The sun baked the training yard, bronze shields catching its glare until the air seemed to ripple with heat. Leonidas's fifty drilled in two ranks, their movements sharp, precise, more like veterans than recruits. Each clash of spear against shield rang with rhythm, not chaos.
The overseers watched from the shade of the colonnade, their eyes heavy with calculation. Every movement Leonidas's men made was judged twice—once as Spartans, once as his.
Kleon's fifty drilled nearby, but their noise was wrong. Too many voices shouted at once, too many feet fell out of step. The overlay confirmed it:
Kleon's Unit – Loyalty: 62% (fractured)
Leonidas caught a glimpse of Kleon's jaw tightening. His rival pushed his men harder, as if volume could match cohesion. When one boy slipped and dropped his shield, Kleon struck him across the back with the flat of a spear, snarling. The boy's loyalty dropped visibly in Leonidas's overlay, dipping into the forties.
Fear wins a heartbeat, Leonidas thought. Loyalty wins a war.
---
His own men finished their drill with a thunderous press, the formation locking so tightly the dust shook under their boots. Doros barked a laugh as they broke rank, clapping Nikas on the shoulder. Kyros leaned his spear casually against his arm, smirking toward Kleon's men.
Theron only glanced at Leonidas. "They're watching harder now. Every step. Every breath."
"They should," Leonidas said quietly. "Walls don't rise without mortar. We're the mortar."
---
That afternoon, the overseers ordered a joint exercise: Leonidas's fifty against Kleon's in a mock skirmish, with Sthenes's men observing as judges.
The horn sounded, and the two lines met in the dust. Kleon's charge was loud, furious—his men bellowing as they sprinted forward. Leonidas's wall absorbed the impact without flinching, shields locked, spears thrusting in unison.
The difference was immediate. Kleon's men shouted but faltered the moment they met resistance, gaps opening in their wedge. Leonidas pressed at the weak points, calling crisp commands:
"Anchor right—hinge left—press!"
The overlay shimmered:
Leonidas's Unit – Loyalty: 96%
Kleon's Unit – Loyalty: 58% (dropping fast)
Dust rose as Kleon's formation bent and nearly broke. Then Leonidas did something unexpected—he eased pressure. His line shifted back half a pace, allowing Kleon's men to recover just enough to hold.
Theron hissed under his breath. "Why give them ground?"
"Because if they break here," Leonidas murmured, "the council will only see a peasant humiliating Sparta. Let them wobble. Let them need us, not collapse against us."
---
When the horn ended the bout, Kleon's face burned red, but he forced his men into a semblance of order. The overseers conferred in hushed voices.
One of them, the elder with eyes like nails, stepped forward. "Leonidas's wall holds true. Kleon's falters, yet does not fall. Sparta requires both walls to rise higher."
Kleon stiffened, teeth grinding. Leonidas only bowed his head. "Sparta requires whatever keeps it standing."
The overseer's gaze lingered. "See that it remains so."
---
That evening, around the fire, Doros grinned. "We could have broken them clean."
Kyros smirked. "We still did. Just slower."
Theron looked at Leonidas. "You're thinking further than today."
Leonidas met his eyes. "Always."
The overlay pulsed, faint but undeniable:
[Gift Progression: Cohesion Path Strengthened.]
[Hint: Next reward tied to combined-unit operations.]
Leonidas exhaled slowly. So the system wants me to prove I can steady more than my own men.
He glanced north, toward lands he could not see but felt—where Evelyne's knights drilled, where her steel gift hardened their arms, where her Hero waited in shadow.
Let them polish their armor, he thought. I'll polish men.
And in the First Wave, when banners rose like storm clouds, the stronger wall would stand.