The Remnant

Silver Arrows

The smell of fire and smoke on the wind hit Perseus before the foul stench of death and battle. There never really was a point where a man was ever able to get used to that. No matter how many lives you took, no matter how many battles you took part in, the smell always remained just as repulsive as the first time it danced across one's nostrils.

He had just been exiting the forest when he'd heard the loud three blasts sound from a horn somewhere near the rear. While he may not have been the best of students to some of his mentors, he remembered enough to recall that three blasts meant they were being overrun. This was problematic, but far from unfixable.

Perseus began to jog straight into the back of the nearest body of Athenian troops and drew his sword. Of course he would've preferred an easier route, however, he strongly doubted the Athenians would allow him to pass through them back into his lines as a friendly gesture. Besides, he'd need the warm-up before he moved to help whoever it was that was blowing that horn.

As he cut down the first of his opponents and a few more started to notice him, he realized one thing he had forgotten until that very moment.

Andros was at the rear, and if he was not around leading the troops and under officers...

Needless to say, the prince's pace picked up to about three times worth that of his previous speed. He needed to rescue his oldest friend, and he needed to do it fast. He hardly even took the time to look down at the men he swept his blade across as he ran, and it was thanks to instinct, not perception, that he leapt at exactly the right moment to jump on top of a tilted Athenian shield and off it to land on the other side of his own Spartan shield wall.

Many of the Spartans sitting in reserve were immediately pointing spears at the figure they had just seen leap their wall, however, upon realizing who it was they had lowered their weapons right away. Perseus looked around him at all the shocked faces that were quickly morphing into relief with all the seriousness as he could muster. The men were happy to see him, but they should not think that just because he had come back that they could afford to fight any less hard.

"The prince is back!"

"The day is saved!"

"Surely the Gods are smiling on us now!"

"Silence!" Perseus called to end the cheers with a raised hand. The chatter died down quickly but seeing as the fighting was but a few steps away things were still far from quiet. Regardless, he would have to speak over it. He began walking between those in reserve, placing hands on shoulders and looking some of them in the eye to inspire confidence. These men were a hardy bunch, but it was clear by the bleeding bandages, open wounds, and dripping sweat visible on their characters that they had had a fair share of fighting already.

"The rear is being overrun gentlemen. You have done your best here and you have held where they have failed, but now I must ask that some of you come with me to help rectify that mistake. I see you, I see your pain. I see the weight clearly bearing down on your shoulders in twice the strength it normally would; why you feel as though you carry the burden of Atlas himself!" He stopped a moment and waited for his words to sink in before continuing.

"And yet at the same time, I also know you. I know you, brave soldiers of Sparta. I know your strength, I know your devotion, and I know that there isn't a single one of you here ready to be bested by a bunch of Athenian dogs in the night!" He drew his sword; still covered in blood from his previous charge through Athenian lines as he finished, and a resounding cheer went through the injured and worn out troops in the reserve.

"With me now! No mercy brothers!" The prince called out as he began to jog again in the direction of the horn, his men taking up the cry behind him.