Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1315: Overlord of the Mediterranean

Davos narrowed his eyes. His sharp gaze cut through the fighting soldiers and the thick clouds of dust ahead. Seeing the Persian royal banners fluttering in the wind and gradually growing larger in his vision, he smiled.

Once Artaxerxes ordered his entire reserve to press forward, his royal carriage had to advance slowly behind the main army. Remaining in place would have left him with only his royal guard—a force of just a few thousand men. That was far too conspicuous and made him feel dangerously exposed.

The driver carefully guided the four Sacred Nisaean Steeds pulling the royal carriage, following the reserve forces toward the raging battlefield. (These white horses hailed from the Nisaean Plain, the most fertile land in the Zagros Valley, and the Medes considered them the finest, tallest steeds in the world. Once offered as tribute to Assyria, the Persian court had since sanctified them, declaring the white horses a divine gift to the Achaemenid Empire. Unless explicitly permitted by the king, no one else was allowed to own them.)

Anxious over the reserve forces' sluggish pace, Artaxerxes was about to order Tiribazus to urge the troops forward. Instead, he saw the minister suddenly rein in his horse and shield his eyes, peering up at the sky. The royal guards beside him quickly did the same.

Artaxerxes instinctively followed their gazes into the sky ahead.

The sun had already dipped westward. As Artaxerxes glanced up, he found the sunlight blinding even through the dust. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut, but before he could open them again, Tiribazus screamed in panic, "Ballistae! Incoming stones from Daionia's ballistae!"

A jolt of terror struck Artaxerxes. Ignoring his stinging eyes, he forced them open just in time to see over a dozen round, black shadows streak overhead. A thunderous crash immediately erupted behind him.

Artaxerxes whipped his head around. Barely a dozen meters away, dust billowed into the air where dozens of coconut-sized stones had slammed into the earth, cratering the ground.

A cold sweat instantly drenched Artaxerxes.

Pulled by four Sacred Nisaean Steeds, the Persian king's luxurious carriage was far larger and heavier than a standard chariot. Even a simple turn was difficult, let alone turning completely around. Furthermore, royal guards were packed tightly on all sides, making it hard to clear enough space in a short amount of time.

Meanwhile, deep behind the Daionian infantry formation, a crude, three-meter-tall watchtower had been erected. Supported by laborers from the Engineering Brigade, veteran ballista spotters stood atop it, peering across the battlefield. Based on the impact of their first volley and the position of the royal carriage, they quickly recalibrated the firing data and bellowed the adjustments down to the ballista crews beside the tower.

The ballista crews scrambled, adjusting the elevation of the weapons and the tension of the strings. Moments later, a second volley of stones was launched into the sky.

Artaxerxes's carriage was still struggling to turn around when dozens of whistling stones plummeted from the sky.

The very first stone slammed into the ground right next to the carriage, crushing a royal guard. Blood and brain matter splattered directly onto Artaxerxes's face.

Artaxerxes's mind went completely blank. He stood frozen in shock, oblivious to the panicked shouting of his guards.

Crash! Another stone smashed into the dirt right in front of the Sacred Nisaean Steeds, showering them with dust. Spooked by the danger, the white horses thrashed in their harnesses, fighting to tear free of the carriage yoke and completely ignoring their driver's commands.

The carriage lurched violently, pitching the dazed Artaxerxes right out of it.

"Your Majesty!" The royal guards rushed forward in a panic to save him. Just then, a stone slammed directly into the royal carriage. Wood splintered violently as screams erupted in all directions.

...

The high-ranking Persian commanders were well aware that the ballistae were devastating siege weapons forged by the Daionians. However, since siege weapons were rarely deployed in field battles, their tactical thinking suffered a blind spot. It had never crossed their minds that the Daionian Army would use ballistae to attack them in a pitched battle, and so they marched completely unawares into the weapons' firing range.

In truth, before the battle began, Davos had ordered thirty ballistae positioned at the rear of the center formation. Although he harbored a faint hope of executing a decapitation strike, he didn't put much faith in it. From what Davos knew, Artaxerxes rarely visited the front lines in past battles.

