The Argive Ch. 116-120

"Because, my king, he is a very dangerous and resourceful man," said Xanthos. "Look what happened when he came to Messene. He turned a backwater power into a formidable force. That unit that we sent against him on the eastern path is still broken because of that fight--"

Nikandros shot up out of bed and glared at Xanthos. Xanthos knew the king would be upset about that part, how several hundred of his men couldn't dislodge two hundred Messenians in their path. It was an insult to Spartan pride, but Xanthos recognized it for what it was.

Praxis' influence.

"As long as he's alive, he can be a threat to the League," continued Xanthos.

"Enough, enough!" barked Nikandros. "Is there a point to all of this?"

"That we need to find him and kill him before it's too late."

"Fine, you can do just that," said Nikandros, beckoning one of his servants closer. The servant pulled out a small bag of golden coins, which Nikandros quickly rifled through before tossing several of them to Xanthos.

"What's this for?" asked Xanthos, struggling to catch them before they hit the ground.

"I just received a report this morning about the remnants of Nicomedes' army moving east," said Nikandros, laying back down. "Apparently, there are a couple hundred of them that have managed to escape and they are moving toward Arcadia."

"But how does this help me with Praxis?"

"Because the only reason this little force is still together is because they have someone there leading them," snapped Nikandros. "If they had no leader, they would scatter like leaves in the wind! The fact that they are still together tells me that someone like your stepbrother is still there to offer guidance. If that's the case, this gives me a chance to kill two birds with one stone."

"You want me to go after them?" asked Xanthos, eyeing the coins.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" retorted Nikandros. "Yes, yes, I do. Take your Argives and chase them down and destroy them."

"But you said they had a couple hundred men," replied Xanthos. "I only have four hundred of my people with me. The numbers would be a little too even."

Nikandros scowled, as he always did when it came to talk of military matters with non-Spartans. "You're telling me you can't mop up a ragtag force of even numbers on your own? Is that what you're honestly telling me?"

Xanthos swallowed heavily. "It j-just might not be that easy."

"Fine," snapped Nikandros. "Take the Corinthians with you too. That's an additional three hundred men. Between the two of you, that's more than enough to destroy this force. And then once your stepbrother is dead, you can return to your cities. Do you think you can handle that?"

The last statement couldn't have been more condescending. For a brief moment, Xanthos really reconsidered whether his allegiance to Nikandros was worth the price. Even still, there were no other options. As condescending as the man was, Nikandros was his only option to maintain his control of Argos.

And yet, this mission could still yield pleasing results if he could manage to finally kill Praxis.

"I can handle it," said Xanthos. "I will take my people east and finally crush my stepbrother."

Chapter 118: Old Friends

It was the day after their entry into Arcadia that something eventful happened. Praxis had woken up that morning to find Astara pressed against his body. His hand was placed possessively on her stomach, and his cock was nestled between her ass just the way nature intended.

In a way, it was a reminder of how things used to be--content and familiar. On the other hand, it was also a reminder of where they were. Instead of some soft bed in Corinth, they were on the hard ground of Arcadia.

If it bothered Astara, she didn't show it.

"Mmm, don't move yet," she said softly, once he started to stir. "This is so comfortable for me right now."

"There's a rock under my leg that's really not comfortable at all," joked Praxis.

Astara giggled and shifted her weight. They moved together to the other side.

"Is that any better?"

"Much better, thank you."

"It's really nice to be doing this again," said Astara, echoing his thoughts. "There were so many times when I thought I'd never get this chance again. That it was lost to me forever."

"Not as long as I'm around," he promised. "We'll always get a chance to do this. There just might be other women involved too. Hope you can live with that."

Astara actually smiled. "I'm living with it. In fact, Lysandra and I just talked about it last night."

"Is that right?" asked Praxis, suddenly very interested. "How'd that go?"

"Let's just say that I never realized people as nice as Lysandra ever existed," answered Astara, giggling. "I should have realized that when she helped me rekindle my relationship with her man but now it's officially sunk in."

"She is something else, isn't she?" replied Praxis. "But what about Zenais? Are you getting along with her too?"

