The First Cycle (chapter one)

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Part 1: Friends Make the Best Enemies
Chapter 1
Akilos Arxies stood in the line of battle surrounded by his countrymen, his brothers in arms. He ran his hand through his dark hair, causing the sweat to run down his hard looking face and burn his emerald eyes. It dripped from his flat nose onto his chainmail armor, he could swear he heard each drop sizzle when it fell onto the sunsoaked metal.
Akilos was a hard looking man but his friendly green eyes revealed his true nature, they shined with warmth and intelligence.
Every time Akilos moved, his chainmail burned the exposed skin of his bulky upper arms. He was in the front rank with his pint sized comrade Dekton on his right and the giant Titus on his left.
Dekton was a dwarf from Dektonia, hence the name. He was exiled. Titus was a monster of a man born in Esgaroth. He and Akilos had been friends since childhood. Akilos loved them both as brothers and commanded them in battle as well. Akilos was an optio, second in command to his centurion who commanded a unit of one hundred men, called a century.
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The three friends watched as their cavalry skirmished with their Dargonian counterparts. The Esgarothian cavalry finally sent the mounted Dargonians running back to their sullen ranks and a horn sounded to call them off the chase. The Esgarothians rode back to a warm welcome; the whole army beat their swords on their shields in praise of the victory.
Akilos looked across the field to all the fallen enemy horses; the ground was littered with them. Some were just wounded so the Dargonians sent an infantry unit to end the screaming beasts suffering. About twenty men left the enemy ranks and drew their longswords. They moved about the dying animals, slitting their throats as nonchalantly as a barber giving a morning shave. The wounded men got dragged back to the ranks, where they would decide their own fate.
It was not uncommon for a man mortally wounded to request the gift of death from his comerades.
“We crushed them,” cried Titus, “I don’t think we lost a man!”
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If giants existed they would surely look like Titus, thought Akilos as he looked to his huge friend. “I wouldn’t get too excited,” he said, “that was just a meaningless skirmish. The battle is yet to come.”
“Still exciting,” replied Titus, “look how easily we swept them aside!”
Dekton often thought his friends forgot him because he was so short, they seldom look down here, he thought with irritated amusement.
He let out a cough to remind his friends he was there and said, “Akilos is right, it means nothing, although such a successful skirmish is a good omen.”
“We did bloody them easily enough,” put in Akilos, “I wonder why such a weak tribe would invade our land.”
Dekton, always ready to boost morale, bellowed, “They want to be conquered my friend! So they can become citizens of the mightiest city in the land!”
The men surrounding the trio let out a roar, beating swords off shields. When the noise died down the centurion yelled, “remember boys, we reinforce the left flank after the first line change!”
“Looks like they’re getting ready to charge.” remarked Dekton. Akilos looked across the field, the Dargonians were a shifting mass of men, checking their armor straps, picking their shields up from where they were strewn on the ground, and running fingers down the edge of their vicious longswords.
“Let the bastards come!” bellowed Titus as he crammed his helmet onto his unusually large head. He was having trouble getting it on, as he always did.
Dekton the dwarf looked up at him and joked, “Ya know that may be little easier if you spread some pig fat on you shining head!”
“Very funny,” replied Titus as he unsheathed his gladius, “dwarf fat should work just as well!” The helmet finally slid onto his ungreased head with a loud pop and the three friends had a laugh.
As the Dargonians prepared to charge Akilos heard whispered prayers all around him, most to Mars, the mighty God of War. Some prayed to Apollo, the God of truth who wields the silver bow. Apollo was the primary deity of the Esgarothians, protector of their city.
Titus put up his own prayer, “Priapus, you lucky bastard, keep me and my cock safe through the coming battle, and after.”
This drew a laugh from Titus’ comrades, which was his intent. Priapus was the God of…, well, fucking. He was said to have a wonderful large penis.
Titus may have been half serious; the Dargonians were known to mutilate their enemies’ corpses by removing their manhood.
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“Very funny,” remarked Akilos, “but I doubt the stories are true. They spread that nonsense to scare their enemies.”
“I don’t know,” put in Dekton, “I hear they encase the cocks in clay and present them to their wives!”
Titus laughed, “What would a woman want with a clay cock?” he bellowed.
“It keeps the women satisfied while their husbands are at war.” Said Dekton
Akilos let out a laugh and said,” You really are a sick little bastard!”
