Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1197: Touring Sparta

As they walked further, the thatched mud huts grew sparse, replaced by an increasing number of traditional Greek courtyards. Yet their outer walls lacked any ornate decoration, looking entirely plain. Built into the natural terrain along the streams, the homes were scattered picturesquely, without feeling the least bit crowded.

Most homes seemed to have various trees, wildflowers, and wild grasses deliberately planted in front of them. It was spring; birds chirped, streams babbled, and the grass was a lush green. Flowers bloomed in abundance, drawing fluttering bees and butterflies, and filling the air with the intoxicating fragrance of vegetation... The houses were submerged in a colorful sea of flora. Perhaps this was the unique aesthetic of the Spartans, brimming with vibrant pastoral vitality.

"So this is the City of Sparta. It's nothing but a village!" Tertotis, the eldest son of Leotychides and currently an attendant to Crotokatax, wore a look of deep disappointment.

Tertotis had grown up in Daionia. For reasons of his own, Leotychides had never told his children about Sparta, leaving the boy with no special affection for the place. After learning his true origins, he had vehemently rejected them, feeling that his background would mark him as an outcast among Daionian Citizens.

Crotokatax had agreed to Leotychides's request to keep the boy by his side, but he never ordered him around like a servant. Instead, he cared for him like a younger brother. Having spent time together, Crotokatax found Tertotis and Brillantes quite similar in age and temperament. He had deliberately brought Tertotis along into Sparta out of goodwill, wanting the boy to properly see his homeland. Yet the young man, accustomed to the prosperity of Thurii, clearly looked down on the simple, rustic Sparta.

"Hey, kid!" Oliphus flashed an eerie smile. "When we get the chance, I'll take you to the Laganda Pass on Mount Taygetus, right on the way to Messenia. I heard there's a bottomless ravine there where the Spartans throw any newborn who isn't strong enough. Hundreds of years have passed—who knows how many infant skeletons have piled up inside..."

Tertotis glared at him fiercely, then whipped his head away, ignoring him.

"Legion Commander Oliphus, bringing up such disgusting things right now really sours the mood," Plintors complained half-jokingly.

"The disgusting things the Spartans have done go far beyond just that. Thankfully, the merciful Hades sent us here," Oliphus sighed.

"That must be the acropolis of Sparta," Crotokatax called out.

Following the direction he pointed, a modest hill rose among the low houses ahead. Several tall temples stood atop it, their walls built of dark red marble. Looking up from below, the temples appeared towering and solemn. However, there were no enclosing walls around the perimeter, making Crotokatax unsure.

"You could call that Sparta's acropolis, the Temple of Athena Chalkioikos," Secilian answered.

In the Greek city-states, the acropolis served as both a religious center and the final fortress against foreign invasion. They were generally ringed by stone walls as a defensive barrier. But since the Spartans had been confident enough to leave their city unfortified, they naturally hadn't built walls for their acropolis either. Though they likely regretted that decision now... Crotokatax thought. He then voiced another question that puzzled him. "Don't the Spartans worship Zeus and Heracles? Why is Athena enshrined in their acropolis?"

Secilian shrugged. "There's a smaller temple to Heracles on the summit, but the acropolis is indeed dedicated primarily to Athena. As for why? I couldn't tell you. Want me to grab an old Spartan man someday and ask him?"

"The Spartans revere war, and Athena is the goddess of war and wisdom. I imagine it has something to do with that," Plintors chimed in.

"Since the Spartans love battle so much, worshipping Ares, the God of War, might be more fitting," Oliphus interjected.

"Actually, the Spartans place a heavy emphasis on strategy in battle. They rarely fight recklessly, which aligns perfectly with Athena's domain of martial wisdom. Meanwhile, the brutal and bloodthirsty Ares isn't popular among the Greek people; few city-states worship him. Though I hear he is highly revered by the Thracians in the north..." Crotokatax offered his own speculation.

As the group chatted, they circled around to the front of the Temple of Athena. The ground here was paved with broad, flat stone slabs, forming wide steps that stretched all the way up to the temple—a stark contrast to the uneven dirt paths they had just walked.

"Commander, would you like to take a look inside the temple?" Secilian made an inviting gesture.