"Zenais is a little harder to approach," she admitted.

"Well, especially now. She's not in the best mindset. She'll recover though but it will take some time."

"Lysandra said I should do something crazy with Zenais," said Astara, looking embarrassed. "I'm almost afraid to admit what she told me to do out loud."

"I can only imagine what that would be coming from Lysandra. And I guarantee it was something sexual."

"Oh, yes," said a red Astara. "But the advice she gave him seems accurate with what I know of Zenais. So I just might have to try it."

"Care to tell me what it is? This ought to be interesting."

Astara shook her head. "Oh, no, no, no. Not that easily. You're just going to have to wait to see."

"You're really going to make me wait?"

"What fun would I be if I didn't?"

Praxis laughed at that. "I'm really glad you're back. Despite the circumstances we find ourselves in, it's really nice having you here with me again. Just like old times."

Astara leaned up to kiss him. "That's what I'm here for."

They stayed glued to each other for a few more minutes before Praxis finally got to his feet. Most of the army was in the process of doing the same thing, as the men stretched and started to nibble on their tiny reserves for breakfast. The rest of the group, which contained the wounded and members of Astara's family, were slower to stir but eventually rose a short while later too.

It was as Praxis was scouting the road ahead of them that Asterion came to find him. Up until this point, Asterion had just been one of his father's generals, and he was the one that Praxis liked the best. After the battle though, he'd become Praxis' only general, the sole survivor of the battle thanks to his position with the spear phalanx. That meant that Asterion's opinion tended to carry extra weight.

"I'd ask you what direction we should go," said Praxis, looking over at his general. "But I'd already know the answer. It seems we only have one direction available to us right now."

"Well, we certainly can't go west or south," replied Asterion. "Not unless you want to run back into the Spartan army."

"Not like this I don't," interrupted Praxis.

"North isn't an option for us either," continued Asterion. "Elis is weak and divided and the Achaeans would turn us over to the Spartans as soon as we arrived. As much as I hate to say it, our only option is east."

"We are going to run out of land soon if we keep going east," said Praxis.

"So where do we go then? Aetolia? Thessaly? The army can't continue to march forever, not with the little rations that we have. I'm afraid of what will happen if we march without direction for much longer."

"I'm still figuring that out," said Praxis. "What I wouldn't give to take this army to Argos and overthrow my stepbrother. He was there during the battle. Though I didn't see him, I saw Argives as part of that Spartan army. My guess is the city is probably lightly defended at a time like this."

"So why don't we take it then?" asked Asterion with a shrug. "Argos would make an excellent base of operations for us to carry on the war."

"I don't disagree with you. The problem is speed. I'd worry about taking over the city just to find the Spartans outside the walls within a day or two. It would be easy for the Spartans and the rest of their allies to gang up on one single city, like they did with Messene. We'd need another advantage to make that work. I just don't know what it is yet."

"We have to figure something out," said Asterion adamantly. "I don't want to say it aloud but the army is in jeopardy of disintegrating. I overheard one group talking last night about melting away when the food runs out. I wouldn't be surprised if others join them. We need hope right now more than anything. Hope, and a way forward."

Asterion was right, and Praxis had heard similar sentiments echoed as well. The fact of the matter was the army marched with them because of the tight bond they'd developed fighting in the phalanx but that bond would only carry so far. Once their stomachs stopped being filled with even meager bread, they would break off on their own until there was nothing left.

And the cause would really be lost at that point.

"We still have time," insisted Praxis. "We're not beaten yet."

"True," replied Asterion. "But time is running out."

Praxis couldn't deny that either. Something would have to change quickly or else their circumstances might never rise again.

It was as Praxis was talking with Asterion that they received their first good news in days. At first, there was some commotion from the warriors posted near the front of the army, many of whom were scouts who were looking for threats. They reported their findings to Agemon, who came rushing up to Praxis and Asterion.

"There's something happening on the road ahead of us," said an anxious Agemon. "The scouts are reporting many armed men blocking the path."

Asterion rose to his feet quickly. "Are they Spartans?"

"They don't appear to be," replied Agemon. "They are a ragged bunch more than anything. Spartans aren't that haggard."

