The Argive Ch 126 130

Chapter 126: Foreigner No More

The next morning, it only took about an hour of marching before Praxis and his small army arrived near the western gate of the city of Argos.

For Praxis, it was a bittersweet homecoming. While it was incredible to see the city in front of him,

his

city, it was still held by the enemy. Argive warriors manned the gates, bolstered by a Spartan garrison that gave them a tactical advantage.

And yet, it was so close. Here it was, directly in front of him and well within his grasp. Everything now hinged on making Argos the center of operations, his base to continue the fight against Nikandros.

They just couldn't fail today. Not after coming this far.

With the army drawing up in front of the gates, Praxis, Asterion, and Mikon scouted the city's defenses as well as their plan of attack.

"Well, in terms of numbers, it's the smallest force we'll be going against," said Asterion, kicking off the war council. "But it's also the first time the spear phalanx will be on the offensive. And with it being against a fortified position, that makes me a little nervous."

"The city's defenses are considerable," said Praxis. "But not invincible. The Spartans took it easily enough months ago, and there's no reason we can't do the same. The biggest question for me today is what will happen when we attack."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Mikon.

Praxis gestured toward the city. "There are Argives

and

Spartans defending that gate. I expect the Spartans to fight but will the Argives? I think their entire defense predicates on cooperation. If the Argives won't fight, will the Spartans?"

"Do you think it would come to that?" asked Asterion. "Do you think the Argives wouldn't fight us?"

Praxis shrugged. "I don't know. They know me, which helps the situation, but this is still a Messenian force for the most part. They might see us as a foreign force."

"Kind of like how they still see you as a foreigner?" asked Asterion.

Asterion had a good point. The people in Praxis' home city still thought of him as the foreigner, the one that was different from them. If they couldn't fully accept him after living there his entire life, what made him think they might not fight him during his homecoming?

In the end, they had to be prepared for all eventualities. Even if that meant that Argives had to die today.

"We can only do the best we can," said Praxis finally. "One way or another, we know there aren't that many Spartans in the city, with a good percentage being pulled to support the fight against Messene. The Argives will be an unknown quality too. If we strike decisively and quickly, we might just find ourselves the masters of the city sooner than we might expect."

"No time like the present then," said Mikon. "My men will support the phalanx as best we can. Lightly-armed warriors will be useful in the city to guard the army's flanks."

"The army's confidence is high too, especially after the last two battles," said Asterion. "If there is any force that can get the job done, it's this one."

"That's all I needed to hear," said Praxis, grinning. "Let's get ready to make our assault."

Within half an hour, the army was moving forward against the western city gate. They were locked together in tight formation, with each man's shield protecting the man to his left. Praxis had the normal size of the rank lessened so they could make it through the gate, which had the effect of just creating more ranks at the end of the formation. In doing so, he would be able to rely on the force of the entire army to "push" against the defenders.

As the army moved closer, the Spartans and Argives at the gate moved to counter them. They set up in a loose formation, giving each man room to fight in the more traditional style, however, once they were closer, Praxis could see a look of uncertainty in the eyes of many in the defending army.

Especially as they saw him at the head of his own forces.

The Argives in the defense started to chatter amongst themselves. They pointed at Praxis, and he could even see them mouth the word foreigner. As shocked as they were to see him, it didn't change anything just yet. They kept their positions as Praxis gave the order for his army to halt when they were only yards away.

What followed next was always the most anxious part of any battle--the time before the fighting when both armies could look into the faces of the men opposite them. They could size up their enemies and put a human face to the carnage that was about to happen. For many men, it was the worst part of the battle, worse than the threat of dying.

It was at this impasse that Praxis had an idea. He was already near the front so he moved from his position into the ground between the two forces. He was close enough to the defenders that any slinger might be able to take him out, but something was driving him forward. Something also forced him to start speaking to the defenders.

"My name is Praxis of Argos," he said with a booming voice. "Many of you here know me already. Several of you have trained under me when I still led the army to this city, the same army that was betrayed by my stepbrother when he let the Spartans enter the city uncontested."