“I should have given my wife one,” continued Dekton, “I wouldn’t have gotten myself exiled for killing her lover!”
Titus let out a laugh, “What’s your real name anyway,” he asked, “I’m sick of calling you after the city you fled.”
“I’m afraid you’ll never know my ugly friend.” said Dekton.
“You should take one of the Dargonian dicks,” joked Akilos, “it’s not too late to give one to your boyfriend!”
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While the three friends were bullshitting the Dargonians began their charge. The enemy commander yelled something and the barbarians sprang forward like a raging tidal wave. Dirty savage men they were, maybe a mudslide would be a better analogy.
The Dargonians let out earsplitting battle cries as they ran full speed at the Esgarothians, looking like beasts belched from the underworld.
Meanwhile the Esgarothians stood watching in organized ranks. “They look pretty fearsome.” remarked a man behind Akilos.
“Let’s see how fearsome they are after running a mile into battle!” replied a smiling Titus.
Just then the horn screamed a single note, the centurion translated with a scream of his own, “forward!!”
The Esgarothians began a slow steady march. They were the exact opposite of their opponents. Where the Dargonians ran the Esgarothians kept a slow steady pace, while their opponents screamed the Esgarothians were eerily quiet. The Dargonian army was a writhing mass. The Esgarothian legions, a well-built machine oiled by blood, death the only product it manufactured.
When the two armies were thirty paces apart Akilos heard the centurion bellow, “release!!”
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The opposing legions both loosed at the same time. Javelins from both hosts filled the air simultaneously, meeting at a common point to create a battle of their own in the sky before raining sharp death on both armies.
Akilos and his comrades in the first line raised their shields as one. Directly over their heads at a slight angle, the men behind followed suit creating an almost impenetrable shell.
Akilos heard a thousand heavy thumps as the enemy javelins struck the Esgarothians shields.
“If I close my eyes I could be home with hale falling on the roof!” yelled Dekton. Akilos laughed and said, “Let’s just hope your roof holds!”
Then as suddenly as it began it stopped, the horns blew and the centurion bellowed, “Forward!!” And the legions continued on their way, just a bump in the road. “Come on boys!” yelled Akilos, “keep those spears up!!”
Then the armies clashed. The Dargonians’ frantic charge came to nothing as they crashed into the Esgarothian shield wall, their exhaustion working against them as the running barbarians impaled themselves on Esgarothian spears. The ones lucky enough to avoid the bristling eight foot shafts found a wall of wood blocking their advance before being impaled on a gladius, the vicious Esgarothian shortsword.
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Blood splashed Akilos’ armor as he opened yet another man’s throat, he could hear Titus beside him, “eight…… nine……” as he counted the enemies as he killed, wounded, or maimed them. The Dargonians kept coming and Akilos kept slashing, a groin here, cutting a throat there, chopping an arm to watch it go flipping through the air, spraying dark arterial blood like some misshapen volcano. This was war; you always come out with a wound. Whether it be a cut to the skin, or something deeper. A wounded soul is harder to heal.
After a few minutes Akilos was beginning to tire, and praying for a line change. Battle is exhausting.
“AKILOS!” screamed Dekton. Akilos looked to his tiny friend, his armor was covered in shiny red splashes. Dekton was pointing to a collapse in the line yelling, “isn’t that Mardonius!? The Kings son!”
Akilos sunk his gladius into the groin of another attacker before looking to the breach in the line. Like a God Mardonius was cutting down the horde of men surrounding him. “By the Gods!” whispered Akilos. He turned to the man behind him in the second line; the battle was so fierce even he was covered in blood when his sword was not. “Take my place!” he said before running off.

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Akilos unstrapped his spare javelin as he ran, focusing on a monstrous man with a wicked battle-axe who seemed to be Mardonius’ biggest threat. He fumbled with the shaft, when he finally got it into throwing position he let it fly.
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Mardonius was in trouble. A monster of a man was coming towards him at a run, a vicious battle-axe held over his head, while Mardonius was locked in combat with yet another skillful opponent. He parried a blow and tried to push the man back with his shield. It was no good. The beast with the axe was closing fast. No matter which challenger he engaged the other would surely lop his head off. Just as he prepared to fight bravely too the death Mardonius heard a faint whistling. Before he could identify the source of the sound the man with the axe stopped mid charge, a javelin head protruding from his still bouncing gut.
