Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1168: Secilian's Resolve

"Every conversation with you washes away a fair bit of my worry," Pelopidas said, half joking, half serious. "But I won't keep you any longer. I still have to visit the other senators. By the way... we ought to let the Theonians know exactly how much pressure we've withstood to hold this alliance together, and the true extent of our efforts. It would be best if you quietly dispatched someone to Messenia tomorrow. Let the Theonians know, so they can make preparations early."

"Agreed. Leave the messenger to me." Epaminondas saw Pelopidas to the door and returned to his study. Staring down at the layout of the Daionian Army camp sketched out on Papyrus, he picked up his quill. But his thoughts were in turmoil; he simply couldn't settle his mind enough to write. Subconsciously, he tapped the tip of his quill against the word "Daionia" on the Papyrus, fixated on a single thought: no matter how beautifully Pelopidas painted the future, everything hinged on whether Daionia could utterly crush the Spartans as quickly as possible...

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Secilian, commander of the First Fleet, had been in a foul mood lately. It wasn't because of Crotokatax, the newly appointed army commander. True, out of a veteran's pride, Secilian hadn't gone out to greet the prince upon his arrival. But the very next day, the prince had personally visited the First Fleet's coastal camp and treated Secilian with the utmost respect. That humility had won the old admiral over, prompting him to voluntarily pledge his fleet's full cooperation in the army's campaigns.

The real source of Secilian's irritation was this: despite his occupation of Cythera in the Laconian Gulf and his complete blockade of the Spartan coastline, foreign mercenaries recruited by Sparta from beyond its borders had still managed to land in the Peloponnese. Their arrival only increased the difficulty of the army's campaign to conquer Sparta.

Technically, it wasn't the 1st Fleet's fault. Before Secilian had departed from Thurii, King Davos had given him explicit instructions: once the 1st Fleet reached the waters south of the Peloponnese, they were to try to avoid sailing past the Laconian Gulf. Patrolling the eastern coast or the waters further north risked provoking the ire of coastal city-states like Argos, Corinth, and Athens.

Secilian had adhered strictly to King Davos's directive. But he hadn't anticipated just how cunning the Spartans could be. Not only were they ferrying mercenaries into the Port of Corinth, but in recent days, Transport Ships had been docking there with alarming frequency. Bolstered by fresh sellswords and a steady stream of military provisions, the Spartans found the confidence to drag out a grueling war of attrition against the Daionian Army...

Secilian was still stewing in his tent when his Staff Officer strode inside. "Lord Commander, we just received a report from a fast scout ship. They spotted five cargo vessels fully loaded with soldiers sailing toward the Isthmus of Corinth."

Secilian shot to his feet. "Where were they spotted? Which city-state's ships are they?"

Crash! Secilian kicked over his chair. His expression turned ice-cold as he paced furiously across the tent, his hands clenched into tight fists.

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Order the crews to push the ships into the sea!" he bellowed. "Prepare to set sail!"

Realizing his intent instantly, the Staff Officer rushed to intervene. "Lord Commander, please calm down! His Majesty King Davos explicitly ordered—"

"That wasn't an order, it was a reminder! And His Majesty used the word 'try'!" Secilian roared, his emotions boiling over. "We originally didn't want conflict with these city-states. Yet these Greek city-states have colluded with the Persians and exploited our forbearance! First, they continuously transported grain to the Spartans, and now they're funneling in soldiers once again! If we let this continue, the war against Sparta will become agonizingly difficult, causing massive losses to the kingdom's interests! Our navy can no longer sit idle and watch. We must take action!"

He paused, forcing his tone to soften. "You are still young. You aren't familiar with His Majesty's style yet. He never ties the hands of his expeditionary commanders with rigid orders. He allows them the autonomy to shape their battle plans based on the actual realities of the battlefield. The time has come for us to change our combat strategy!"

"Understood, My Lord." The Staff Officer quickly accepted Secilian's reasoning—truth be told, he was harboring his own bellyful of quiet fury. "Which squadron are you preparing to dispatch?"

Secilian answered without a shred of hesitation: "All the warships of the First Fleet!"

"The entire First Fleet?!" The Staff Officer was stunned. The 1st Fleet boasted over five hundred warships. Mobilizing that kind of armada just to sink a handful of troop and Transport Ships was the very definition of using an ox cleaver to kill a chicken.

Seeing through his thoughts, Secilian lowered his voice. "This time, it is not just about capturing or sinking all the ships transporting grain and soldiers to the Port of Corinth. We are going to strike them so hard they will never dare help the Spartans again! At the same time, this will be the Daunian 1st Fleet's first armed voyage into the Aegean Sea. We will display our formidable strength to those Greek city-states, forcing any who want to oppose us to reconsider whether they actually have the capability!"

