were late. Arctus and Petraeus, and their fellow soldiers came down from their horses, scouting around, seeking for survivors.

Arete was in deep distress, fear flooded her mind as the red of fresh blood prevented her from stepping down. She had never seen that much blood in her life. That ill foul scent of iron filled air made her sick.

“Curse… you…”

A bloody shaky hand reached to the edge of her white silk draping. Bringing her to a fearful shock, as she looked down to the ground. Matea, a survivor.

“Curse… you…” Matea repeated with her weak, exhausted voice.

Arete took a deep breath, and stepped down from Aethon. Her mind was empty, kneeling on the red ground, she was defeated.