Herald of Steel

867 Perseus Vs Alexander (Part-2)

The sheer mass of the legionaries attacking Perseus's vastly outnumbered phalangists at the center quickly began to make them buckle.

The legionaries were far more aggressive than their counterparts, and not only were they able to absorb more casualties, but they were also able to exploit far more gaps and opportunities than the opposing phalangists, leading to a hugely disproportionate amount of casualties.

Even Perseus standing way back of his army could clearly see the blue armored legionaries starting to reave through his men like they were cutting wheat, showing very enthusiastic smiles as they did so.

There was not even a twinge of regret in them as they hacked through, instead actually appearing quite elated, for in a battlefield, the best enemy was a weak enemy.

They were easy to kill, and more importantly, facing them it was easier to stay alive.

And although the king had expected such an outcome eventually, seeing such a state develop so quickly, right at the start of the clash, made his scalp tingle.

He did not think his lines would be this fragile, his men this green.

The only thing that was stopping these verdant soldiers from breaking was perhaps the efforts of the princes, whom Perseus could see running back and forth on their horseback, shouting encouraging words to try and raise morale.

There was even one prince who was personally fighting in the very first echelons, his magnificent armor drawing unrelenting waves of attack from all sides, as the legionaries fought for glory and looting his body.

Perseus's center was able to ward off the immense crisis it was facing till now due to the valiant efforts of his sons.

But only 'till now'.

Because this surely could not last long.

Eventually, the morale raising speeches would lose their efficacy and the legionaries would be able to chew through the phalangists breaking them.

So if Perseus wanted to do something about it, he would have to do it soon.

But the question was what?

"Should I let lose the reserves?'' Perseus muttered.

But to use such a crucial resource almost right at the start of the battle seemed very premature.

It would be like playing your trump card on your first hand.

So rejecting that Perseus then thought about using the elephant to try and do something, but also found those to be unfeasible.

"Your Highness, the center! They are asking for more men!" And while Perseus was trying to think of a way to get himself out of this situation, suddenly a herald came asking this.

"Dammit!" And at this request, Perseus swore.

Now was not the time.

Where was he going to get more men?

So rejecting the request, he swung his armed arm and ordered in an unquestionable tone,

"There are no reinforcements! Tell them to hold on with what they have."

"The enemy's wings are close to routing the enemy and we just need a bit more time. Inform the officers of this. Tell them they must fight to the last!"

"And then order any deserter is to be executed along with their fourteen generations!"

That last order from Perseus might have sounded very grand and certainly could have worked fine during peace times, but right now its potency rang a bit hollow.

After all, on the battlefield, who was really going to execute these running men?

If they broke, everyone would be busy running away in fear of being executed by the enemy.

But still, the fact that Perseus still said this revealed the dangerous precipice he was in.

"Yes, Your Highness!" The messenger however was not there to argue with his king and accepted the instruction diligently with a military salute, although his eyes had visibly dimmed at the reply.

But before he turned around and left, he did add the following words laced with great concern, "Please ask the wings to hurry up Your Highness. The situation at the center does not look good."

Perseus did not need the messenger to tell him this, that was pretty apparent to anyone.

Some of the phalanx units had been pushed back as much as several hundred meters by now.

So Perseus only silently waved the man way as he then turned to ask another one of his messengers,who was responsible for keeping tabs over the left flank that the king was directly leading and asked in a frustrated voice,

"What's going on with the flanks? Why have they not broken through? What's taking so long?"

And the question really went on to highlight how that the king had been lying to the other messenger regarding the imminent collapse of Alexander's wings and things were not going nearly as swimmingly as he claimed to be.

"We are having trouble breaking through Your Majesty." The reply was filled with reluctance and fear, as this herald delineated

"The wooden carts and wagons the enemy has brought are proving to be a great hindrance. We are finding it very hard to effectively break through them, as behind them, it is teaming with archers that are firing relentless volleys of arrows. It is making progress very hard for even our expert mercenaries." But the man ended on this optimistic note,

"But we making progress. We just need a little bit of time."

The keyword here was time.

Everyone seemed to want more of it, but unfortunately, Perseus was running preciously short of it.

The center would not be able to hold on for long.

"Dammit! Did I make a mistake? Will the glorious bloodline of my forefathers come to an end with me? I'm doomed to be such a sinner?"

Hence, seeing the situation on the battlefield not develop according to his expectations and his strategy failing, Perseus felt his heart bleed as many such doubts filled his head and his eyes turned glassy in terror and hopelessness.

While Perseus was on almost the verge of tears, on the other side of the battlefield, the emotions being experienced were quite the opposite.

It was one of elation and expectation, as Alexander was informed by an elated messenger sent by Talukder (Viscount) Prantik, "My lord! Good news, we are very close to breaking the frontlines! Victory is close at hand! Hahaha."

The deliverer was very excited by this good news, as personally for him, a win here would finally mean the end of this long campaign and he could finally go back to his wife with all the loot he had gotten.

And even as Alexander was informed of this, Talukder (Viscount) Prantik's loud joyous shouts rang out among his men.

"Just a bit more men! You see more women than warriors before you. Unwarlike, unarmed, they will soon give away once they have recognized your sword, the sword of conquerors!"

"Push them. Push them harder! Show no mercy."

This noble had a way with words and could really spur the men on.

And the legionaries, hearing such words, and being encouraged by the results they were witnessing, stabbed, thrusted, and killed their way forward, producing deadly numbers of casualties for the opposing side.

"Run!"

"There are too many!"

"We cannot hold no!"

"Save yourself."

"My brother! Died! I cannot die here!"

Then it happened!

A section of the frontline broke.

It was not a total rout of the whole line, but around the middle point of the line, where Talukder (Viscount) Prantik was in command, the phalangists found themselves unable to hold on any longer and finally broke, running towards the city gates, screaming and shouting, hoping to be let in.

"No! Do not run."

"Stand and fight!"

And while such impassioned calls from even the many nearby officers, the units could not be stopped from disobeying command and running.

"Oh no!" Perseus, being witness to all of this from the back instinctively let out this low, fearful growl as his eyes dilated.

He could easily see this gap being the center point of a total collapse.

"Mithriditus! Quick! Stop them!"

Thus whatever Perseus might have had in mind, he threw them out the window, and instantly let loose the reserves of 4,000 men, hoping to plug that gap and stop that 5,000 strong legion from exploiting their breakthrough.

As for how well that would work, well it had been only one legion, perhaps Mithriditus might have been able to do something, but it had remembered he was not facing only one legion, but there was another one behind it.

It was 4,000 vs 10,000.

No matter how effective the phalangists might be against the legionaries in a frontal attack, there still was a limit.

So this could really be said to be just a stopgap measure.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" But even if it was just that, even if it was just to buy some time, Mithriditus knew he had to go and help.

Besides, if nothing else, he would at least be able to kill some of the men who killed his beloved daughter and meet her in heaven afterward.

The old man was not afraid of death.

"Charge! Quickly! We need to stop them!"

"Kill! They are exhausted! It will be easy!"

"Do not fear men! Treat death as something as light as a feather!"

It was with such boisterous shouts that Mithriditus led his 4,000 men to a battle that was approaching its twilight years.

It would not be long before a winner was decided.

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