Crotokatax hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

Having graduated from the Thurii School with top marks, Crotokatax knew the customs well: the acropolis temples of the Greek city-states differed from those in the Kingdom of Daionia. Ordinary people were forbidden from casually entering the main sanctuary (only the priests who communed with the gods were allowed inside), so the temple doors were normally heavily guarded. Of course, with the Spartan populace now taken captive, no one was left to watch over their acropolis. But even though Crotokatax stood here as a victor, he had no intention of arrogantly desecrating their faith.

Since Crotokatax wouldn't go up, the other generals felt it improper to do so themselves.

The Temple of Athena stood at the very center of the City of Sparta. Walking further along the flat stone path, they were surrounded by towering bronze sculptures and magnificent architecture: an open-air athletic arena, a theater-like civic assembly, an open colonnade stretching for dozens of meters that served as the public mess hall, and altars dedicated to various gods and heroes. A massive plaza—primarily used for the citizens' daily training and wartime musters—was encircled by monuments of victory, each pillar crowned with a Statue of a famous King of Sparta.

Here, the City of Sparta finally displayed the majestic bearing of a Greek hegemon, far beyond anything a mere village could claim. In the past, throngs of Spartan residents likely wandered this area every day. Spartan citizens, both young and old, would have stripped bare to wrestle and train. It must have been a bustling sight... Yet now, apart from the squads of patrolling Daionian soldiers, not a single soul could be seen. The silence was desolate.

Crotokatax couldn't help but ask, "General Secilian, where are you holding the Spartan captives?"

"Some are imprisoned in the Spartan Warriors' training grounds to the southeast, mostly the women and young children. The rest are at the port, helping us load and unload supplies. Both locations are heavily guarded; there's no way for them to escape."

Crotokatax nodded. Not far ahead, he spotted a bronze statue towering nearly ten meters high. It depicted a fully armored Spartan Warrior standing tall with his chest puffed out and a resolute gaze. He gripped a shield in his left hand, while his right hand rested a long spear against the ground, exuding an aura of unyielding defiance. Colorful wildflowers were planted all around its base, blooming vividly in the spring air and bringing a touch of life to the cold bronze.

"This is the tomb of Leonidas, King of Sparta," Secilian said, pointing at the statue, his previously relaxed expression growing serious.

"The one who died in battle at Thermopylae?!" Tagetinos asked, visibly moved.

"That's right. That very hero," Secilian replied in a deep voice.

The expressions of everyone present instantly turned solemn.

King of Sparta Leonidas had led his three hundred warriors to hold the pass at Thermopylae against hundreds of thousands of Persian troops. He had halted their advance completely before ultimately dying in battle after a traitor's betrayal. It was a household legend across all of Greece, its glory undiminished even after a century. The Spartans had erected this statue to the king who won their city such immense renown, allowing people to pay their respects. They likely hoped that his fearless spirit of sacrifice would endure through the generations of their citizens.

Though they were enemies, Crotokatax and his men offered the Spartan hero a heartfelt gaze of profound respect.

A moment later, as the group turned to leave, Secilian suddenly sighed with immense pride. "A pity... but the era of Sparta is coming to an end! Perhaps in the future, the tales spread among the Greek people will be of our Daionian heroes!"

"And I'm sure quite a few of those stories will be about you, Secilian," Oliphus teased.

"I don't think that day is far off!" Crotokatax immediately added, spurring the men on.

Led by Secilian, the group strode forward with eager anticipation toward another magnificent red marble building nearby, one that radiated a solemn, imposing weight. This was the highest center of power in Sparta—the Assembly Hall. It was the administrative heart for the Council of Elders and the five ephors. Now, however, it would serve as the venue for Crotokatax and his generals to decide the fate of Sparta.

...

Centuries ago, a branch of the Dorians migrated south from northern Greece, occupying the Eurotas River Plain and establishing numerous villages. They were known as the "Lacedaemonians," and they named this stretch of land "Laconia."

Over time, one of these villages rose to power and won dominance over four neighboring settlements. Uniting together, they established a town called "Sparta" and crowned their own king.

Soon after, they began waging war against the other Lacedaemonian villages. But during this same period, several other towns had also risen up across Laconia. Sparta lacked the overwhelming strength needed to conquer the entire region; instead, their aggression only drove the other villages to unite against them.