Volume 6: The Meeting of Two Heroes, Chapter 86: A Crushing Defeat

“Quick! Go call Gaelni and have him take men to put out the fire immediately!” Veroni urgently shouted for the guards to notify his son.

As soon as the guards left, he realized he had panicked and hastily ordered his personal guard captain to lead the guards to extinguish the fire at once.

“Great Chief, what about your safety?” the guard captain was hesitant. The camp was so unsettled tonight; if they left, who would protect the Great Chief?

“We’re about to run out of food, the whole army is in danger—what use is my safety!” Veroni stamped his foot in anxiety.

The personal guards had no choice but to rush toward the fire with frantic haste.

But with over twenty-five thousand men in the army, the camp stretched for seven or eight li, and everywhere were people clogging the paths. The personal guards not only advanced slowly, but their urgency angered the already panicked soldiers, sparking fights, and the conflict gradually spread...

It was early winter, dry and windy, and since it was the Daonian reconnaissance team infiltrating the camp who had deliberately set the fire, the flames spread rapidly with the wind, burning through the entire baggage camp and expanding outward, catching the wooden palisades and tents...

Staring at the blazing rear, Veroni’s heart sank completely.

It’s over. It’s over... His expression turned dazed as he slumped to the cold ground.

But that night was destined to be his nightmare.

“Woooo!!!...” Suddenly, deep war horns sounded all around the camp, followed by the shouts of countless men charging in from every direction...

The Potentians could not match the Daonian Army Corps’ ability to slip hundreds or thousands of warriors silently into an enemy camp, but Pollet’s boldness and persuasion finally drove Puamot to make the painful decision and send out five thousand warriors. They split into five groups, quietly descended the mountain, and hid in various spots outside the Samnite forward camp.

As soon as he saw the fire, Pollet could not wait to have the war horns blown, and soon horns echoed from other places as well. The Potentian warriors, burning with vengeance, bypassed the abatis, climbed over the ditches, and scaled the earthen walls and wooden palisades. The Samnite camp was already in turmoil, their attention drawn to the great fire, and the outer defenses were neglected, allowing the Potentians to enter the camp with relative ease. They turned into bloodthirsty wolves, cutting down any shadow they saw, stabbing at every sound they heard. The clash of battle and screams of agony rose and fell, echoing through every part of the camp...

This terrified the Samnites even more. In the pitch-black night, each man clutched his weapon tightly for his own safety, slashing and stabbing wildly at anyone who came near. The camp descended into chaos.

In the midst of this confusion, the Daonian reconnaissance scouts who had already infiltrated the camp shouted in the Samnite language they had learned: “The Daonian army is coming! They want to destroy us—run!...”

Fear multiplied infinitely in the darkness, finally crushing the Samnite warriors’ will to fight. Like a bursting flood, they fled desperately out of the camp. In their frenzy, they pushed down their comrades, cut down fellow soldiers blocking their way, and trampled the moaning tribesmen on the ground. The darkness became an accomplice to their mutual slaughter...

...

Puamot, who had worried about the battle all night, stood on the city wall watching. He heard the din from the Samnite camp, saw the great fire lighting up half the sky, and heard the earth-shaking shouts and screams... This spectacle lasted deep into the night before gradually fading into silence.

A scout sent to the foot of the mountain returned, shouting excitedly, “The enemy has been driven back! The enemy has been driven back!...” Instantly, the whole city became a sea of joy.

Puamot was relieved, his only concern being the raging fire that grew stronger, but in the darkness and unknown situation, he dared not send men to put it out rashly.

Yet that night, the gods seemed to favor Potentia. In the latter part of the night, rain began to fall.

Puamot was completely relieved and finally, as sleep kept pressing in, he slept until dawn.

He hurried to the city wall, seeing along the way that his people’s previously lifeless faces now wore smiles. They gathered in small groups, excitedly discussing the previous night’s battle, thanking Acipirus for his protection. From time to time, someone asked Puamot, “When can we move back to our original settlement?”

Puamot stood atop the city wall and peered down: the Samnite camp that had once stretched ten li with countless tents was now mostly blackened ground. Wisps of smoke curled over the area, making it hard for Puamot to see clearly...

“Has Pollet returned yet?” Puamot asked the tribal chief on duty that day, Var.

