Herald of Steel

Grahtos's pincher's attack from behind managed to catch Perseus completely and utterly off guard.

The king perhaps did not even think such a possibility existed.

In fact, when the first sword strike had begun to hit them, some of the mercenaries had even cried out not in horror but pure unbridled rage, "Bastard! The enemy is in the front. What are you doing?"

Yes.

They initially thought that this group of men had gotten confused in the darkness and was hitting their own men.

And it took them a small while to even realize what was really happening.

And what was a horrifying realization was that!

When the men was able to at last clearly see the 'blundering fools', their rage instantly melted away like wax, as if they were hit by a terrifying flame of fear and shock.

The blue armor, the unique helmet, and the telltale sword and shield formation, all pointed to only one answer.

And understanding they were being attacked from both sides, the shock and surprise the mercenaries felt could only be imagined.

"Fuck! How the fuck are they here?"

"Get out the way fuckers. Run! We have lost."

"Dammit! To think this is how we die."

"Dammit! This entire campaign has been cursed."

These types of shouts and many more began to echo throughout the rank as the solid line began to wabble.

But although shaken, these men were not stirred out of their will to fight, as it could be seen from their speeches.

They did not sound like they were despairing, but only appeared to be unresigned to such an ending.

They really lived up to their name as veterans.

And true to that, instead of losing heart and running, they rallied!

"Brothers! There is no escape for us. So let us fight to the death. Make these slave farmers earn their coin."

"Three heads! All you bastards must get at least three heads before you die. Or I will look at you in the afterlife."

"Bah! You pathetic animal fuckers think you can kill this daddy? Hahaha, come! Try!"

They then began to pump each other up like so, as the rearmost echelons began to turn and face the eastern gate legionaries.

Due to the congested space around the marketplace, the experienced men quickly came to the conclusion that escape was out of the question, as the heavily urbanized terrain made the escape route too narrow, never mind the darkness of the night.

So they reckoned that if all of them were to start running with no sense of direction, probably half of them would be killed by their own men as they pushed, shoved, crushed, and trampled each other to death.

While the rest would be butchered from behind within seconds, as the mercenaries would be clogging up their own escape.

So faced with the decision to run and die, or fight and take a few with them, the answer was easy.

And perhaps much more than death, what really spurred the men on to fight was how they would die- under the hands of a few untrained, lowly peasants.

This to them seemed very dishonorable.

After all.

How many such low born people had they killed?

How many wives of such low born people had they taken?

How many such low born people had they bullied?

Remembering all those instances, many of these bellicose men found themselves wanting to fight to the bitter end.

Of course, these men were mistaken on the premise that their opponent was all present levies, but there was little time or incentive for these men to verify their claims.

"Ready! Throw! Charge!"

Once Grahtos's men from the eastern section finally made contact, they performed their standard attack with the pilla just as ordered, and quickly followed it up with a proper, heavy charge, smashing into the defending mercenaries.

However, the effects of this were less than desirable.

Because compared to the first opportunity, the enemy's line was so much thicker and the men much more dogged.

Hence the lines did not snap like they would have done so back then.

Also, even if the lines were to snap, where would they go?

Remember, the core principle of a pincher attack was that you attacked from both sides, and the enemy broke and ran from either side, kind of like squeezing on a sandwich and letting all the sauce spill out.

But now, in this congested quagmire, as Grahtos's western and eastern halves pushed Perseus and the mercenaries internally, with nowhere to go these men could only retaliate and fight back.

Grahtos had forgotten, or more like was unable to swerve around a critical battle mantra- never trap your enemy with nowhere to go escape.

And the narrow streets and houses of the city were all doing exactly that.

It was because of this that Grahtos's pitch perfect charge did not have as large an effect, as the mercenaries were able to even counterattack, forcing the over eager legionaries back a bit.

And then following that the battle once again developed into a brutal melee, as the legionaries found themselves hacking a path through the enemy one soldier at a time.

Now, in fear of making the mercenaries too extraordinary, it had to be also noted that despite the intensity of the resistance by Perseus's forces, which was no doubt great, it was still not enough to stop Grahtos in his tracks.

The manpower and tactical advantage was too much in that respect so as to be able to be overcome with sheer willpower.

Hence the only thing the mercenaries could try to do was make the man bleed, and perhaps even succeed in making him bleed badly.

And if it had been a regular fight, perhaps they might have stood a shot at making Grahtos back out, in fear of the losses he took.

But that would not be possible this time.

For given the prize at hand, the grand prize of Perseus's head, well Grahtos would be more than glad to bleed his men and bleed a lot, lot more if necessary.

Furthermore, the mercenaries were really not making Grahtos take as much as they were thinking they were.

Because given the darkness of the night, after a few hours of fighting, both sides became tired and turned down the intensity, as they had found it very difficult to see much of anything.

Only occasionally would there be a silver of light, reflected off the blade of an incoming attack, and the men would have to hastily scramble to react to that.

Thus faced with this mortal uncertainty, the men found it much more sensible to rather defend than attack and expose themselves, greatly preferring to hide behind their shields and turtle, for the time being.

Hence the fighting reached a stalemate and turned to simmering intensity, as both sides waited for the sun to make things clearer.

As they waited, one of Perseus's close royal bodyguards in a hushed voice chimed,

"Your Majesty! We need to escape! Our forces cannot hold on. Now that the fighting has died down let us make a break for the gates!"

The man had the shrewd insight to be aware that their current tie was only a momentary occurrence in the equilibrium pendulum, and that it was soon to surely and decisively swing in the other side's favor.

So he urged his king to take the chance when it was still being presented it to him.

"No! I can't." However Perseus rejected it, reasoning, "The southern gate is still locked. And it will take some time for us to open all the complex mechanisms guarding it."

"By that time the enemy will surely have caught up with us. And out of formation, we will surely be slaughtered."

This analysis clearly showed how good a strategist the man was, as he was able to see the issue even when placed under such dire straits.

Perseus also knew he was currently like the cornerstone holding the entire defense together.

Many of the men, mostly the ones from the garrison were still standing holding their spears and shields because the king was fighting with them.

And even the mercenaries, although not outwardly so appreciative, still occasionally sent out loud hurrahs and shouts at him, both to pump themselves up, as well as to try and intimidate the other side.

So if he were to bolt, a large part of his defense risked dissolving with him.

And then both he and his men would end up on the chopping blocks.

However, although very grim, Perseus did not only lament his position.

The crafty king still had the state of mind to try and come up with something clever.

Something miraculous that might yet let him continue to fight another day.

So turning to his small number of men from his royal guards, he ordered, "Forget trying to open the gates from the inside. That will take too long."

"Instead you three go scale the walls and meet up with Phillips. Tell him what is going on and order him to assault the gates using the elephants and tear it down!"

"We will make a break for it once the sun is up."

Yes!

There was more than one way to open a door after all.

Grahtos's bird seemed to want to escape the coup.

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