Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1314: The Battle of Thapsacus (6)

"Release!" At the officers' commands, the Balearic soldiers hurled the lead bullets from their slings.

Immediately after, they loaded their pouches with the smallest caliber of lead bullets—testing by the Ministry of Military Affairs had proven an elite Balearic slinger could hurl these nearly 400 meters. They swung their slings and unleashed another volley, repeating the motion without a moment's pause.

A single lead bullet the size of a jujube wouldn't inflict lethal damage on its own. But as these bullets rained from the sky, they wreaked havoc on the accelerating Persian mixed cavalry. Striking riders and mounts alike, the barrage easily sent man and beast tumbling, leaving the fallen to be trampled to death beneath the hooves of the charging ranks behind them. The camel cavalry leading the charge fared the worst; when struck and toppled, their massive bodies became lethal barricades, tripping up allies who couldn't swerve in time.

The Persian mixed cavalry on both flanks already maintained a loose formation, which stretched even further as they launched their offensive. Each wing spanned a front two li long and nearly one li deep. A barrage of 4,000 lead bullets didn't inflict catastrophic casualties across the sheer breadth of the Persian cavalry, but the projectiles rained down incessantly like a hailstorm. From a distance of 450 meters down to 150 meters, the Balearic slingers managed to unleash five volleys. The sustained barrage not only thinned the Persian ranks, but also choked their momentum and sapped their morale.

"150 meters! 150 meters!..." By the time the spotters' shouts reached the light infantry positioned ahead of the slingers, the nearly ten thousand archers on both flanks of the Daionian formation loosed their arrows in near unison.

At the same time, Curtius bellowed, "Now it's our cavalry's turn!"

Hearing this, the standard-bearer beside him whipped the fluttering military flag and pointed it forcefully ahead.

The Daionian cavalry spurred their warhorses, advancing into a steady trot.

The Daionian cavalry formation was the exact opposite of the Persian mixed cavalry. Their warhorses were packed tightly together in a mere two horizontal ranks, stretching their line to a length of nearly two li. Upon receiving the attack order, the Numidian Light Cavalry—previously holding a loose formation in the rear—drew their bows and javelins and swiftly shifted toward the outermost flanks. This maneuver unmasked the several thousand light infantrymen hidden behind them.

To avoid hitting their advancing cavalry, the Daionian archers on both flanks only loosed two volleys. But since they outnumbered the slingers three to one, and their arrows carried far more lethal force than the lead bullets, they inflicted significantly heavier casualties upon the Persian cavalry.

Smug and ambitious, Mardonius never expected the cunning Daionians to hide light infantry behind their cavalry. From the moment he led the charge, the sky had relentlessly hammered them with a shower of lead, followed instantly by a sun-blotting cloud of arrows. The escort riders flanking him rapidly thinned out. He himself took an arrow, surviving only because his thick scale armor stopped the point from inflicting a fatal wound.

Heart pounding with lingering dread, he desperately spurred his mount faster. Only one thought remained in his mind: clash with the Daionian cavalry, crush them, and safety would be assured!

However, as he saw the Daionian cavalry close the distance, sheer astonishment washed over him. The riders were packed shoulder to shoulder, advancing like a rapidly moving wall. In decades of military service, he had never witnessed a cavalry charge like this.

In truth, the Daionian military occasionally practiced this wall charge during routine drills, but this was the first time it had ever been deployed in actual combat. Using it in such a momentous battle left Curtius, who was spearheading the advance, with palms slick with sweat.

The young Daionian cavalrymen harbored no such anxieties. Gripping their lances in one hand and the reins in the other, they leaned forward and continuously spurred their mounts. "Hyah! Hyah!..." The blistering speed of the warhorses set their blood boiling, while the physical press of the comrades tightly flanking them anchored their nerves. Facing the incoming wave of enemy riders, they felt absolutely no fear.

Over that brief hundred-meter stretch, the violent surge in speed made it difficult for the Daionian cavalry to maintain their tight formation, but the two armies were already upon each other.

In an instant, the formations smashed together. Blood sprayed through the air as lances snapped, men plummeted to the earth, and warhorses shrieked in agony. The Daionian cavalry's winding frontline instantly vanished, but the Persian cavalry's frenzied momentum was also choked in the process. The roaring cavalry battlefield ground to a near standstill.

Thrown from his horse, Mardonius staggered to his feet with the support of his guards. He drew his waist sword, prepared to lead his men in butchering the dismounted enemy riders around them. Instead, he froze in sheer terror. Pouring through the gaps between the tangled horses were countless Daionian soldiers clad in Black Helmets and Black Armor, brandishing leather shields and short swords as they charged right at them.

The treacherous Daionians had actually hidden infantry right behind their cavalry!... Witnessing this, Mardonius trembled violently, his mind wiped completely blank.

"My lord, run!" his guards screamed. Hoisting Mardonius onto their backs, they fled back the way they came in absolute panic.

