Chapter 17: The Spear's Edge
The raw materials piled in the palace courtyard – the rough-hewn stone and the bundles of timber – were a tangible sign of progress. But Lykos knew that building walls and gathering food were only part of the equation. A city, no matter how well-fed or fortified, was only as strong as its defenders. The boar attack had been a brutal lesson in the vulnerability of an untrained force, and the looming threat of more raiders, or worse, demanded a sharper edge.
His three Greek Militia were loyal and disciplined, but their combat experience was limited to the single, chaotic skirmish at the gate. Myron and Kydon, while brave, were still just citizens with spears, not trained soldiers. It was time to change that.
Lykos gathered his Militia and his two native guards in the relatively open space of the palace courtyard, cleared of debris by the tireless Laborers. The sun was high, casting long shadows.
"Listen closely," Lykos began, addressing the five men. "We have survived by luck and desperation so far. That ends today. We will not merely survive; we will become strong enough to deter any who dare approach our city. You are the spear of this city, and today, we will sharpen that spear."
He looked at the three summoned Militia. "You are trained, I know. But we will refine those skills. And Myron, Kydon," he turned to the two native guards, "you have fought bravely, but bravery alone is not enough. You will train with them. You will learn their discipline, their techniques."
Myron and Kydon exchanged glances, a mix of apprehension and determination on their faces. They had seen the efficiency of the summoned units firsthand.
Lykos, despite his own lack of combat experience, had spent countless hours in strategy games, observing unit movements, combat animations, and tactical formations. He knew the theory, even if his body was still that of the weak Prince Lykos.
"First, formation!" Lykos instructed, drawing lines in the dust with a stick. "A tight phalanx, even a small one, is a wall of spears. You move as one. No gaps. No individual charges." He demonstrated the basic shield wall, how to lock shields and present a united front. The Militia, with their inherent understanding of such tactics, quickly adopted the stance.
Myron and Kydon struggled initially, their movements clumsy, but they watched the summoned soldiers intently, mimicking their posture.
"Spear drills!" Lykos continued. "Thrust, parry, withdraw. Repetition. Precision. Every movement must be economical, effective." He watched as the Militia performed the drills with practiced ease, their spears moving in fluid, deadly arcs. Myron and Kydon, their muscles aching, tried to keep up, their movements stiff and uncoordinated.
"Homerus," Lykos called to the bard, who had positioned himself slightly apart, his lyre resting in his lap. "Your Ballad of Restoration will be crucial. Keep them energized. And your Inspiration will fuel their determination."
Homerus nodded, and a soft, rhythmic melody began to fill the courtyard. It was a subtle tune, not overtly powerful, but it seemed to flow into the men, easing their fatigue and subtly sharpening their focus. Lykos could see the difference in Myron and Kydon; their initial frustration began to wane, replaced by a renewed drive.
Lykos moved among them, correcting stances, emphasizing the importance of footwork, and explaining the purpose behind each drill. He pushed them hard, demanding perfection. He knew that in a real fight, a single mistake could cost lives.
"Again!" he shouted, as Myron stumbled during a parry. "Focus! Your life, and the lives of your comrades, depend on this!"
He also introduced basic hand-to-hand combat drills, emphasizing grappling and disarming techniques, knowing that not every fight would be a neat spear-line engagement. The Militia demonstrated surprisingly effective close-quarters skills, their movements swift and brutal.
Myron and Kydon, initially hesitant, slowly began to shed their civilian inhibitions, their blows gaining more force, their blocks more decisive.
As the sun reached its zenith, the courtyard was filled with the grunts of exertion, the rhythmic thud of practice spears against shields, and the steady, encouraging hum of Homerus's lyre. Sweat poured from the men, soaking their tunics, but their movements were becoming smoother, more coordinated.
Lykos, observing their progress, felt a surge of pride. This wasn't just about physical training; it was about instilling confidence, discipline, and a sense of shared purpose. He saw the transformation in Myron and Kydon especially – their eyes, once wide with fear, now held a glint of steel. They were no longer just desperate citizens; they were becoming soldiers.
He also realized something critical. While the summoned Militia were inherently skilled, their "Memory Sealed" status meant they wouldn't spontaneously learn or adapt beyond their programmed parameters. They were excellent at executing commands, but they wouldn't innovate. Myron and Kydon, however, with their human capacity for learning and improvisation, were absorbing the training and making it their own.
They were the ones who would truly grow and evolve as fighters. This meant that while summoned units provided a reliable baseline, the true strength of his military would come from the development of his native recruits.
By late afternoon, Lykos called an end to the training. The men collapsed, panting, but there was a new energy about them, a quiet confidence.
"You have done well today," Lykos told them, his voice tired but sincere. "This is just the beginning. We will train every day. We will become stronger. We will become a force that no enemy will dare to challenge."
He looked at the three Militia, then at Myron and Kydon. They were a small unit, but they were his unit, forged in the crucible of necessity. They were the guardians of the Forgotten Flame.
As the men dispersed for water and rest, Lykos reviewed his System Status. No new System Points from training, as expected. But the intangible gains were immense. He had invested in the quality of his existing forces, making them more effective. He still had 15 System Points, a small buffer.
The "Recruit a Hero of Renown" mission still loomed, a distant but powerful beacon. Lykos understood now that every step he took – from gathering olives to quarrying stone to training his soldiers – was a piece of the larger puzzle. It was all about building a foundation, growing his power, and preparing for the day he could truly summon a legend, and unlock the tantalizing System Lottery.
The game was getting tougher, but Lykos was getting smarter, and his small, desperate kingdom was slowly, surely, rising from the ashes.