There was some jostling in their ranks but Praxis could tell he had their complete attention, even that of the Spartans posted with them.

"Argos has been done wrongly by the Spartans in recent months," continued Praxis. "They've disbanded our army, leaving only a skeletal force. They've forced Argos onto her knees, becoming no more than a servant to the vicious Spartan king. They've gone on campaigns of carnage throughout the Peloponnese, subjugating one city after another in their thirst for blood. Today, I say no more. Today, I say that the Spartans have come far enough."

"That's why I'm here now, to take back

my

city," said Praxis, beating his chest. "My stepbrother, King Xanthos, is dead, killed by my own hand. With his death comes the death of Argive servitude to Spartan masters. To the Argives of the city, I have no quarrel with you. I want you to join me in making a better Argos, a freer Argos. I want you to join me in throwing out these Spartan dogs so we can retake our rightful position as the leading city on the Peloponnese!"

Now there was some serious contention within the defending ranks. The Spartans could be seen yelling at the Argives, reminding them of their obligations to King Nikandros. In a way, it was only reinforcing the words that Praxis had just given them, and it was only making their position worse.

"Join with me now, my brothers," yelled Praxis. "And let's put an end to Spartan hegemony once and for all!"

Just behind him, his army gave a mighty cheer, bashing their spears against their shields in support, but to Praxis' utter amazement, the Argives opposite of them cheered too, which caused the Spartans to break ranks in an attempt to discipline them.

It didn't work. Several of the Argives fought back, using their swords against any Spartan reprisals. A few Spartans fell, but so too did some Argives. The vast majority melted away though, coming to Praxis' side with looks of gritty determination.

When it was all over, the defenders had been greatly weakened. They could tell too, as their confidence quickly evaporated in the face of the odds in front of them. With an enemy force in front of them and a potentially hostile city to their rear, the Spartans did the only thing they could do in that situation.

They retreated.

It was a marvelous sight. Praxis had never seen the Spartans retreat in such disarray before. It was ironic in a way, because their disastrous rout mimicked the one that he faced in Argos so many months before.

With their force broken, there was nothing stopping Praxis from giving the order to advance. The Messenian force moved through the gate, their flanks guarded by Mikon's men as well as the Argives who'd come over to their cause already.

They found a city brimming with curiosity. As they moved down the main thoroughfare of the city, the Argives came out in droves to watch the procession. Many of them spotted Praxis immediately, leading to lively commentary as they passed.

"Is that the foreigner I see?"

"No, it can't be. I thought Xanthos had him killed!"

"I think it was the opposite. Xanthos is dead!"

"The foreigner is back? Praise the gods!"

By the time the army reached the base of the Aspida hill, crowds were starting to gather. The unity of the phalanx was starting to falter as the Argive citizens celebrated the soldiers coming to their rescue, hugging them and offering them bits of food. Ordinarily, Praxis might have told them to maintain their discipline but he found that the Spartan barracks near the palace was deserted, with those warriors no doubt joining their friends in the retreat from the city.

With the city secure, there was only one thing left to do.

As the army celebrated with the Argives, Praxis ascended to the palace alone. The last time he'd been here, Xanthos had just murdered Damian, and the Spartans were taking over what was left of the city. Today though, the palace looked oddly pensive, like it was still waiting to pass judgment on him as he entered through the main entrance.

He found that it hadn't changed much in the time that it belonged to Xanthos. Many of the rooms and hallways still looked the same. Even his own bedroom, which Praxis thought might not exist at this point in time, was kept the same.

At one time, it belonged to a wayward boy without much promise for the future.

Today, it belonged to the conquering foreigner, the man out to redeem Argos.

"Praxis?"

Praxis turned suddenly to find Lysandra standing near the door. Her eyes took in the sight of the room and its surroundings before landing on him. "Are you okay?"

Praxis smiled at her. "Couldn't be better. I can't tell you what it feels to be home again."

She smiled with him. "I know the feeling. I can't wait to see my old house again. Although, I doubt I'll be living in it now that I'm back."