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I wonder what it’s like, thought Akilos as he tracked his javelin in its high arc, this man is about to get an easy kill. But then flying death sneaks up on him.
THUMP!!
The shaft struck the beast just below the shoulder blade disappearing in an arterial splurt; Akilos could picture it poking out of the man’s stomach. As the big man fell Mardonius came into view, stunned and relieved.
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Mardonius heard the shaft snap as the axe man fell on top of it, when he looked up he spotted Akilos running at him, sword in hand. “Thank the Gods.” whispered Mardonius as he gave Akilos a thankful nod. Akilos flashed him a meaningful grin as he ran. Then Mardonius seen the look of scared surprise on his friends face.
Mardonius knew he was in trouble when he seen that look. Without warning he spun, swinging his sword with tremendous force. The result, a fountain of blood that seemed to propel a head into the air. The dead man’s body fell to the ground, spraying blood with every thump of its rapidly failing heart. That’s when Mardonius remembered he was still surrounded. He took a defensive stance as Akilos arrived at his side.
As the two friends stood back to back, swords extended, Mardonius said, “thanks for coming!”
“A prince should not die alone.” was all Akilos could think to say as he eyed the Dargonians surrounding him.
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The two doomed men were surrounded by five foes. Akilos, knowing Mardonius must be exhausted, made the first move. A light feint just to test his opponents’ mettle. To his surprise one of the men fell for it wholeheartedly. He did not hesitate in severing his foolish head, his stroke was so strong he nicked the throat of the man beside the formerly foolish one on his follow-through. Akilos’ first stroke produced one headless man and a small continuous spurt of blood, adding to the pool rapidly spilling from the intended target. The nicked man put a hand to his throat, immediately dark blood began to seep through the cracks between his fingers, he fell and made a sick gurgling sound, Akilos made a thrust straight down to finish the job. Two birds with one stone, he thought as he chanced a quick look behind him to find Mardonius faring just as well.
That’s when the two bloody friends were enveloped by their own cheering lines, in the rush of the fight Akilos hadn’t seen his comrades coming to their rescue; they had seen the whole fight.
Akilos and Mardonius were forced to fight on until two men pushed through the ranks to relieve them.
Akilos pushed his way out of rank, dragging an exhausted Mardonius along. When they finally broke out four lines back they approached the centurion.
Akilos looked to Mardonius and seen he was limping, blood slowly oozed from a wound on his leg.
The centurion spotted them and exploded, “What the fuck!! Get back in rank shitbags!” They just kept walking, the centurion drew his sword and went too yell again, then his expression softened, “My Prince,” he stammered, “forgive me. I thought you were deserters.”
“No sir,” replied Akilos, “my friend here’s injured, I was taking him to the field hospital.”
The centurion looked to Mardonius, “I’m sorry my liege,” he said nervously, “proceed, of course.”
As Akilos dragged Mardonius to the infirmary he could hear the battle raging on; even behind the ranked men, far from the battle. “Fuck the field hospital,” declared Mardonius, “it’s just a scratch. Help me to my father’s tent, he will be happy to see we made it.”
Akilos looked puzzled, “You think he knows what happened?”
“He must,” replied Mardonius, “if nobody knew we were out there our men would have taken us for the enemy and ran us right over!”
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As the pair approached the king’s tent Mardonius said, “Wait here.” before ducking through the flap, leaving Akilos outside with two grim guards, they eyed him stonily from each side of the flap.
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Kingshields, thought Akilos, somewhat amused, they think they’re better than everyone just because they guard the king. While we die they stand here, useless.
Akilos smiled, “See any action lately?” he asked in a conversational tone. The two men must have known his thoughts. They looked at Akilos, fresh from battle and covered in blood, and made no answer; silently they shuffled their feet.
They’re upset they can’t take a place in rank, Akilos realized; now I feel like an ass.
Just as he was about to apologize for his sarcasm another kingshield opened the tent flap, he thumped his right fist on his chest; giving Akilos a stiff salute and said, “King Nestor will receive you now.”
As Akilos walked past the two shamed men he said, “good job, keep our noble king safe!” The two kingshields smiled as Akilos entered the tent. When he was inside one of the guards whispered, “asshole.” and the two sentries had a laugh.