“Not yet, but he sent word that they need to clear the battlefield and will return later.”

Pollet is safe—that’s good! Puamot thought with relief.

What Pollet called “clearing the battlefield” was not simple. Looking closely at the Samnite camp, under the ashes of the great fire and in the mud left by the rain, lay the bodies of both sides—some already dead, even charred black; others gravely wounded and unconscious; still others writhing and groaning...

Last night, the Potentian warriors led by the Bruttii had suffered heavy losses in the melee due to their lack of night-attack experience, with nearly two thousand casualties. After the fierce battle, ignoring their exhaustion, they summoned more people from the city to carry the wounded and dead back, and began clearing the battlefield over ten li of ruins.

They finished off any still-struggling Samnites to ensure their deaths, while also searching for their own tribesmen among the enemy corpses... The Potentian warriors faced danger in this process; some lightly wounded Samnites pretended to be dead and sprang up when they approached. After several such ambushes, the Potentian warriors became more cautious, holding long spears and stabbing any corpse that wasn’t one of their own.

Such a vast area could not be cleared quickly. Behind these warriors, the members of the Daonian Reconnaissance Battalion, assigned to specific zones, carefully counted the Samnite casualties.

By afternoon, the clearing was mostly done. 5,493 Samnites had died, with no wounded, because even those who survived the night’s chaos were mercilessly killed by the furious Potentian warriors as they swept the battlefield. The remaining Samnites scattered far and wide, roaming the region around Potentia. And since the Samnites had cleared the area around Potentia during their invasion, the starving Samnites now had to reap the bitter fruit of their own actions—how to evade Potentian pursuit, endure hunger and wounds, and return safely to their homeland became a huge problem.

The Potentians had made great sacrifices, and with the full help of the Daonians, they finally defeated the mighty Samnites. Overjoyed at surviving, they unwittingly buried a great surprise in the huge Samnite burial pit: Veroni, the Great Chief of the Hirpini and commander of this Samnite allied invasion of Potentia, had sent all his personal guards to restore order and fight the fire the night before. When Pollet led the assault, the Samnites rioted in panic, and Veroni, isolated and elderly, perished in the chaos...

At dawn that day, in the Temple of Hades at Thurii, Cerdias of Scylletium rose early as usual and entered the temple’s main hall.

He entered the side of the Underworld. After spending so much time there, the terrifying scenes of hellish punishments and the ferocious statues of Hades’ subordinate gods no longer affected him much. Reverently holding an oil lamp, he came before the throne of the Lord of the Underworld, Hades. In the oil basin before the statue, the ever-burning flame flickered with a bluish-red light, adding a touch of gloom to Hades’ stern and solemn face.

Cerdias looked calm. He stood on tiptoe to light his oil lamp, then knelt before the statue of Hades, half-closing his eyes, palms open and flat on the ground, offering sincere prayers to the Lord of the Underworld, hoping he would protect the people of Scylletium.

Earlier, when he heard that the Syracusans had landed at Locri, he had been eager to return to Scylletium, but Pleisinas persuaded him to stay.

Pleisinas told him: Even if he returned to Scylletium, he would only be one more ordinary citizen-soldier in the city-state. Here, however, by day and night offering prayers to this powerful, ever-mightier king of the underworld, he could seek the god’s aid.

Cerdias thought the Chief Priest was right, so he remained in Thurii. Now, he placed the oil lamp representing his wish on the offering table. Since the temple had not yet opened, only this solitary lamp sat there. But by evening, the table and floor would be crowded with lamps, and they would have to clean up late into the night.

“Cerdias, you are so devout! I believe Hades will answer you!” a voice came from behind.

Cerdias turned and bowed: “Good morning, Pleisinas.”

The Temple of Hades now basically spread to every city in Daonian territory, with many priests, acolytes, holy maidens, and worshippers managing the temple. They had ranks, but in addressing one another, the *Hades Canon* stipulated that only given names should be used, to emphasize the concept of “equality among the faithful” within the Temple of Hades.

“According to the latest battle reports received by the Senate, the Daonian Fourth and Fifth Army Corps repelled a Syracusan attack at Caulonia and captured several hundred prisoners, who are now being sent to Thurii. So you need not worry too much—Daonia is under Hades’ watch and protection!” Pleisinas said gently, comforting him.