Stripped of their speed, the Persian cavalry could not possibly match the highly disciplined Daionian light infantry in a close-quarters melee. Meanwhile, the Persian light units that had not participated in the charge—like the Scythian Cavalry—were pinned down by the Numidian Light Cavalry and unable to provide support. Under the crushing assault of the light infantry, the Persian mixed cavalry fell to a complete disadvantage. This was precisely why Davos had ordered the Daionian cavalry legion to attack in that dense, linear formation.

...

Watching the enemies opposite cautiously advance with round shields and thrusting spears, Arsinis immediately knew who they were. These were the Greek mercenaries fighting for Persia that the Legion Commander had mentioned.

"Traitors!" he spat in disdain. Then he roared, "Javelins!"

The prepared soldiers hurled their single remaining javelin with all their might.

This inflicted little damage on the equally prepared Greek mercenaries, but it brought their advance to a temporary halt.

"Charge!" Arsinis shouted again.

"Hades!!!" the soldiers bellowed in a unified roar, surging toward the enemies a mere thirty meters away.

Across the center, the left wing, and the right wing—spanning a sprawling frontline over ten li long—the infantry of both armies clashed in brutal melee. The grand battle had finally fully erupted.

Even with the Daionian Army holding a stark advantage in close-quarters combat, an infantry deadlock could not be resolved quickly. Furthermore, the Persians were acutely aware of their own military weaknesses and had made specific adaptations. Setting aside the already formidable Greek mercenaries and the elite Immortals, they had outfitted the fierce mountain tribes—such as the Cardan and the Ducetia—with iron helms, chainmail, bronze shields, and one-handed hammers. They banked on these warriors to hold the line against the Daionian legionaries.

Unfortunately for them, shortly after the battle began, the warriors of the Ducetia Ksocont Tribe abruptly broke rank. Under the commands of Great Chief Remi and his leaders, they retreated en masse, shrieking at the top of their lungs, "We've lost! We're routed!!..."

The Persian general supervising the tribal forces from the rear panicked at the sudden collapse. In a desperate bid to stem the tide, he ordered his enforcement squad to cut down the leading Ducetia deserters, hoping to terrify the rest into stopping their retreat and returning to the fight.

However, the Ksocont Tribe's retreat was premeditated. The meager enforcement squad stood no chance against the attack of several thousand Ducetia warriors. The enforcers were swiftly struck down, and the Persian general himself was hacked to the ground.

The Ksocont unit's sudden desertion tore a massive, two-hundred-meter gap straight through the Persian right wing's infantry line. The legionaries of the Daionian Eleventh Legion, who were fighting against them, closely tailed the Ducetia soldiers and surged into the breach. Under their officers' commands, they drove rapidly forward instead of immediately attacking the enemies on both sides of the gap. This cleared the way for the Eighteenth Legion and Nineteenth Legion—held in reserve just behind them—to continue flooding into the shattered line.

The Ksocont Tribe's sudden retreat also devastated the morale of the Ducetia warriors fighting on either side of the breach. Witnessing an endless tide of Daionian soldiers flood through the gap and appear at their rear flanks, their panic was palpable. Their will to fight plummeted in an instant.

Stationed not far behind the Ducetia warriors was a formation of Persian archers. They had shadowed their infantry advance, preparing to launch their remaining arrows into the rear of the Daionian infantry formation to support the frontlines—a traditional Persian military tactic. Now, watching the Ducetia warriors utterly rout the moment they engaged the enemy and slaughter the enforcement squad, the archers were paralyzed with shock.

In this dire crisis, the commander of the archer unit made a resolute decision. He ordered his archers to draw their short daggers and rush forward to engage the enemy, plugging the breach to prevent the frontline from collapsing.

Throwing light infantry into a frontal clash against the heavily armed Ducetia warriors and Daionian legionaries was nothing short of suicidal. Yet, in that moment, the archers displayed the bloodline courage of the Persians. Swarming in from all sides, they threw themselves into a fierce battle with the enemy. They fought frantically to hold the shattered line, while sending fast messengers back to the main camp to beg for reinforcements.

When news of the disastrous situation on the right wing reached Artaxerxes, the blood drained from his face.

"Tiribazus, what... what do we do now?" he asked his most trusted advisor in a panic.

Tiribazus was equally shaken, but he forced a mask of calm. "Your Majesty... the archers under General Artaeus cannot hold back the enemy for long. We must push the reserves to the front immediately! Our numbers are still vast. As long as we can stabilize the Ducetia line, the advantage remains firmly on our side!"

Reassured by his words, Artaxerxes recovered some of his confidence. He not only immediately barked out the deployment orders, but also cursed, "Those damned Ducetians! How did I ever trust those shameless wretches? Once I win this battle, I will wipe every last one of them from the earth!"

...

"Your Majesty, the Persian reserves are on the move!" Philesius reported to Davos the moment he received the news.

The words had barely left his mouth when Tolmides pointed eagerly and shouted, "Look! The King of Persia is advancing too!"