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Once inside the king’s tent the battle sounded impossibly far away. The tent was dark and the air inside was heavy and dank. Mardonius sat at a ruined table in a flimsy chair beside his sturdy father, King Nestor. The grey beard king sat puffing on a pipe, filling the tent with rich scented smoke.
Nestor’s eyes lit up when Akilos walked in, “Akilos!” exclaimed the king as he bounded from his spindly chair, sending it sliding backwards, “my friend, sit, sit, it has been too long!”
“Indeed it has my king.” replied Akilos stiffly. King Nestor laughed as Akilos tapped his fist on his left breast, the Esgarothian salute.
“So formal!” bellowed Nestor, “can you forget I am your king for even one moment!”
“S-s-sorry sir!” stammered Akilos
“Call me Nestor,” replied the king, “now sit, I long to hear the story of how you saved my son’s life!”
King Nestor retrieved his spindly throne of twigs from where he had sent it reeling and took a seat.
Akilos, still standing, said, “sir,” Nestor gave him a stern look, one bushy eyebrow raised, “I mean Nestor.” continued Akilos, “if I may I would like to return to the battle. I must lead my men.”
Nestor laughed, “your men are doing fine without you,” he replied, “I mean no offense of course. Sit down and relax.”
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Akilos looked uncomfortable, Mardonius spoke up to ease his friends nerves, “come on Akilos,” he said playfully, “you wouldn’t want to anger your king!” Mardonius smiled while Nestor laughed, his chair creaking, and Akilos took a seat. “I already did anger him I think” said Akilos, finally getting comfortable in the presence of his king, “by saving you!”
Nestor shook with laughter so violently his spindly throne gave out beneath him and he crashed to the floor. The smokey tent exploded with laughter as wooden shrapnel bounced off the canvass.
King Nestor made Akilos and Mardonius recount every detail of what happened as he sat on the dirt floor of his own tent, the smoke from his pipe mingled with the smoke from the broken twigs burning in the fire pit.
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Nestor may have been too old to command his army but that didn’t stop him from praising the men after a successful battle. When Akilos left the tent Nestor looked to Mardonius. “Have the bugola sound the assembly,” he said to his son, “I will address the men.”
“Father,” ventured Mardonius, “you really should don your armor.”
Nestor sighed, “How many times must I tell you,” he said, “I am no soldier. Not anymore. I will not pretend to be something I am not.”
“But father,” pleaded Mardonius, “you were the finest general of your generation. You stripped your armor off Timun the Giant after slaying him. In single combat! TIMUN! Surely that earns you the right to wear it. Even if you are a little past your prime.”
“My son,” Nestor replied softly, “I am not a military leader. I love peace. The war is over and I had no part in it.”
Mardonius looked sullen.
“You my son,” the king continued, “played a big part. You wear the armor. In fact it is yours, I have no use for it anymore.”
Mardonius had a blank look on his face. “Father,” he said, stunned, “I could not. You won it in battle. I cannot take your prize from you!”
“Nonsense,” replied Nestor seriously. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder, “you know I left it to you. In my will. Consider it an early gift from your dead father.”
Mardonius gave his father a stern look, “you shouldn’t speak of such things, the gods may overhear you!”
“Oh come on,” laughed Nestor, “even the gods appreciate some humor.”
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Mardonius smiled, “All right,” he exclaimed, “all right. I will accept you gift, of course. But you must alter your will. A kings will is a sacred document, you may anger the gods if you breach it’s… ahh … terms.”
Nestor laughed at his sons sudden piousness, Mardonius couldn’t help but join him. “My son, you should be a priest!” joked Nestor, “Now don your new armor. I will have the bugola sound the assembly. What’s his name? I like the men to think I know them all.”
“Marcus,” replied Mardonius, “thank you father. Now I don’t have to poison you to get your armor!”
Nestor gave a snort of laughter and said, “Ahh, that was you plan was it.”
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Twenty minutes later Akilos stood in rank, flanked by Dekton and Titus. “Where the fuck have you been?!” exclaimed Dekton. Titus said, “Yeah, we thought you were dead!”
“I’ll tell you about it later,” replied Akilos with a big smile, “here comes the king.”
“With Mardonius by his side!” exclaimed Dekton, “I take it you were successful in your suicide mission?”
“Jupiter’s Balls!” boomed Titus, “I can’t believe it!”
“Jupiter’s Balls!?” Dekton laughed, “what about the Lord of Lightning’s Balls?”
