Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1311: The Battle of Thapsacus (3)

Davos felt his spirits lift. "Excellent!" he said, immediately asking, "Where are they?!"

Philesius understood and handed him the wooden board.

Izam panted heavily as he took the board, carefully examining its schematic of the Persian formation. Pointing to the front center of its right wing, he said excitedly, "Right here! Remi followed the signal we agreed upon before I left. He had the tribesmen use the bronze shields the Persians issued them to reflect the sunlight, tilting them up and down rhythmically. That makes them stand out completely from the rest of the Persian army. Even from all the way over here, I can see it clearly. Back when we conquered the city of Aprustum, our Mountain Scout Corps used a similar method—"

"Good! You've done a great service!" Davos cut off his rambling to ask, "Which of our units is directly opposite them?"

"The third and fourth battalions of the Eleventh Legion," Izam answered immediately.

"Your Majesty, we could dispatch the reserve Eighteenth Legion over there," Philesius suggested excitedly. "That way, when Izam's second brother retreats with his forces, we can fully exploit the opening and intensify our assault on that section of the Persian line!"

"One legion isn't enough!" Davos shook his head, tapping the wooden board forcefully. "Send the Nineteenth Legion as well," he stated with a resolute tone. "This will be the breakthrough point for our infantry!"

...................................................

While the two Daionian legions quietly maneuvered behind their lines, Mardonius had already ridden up to the King of Persia's chariot. "Your Majesty, all units finished forming up long ago," he spoke with some urgency. "Why haven't you given the order to attack?!"

"The Daionians are outnumbered; they will never attack us first!" Mardonius suppressed his dissatisfaction and turned to glare at Tiribazus nearby, venting his fury onto him. "Aren't you supposed to be the kingdom's wisest minister? Is this how you advise His Majesty on military affairs?! Since the offensive plan was set before the battle, you should be assisting His Majesty in executing it! The army finished forming up almost half an hour ago, yet the soldiers are still standing around waiting like fools. Do you have any idea that when I rode over here from the left wing, I saw several auxiliary units already losing their nerve? Even the Eastern Uxians' formation is starting to fall into disarray!"

Tiribazus remained silent and offered no rebuttal. He had urged the King of Persia several times earlier, but the monarch seemed to harbor misgivings and had consistently failed to make a decision, leading to this prolonged delay.

Artaxerxes's expression changed. He naturally recognized that Mardonius was indirectly criticizing him, but he couldn't very well explode in anger and reprimand the man on the spot. For one thing, a formidable enemy was right before them, and such an outburst would damage morale; for another, he felt guilty. Before the battle, he had indeed held repeated discussions with his key ministers to finalize a strategy centered on an offensive. But upon witnessing the Daionian army assemble with sharp, swift precision—and seeing their soldiers stand in absolute silence, as steady and imposing as mountains—he couldn't help comparing them to his own disorganized, clamoring troops. A profound sense of unease had suddenly welled up within him. Memories of past defeats surfaced in his mind, inevitably making him hesitate, paralyzed by the fear of losing.

However, when he heard Mardonius's latter remarks, he was startled.

Adept at reading people's expressions, Tiribazus immediately chimed in, "Your Majesty, those auxiliary units are not our highly trained Persian forces. Although they underwent strict training recently, it is difficult for them to maintain formation for extended periods. We must launch our attack as soon as possible!"

Artaxerxes looked at Tiribazus, then at Mardonius. "Then... order the attack?"

Mardonius urged anxiously, "Your Majesty, do not hesitate any longer. Give the order at once!"

Artaxerxes tightly gripped the armrests of his chariot. His gaze swept over the majestic Immortals standing at the front, the iron wall of the Greek mercenaries, the massive war elephants, the terrifying, lethal scythed chariots, and the highly trained archers. Finally, he looked far across the field at the deathly silent, mountain-like Daionian army. After a moment of silence, he took a deep breath and shouted, "Prepare to attack!"

Joy flashed across Mardonius's face as he wheeled his horse around and galloped back.

Tiribazus immediately followed up by shouting, "Prepare to attack! Prepare to attack!..."

"Woooo... Woooo..." As the Persian war horns sounded, Tiribazus continued relaying the King of Persia's orders: "Archers, advance!"

A flag embroidered with a bow and arrow was raised high in front of Artaxerxes's chariot. However, only the archer units directly in the front center could see the banner waving. The entire military formation stretched for over ten miles; never mind seeing the flag, the soldiers on the far ends of the two wings might not even be able to hear the war horns. Fortunately, the Persian army had its own methods.

Two squads of Persian messengers clad in brilliantly colored uniforms spurred their horses from either side of the chariot. They slipped through the gaps in the ranks, rushing to the very front before galloping wildly outward along the formation, repeatedly shouting, "Archers, advance! Archers, advance!..."

