Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1308: The Eve of the Decisive Battle

Even though Henipolis kept his tone tactful as he translated, Davos scowled. He let out a heavy snort and snapped, "Go back and tell Artaxerxes that I accept his declaration of war—"

"Your Majesty!" Alexis interrupted urgently. "You cannot agree! If the Persians dare issue a challenge, they must be prepared. We cannot accept rashly. We must consider this carefully, lest we fall into their trap!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Philesius quickly chimed in. "Although the letter's claim of a 'million-strong army' is certainly a boast, the Persian numbers far exceed our own. We shouldn't rush into a pitched battle. We should hold the camp and wait for an opportunity—"

"Nonsense!" Lizarus stood up to retort. "The Persians may have the numbers, but they are cowards. We may be few, but our men are fierce and eager to fight. We should take advantage of their surging morale and engage the Persians in a pitched battle. If we blindly defend, the strain on our supplies will only grow..."

"Lizarus is right! We have pushed deep into enemy territory. Forging ahead is our only chance at victory! Hesitation will only plunge the entire army into a desperate situation!" Matonis added loudly.

Before long, the main tent erupted into an uproar, mirroring the chaotic scene Tiribazus had overheard outside. Dozens of generals split into two factions—for and against the battle—arguing endlessly without reaching a consensus.

Tiribazus watched as the King of Daonia tried to call for silence several times, surprisingly to no avail. It wasn't until a guard beside him struck a drum that the crowd finally quieted.

Davos rose to his feet, a hint of humiliated anger in his voice. "Stop arguing! I have made my decision! Persian, go back and tell your king: the decisive battle will take place in two days!"

As Tiribazus strode out of the Davos Camp, his steps were light and his mood relaxed. Not only had he accomplished the mission entrusted to him by the King of Persia by successfully goading the King of Daonia into accepting the challenge, but he had also used this diplomatic errand to gauge the true strength of the Daionian Army. They were not nearly as formidable as the rumors claimed. The soldiers were exhausted and weary of fighting, and the generals were arrogant and unruly. Even the King of Daonia himself lacked his fabled strength, unable to fully suppress or command his own subordinates...

He eagerly mounted his warhorse, itching to fly back to his camp and report his findings to the King of Persia. He completely missed the faint, triumphant smirk on Henipolis's face as he stood at the gates.

The moment the Persian envoy was safely away from the main tent, the atmosphere inside grew lively once more.

"How was my performance just now?"

"Matonis, I honestly didn't see that coming! You could easily be an actor at the Thurii Grand Theater!"

"Haha, spare me the acting career. I only care whether the Persians fall for it. We mobilized so many people and spent so much effort putting on this play; we can't let it go to waste!"

"I was watching the Persian envoy the entire time. Every time we spoke, his expression shifted just a bit. It's highly likely he understands Greek, which proves he was carefully observing our camp."

"So no matter how cunning the Persians are, they still can't escape His Majesty's schemes!"

...

After the generals had chatted excitedly for a while, Davos gave a light cough. The entire main tent instantly fell silent—a stark contrast to the chaos when the Persian envoy was present.

Davos swept his gaze across the men and said in a deep voice, "Gentlemen, let us now discuss our strategy for the decisive battle against Persia."

...

Early morning, November 3, 364 BC (Year 30 of the Kingdom of Daunia).

Sharp bugle calls suddenly pierced the air. The previously tranquil Davos Camp quickly hummed with life.

"Brothers, no sleeping in! Get up, quickly!..." While the squad leaders roused their men, the cooks of the various legions' Supply Camps had already begun preparing breakfast.

When the bugles sounded, Davos woke immediately. Seeing a guard enter his tent, his first question was, "How is the weather outside?"

"Your Majesty, the weather is excellent. There is no rain, and there is no wind."

"A perfect day for battle!" Davos sighed.

After the Daionian Army entered the Mesopotamian Plain, the four seasons became quite distinct. The early autumn temperatures here were low and the air relatively dry, with many clear days and little rain. All these factors were highly advantageous for the infantry-heavy Daionian Army. The only drawback was the frequent winds.

Once he finished washing up, his guards brought in breakfast: a thick bowl of oatmeal porridge, a steaming bowl of bustard and donkey soup, more than half a steamed sturgeon, and two large pieces of bread with cheese...

When Henipolis entered the tent, he caught Davos staring blankly at his food tray. He immediately said, "Rest assured, Your Majesty! The soldiers' breakfast is much the same as yours! To meet your orders, the Supply Camp spent the entirety of yesterday catching fish in the Euphrates river, and the light cavalry rode over a hundred li north just to hunt down some wild game..."