"Have they made any hostile moves beyond blocking the road?" asked Praxis. "Or are these just bandits?"

"Bandits are my guess. They probably sit on the road and ambush unsuspecting travelers," said Agemon. "If that's the case, we can certainly give them a surprise."

"That we can," agreed Praxis. "Form up the phalanx and let's see if we can give them a scare."

Agemon and Asterion moved quickly to form ranks and soon enough they had at least half the army ready to move forward. Praxis moved toward the front with them and spied the small ridge where the bandits were. At this point, they didn't appear too large in number, perhaps fifty in total estimation. And no doubt they would be getting worried at how many men were now forming opposite of them.

"Let's advance slowly," said Praxis to the front ranks. "We'll keep our shields locked together as we move forward, while the rest of the army will watch our flanks just in case they try to move against our side. They won't find an easy target today."

As Asterion took the other side, both men gave the signal to advance. The phalanx moved down the road, inching ever closer to the bandits blocking the road. Praxis watched as several of the bandits moved toward them, no doubt scoping the position and deciding whether or not they really wanted to fight against this formation.

It wasn't until they were about thirty yards away that someone started to throw their hands up from the bandits' side.

What made it ironic was that it was a face that was known to Praxis.

"Praxis! Praxis of Argos, is that you?"

It was none other than Mikon of the King's Band. Praxis would remember his face anywhere, and he quickly gave the order to halt the formation.

"Mikon, what are you doing?" asked Praxis, taking a few tenuous steps forward. "Why are you blocking the road?"

Mikon grinned and shrugged. "We were hoping to find a few rich traders to rob today. But that looks more like an army than any caravan we've ever seen."

Praxis couldn't help but laugh. By this point, all resistance from the bandits ceased as Mikon closed the distance and extended his hand.

"It looks like you've found yourself an army," said Mikon, gesturing to the phalanx. "But they look to fight a little odd. Why are they so close together?"

"It's a long story," said Praxis. "There was a battle a few days ago."

"One against the Spartans?" asked Mikon. "We heard all about it. We also heard the Spartans won."

"They've won for now," said Praxis. "These are the only remnants of that army. Things aren't looking great though. We're low on food and don't have much of a destination in mind. If anyone could use some help right now, it's me."

It was at that point that their shared history shined through. Mikon only grinned at him.

"We have plenty of food," replied the bandit. "Lots of rich merchants have been traveling this road, many of them with too many supplies. We're not far from the hideout. Come this way and let us feed you."

It was music to Praxis' ears. The tense situation quickly evaporated and both groups came together as one to make for the Band's hideout location. Once they reached the plateau that was sheltered by the mountain, it was almost like old times again.

Soon, the entire army was being fed their first adequate meal in days. Even Praxis ate to his heart's content, while Mikon told him about everything that had happened since he left for Messenia.

"It seems like you've done well for yourselves," said Praxis, looking around. "And I'm grateful that you took my last command to heart about not robbing the innocent. In times like these, there are most likely lots of refugees traveling this road that don't need that extra hardship."

"We've seen plenty of them," replied Mikon. "All fleeing east as can be expected. These constant wars on behalf of the Spartans have provoked plenty of turmoil and movement."

"The Spartans will have to answer for what they did," said Praxis, with a momentary flair of pride. The moment didn't last very long, and reality caught up to him a short while later. "But how I will do that, I'm still not sure."

"You have a nice base for an army though," noted Mikon, looking around at the phalanx. "All you really need are numbers."

Praxis snorted. "Numbers are going to be hard to come by now. No one on the Peloponnese is going to rush to join us with the current state of affairs, not with the Spartans reigning supreme."

To Praxis' surprise, Mikon grinned at him. "Maybe what you really need is an old friend. Or old friends?"

Praxis raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

"You need help, don't you? You need food and men, both of which I can provide to you right now. You also need a group that can move quickly and lightly, protecting your army on your journey across Arcadia. The King's Band can do such a thing for you."

"You want to join us? Even with things as unfortunate as they are?"

