Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1175: Battle of Tegea (1)

As a precaution, the First Cavalry Legion dispatched five hundred riders to escort them.

The party soon arrived near the City of Tegea. From a distance, they saw tens of thousands of Spartan soldiers spreading out from north to south along the city's southwest. The scene was loud and chaotic, and the constant shouts of battle drifting from Tegea's walls made it clear that the Spartans were unwilling to give up the siege and were launching one final push.

Seeing Crotokatax and his cavalry steadily approaching, the Spartan formation sent out a large number of their own riders to drive them off.

To avoid any accidents, Plintors urged Crotokatax to fall back immediately.

On their way back, Crotokatax noticed Plintors frowning in deep thought. "Is there something wrong with the Spartan formation?" he asked.

Plintors snapped out of his daze and spoke in a low voice, "Your Highness, did you see those true Spartan Warriors? They were actually positioned on the left wing of the formation!"

Prompted by Plintors, Crotokatax recalled what he had just seen: stretching across a battle line several li long, thousands of Spartan Warriors draped in their traditional red cloaks were indeed massed at the southernmost end.

Crotokatax had spent time in the Ministry of Military Affairs Staff Office, analyzing past engagements across the Mediterranean Sea. He knew that due to their small population, Spartans rarely fought large-scale battles alone, instead commanding Allied Forces. Furthermore, they typically concentrated their own warriors on the right wing, relying on their traditional left-wheeling tactics to decide the outcome. For the Spartan Warriors to be massed on the left wing this time was truly unexpected.

He thought for a moment before saying, "Could it be because of their defeat at the Battle of Leuctra? Have the Spartans decided their traditional tactics no longer work and changed their formation? Or... maybe they just threw together a random formation to feign a battle, only to delay us from reinforcing Tegea?"

However, as the Daionian Army closed in on Tegea, the Spartan army entirely abandoned their siege and continued to form their ranks to the east of the Daionians, seemingly determined to fight a decisive battle right then and there.

Crotokatax immediately summoned the Legion Commanders to inform them of the battle plan he had previously discussed with Plintors.

"Your Highness, the First Legion is our strongest fighting force, yet you have placed us on the left wing and sent the Fourth Legion to the right to face the Spartan Warriors. I find this rather unreasonable!" Ctesus objected.

"I think it is perfectly reasonable! The Fourth Legion is fully capable of pushing back the Spartans head-on and securing victory for the entire battle!" Oliphus loudly retorted, pulling rank as a veteran. "I didn't realize, Ctesus—you've barely made Legion Commander and you're already looking down on us."

"Commander Oliphus, I wouldn't dare," Ctesus protested, though he refused to back down. "I am only thinking of victory and stating the facts."

Seeing this, Crotokatax quickly stepped in. "Stop arguing, both of you! I have no doubt that the Fourth Legion's combat strength is enough to withstand and even repulse the Spartan assault, but the key to winning this battle lies on our left wing!

"Legion Commander Ctesus, you must lead the First Legion to crush the enemy before you as quickly as possible, then strike the flank of their center. That is how we will win this battle, and I expect you to get it done!"

Ctesus's spirits instantly lifted, and he replied with brimming confidence, "Rest assured, Your Highness. The First Legion has never disappointed its commander!"

The conflict seemed resolved, but then Tegetilus, commander of the Seventh Legion, voiced his own displeasure. "Your Highness, this is terribly unfair to the Seventh Legion! It was my soldiers who stayed behind to guard Messenia! It was my soldiers who guarded the new camp! Now that we are finally about to fight a pitched battle, my Seventh Legion is once again shoved into the reserves! Did we endure all these hardships following you to the Peloponnese Peninsula just to miss out on every single fight? How are my men supposed to face their families when they return home?"

The more Tegetilus spoke, the more aggrieved he felt. His voice rose higher and higher, drawing the stares of the surrounding soldiers.

Compared to the Seventh Legion, the others had all gotten the better end of the deal. The other Legion Commanders quickly avoided his gaze, adopting expressions of perfect innocence.

Despite being contradicted so publicly, Crotokatax wasn't angry. Instead, he offered an apologetic explanation. "Legion Commander Tegetilus, the Spartan army is led by King Agesilaus, a master tactician. Winning this battle will not be easy. Placing the Seventh Legion in reserve is my way of ensuring we have a force capable of turning the tide at the critical moment and securing our victory! Furthermore, even if we defeat Sparta here, our war in Greece won't be over. I promise you, the Seventh Legion will be my first choice for all future military operations!"