The main target for the ballistae wasn't actually the center line, but rather the Persian right wing—the reserve troops positioned behind the Ducetian Forces. The artillery was meant to prevent them from reinforcing the vanguard in time.

According to the Daionian military system, each legion was equipped with ten ballistae. As a result, the grand army under Davos boasted nearly two hundred of the siege engines. One hundred and seventy of them were massed at the far rear of the Daionian left wing, aimed directly at the Ducetian Forces. The moment the Ksocont Tribe executed their feigned retreat, the ballista crews there erected their watchtowers, keeping a close watch on the enemy reserves' movements.

Even as the center ballistae sighted in on the Persian king's carriage, portions of the right-wing reserves were already being hammered by stone projectiles. Anxious to reinforce the front, they had marched early into the ballistae's firing range.

A single ballista stone inflicted only limited casualties, but one hundred and seventy firing in a concentrated barrage was a terrifying display of power. The destruction was horrifying; as long as the volley plunged into the general vicinity of the enemy, it reduced swathes of soldiers into a mangled pulp of gore.

The frontline units Artaxerxes had deployed for the battle were either Persian elites or fierce auxiliary forces. The reserves, however, were mostly mediocre. The soldiers of the Caspian States, stationed behind the Ducetian Forces, hadn't even wanted to fight for Persia in the first place, merely showing up out of obligation. Forced by the Persians to advance for an emergency rescue, they were subjected to several brutal volleys of stone. Whatever meager morale they possessed evaporated instantly, and countless men fled in panic...

...

During the time it took the Persian right-wing messengers to ride and ask the King of Persia for reinforcements, the fully prepared soldiers of the Daionian legions poured through the ruptured Persian lines. Joining forces with the warriors of the Ksocont Tribe, they launched a ferocious assault on the Persian archers hastily scrambling to plug the gap.

By the time the Persian reserves mobilized, the archers had already suffered massive casualties and were forced to fall back. Capitalizing on the chaos as the Persian reinforcements were pounded by ballista fire mid-march, countless Daionian legionaries surged through the breach, pivoting to attack the flanks and rear of the Ducetian Forces on either side.

The already demoralized Ducetian warriors collapsed entirely under the pincer attack. Some even answered the call of the Ksocont Tribe warriors and defected to the Daionian side.

When messengers reported the left wing's battle situation back to the command center, cheers and laughter erupted. From the veteran generals to the young staff officers, every face flushed with excitement, for they all knew the victory was sealed.

A smile graced Davos's face. He asked, "What is the situation with the cavalry on the wings?"

Philesius answered in a booming voice, "Your Majesty, the Persian cavalry has begun to rout. Our cavalry is reforming its ranks and preparing to strike the flanks of the enemy lines on both wings."

"Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!" Davos praised three times in succession. His smile widened as he thoroughly relaxed. He turned to look at his old comrades, who were similarly chatting and laughing. "The weather is very hot. You all must be thirsty, aren't you? Heni, pass out the water we brought."

"Your Majesty, drinking water is so dull! We want to drink fine wine in the royal palace of Babylon!" Amyntas joked loudly.

"Hahaha..." Everyone roared with laughter.

...

Although the Daionian legionaries continually crushed the enemy on the left wing and expanded the breach, and although the Daionian cavalry and light infantry shattered the Persian horsemen before striking the enemy flanks... the Daionian Army had already grasped the keys to victory, but across a massive battlefield stretching for over ten miles, total triumph would not arrive quickly.

It wasn't until dusk approached that the Persian army completely collapsed. The last forces left fighting were the Persian Immortals and the Greek mercenaries in the center, who were thus trapped in heavy encirclement, utterly unable to escape.

This grand battle dealt a devastating blow to Persia's elite forces. High-ranking Persian generals such as Mardonius, Harpagus, and Pesitidai were either captured or slain. The only regret was that Artaxerxes had fled the battlefield.

Having secured the victory, Davos issued his orders: the cavalry would continuously pursue the routed troops, while the legions would shorten their rest periods and accelerate their march on Babylon.

