Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1146: Landing in Messenia (Continued)

"Understood!" Muklu replied.

Ionicus was confused by the order.

A moment later, he watched a dozen Trireme Warships line up and sail straight toward the coast where the Spartan army was stationed. Less than a li from the shore, the warships ground to a halt as they hit the shallows. The crews immediately cast iron anchors into the sea to secure the vessels. Soon after, heavy equipment was hauled from the holds up to the decks: ballistae.

The artillerymen sprang into action. Some secured the ballista mounts, while others calculated target coordinates, installed the torsion spring bundles, or hauled over the stone projectiles. Every ballista crew worked with perfect, practiced coordination, and the exact same scene played out across the other warships.

During the late stages of the Western Mediterranean War, when the Daionian Army besieged the City of Carthage, naval warships had sailed into the lagoon with ballistae mounted on their decks. Their fire support had yielded significant results during the siege. Ever since, deploying ballistae on ships had been a standard part of naval military training.

Seeing the Daonian Warships charge straight for the beach, Dorieus assumed they were about to land. He immediately commanded his army to deploy into a loose horizontal formation facing the incoming vessels. At the very front stood helots armed with javelins, ready to hurl them the moment the Daionian soldiers waded ashore.

However, the warships ground to a halt as they neared the beach. For a long while, nothing happened. Just as Dorieus began to wonder what they were doing, he suddenly spotted small black dots flying out from the ships one after another...

By the time he realized these small black dots were round, bucket-sized stones, they were already crashing down from the sky. Some plunged into the sea ahead, blasting columns of water into the air. Others slammed into the sandy beach behind them, sending dirt and sand flying in all directions. Though not a single person was killed or injured, the terrifying display caused a commotion in the ranks—especially among the helots.

Dorieus never expected to witness the rumored ballistae with his own eyes under such peculiar circumstances. For a moment, he did not know how to respond.

Right then, another volley of stone projectiles launched through the air. Out of a dozen stones, only one hit a target on the shore—after all, the warships bobbed with the ocean waves, making the ballistae hard to aim. But the effect of that single hit was devastating. It smashed a helot's head wide open. The gruesome death instantly terrified the surrounding helots, who turned and fled.

Dorieus hastily ordered the Spartan Warriors to slaughter the first helots who ran. This brutal execution cowed the other slaves, barely maintaining the formation.

Not long after, the blare of military bugles echoed across the sea. The hundreds of troopships that had been waiting behind the warships began to push forcefully forward against the receding tide. The Daionian Army's landing had begun.

The troopship Max rode on was heading straight toward the enemy formation on the shore. He had previously landed on the African Coast and the shores of Cisalpine Gaul, so he was no stranger to amphibious assaults. However, this was the first time he had faced enemy interception during a landing. Thus, he did not follow the precedent of his last two campaigns, where he had his soldiers help the sailors row to reach the coast faster. Instead, he ordered them to don their armor quickly, ready their weapons, and sit quietly on the boat to conserve their strength.

The troopships jolted forward through the tide at a sluggish pace. This actually presented an excellent tactical opportunity for the Spartan army on the shore. Unfortunately for them, the Daionian Army had arrived too suddenly. Sparta did not produce archers of its own, nor did they have time to conscript any from their allies. Therefore, they had no way to loose arrows at the troopships.

The troopships finally ran aground in the shallows, barely a hundred meters from the Spartan army on the shore. Just as Max urged his soldiers to disembark quickly, the Spartan Warriors on land ordered the javelin-wielding helots to attack the enemies who had yet to come ashore.

The helots waded forward trembling in fear, keeping most of their attention on the stone projectiles whistling through the sky above.

Max led his soldiers as they leaped one by one into the waist-deep seawater. He did not rush toward the shore. Instead, he called for his men to group up while observing the positions of the other detachments from the ships on his left and right.

"Advance!" Under his command, the fifty soldiers waded forward in a loose but cohesive small phalanx. Soon, he spotted the helot javeliniers rushing over from the shore. "Raise shields!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the soldiers had already angled their long shields upward, forming a barrier in front of them.