Hearing this, Tegetilus's expression softened, and he promptly declared that the Seventh Legion would faithfully carry out their duties as the reserve force.

Though Tegetilus looked like a hulking brute, he possessed a shrewd mind. Before leaving Thurii, King Davos had spoken to him privately, and the commander had clearly sensed the king's earnest expectations for Crotokatax. Why would he risk offending the king by defying orders? He was simply using the opportunity to throw a tantrum, hoping to catch the prince's attention and wrangle a few more benefits for his men. After all, compared to the First, Fourth, and Sixth Legions, his Seventh Legion truly lacked any advantages.

"Time is short. Now that you have received your orders, return to your legions immediately."

Watching the Legion Commanders ride away, Plintors, who had remained silent until now, offered genuine praise. "Well done, Your Highness!"

Standing nearby, Muklu understood exactly why Plintors said that. As the commander of the Daionian Army, Crotokatax could have dismissed their questioning with a single sentence: "That is an order!" According to Theonian Military Law, once an order was given, subordinates were required to execute it without question. Yet Crotokatax had patiently persuaded his generals. It proved that the rumors of the prince's humble and amicable nature were entirely true.

Under the orders of the Legion Commanders and the direction of the officers at every level, all the soldiers of the Daionian Army sprang into action.

Although the Daionian Army began forming up later than the Spartan army, their formation was largely complete within half an hour. The First Legion took the left wing, the Sixth Legion held the center, and the Fourth Legion took the right. The lines were uniformly fifteen ranks deep and stretched roughly four li long. The First Cavalry Legion was divided evenly into units of a thousand riders, holding both ends of the formation.

Standing at the front of the lines and observing the Daionians array their forces, Agesilaus frowned at how swiftly his enemies moved and how quickly they fell into disciplined silence. He glanced back at his own flanks, which were still in a state of disarray, and snapped, "Go hurry the generals! Tell them to speed up their formations!"

"Father," Archidamus hesitated. "Didn't you order them to deliberately slow down?"

"Even if they didn't deliberately slow down, the Daionians would still finish forming up first," Agesilaus said in frustration. "Hurry up and relay the order! If the Daionians launch a sudden attack while our lines are this chaotic, how are we supposed to fight?!"

"Yes, Father!" Archidamus quickly dashed back into the formation.

Agesilaus turned his gaze back to the Daionian ranks. A sea of black filled his vision. He stared for a long while but still couldn't pinpoint where their tactical advantage lay. Finding nothing but a stinging ache in his eyes, he reluctantly gave up on observing the enemy. Leaning heavily on his cane, he slowly retreated to the rear of his army under the escort of his guards.

The sun had already begun its descent into the western sky, casting its warm rays over the Plain of Tegea. To the east stood the dazzling, four-li-long Spartan formation, while to the west lay the ink-black Daionian Army, matching them in length. Separated by three li, both forces were engulfed by lush green wheat fields, looking like two parallel lines—one gold, one black—painted across a massive green canvas. And squarely at the midpoint between the northern tips of these two parallel lines sat the City of Tegea.

"Father, the formation is ready! Why aren't we attacking?!" Archidamus hurried over, asking urgently.

"Don't be impatient. We wait," Agesilaus replied calmly, shooting him a glance.

"Wait for what? The men have already been standing there for half an hour. Any longer and the sun will set!" Archidamus pressed anxiously.

Agesilaus's face instantly darkened. "You should be with your men, not running over here to make a scene! Go back at once!" he said sternly.

Watching his son's retreating back, Agesilaus subconsciously rubbed his face. In truth, he wasn't waiting at all; he was terrified.

How could a battle-hardened veteran with decades of experience feel terror?

Yet it was the truth. Despite surviving countless wars, this was the first time Agesilaus commanded a battle that would decide the very life or death of Sparta—and against an opponent as mighty as Daionia. He had just witnessed the impeccable discipline of the enemy soldiers with his own eyes. Even though he had painstakingly orchestrated his strategies well in advance, an inexplicable dread seized his heart now that the moment had arrived. The fate of Sparta hung on his single command, and he found himself completely unable to open his mouth.