An excerpt from the chronicle of the Conquering of Rashka, taken down in 986 BC from the words of Brasidas, Spartan general, by Alexandros, scribe of the Spartan court.
After we landed, the army turned out to see us, the King in the forefront of the parading troops. The troops' faces were shining with recent victory and the annihilation of most of the Rashkan army, a few years before. We'd just finished training this bunch of Spartiate warriors and shipped out for southern Rashka as soon as they could manage it. I remember the clogged breakwaters of Pylos, guarded by the barrier island of Sphacteria, with its woods that we sometimes used for training.
Anyway, the troops had just crushed Rashka at that battle, Epidamnus, where Pyros IV, in his moment of victory at the forefront of the great wedge, was struck down by a volley from our own archers. The King needed a new general, and I guess that general was me. He told me to take the men and "annihilate the enemy. Ruin their army, but try to preserve their cities. We are not enemies of the people, we just want a regime change."
We'd had scouts out all day, one of whom found a man wandering through the wilderness near our fortifications. He called himself "Azalus", and reported that the enemy was gathering near their capital. "Azalus" seemed eager to get away...It was the only solid piece of information that we'd gotten, so the Spartan army marched for the capital of Rashka.
On the march, Pisistratus' great army passed through many formerly-Rashkan villages. In one barn, I'll swear I saw a giant off-white cow, only it had no horns. When I tried to look back at it, when we camped for the night, it was gone, and there was nary an indentation in the hay where I'd seen it. Very strange happenings when you get farther north.
When the other army finally met us, outside of the capital, we tried to hide our elite strike force, our newly-trained Spartiate warriors fresh from the Peloponnesus. Our plan was to use them to rip a hole in the Rashkan army, to try to get a hole, where we could send our spearmen. We saw a short man in a white-plumed helm take one look at our considerably larger army, and then leap onto his horse and flee for the capital. I guess that was the King.
The Spartiates worked brilliantly as a ram, and a gaping hole was torn in the outnumbered Rashkan army. I immediately ordered almost the entire army through, but kept some troops advancing against the main body at a different angle than normal. It seemed to work, at least in keeping the Rashkans oriented towards those men. Soon, the majority started running for their lives. A few diehards took three hundred men with them, but overall we wiped them away and carried the day. We used the remaining Spartiates, I think there was 250 left, to sweep the field and gain the capital. The king just fled, and to what far-off nation he went no man can guess.
When we took the city, the people were already surly towards the conquerors. Roof tiles were thrown at the King when we headed for the palace with an honor guard. King Pisistratus confided in his top military leadership (I can say this, because it has already begun) that "I want to build a great temple to all of the Olympians in Rashka, so we can provide the people with a way to express themselves to Zeus and not to me. Start work on this project now, and bring in Helots from the Peloponnese. We need to give the people something that isn't full of hate or destruction."
After that, I went home and celebrated that Triumph, going down the streets of Lakedaimonia with soldiers parading in full military dress, marching in unison so that some of the buildings shook. I got rewarded with...You know what, Scribe? Every Spartiate and Helot, and probably most Rashkans, have heard the boring story of the
Greatest Party Ever ![[party]](/images/smilies/partytime.gif "Party [party]")
. I think that we should spare endless ages of young Spartans the details of something that was invented by some Italian city, probably destroyed now (Scribe's Note: Rome had the first traditions of triumphs. The city was occupied by the Etruscans in 1865 BC.), that no one really cares about, anyway.
So, Scribe, what am I supposed to talk about next?
Scribe: The Great War, with the Byzantines... Ah. That was a long and bloody conflict if I ever saw one. I think it's still going on, but I'm an old man and forget things easily. Is it still going?
Scribe: Yes, the Hittites just lost a big battle. Hittites? Are we allied with them?
Scribe: Maybe we can resume the writing in a day or so. Thank you for entertaining the wishes of the King.
NOTE: The next day, the scribe was walking to Brasidas' estate, when (unbeknownst to the general population) a polar bear emerged from a nearby cave and captured him, and took his brain to Polarbearum, where it resides next to that of Brasidas, who disappeared the same day. The general Spartan sentiment was that the two had been taken down to Hades and would spend the rest of time in the Asphodel Fields, wandering around and trying to remember the events of the Great War. Many of the polar bears are amused by the general's bad memory, which is no worse than if he had really gone to the Asphodel Fields anyway...
