The Agrianes had barely begun to find their place beside the wall when Leonidas's scouts returned with grim faces. They spoke of riders—dark shapes glimpsed at dawn, moving with discipline not of raiders or bandits, but soldiers. Their banners were black and gold, stitched with the curling patterns of the East.
Leonidas listened in silence, hands folded on the shaft of his spear. The overlay pulsed faintly in his vision: [Foreign Incursion Detected – Persian Scouts. Estimated Strength: 120. Purpose: Reconnaissance/Provocation.] He had expected it. Whispers had carried too far, and the council's resentment was now bleeding into Persia's ears.
He summoned his captains. Doros scowled, already hungry for a fight. "Scouts or not, if they come close, we'll break them. Wolves don't get to sniff our door and walk away." Kyros leaned back against a column, grinning in his usual wolfish way. "A perfect chance to see if our Thracian friends throw as true at men as they do at trees." Theron's voice was quieter, but sharper. "Persian Immortals don't scout without purpose. If they are here, more follow. The council's hand is in this. We must treat this clash as a message as much as a battle."
Leonidas nodded. "Then we will send one. Persia will see that Sparta's wall has grown teeth."
---
They moved at dusk, Leonidas leading two Cohorts of Spartans and a detachment of Agrianes. The hunters moved with unsettling grace through the hills, their javelins balanced, eyes scanning the ridges. Spartans grumbled at first at the lack of armor on their allies, but when they saw the Thracians slip through brush without sound, even Doros muttered respect.
When they found the Persians, the enemy was making camp in a valley hollow. Fires burned low, but the men moved with the precision of soldiers born to discipline. Their armor gleamed faintly in the firelight—lamellar breastplates, curved bows slung across backs, long spears at the ready. Even in rest, they were ready. Leonidas's overlay flickered: [Unit Type: Persian Immortals | Cohesion: 88% | Loyalty: 70% | Strength: High | Weakness: Overreliance on Discipline.]
Leonidas crouched behind the ridge with his captains. "We do not meet them in the open. Our wall will anchor here, at the choke of the valley mouth. The Agrianes will strike from both flanks, rain upon them before they can set formation. When they stagger, we advance."
Doros grinned, hefting his spear. "About time we tested our mongrel pack."
---
The battle came fast and sharp. The Persians, alerted by the Agrianes' first storm of javelins, leapt into formation with frightening speed. Arrows sang in reply, cutting the night air. A Spartan recruit stumbled as a shaft punched into his shield. But before the Immortals could close ranks, another volley of javelins rained down, striking with such force that shields cracked and one man fell screaming, pinned to the earth.
Then the wall advanced. Shields locked, bronze rang against bronze as Spartans drove forward. The Persians, trained to meet steady foes, faltered at the storm of missiles that never ceased. Every time they tried to brace, the Agrianes slipped out, hurling shafts that punched holes in their cohesion. When they lunged to counter, the hunters melted behind bronze, only to reappear at the edges, striking again.
The overseer had called them mongrels. Leonidas saw only iron sharpened to a new edge.
The clash ended with Persians in retreat, their dead scattered across the valley floor. The Agrianes stood grinning, blood on their knives, javelins slick with use. The Spartans, though bloodied, raised their shields in triumph.
The overlay pulsed: [Minor Persian Detachment Defeated. Faction Reputation Increased. Agrianes Loyalty: 62% → 70%. Spartan Cohesion with Agrianes: Rising.]
---
When Leonidas returned to Taygeton, the men roared in victory. But in Lakonia, the council chamber simmered with anger. The overseer hissed, "He provokes Persia! Every step he takes draws the East's gaze closer. He will bring the Immortals to our gates." Damaris's reply was measured, heavy with meaning. "Perhaps that is exactly what is needed. Only war will reveal the truth of his wall."
And far to the East, on a throne draped in black and gold, Darius listened to reports of a Spartan who led wolves beside his phalanx. His smile was slow, cruel, and certain. "Then we shall see how long the wall holds when the tide comes."