Hi. This is a singular post from a joint story thing I was doing at the .com forums, just wondering what people thought of it. It may seem a bit disjointed without the backstory of the other posts, but hey-ho.

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Aeneas turned back to look at his chosen men. 10 of the best troops Corinth had to offer. All of them dressed in the full war garb of the hoplite; Helmet, Breastplate, Spear, Hoplon and Sword. It had been a tricky decision as to whether they should move light, or wear full armour, but in the end Aeneas had decided the risk of detection was too great to go without proper war gear.

He embraced his Second-in-Command, Lysander, one last time, before striding to the edge of the acropolis and beginning the tricky climb down the cliff walls. When they finally reached the bottom Aeneas gathered them round for one last quick talk.

"Alright boys. We have to get to the gate, but we are gonna have to go slowly, otherwise the Megaran dogs may look twice at us. If that happens then we are going to have to fight our way down. Ready?" He scanned the faces of his men, they were ready.

At first all went well for Aeneas' small party, no one looked twice at a few hoplites moving brazenly through the dark city. But just a few streets from the gate, disaster struck. A Megaran Soldier who had been lounging against a wall suddenly shouted at them, wanting to know where they were going.

"We are heading to the walls," Aeneas informed him

"And my wife is Aphrodite! All of you? Those curs aren't going to try anything" His eyes scanned the men suspiciously. His eyes alighted on one of the men's shields, which bore the Symbol of Pegasus, the winged horse. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. For this was the symbol of the Corinthian Royal Guard. Aeneas plunged a spear into the man's throat, but not before he let out a desperate shout. Aeneas cursed as he heard a commotion coming from what must have been made a barracks. He pointed to 3 of his men

"Get to the gate! And bring me help! Rest of you! With me!"

And with that the remaining men charged at the door of the barracks, where confused Megarans were already starting to spill out. Those men were cut down in seconds; Aeneas speared a Megaran and led the charge through the door, and into the room thronging with enemies. It was time for his sword to swing, and for the Spirit of Ares to be unleashed.

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Outside the city, we heard the first cries of a battle flying over the silent city. My men and me were right up against the city's wall, waiting for the gates to be opened. Then suddenly, with a great groan, the gates swung inwards. For a few moments I stared dumbstruck at the gates. It had worked! It had actually worked! Then I recovered, and leaping to my feet cried out

"Up! Up! Into the city! For Corinth and the Gods on high Olympus!"

The men took up my cry, and screamed the challenge of "Corinth and Olympus" as they charged through the opened city gates. Aeneas' men were waiting for us inside the city, the guards dead at their feet.
"Nicodemus?" one asked quickly, I nodded the affirmative, "Aeneas is in trouble, he's fighting inside one of the barracks, outnumbered"

Quickly I pointed to one of my commanders, and ordered him to take his men to Aeneas aid. The men ran off, following the soldier who'd talked to me.

"The rest of you know what to do fight!"

The men ran off, some with Commanders to capture strategic points, but most followed me.

"Pylades! Sound the horn, let the Acropolis know we are here"

The clear notes reverberated through the city. I grinned at the panic that would be going through the fool Narcissus mind. He had no idea what was coming for him.

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Lysander heard the horn. His men were ready. He twisted in the saddle of one of the few horses that they had saved from the Megarans, the King and a few Guardsmen were mounted up behind him. Although only middle-aged, the King looked old, and worn. His hair hung long, lank and grey from beneath his Great War helm. His hands, grabbing his reins, were pale and wrinkled. He wasn't a man to inspire his fellow man, thought Lysander.

Lysander licked his lips nervously, he was always nervous before a fight, everyone was. Those who claimed not to be nervous were either liars, or the worst kind of men to face in battle. Those without fear fought like a She-wolf protecting their cubs, they never gave up, and they fought till they bled to death from their wounds. Aeneas was one of those men, once he entered battle, all fear left his mind, to be replaced only by the brutal animal instinct of inflicting pain and death on any that opposed him. Lysander shuddered. Turning once more to the king he asked,

"Are you ready, sire?"

"Oh yes my dear boy!" the King responded brightly, "to war!" he shouted and drew his sword; he slightly ruined the effect of his heroic gesture by giggling as he raised his sword in the air. Oh well thought Lysander, at least the King's time in the Temple of Dionysus had given the King some Persian courage. The men around Appolinius twitched nervously at their King's tipsy behaviour. But Lysander just smiled to himself, Aeneas had told him to make certain the King did not survive the battle, and Appolinius' drunkenness could only make that task easier.

"For Corinth!" Lysander shouted out, "Ride forth and strike down your foes like a thunderbolt from Zeus!"

The horses moved forward in a walk, then trotted through the gate, before moving into a canter on the ramp down from the Acropolis. Lysander could see the Megarans assembling in the square below the Acropolis. The fight was about to begin.