"Yes, sir! I will notify the entire fleet to prepare to set sail at once!"

Over an hour later, Secilian boarded his Flagship. The departure banners were hoisted high, and the military bugles sounded. Fifty warships—two distinct naval columns—were left anchored at Cythera to maintain the blockade along the Spartan coast. (In the wake of the Western Mediterranean War, under Davos's instructions, the Ministry of Military Affairs had overhauled the navy. The original four major fleets had been consolidated into three, and the organizational hierarchy had been strictly redefined. A squadron now consisted of exactly one hundred warships, divided evenly into four columns of twenty-five ships each, making the warship column the smallest operational unit in the Daunian Navy.) The rest of the armada—roughly five hundred warships—formed up into four massive columns and embarked eastward in a majestic display of power.

Once the fleet rounded the cape and wheeled north, Secilian issued a new set of orders: recognizing that these waters were littered with islands and that the fleet was largely unfamiliar with the local sea conditions, he ordered them to reduce speed and advance along the eastern coast.

With his commands relayed, Secilian settled back into his seat to rest.

Following the conclusion of the Western Mediterranean War, the Ministry of Military Affairs had held extensive discussions with fleet commanders and shipbuilding engineers to determine whether the Flagships of each fleet required a fundamental redesign.

Some proposed taking Carthage's Double-Headed Dragon Flagship as a blueprint to build the fleet's Flagship; others suggested they could improve the former Carthaginian Quadrireme to serve as the fleet Flagship...

Secilian voiced his opposition, arguing that whether it was the Double-Headed Dragon Flagship or the Quadrireme, both were far too clumsy and bloated. No naval general would ever sacrifice the sailing speed of the entire fleet and affect combat efficiency just to indulge in a bit of personal luxury...

Secilian's opinion won the support of Midorades, commander of the 2nd Fleet, and Straphacus, commander of the Third Fleet. Ultimately, the matter of redesigning the Flagships was quietly shelved.

Aside from a slightly larger hull and a taller mast, Secilian's Flagship was not much different from a Corvus Warship. The place where Secilian sat was located near the stern, right where the ship's tail curved upward like a scorpion's stinger. This formed a sheltered alcove where a wooden chair was placed. Because the top blocked out the sunlight, he felt quite comfortable sitting inside.

Gripping the armrests of his wooden chair, Secilian gazed out past the warship. The seawater here was exceptionally azure, and the wind and waves were calm, allowing the warship to glide forward smoothly. Turning his head to the left, he saw the jagged rocks and strange peaks standing tall on the nearby coastline. Since it was the height of spring, the sheer cliffs and precipices were awash in green trees and red flowers, incredibly pleasing to the eye. Looking up, white clouds floated leisurely across a clear sky. From time to time, flocks of seabirds swept past with sharp cries, while the gentle sea breeze carried an icy mist that brushed softly across his face, refreshing his spirit...

But while Secilian enjoyed this rare moment of ease, the residents on the shore were gripped by sheer terror. This stretch of coast still belonged to the territory of Sparta. Although the vast majority of it consisted of sheer cliffs, there were still a few small seaside villages scattered about.

With frequent wars over the years, the villagers here often saw fleets passing through the nearby waters—either ships from Athens and its allies, or the fleets of the Peloponnesian League. Yet they had never witnessed a spectacle quite this terrifying: countless warships stretched out endlessly, covering more than half the sea within their line of sight. Every single ship was as black as pitch, seemingly dyeing the azure waters black...

Just as they panicked and fled north along the coast, desperate to relay this shocking news to the people inside the City of Sparta, the vanguard of this black fleet had already veered northeast.

After skirting the peninsula east of Argos's territory, the 1st Fleet poured into a massive gulf—the Saronic Gulf. It was like stepping from a sparsely populated countryside straight into an exceptionally bustling town. Everywhere one looked, hundreds and thousands of ships laden with cargo entered and left this vast gulf. The majority of them were sailing north to Athens, a portion headed east toward Corinth, and a very small fraction sailed southeast toward Megara. This persisted every day, even during wartime, making it one of the most prosperous gulfs in the Mediterranean Sea since long ago.

But at this moment, the Daunian 1st Fleet was like a starving wolf plunging into a flock of sheep, instantly sparking mass pandemonium. Panicked vessels frantically dodged out of the way. Before long, the exceptionally lively gulf fell much quieter, and around the First Fleet's warships, not a single other vessel appeared.

The captains of the 1st Fleet clearly paid this change no mind. Executing their predetermined plans, they angled their warships eastward, driving deep into the interior of the gulf.