"I doubt that too," said Praxis, letting out a laugh. "You're living here with me in the palace. I don't ever want you out of my sight."

Lysandra giggled and wrapped her arms around him. For several moments, neither of them said a word, content to hold each other and celebrate this major victory of being back. The silence wasn't broken until something could be heard echoing up from the city's center. There was some kind of shouting coming up, but the longer it went on, the more it began to sound like a chant.

Lysandra realized what it was first and her eyes went wide with glee. She went to the balcony and threw open the door, letting the sound come in as clear as day.

"They accept you, Praxis," she said, her eyes glistening with tears. "Argos is yours."

Praxis walked toward the balcony until he could make out what was being said. Over and over again, the people of Argos were chanting two words.

"King Praxis, King Praxis, King Praxis!"

Chapter 127: King Praxis of Argos

The excitement of taking over Argos lasted for the rest of the day and even for a good portion of the next. Praxis had never seen the city in such spirits, not even for the many feasts and festivals that were celebrated throughout the year. Even though the Spartan occupation had lasted for months instead of years, the city still bore the scars of their vicious treatment.

"There were at least a hundred dead men in the Spartan barracks," noted Asterion the following morning after the city's fall. "I have no doubt they were Argives instead of Spartans. We have people coming forward throughout the city looking for husbands, fathers, and brothers. They all had the same crime--they dared to criticize the Spartan occupation."

Praxis tightened his hand into a fist. "And so they were killed. The Spartans will pay for this barbarity. If it's the last thing I do, I will destroy Nikandros and his army for what they've done."

Similar stories erupted from the city, but that one happened to be the most severe. There wasn't a man, woman, or child in Argos who hadn't had some kind of negative run-in with the Spartans.

Even with his faults, Damian had been right after all--the city would never have tolerated the Spartan garrison. And they all had to pay a deadly price to maintain it.

With the city now in his control, much had to be done. They were fortunate to not lose a single man in taking the city, but the army was still dreadfully small in comparison to their enemy, and if they had any hope of taking on the Spartans, they would need to add to their ranks. As his first act as king, Praxis put the word out. Any man who previously served in the Argive army was asked to assemble on the old training grounds the next morning. A general amnesty was also given as well, excusing any man who had fought for Xanthos or the Spartans as long as they were willing to recognize Praxis as king and fight for him.

At one time, the city could boast of having nearly two thousand warriors at her beck and call. If Praxis could capture a good majority of those former numbers and train them in the ways of the spear phalanx, they would have a shot against Nikandros.

Even still, it was just a shot. Much was riding on training the men to fight in the spear phalanx, and doing so before Nikandros could move north against him. It was for that reason that Praxis' first full day as the king of the city was fraught with anxiety.

There was still too much that could go wrong.

As he sat on the throne that had once belonged to Xanthos, Damian, and even his father, Praxis found that his inner anxiety didn't show on his exterior. This was evident when his women came to visit.

"You look really good sitting there," said Astara, grinning at him. "You look like you were born to sit in that chair."

"Doesn't he though?" added Zenais, moving to sit on his lap. "I have to be honest--it's really getting me going seeing you sit here."

Praxis couldn't help but chuckle. "Didn't you get enough this morning? We just had sex a couple hours ago."

Zenais pouted. "But that was then and this is now."

"She's been insatiable lately," said Astara with a laugh. "I don't know where she gets the energy."

"There's just something about war that does it for me," said Zenais. "Yesterday, we might have died taking the city but that didn't happen. The opposite did. It makes me want to celebrate that we're still alive and in good health."

For the first time, Lysandra spoke up. "More than just in good health. So much has changed. Who could have expected all of this?"

Lysandra spoke for Praxis as well, and it was noticeable that her reaction was more muted than that of Astara or Zenais. She was also the only one that seemed to notice that something was bothering him, not bringing it up until after the other women had left.

"What's troubling you?" she asked. "I can tell something is on your mind. Is it the war, Praxis? Or something more?"

