THE INSUPERABLE: a close betrayal

Part 3: A new hope

The battle had reached a dire state, the Spartans were dropping like flies. It was clear that Ares had not blessed this battle. Corpses littered the field, so much so that one could not even see the ground. Charging Spartans tripped over the corpses of their brothers, some stopped to mourn the death of a friend, others charged ahead, hoping an oncoming arrow would end their misery and sorrow. Morale was at an all-time low and the king started to consider retreat. "My lord, we can't go on like this we're losing good men, we have to retreat!" the general said, desperation in his eyes. "I know general, you're right". The king's head hung low. "This battle has cost us more than we have gained, sound the retreat on my mark!" The king raised his hand, and just as he was about to signal the retreat he saw a gigantic, naked man galloping at breakneck speed towards him. "Hold the retreat general!" the king demanded. "But my lord the men... they can't hold out much longer!" the general expressed with concern. "Just let me try something!" the king uttered hastily as the man suddenly halted in front of him.

"My lord!" Kalib yelled as he jumped from his horse, "You look especially handsome this morning, did your bottom grow firmer?" Kalib smiled innocently. "How dare you?!" the general snorted, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Calm down Achates there's no time for defending my honor," the king said rather annoyed. "You, Misthios. I should take you to the nearest block and chop your head clean off, but I fear I am desperate, and you are my only hope!" the king said.

"What is it you desire of me, my lord?" Kalib asked, a smile on his face. The King's arm swung to the north, "You see that fortress?" Kalib's eyes followed the intended direction. "I've lost thousands to it. It's defended to an incredible degree, I am saddened to say we've exhausted all possible strategies trying to breach its walls. Now Misthios, I ask of you, nay I beg of you, give me a way into those walls. Any strategy that might work, well... well then you'll be the richest misthios in all of Greece."

"What if I fail?" Kalib smiled. "Then you'll die a slow and painful death, that of a troublesome swine," the king said with a blood-thirsty voice. "Sounds fun, but I might in fact have a plan, my lord," Kalib's voice was gruff with dry humor. "Távros skatá!" the king swore, "well then pediculous, let me hear it?" the King demanded attentively. "Tell your men to fall back." Kalib's voice sounded grave. "Are you mocking me whoreson?" the king asked rather incredulously, "Your bright idea is to retreat?". "No my lord I'll get you into that fortress, but I'll need your men out of the way," Kalib remarked as he intently observed the fortress. "You mean to go alone?" The general asked, "You realize, you're not wearing anything, right? Not to mention you're just one man. A rather large man yes, but still just one man," the general's disbelieve was palpable. "Your majesty I'm going to need you to trust me," Kalib murmured not taking his eyes of the fortress. "Very well Misthios, but if you die don't expect me to collect your corpse. General Achates sound the retreat!" The resonating sound of a horn signaling the retreat echoed across the battlefield, thundering its way into the ears of every Spartan soldier. The men turned around and charged away from the fortress. The Persians erupted in cheer and celebration thinking they have successfully defended the fortress.

"Alright Misthios I've sounded the retreat it's all up to you now!" the king said. "My specialty my dear majesty..." Kalib murmured as he retrieved from his horse a weapon like none other. To call it a pickaxe does not do it justice. The hilt, carved from the bark of a red oak, is intricately ornate with glowing runes. The silvery shining blade, with its smooth, broad edge is infinitely sharp and at the corresponding side a pick, seemingly from a Charybdis tooth. Hanging from the hilt...a lone bracelet...

"Can I offer you a breastplate or a helmet?" the general asked rather uncomfortably.

"No thank you General, it's rather hot out, plus I doubt there's any time for me to get dressed right now, I have a fortress to take," the warrior said as he marched towards the fortress. "May Tyche and Ares be with you Misthios," the king said doubt filling his voice.

Kalib casually marched towards the fortress he did not care to defend himself in any way nor did he plan to sneak in from behind or make his presence a mystery. He simply marched towards the front gate. "My lord may I speak freely?" the general asked. "Granted," the king said, not taking his eyes off the large mercenary.

"Where did my lord find this man? He clearly has no sense of professionalism or battle ethics. I mean for god's sake his marching defenseless towards a guarded fort with his cock hanging out. He clearly has some sort of death wish," the general said bluntly. "I know General the man is completely insane and his methods are... unconventional. However, you're wrong about one thing... that man is no stranger when it comes to war. He is solely responsible for victorious battles such as Macedonia, Razer Hill, and the beach of Athens, all seemingly impossible, but with him there, the opposing side stood no chance." the king explained. "Impossible!" shock reverberated from the general, "He is the legendary pickaxe warrior? I always thought him to be a myth!" ."That is not a myth," the king grimaced, waving his hand in Kalib's direction, "Let's just hope this legend is true."