The archers in the center moved! The archers on the left wing moved! The archers on the right wing moved! Positioned at the very front of the Persian lines, the archers arrayed in a loose formation spanning over a dozen miles began to slowly advance toward the Daionian army, looking like a long serpent just awakening from hibernation.

The moment he heard the war horns sounding from the opposite side, Arsinis—just like the other officers—immediately perked up and shouted to his men, "Pay attention, brothers! The Persians are attacking!"

As he yelled, he noticed a few soldiers in his unit looking overly excited, practically itching to jump into the fray. He quickly added a warning, "Everyone must strictly follow our pre-battle arrangements and brace for defense! Anyone who dares violate military orders will be severely punished!"

A chill ran through the soldiers' hearts, and their expressions instantly turned solemn.

"Captain, the Persian archers are coming!" shouted a soldier in the first rank.

"Prepare to defend!" Arsinis ordered, his heart tightening as he stared straight ahead.

The Persian archers advanced at a very slow pace. Their commanding Persian officers had studied the details of the campaign in Asia Minor and knew that the Daionian Army possessed a significant number of highly capable light infantry. Because of this, they were carefully guarding against their opponents' sudden appearance.

However, they were now less than 250 meters from the Daionian lines, and the enemy's light infantry still hadn't shown up at the front. Although the officers were puzzled, they did not halt their men's advance.

Upon approaching within a hundred meters of the Daionian army, the archers consciously stopped moving forward.

"Fire!" Amidst the officers' shouts, the archers nocked their arrows, drew their bows, and raised them high at a steep angle.

"Swish! Swish! Swish!..." The normally faint twangs of bowstrings merged by the tens of thousands into a deafening roar, sounding incredibly clear to the Daionian soldiers a hundred meters away.

"Tortoise Formation!" Arsinis roared.

The unit's soldiers, already standing in a tight formation, rapidly shrank inward. Simultaneously, they raised their long shields to cover the exterior and the top of their small square formation. In the blink of an eye, it was as if a layer of black iron plating had been cast over the fifty-man squad, protecting them completely.

Positioned in the center of the formation, Arsinis looked up through the narrow gaps between the long shields. He saw arrows blotting out the sky, plunging down like torrential rain. Even with the protection of the thick shields, he couldn't help but feel a knot tighten in his chest.

"Thud! Thud! Clang! Clang! Thud!..." The arrows continuously rained down on various parts of the long shields, producing an array of noises that played like a symphony of death.

Inside the Tortoise Formation, every Daionian soldier wore a tense expression, but when the deadly melody faded, not a single man was injured.

Before they could even catch their breath, the symphony struck up once again.

After repeating three or four times, a long lull finally arrived.

This was because the officers commanding the mixed Persian archer units noticed that the front ranks of the Daionian army were all deploying this strange formation, rendering their volley fire nearly harmless. As a result, they urged their soldiers to press further forward, seeking to increase the arrows' penetrative power by closing the distance.

Closing in to fifty meters, the Persian archers dared not advance any further. They had heard that Daionian heavy infantry could hurl javelins. Moreover, if they got too close, they would have no chance to escape should the opposing Daionian soldiers launch a sudden charge while they were shooting. Precisely due to this danger, not all the archers were willing to keep pressing toward the Daionian lines. Some archers from other ethnic tribes shrank back, refusing to step forward despite the repeated urging of the Persian officers.

The soldiers in the front ranks of the Persian archer force fired directly, while those in the rear ranks fired in volleys. Rather than executing a broad, inefficient area attack, they concentrated their fire on individual Tortoise Formations. Because the Daionian army used a checkerboard formation, their overall lines were relatively spaced out, causing many of the volleyed arrows to simply land on empty ground.

A much denser cacophony erupted outside the Tortoise Formation of Arsinis's unit, sounding like a torrential downpour battering lotus leaves. Every single long shield bristled with arrows like a hedgehog. Occasionally, soldiers let out muffled groans of pain as sharp arrowheads pierced through the faces of the shields and grazed their exposed arms or thighs. Now and then, an arrow managed to slip through the gaps in the shield wall, but it was deflected by thick helmets or breastplates, failing to cause any serious harm.

The Daionian soldiers remained completely motionless, gritting their teeth and holding their ground. Of course, packed tightly shoulder-to-shoulder and chest-to-back, they couldn't possibly dodge or retreat even if they were injured.

As the squad captain, Arsinis not only had to occasionally peek at the enemy's movements ahead, but he was also constantly listening to the rhythm of the arrows striking the long shields.

Suddenly, he said in a deep voice, "Hold on a little longer, brothers! The Persians should be running out of arrows soon!"

No sooner had his words fallen than the noise outside the formation began to thin out, disappearing completely not long after.

The Persian archers still had three or four arrows left in their quivers, but they chose to withdraw at this moment. For one thing, continuously drawing their bows had left their arms numb and aching, requiring rest. For another, they still needed to provide support for their infantry during the ensuing close-quarters combat. This was traditional Persian tactics; naturally, they couldn't exhaust all their arrows right now.