Mithridates's Scheme

After a long while, the adjutant Philistos came to report: "The entire army is ready."

Davos announced expressionlessly, "Let's march."

Earlier, when he was still in his squad, he hadn't noticed the problem much, but now as the leader, overseeing the whole situation, he spotted the issue. In his past life, although he wasn't a soldier, he knew from watching movies and browsing forums that one of the basics for an army to win battles was strict discipline and rapid mobility. During his university military training, emergency assembly was measured in minutes. But now—from the bugle call to the troops forming up took over an hour. This sluggishness doused half the excitement he'd felt upon becoming a commander.

Now, with no military prestige whatsoever, he could only observe quietly, note all the shortcomings, and think of solutions. Only when the time was ripe could he talk about reorganizing the army and reforming military systems—and that would likely be a long road.

When nearly half the troops had already marched out of the camp, Philistos said, "Commander Davos, it's time for us to move as well."

Davos nodded. Heilos had already brought his horse. Yesterday, when Davos learned that the commander had a horse to ride, he was quite nervous—in his past life, he couldn't ride at all. But to his surprise, once he mounted, he controlled it with ease. It turned out that one of the most skilled horse-riding peoples of the Mediterranean world in that era were the Thessalians. The body he now inhabited had grown up herding sheep and horses. The residual memories and instinctive muscle memory were enough for Davos to handle the horse freely.

He grabbed the reins, leaped onto the horse, gently squeezed with his legs, and the warhorse raised its head with a soft whinny, moving its hooves and trotting forward.

Davos sat upright, chest out and head high. Yesterday, Tolmides' words had made him reconsider sharing hardships with the soldiers by giving his horse to the old, weak, or crippled. Now, he needed to sit high on his horse, constantly reminding the soldiers: He, Davos, was the commander of the entire army! As for winning people's hearts with gestures, that could wait until he was a renowned general acclaimed across the world.

Riding on horseback, watching the mighty columns marching ahead, a surge of heroic spirit naturally arose in Davos's heart: This is how a real man should be!

Davos guided his horse slowly forward, followed closely by Philistos and Asiastes, and then Heilos's escort on foot. After leaving the camp and advancing for a while, they reached the assembly point for the entire army.

Davos had originally thought his own unit was slow, but to his surprise, other units hadn't arrived yet. It seemed sluggishness was a common ailment among mercenaries, and everyone was used to it.

Cheirisophus's Spartan unit had already formed up ahead. As Davos rode past to greet them, a commotion broke out in the ranks he passed. Soldiers from other camps recognized him as the commander who had given the brilliant speech yesterday, but some were jealous and dissatisfied that a young, inexperienced youth sat so high. They muttered derogatory comments about his command ability, causing Asiastes, following close behind, to flush red with anger. Davos, however, acted as though he hadn't heard and kept riding forward.

Only Cheirisophus's unit remained as quiet as if they hadn't even noticed his arrival. Davos took the opportunity to carefully observe these true Spartan warriors: They were fully armed, arranged in a neat phalanx, every one of them rugged and fierce, standing silently like towering pine trees—a unique sight amid the noisy assembly point. And from their sharp, murderous eyes, Davos could feel how enormous the power would be once that silence exploded. Body, skill, strategy, discipline—all fused into one. These were Spartan warriors!

Davos looked at them with envy: When would he be able to command such elite soldiers? Later, he would learn that among Cheirisophus's men, only about a third were true Spartans; the rest were Perioeci.

Flanking both sides of the Spartan force were camps composed of smaller mercenary units like those of Sosis and Pasion. After the full army council, most of them had joined Cheirisophus's column. A few other commanders had also gained recruits, but no one was interested in Davos's camp. Davos felt helpless about that.

This time, Davos's troops formed up quickly because they basically followed the order they had used when leaving camp: The outermost were files of heavy infantry, four rows deep, the first file followed by the second, and so on; inside them were files of light infantry, two rows deep, so that the length of the files for heavy and light infantry was the same—about half a stade from front to back. If an enemy attacked from the left flank, the marching files could immediately turn right, with heavy infantry in front and light infantry behind, quickly forming a standard battle formation. The baggage camp was located on the inner side of the light infantry, to the left of this large central open area. Davos and his escort were positioned between the light infantry and the baggage camp.

About another half-hour later, all units had formed up. The brass bugle sounded again, and at last they could set off.

The marching pace was not fast, mainly held back by the baggage trains. Tents, food, medicine, supplies, and other items that couldn't be carried by men had to be loaded onto oxen or horses. Horses couldn't pull carts that were too heavy, or the harness would press on their neck and windpipe, causing suffocation; oxen were stronger than horses but had poor endurance and their temperament wasn't entirely reliable.

Davos watched Meisis moving back and forth in the baggage train, handling unexpected situations, occasionally calling for soldiers to help. Davos silently congratulated himself for following Meisis's advice and sending one company to assist the baggage train in advance. Finally, his gaze fell upon Cheiristoya among the women. Though dressed the same as the others, her figure and bearing stood out like a crane among chickens, making her easy to spot.

Cheiristoya seemed to sense his gaze and turned her head to look this way.

Davos quickly averted his eyes.

"At this marching speed, we can't cover even ten stades in an hour," he remarked.

"It's good enough that there's no harassment from the Persians," Philistos said thankfully. Just as he finished speaking, a commotion broke out from the rear.

"What happened?" Davos's heart tightened. He asked immediately.

Asiastes promptly sent a herald to check the rear.

After a while, the herald galloped back: "It's the Persian general Mitradates! He brought about thirty cavalrymen and is shouting loudly near the right flank of the whole army, calling for surrender!"

Psychological warfare! Davos's brow twitched.

"Mitradates was one of Cyrus the Younger's generals, but such tricks won't work on us. We've been fooled by the Persians once; only a fool would fall for it a second time," Philistos said unhurriedly.

Davos nodded and said, "Keep an eye on Mitradates. Continue to gather intelligence!" At the same time, he instructed Asiastes to dispatch another herald so they could relay messages alternately.

...

"More than twenty soldiers have abandoned their weapons and run to the Persians! ... They've surrendered to Mitradates!"

Davos's heart jolted. Clearly, Philistos had overestimated the wisdom of the mercenaries. Besides, Hieronymus's unit had been arguing about the election of their leader since yesterday. Now Mitradates, with his lies, had easily torn open a crack in Hieronymus's faction, which was already not united. Would it cause a snowball effect across the entire army? Davos began to worry.

"Mitradates has circled to the direct rear of the whole army and is shouting to Cleanho's unit! ... Another ten or so soldiers have thrown down their weapons and run to the Persians!"

Damn! Davos's fears were coming true.

Philistos also looked tense.

It seemed Mitradates planned to circle around the massive mercenary formation, continuously eroding the soldiers' morale. And he would soon be in front of Davos's unit!

"If only we could drive him away," Asiastes said bitterly. But he knew it was impossible. The enemy were light cavalry, coming and going like the wind, while the mercenaries had no cavalry at all.

"Let's just throw javelins and kill him!" shouted Matonis, pulling a javelin from his back, inside the escort.

"How can we throw?! By the time you take your javelin out, the Persians would have run far away! Besides, javelins don't reach as far as the Persians' horse bows!" Asiastes retorted.

A flash of inspiration struck Davos. He asked the herald urgently, "When Mitradates was shouting, how far was he from our formation?"

"About a hundred paces away."

"When the surrendered soldiers ran over, did the Persians retreat?"

"No."

Davos asked a series of questions. After receiving the answers, he paused for a moment, then said to Philistos, "I have an idea. What do you think—could it work?"