Naturally, the fastest pursuit came from the Numidian Light Cavalry. During the battle, they hadn't held much of an advantage over the Scythian Cavalry and the other light cavalry in the mixed Persian forces. However, once the main Persian cavalry broke, the enemy lost all will to fight and fled. This allowed the Numidians to rest through the latter half of the battle, leaving them with far more stamina than the other troops.

The furious advance of the Numidian Light Cavalry caught the City of Nisephonia, located not far from the battlefield, without adequate defenses. While the city was taking in routed soldiers, the cavalry surged through the gates, ultimately forcing it to surrender.

Before entering the city to rest, Davos dispatched messengers west to tell Leotychides, who was hurrying over: the Daionian Army had already thoroughly routed the Persian forces, so he did not need to bring his troops to rendezvous. Instead, he was to return his army to Asia Minor to completely conquer the region.

Early the next morning, the Daionian cavalry resumed their eastward pursuit. Beside a tributary on the northern bank of the Euphrates river, they finally caught up to Artaxerxes and his royal guard.

The Persian king's current state was worlds apart from the high-spirited monarch who had led a colossal army out of Babylon. Following his army's devastating defeat, his soldiers had scattered in all directions. His regal prestige was entirely gone. Even within his most trusted royal guard, many soldiers had deserted under the cover of night, leaving fewer than five hundred men by his side.

As for Artaxerxes himself, the fall from his carriage during the ballista attack had taken a heavy toll. Suffering such a violent impact at over sixty years of age had plunged him straight into a coma, and he had yet to wake, which had drastically slowed their escape.

Upon being overtaken by the Daionian cavalry, Tiribazus, who still accompanied the King of Persia, led the surviving guards in a straightforward surrender, only demanding that Artaxerxes be granted the royal treatment befitting a king.

Davos, arriving shortly afterward, gladly agreed. He even dispatched the army's finest medical personnel to treat him.

With the King of Persia in their hands, the Daionian Army's eastward offensive progressed even more smoothly. Important towns along the Euphrates river, such as Corsote and Charmande, opened their gates and surrendered one after another.

In early December, the Daionian Army entered the Babylon region.

When Davos's unit passed through a small village, the veteran generals of the army suddenly grew excited, because the village was named Cunaxa.

"We camped right here all those years ago! I remember my tent was pitched right in this exact spot!"

"Over there! That was the battlefield! We crushed the King of Persia's left wing in a single charge! It's a pity Cyrus the Younger was so reckless. Otherwise, that battle would have been our victory..."

"What's there to pity? Thankfully he failed, so His Majesty could rise to greatness, lead us to found Daionia, and allow us to return here today as conquerors!"

"Exactly! We all have His Majesty to thank! Long live His Majesty!"

"Long live His Majesty!!"

As the veteran generals, stirred by the scene, offered their heartfelt cheers of gratitude to Davos, the King of Daonia and the new overlord of the Mediterranean sat motionless atop his warhorse like a clay statue. He gazed at the empty patch of land where Geogris stood, a tidal wave of emotion washing over him: it was precisely there that he had been reborn from a twenty-first-century Chinese citizen into a lowly mercenary in the era of ancient Greece. From his initial, desperate struggle to survive to the painstaking foundation of Daionia, he had fought bitterly in this alien world for over thirty years...

In that moment, scenes of the past flashed rapidly through his mind, just like a dream.

"Report! Your Majesty, Babylon has opened its gates and surrendered! Legion Commander Curtius has already led the vanguard into the city!" The messenger's shout snapped Davos out of his daze. He swept his gaze over his officers and soldiers, who were already starting to cheer, and a smile slowly bloomed on his face. 'No, this isn't a dream! This is the surging ancient Mediterranean world! And I, Hades Davos, am now the most powerful man in this world!'

He swung his right hand forcefully. "Move out! To Babylon!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" everyone roared in unison. Thousands upon thousands of ecstatic officers and soldiers clustered around this great king, galloping toward the great eastern city that had already opened its embrace to them...