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I ducked under the clumsy swing of a Megaran blade, and brought my own sword up into his belly, I grunted as I twisted the weapon, and then yanked it out of him. The man toppled lifeless to the floor. I ran onwards with my men. We ran towards the Acropolis, we turned a corner, then in front of us was a Megaran shield wall, blocking our passage to a square were the beleaguered Royal Guard were fighting a losing battle under the Royal Banner. I stopped dead in my tracks, and signalled to Pylades,

"Form up!" we cried to the men, "Form up!"

My men formed up into the Hoplite formation, then moved into the deadly, "Tusk" formation. At the front of the "Tusk" was one man, behind him, two behind them four, and so on, until the rough shape of a triangle was formed. Me and Pylades formed the second rank, whilst a great bear of a man known as "Ares" took the crucial point position. He was well named, in battle he did indeed fight like a God of War.

We marched forward slowly, shields held high. At the front Ares advanced calmly. We were just a few feet from the Megarans when Ares, sped into a trot, and hurled himself at the gap between two of the Megarans. His spear took the throat of one of the Megarans, then a split second later, the other. He'd opened a gap. Me and Pylades pushed into it, taking down the men on either side of the gap. We were smashing a hole in their shield wall through which the rest of the Tusk came in. The Megarans tried to fight back, but they had no chance, they broke, and fled backwards, we followed, slaughtering the cowards as they ran. We accelerated, aiming for the backs of the Megarans engaging the Royal Guard. Their rear ranks died before they even knew what had happened, the bloodletting had begun in earnest.

This battle wasn't two shield walls, just a punishing melee of fighters stabbing, slashing and swearing at each other, into this press of bodies, I brought my men.

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Lysander blocked a blow on his shield, parried a spear thrust, and lunged forward with his own spear. He was on foot now, his horse lying somewhere in the reeking Charnel house that the elegant square had become. The fountain in the middle ran with blood, the floor was littered with gore and corpses, men screamed for their mothers, and to the gods. But no one could save them now; there was no lull to collect the wounded, just a long heard slog, as the sun slowly rose in the east. It was nearly dawn, Phoebus Apollo had yoked his steeds and his chariot now began its climb through the heavens. The light from the sun turned the already bloodied square bright red, in the dawn's brilliant glare.

Lysander saw the King, on foot too, but disappointingly still alive. Bloody Megarans couldn't even kill one drunk, he thought miserably. He began to cut himself a path towards the man he was tasked to kill. The King wasn't doing much fighting; he was being protected by his loyal bodyguards who were fighting off the Megarans who were gathering, like moths to a flame, around the King's Royal Banner. The men most loyal to Aeneas were at his back. He was ready. He stalked towards the bloodstained and sweating company, pushing aside the men who blocked his passage, their was nothing left in the world for him now except Appolinius and his guards. He stabbed his sword brutally into one of the King's guard's spine. The man next to him twisted suddenly, surprised to find his companions attacked from behind, his eyes widened as he saw Lysander, sword dripping with blood, his mouth opened to shout a warning, but Lysander felled him before he could utter a word. He turned to face the King. In the King's stupefied state it took him a moment to register what was happening. He didn't notice the blade that came behind him and took him through the back of his neck. Lysander looked away as the tip of the sword emerged from the front of Appolinius' throat. The King fell to his knees, then pitched to the floor, blood gushing from his neck. Lysander was now in an oasis of calm in the turbulent sea of the battle, around them the last of Appolinius' bodyguards were slain. Lysander glanced at the floor, and saw the Royal Banner. He picked up the ragged, bloodstained banner, and began waving it frantically above his head,

"To me! To me! Avenge the King!"

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I heard a voice rise above the noise of the fighting. I killed the Megaran in front of me, and looked up. There, flying in the first light of the day was the bloodstained Royal Banner of Corinth. The soldiers around me had heard the words all too well, the King was dead? They thought in panic, I flashed a quick grin at Pylades, brfore shouting at the top of my voice,

"Rally! Men of Nicodemus! To the King's banner! May his soul rest for ever at peace in the Elysian fields!"

My men gave a mighty roar of defiance, and we doubled our effort, hammering our way through the Megaran soldiers, and towards the banner. I cut down Megaran, after Megaran, Pylades at one shoulder, Ares at the other. Until finally we broke through to where Lysander and a few members of the Royal Guard fought. On the floor lay Appolinius' bloodied corpse, and next to it the body of a Megaran in which the Royal Banner had been planted. Lysander was fighting bravely to protect the King's body. One hand held his sword, which was spilling much Megaran blood, whilst the other hung limp at his side. We fought on together. Two of my men picked up the King's body, and we slowly hacked a way back to the Corinthian lines. We finally broke free of the encircling Megarans, and then me, Lysander, Pylades and the bearers of the King's body trotted up to the Acropolis.

We laid Appolinius to rest in the Temple of Poseidon, leaving the priests to clean up his Royal body. I gathered up all the remaining soldiers in the Acropolis and together we went back down into the charnel house of the square, it was time to secure my crown with Megaran blood.