That was the thing about Lysandra. There was never a chance that he could keep anything from her. It was like she could read his mind, and she always knew how to cut to the heart of what was wrong.

"It's all of it," said Praxis, putting his hand against his brow. "It's being back again. Being home in Argos."

"That's a bad thing? I thought you would be happy to be home."

"I am home," replied Praxis. "But it's what comes with it. The responsibility and the power of being king. It's the burden of having to set things right. There's been so much death and so much wrong done to Argos. So many people that will never come home to their families. And they all look to me now to punish the Spartans for it."

Lysandra made her way to his side. She grabbed his hand and entwined her fingers with his. "Is that what's bothering you? Do you think we can't defeat them?"

"I think we can," said Praxis after a moment's thought. "But it won't be easy. And it requires time. If the Spartans marched north right now, we would never win. The secret to success lies with the spear phalanx and retraining the old Argive army in its ways. We will also need support. There is no way that we can stand against them on our own."

"You're talking about Corinth," said Lysandra. "Have you heard from Agemon?"

"A runner came this morning," answered Praxis. "He's made contact with Cypselus and they are approaching the city. It's still too early to tell what's going to happen but I doubt they'll have as much luck as we did with the Spartans abandoning the city. We will need Corinth to reconstitute her army and join forces with us. It's the only way we can win this fight."

Lysandra put her free hand on his shoulder, using her palm to gently massage the muscle. "We will find a way to win, Praxis. I know the odds seem against us but they were against us yesterday too. And look what happened. We have our home back and it's all thanks to you."

Praxis shrugged. "My role in what happened yesterday was relatively tiny in comparison. The honor belongs with the army."

She shook her head firmly. "If you truly believe that, then you're a fool, Praxis. Yesterday's result had everything to do with you. Why are you having this crisis of confidence now? Especially after such a notable victory?"

Like usual, Lysandra cut right to the heart of the matter. It was a confidence crisis and it was coming at the worst possible time. Here he was, almost no different than his father in that he had the throne and doubted his ability to keep it. What was it about Argos that produced such feelings in his bloodline?

And would he succumb to the same fate?

If it were left in Lysandra's hands, the answer would be a firm no. She wasted no time in straddling his hips and putting her arms on his shoulders, forcing him to look into her face. What a beautiful face it was too, with her sparkling eyes, kissable lips, and hint of freckling around her nose.

"You're not him, Praxis," she whispered. "You're not your father."

"Then why do I feel like him right now? I never could have imagined what kind of forces would be strong enough for a man to abandon his responsibilities and his family until I sat on this throne. And now I know. I know why he fled. I feel that responsibility on my shoulders even now. I feel the weight of expectation. I stepped into my mother's old quarters this morning. It was like she never left. Like she was still in there, waiting to see what I was going to do. I feel it in every room of this palace--the weight of memory."

"But you have one advantage that your father didn't have," argued Lysandra. "You have the advantage of foreknowledge. You saw what it did to him, how it broke him. You saw the man he became and what happened to the family he left behind. I know you won't make the same choices as he did. I know you won't, Praxis. I believe in you, and I believe in our cause. You will be the one to lead us to victory over the Spartans. You will be the one to set right what so many others set wrong. I know you will do it, just like I know in my heart that you are the man I was destined to be with."

Lysandra surprised him by kissing him a healthy amount of heat. In the process, she ground her hips against his, forcing his body to awaken. When she pulled away, her eyes were brimming with confidence.

"You have nothing to be afraid of, no reason to not have confidence," she said. "I know you will succeed. You've never let me down, ever. And if I have to, I will make sure you get your confidence back."

Praxis shook his head. "How will you do that?"

Lysandra grinned at him wickedly. "By showing you what you do to me. By showing you that you are more of a man than anyone I've ever met."

With those words, Lysandra raised her arms and whipped her dress over her head, leaving her stark naked. Praxis' eyes widened as he took in her full tits and tight stomach. It was a view he never tired of, no matter how many times he'd seen her nude. Lysandra's body was as perfect as her personality was, and he hardened quickly at the thought of plunging inside her depths.