“It’s an expression.” remarked Titus defensively.
Dekton laughed again, “Not one I’ve heard. I have heard Vulcan’s thorny Cock, Athena’s Cunt, Artemis’…” He kept rattling them off until he was cut off by the bugola blowing a dull note and centurions up and down the lines yelling, “Silence!”
Nestor stepped onto a small platform while Mardonius took his place in rank. When the two legions, three thousand men all told, and the three cavalrums, nine hundred mounted men, settled down King Nestor bellowed, “My brothers, you honor me. You fought today like men possessed and never once broke rank. We may not field the biggest army in the land, but I am proud to say we are the best, by far the best.
“I take no pride in defeating such a small force; we outnumbered these Dargonian dogs two to one. I do however take pride in this, today you took the lives of over one thousand of our cities enemies, sacrificing only one hundred thirteen of our cities sons in the process. An amazing feat!
“Esgarothian pride, honor, and discipline won the day, along with some incredible bravery!”
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At this the assembled men erupted, whooping men put their blades in the air while the screamers beat their spears on their shields, creating a mighty uproar. King Nestor waited patiently with a smile on his face until the legionary’s symphony was over.
“Two men especially showed extraordinary valor today,” continued the king, “Akilos Arxies, Mardonius Nestor, up front!”
The king waited while the two men broke rank and made their way to the front. When Mardonius reached the platform the legions let out a collective gasp. His magnificent armor shone in the sun. Of course everyone knew it had belonged to King Nestor, they also knew the tale of how Nestor won it thirty years earlier. Timun the Giant was a legendary raider who had raised an army from rabble and slaves.
Nobody could defeat the giant and his massive army, they pillaged almost unmolested for years. Finally Nestor met the Giant in the field, somehow, outnumbered and far from home, Nestor won the war after four hard battles. King Nestor somehow found the Giant in the chaos of the fifth battle. When the two leaders met in single combat, a war raging around them, the men near them stopped to watch. To make a long story short Nestor, not a king at the time, slew the Giant and stripped him of his legendary armor. The battle was won not twenty minutes later. Since the epic battle no general has met an enemy commander in the field and managed to slay him in single combat.
Just as Timun the Giant was legendary so was his raiment. The plate armor fit Mardonius perfectly and he shined in the afternoon sun. The plate was an alloy of silver and iron called silverscale. Silverscale was almost impossible to break, penetrate, or even dent.
The legendary armor had no decoration whatsoever. It was smooth, incredibly shiny, and extremely effective.
When the assembled men stopped whispering about the armor of the Giant, Nestor bellowed, “Yes, yes I gave my son my old armor! Would you like to hear how he earned it or just stare at it all day!?”
The men let out a roar, the only language they knew when ranked before their king.
“It is a grand story. When a section of the line collapsed my valiant son held the breach singlehandedly, slaying hordes of Dargonians. Just when he was about to be overwhelmed by a giant to rival Timun himself the beast stopped his charge, a javelin protruding from his chest! And who did this javelin belong to? Who would be brave enough to share certain death with a doomed man? Foolish enough I should say!”
The men exploded into laughter, slapping each other on the back.

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“That fool was Akilos,” continued the king as Akilos took a mock bow, “he ran past his target before the monster hit the ground, and together, outnumbered and surrounded, these two brave men held the line until reinforcements arrived!”
Another roar filled the air, accompanied by the legionaries’ applause, the sound of swords beating off shields.
Jovially Nestor continued, “It pains me to say the reinforcements took them for the enemy. Only after this brave pair killed fifty of their own men were they recognized!”
Akilos and Mardonius flushed red as the troops stood in stunned silence.
“Got ya!” bellowed Nestor.
The ranks filled with laughter.
“No, no,” resumed the king, “reinforcements arrived and fortunately recognized these two heroes immediately and relieved them.”
Nestor approached the two men and said, “Akilos Arxies, I commend you for your bravery.” as he lowered a crown of weaved grass onto Akilos’ head. He moved to his son Mardonius and did the same and the ranked men let out yet another roar.
Nestor turned to face the assembled men and bellowed, “It is selfless acts such as these that win battles. I am sure many equally valiant feats went unnoticed today so I thank and commend you all. I am honored that the finest men in all of Harthium, you are not the smartest so I will tell you that means you, I am honored that you chose me as your king so long ago!”