Mikon chuckled. "What you've done for the Band was substantial. You rid this group of bad influences and even worse habits. The men still respect your name and your abilities. What kind of group would we be now to ignore you in your hour of need?"

Praxis was still stunned. Words had trouble forming. When he finally got them out, his voice was tense and anxious.

"I don't have much to offer you. And there will be lots of fighting in the future, maybe even death. You're still certain you want to join us? I'd love to have your help but you have to know what you're getting into."

That was when Mikon said something that left no further doubt in Praxis' mind.

"Wherever the king goes is wherever we go," said Mikon with a grin.

"But I'm not the king anymore. I gave that up."

Mikon nodded. "True. But I'm the king now. And if I'm going with you, they have no choice but to follow, do they?"

Praxis started to laugh. "You are most welcome to join us. Most welcome indeed."

"I do have one request though," added Mikon.

"What would that be?"

Mikon leaned in close. "Can you tell me just what in Hades that tight formation is all about?"

Chapter 119: Pursuit

Xanthos wasted very little time assembling his forces in pursuit of Praxis. It was a great help that many of the Argives in the army were already chafing at the chance to leave, fueled by their treatment at the hands of the Spartans (many of whom treated their allies no better than they did their conquered foes).

Nearly twenty-four hours after getting the order from Nikandros, Xanthos and his four hundred Spartans were formed up and ready to leave. Behind them were nearly three hundred Corinthians, who would also make the journey east in pursuit of Praxis.

Truthfully, Xanthos almost wished that wasn't the case. Corinthian fighters had a reputation for being subpar at best, and the new tyrant that took over the city after Nikandros chased out the old king was anything but decent.

This new tyrant was quite literally the most sycophantic and weak-minded creature that Xanthos had ever seen.

Krantor of Corinth was a man that never saw a battle he wanted to participate in. Not only was he weak in martial spirit but his mind was soft in all other areas as well, save for one.

He was an excellent yes-man to Nikandros. Xanthos had no doubt that if the Spartan king asked Krantor to assume the position and fondle his manhood that Krantor would only ask if he wanted it done with his hands or his mouth.

Xanthos suspected that it was the only reason Krantor was kept around--Nikandros knew he would never be disloyal.

True to the description, Xanthos couldn't help but blanch when he saw Krantor moving toward the front of the column. Pudgy would be one word to describe the Corinthian leader. Clumsy would be another. The man couldn't even walk straight without stumbling on his giant feet every two steps, removing all hope of confidence.

"Are we ready to pursue our prey, Xanthos?" asked Krantor once the distance was closed. "I would sure love to give your stepbrother a beating he won't soon forget!"

Xanthos forced himself not to roll his eyes. "I'm sure you'll get your chance. Your men are ready for action?"

Krantor nodded his head too eagerly. "Ready? We are beyond ready to destroy the enemies of the Peloponnesian League. Soon enough, I'll have so much blood on my sword that you won't even see the blade. Possibly even your stepbrother's too, if he has the bad luck of facing me on the battlefield."

That time, Xanthos couldn't control himself. A snicker erupted from his mouth briefly, but Krantor didn't seem to notice. "You are so eager to fight that you would seek out Praxis and kill him yourself? You are bloodthirsty, Krantor. I'm glad you're fighting on our side."

Krantor didn't seem to detect the sarcasm. "Well, such is the fate of everyone who fights against the Spartan king, or anyone who fights against peace. I only hope I get to be the one that strikes the final blow!"

"You'll have to stay close to me then," replied Xanthos, egging him on. "I know where Praxis usually stands on the battlefield, and I would be able to spot him from a distance away. If you stick by me, I'll make sure you get your chance to kill him like you boast."

The first chink in his armor showed at that point. Krantor stuttered. "W-well now, I wouldn't d-deprive my men the chance to do it either."

"No, no, you're right, Krantor," interrupted Xanthos. "It should be you that wields the final blow against my dastardly stepbrother. Who am I to deny that right to someone so hungry for victory?"

Krantor started to pale. He took two steps backward. "Right, we s-shall see when we catch up to him. I only hope that I don't start falling ill. I feel like something is starting to develop in my system, and I'd hate to miss the battle."