"The outcome of a pitched battle is largely decided by meticulous preparations beforehand." Davos picked up a piece of bread and said earnestly, "Today's battle will likely be long. The men must eat enough food to have the stamina needed to hold out. Considering that simply forming our battle lines might last until noon, Philesius already notified the Supply Camp yesterday to prepare extra bread for the soldiers to take to the battlefield, allowing for an additional meal right before the fighting starts."

"Hearing you say that, Your Majesty, fills me with even more confidence in our victory. There's no way the King of Persia could prepare such a bountiful meal for his massive army." Henipolis offered the compliment, then took a seat on a nearby wooden chair. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "...I heard the locals here are forbidden from catching this type of fish. They claim it is a sacred creature, and catching it will anger the gods..."

"The angrier the enemy's gods become, the happier the great Hades will be," Davos said unhurriedly. He took a large bite of the fish, chewed a few times, and spat out a bone. "Have you finished your breakfast?"

"I finished a while ago," Henipolis complained lightly. "Your Majesty, I'm not like you. You can treat even the most massive battles as everyday occurrences. I was so excited I couldn't sleep a wink all night, and I got up incredibly early today. Just look at me—I still have dark circles under my eyes."

"You..." Davos chuckled at the comical look on Henipolis's face as he pointed to his own eyes.

After finishing his breakfast, he chatted with Henipolis for a little while longer until the captain of the Palace Guard entered to report, "Your Majesty, the legions have begun forming up and marching out of the camp."

Only then did Davos don his armor and step out of the main tent. His guards had already brought his warhorse over.

It was a prime Lusitania stallion—robust, heavily muscled, and with a smooth, brownish-yellow coat. Exceptionally tall, it kept pawing at the dirt with its front hooves and tossing its head, seemingly unwilling to be led. Yet the moment Davos stepped in front of it, it quieted down instantly, lowering its head to nuzzle close to him with a soft whinny.

Davos patted its face gently and smiled. "Hey there, Niki. You're going to battle with me once again."

As if understanding his words, Niki nudged Davos's hand, then tossed his head back and let out a joyous neigh.

Since arriving in this world, this was the fifth warhorse Davos had ridden, and very likely the last.

Feeling a faint twinge of emotion, Davos patted the horse's back and swung into the saddle. Escorted by 1,000 fully armed Palace Guards, he rode out of the inner camp.

Dozens of men were gathered at the exit. Seeing Davos approach, one of them couldn't help but shout, "Your Majesty, we've been waiting for almost half an hour! What took you so long? The soldiers have already left the camp!"

Even though the man lying in the carriage spoke with a bit of insolence, Davos didn't take offense. He simply laughed. "Amyntas, that hot temper of yours hasn't changed even in your old age. Don't worry. The battle won't start until we arrive."

"Your Majesty!" Hieronymus, Epithenes, Geogris, Martius, and the others immediately stepped forward to salute.

Davos looked at them and asked, "Brothers, are you ready for battle?"

Thirty years ago, after Davos became a mercenary commander and fully won the trust of his men, he would often say these exact words before a fight. Hearing them now, a torrent of mixed emotions surged through the veteran generals. A moment later, they shouted back with burning excitement: "We are ready!!"

Davos swung his right hand forward with force. "Then let us march!"

After joining up with the veterans, the entire group passed through the spacious camp avenues and swiftly exited the main encampment.

...

The Daionian Army did not assemble in one place before setting out. Instead, each legion, led by its respective Legion Commander, marched out of its own sector and headed straight for the designated battlefield. Thus, over twenty columns advanced eastward almost side by side.

Because they had just eaten breakfast and wanted to conserve their stamina, the marching speed of the columns was deliberately slow. Soldiers joked and chatted in the ranks, and the officers didn't stop them; some even initiated the banter themselves. To an uninformed observer, it would look as though they were heading out for an excursion rather than a life-and-death battle.

Over an hour later, the various columns gradually marched past Thapsacus and the surrounding areas, which had been torched by the Persians, and set foot onto the vast plains, an expanse woven with patches of green and yellow.

After marching a little while longer, the Legion Commanders passed down the order: "Halt the advance! Rest where you are!"

"Is this the battlefield? I don't see anything special about it."

"I heard the Persian army's camp is twenty-five li away from ours. I was just counting the distance in my head. We're about eleven or twelve li out, right in the middle. Where else would the battlefield be?"