Facing the approaching Daionian soldiers, the poorly trained helots threw their javelins in a hurried panic. Their throws lacked both accuracy and power, posing absolutely no danger to the Daionian soldiers.

In contrast, after wading forward a set distance, the soldiers of the Theonia Legion hurled their own javelins with tremendous force. Many helots were instantly impaled and fell into the water, terrifying the rest into a frantic retreat.

With the direct threat ahead eliminated, the detachment led by Max slowed its advance. They drew closer to the surrounding detachments, gradually linking up into a solid line.

Back on the shore, Dorieus had assumed that after jumping into the sea, these boatloads of Daionian soldiers would sprint wildly for the beach. That would have scattered their strength, allowing him to concentrate his own forces and crush them one by one. He never expected the Daionian soldiers to be so steady and seasoned. During their slow, wading advance, they steadily formed up their ranks, and that formation was continuously thickening and lengthening...

Dorieus turned his head to look at both flanks. Far off down the beach, countless Daionian soldiers had already come ashore and were beginning to encircle them...

Dorieus felt a surge of tension. He hesitated for only a second before making a resolute decision. "Quick, retreat! Retreat!!"

Though some Spartan Warriors felt unwilling, they were famous throughout Greece for their absolute discipline. As soon as the order was given, all the warriors swiftly began to pull back, while the helots simply scattered in a chaotic rout.

Max and his soldiers had fully expected a fierce, bloody battle with the Spartan army on the beach. They never imagined the enemy ahead would run before they even clashed! Were these really the Spartan Warriors who dominated Greece?!

Wary of a trap, the soldiers quickened their pace but strictly maintained their formation. However, under the direction of their officers, they began to shout in unison: "Messenians, you are free!!!"

...

Leotychides stepped onto the land of Messenia with an indifferent expression, though his emotions were tangled in complexity. He was no stranger to this territory. In his youth, he had undergone military training here. During his coming-of-age ceremony, he and his companions had wantonly slaughtered helots as if hunting wild beasts, and he had even been stationed at Pylos for a time...

He had thought those memories were long forgotten, but the moment he set foot on this sandy beach, they bubbled up relentlessly.

Taking it one step at a time, Leotychides led a few dozen guards slowly forward across the soft sand. Tisias and Ionicus, who had originally been right by his side, were long gone. They had rushed off to pacify and recruit the helots.

An officer wearing a helmet crested with a purple plume came running toward him. Reaching Leotychides, he snapped a crisp military salute.

"Adoris, what are the results of the battle?" Even when facing King Davos's adopted son, Leotychides maintained the same detached demeanor he showed to any other officer.

Adoris replied with some frustration, "Everyone says the Spartans are the fiercest warriors in Greece, but I think it's a lie! They are as cowardly as rabbits. They ran before we even crossed swords. And they ran fast—before we could even form a perimeter, they scurried off into the eastern mountains... If only the cavalry could have launched a sortie!"

"Lydas told me their horses have been tossed around on the ships for days. They are in terrible condition and need a few days of rest before they can take the field, otherwise there will be problems," Leotychides said flatly. "It seems you caught nothing this time?"

"When we pursued them to the Spartan Camp, a Spartan officer and a few warriors were guarding the gates—" Adoris paused, a trace of solemnity appearing on his face. "They demanded single combat against our soldiers, and they injured quite a few of our men doing it. In the end, we killed the warriors and captured the officer."

Leotychides did not care much about such trivial matters. Instead, he asked, "What is the condition of that Spartan Camp?"

Adoris immediately understood his intent and answered, "It's completely intact, with no damage whatsoever. But it's not very large. It can barely accommodate a single legion."

Leotychides glanced up at the sky, then surveyed his surroundings. Everywhere he looked, naked helots were trailing docilely behind the Daionian soldiers...

He lowered his head in thought for a moment before turning back. "Muklu, go inform Secilian immediately. Tell him the landing battle is over. Have him bring all the warships in to dock at the beach and begin constructing a camp. I will send the soldiers of the Fourth and the Sixth Legion to assist him with everything they have."