-3000BC-

"Tell me more, Caecilio."

"Of course sir, let's see... Ah yes; the latest report from the scouting party indeed indicates that there is indeed another civilization forming to our west. With some limited contact with the farmers working on the outskirts of a small town, we have noted that they speak a completely different language to us, and have no contact with foreigners - much like the Greeks in that respect - as we were simply met with odd glances. Any questions, sir?"

"Did you catch what they call themselves?"

"We believe that they call themselves the Deutsche."

"Marvellous! I believe that I should go and visit them along with an entourage, if that is wise by your judgement."

Caecilio refrained from rolling his eyes - if he didn't provide the entourage, Alexander would go anyway.

"Of course, you'll go on our finest horses, sir."

"You mean our only horses, right?"

"Yes, sir, whatever."

Alexander grinned. His 'Advisor Counsel' was more of a clique than a special advisory body to the head of state, as it was meant to be.

&&RUSE&&

With this new outbreak in transport, the travel time from Athens to their location was reduced to a matter of weeks, with a camp being set up at every stop. Occasionally, the party would stumble across a village, where they would usually spend the night, if they had some sort of inn.

Alexander's company was composed of his guard and a few friends, what with his social character, however, he made new ones at every stop he made.

After long last, they finally reached the town of the Deutsche people. Right now, however, it looked like there was a huge construction project going on. The company ignored it and marched into the town, where they were met with many frightful and confused looks until they met a street full of men armed to the... well, armed with clubs. One soldier, at the helm of this rather pathetic blockade - in the face of the hoplites' spears, at least - ran forward.

"Was-" he gulped at the intimidating look he received, "Was machen Sie denn hier?"

The soldier at his front said, "Take us to your leader."

"Was?"

Alexander cut in, "Your leader," he pointed at the soldier, then himself, "Take us to your leader." He indicated the group around him.

The soldier looked nonplussed, but then it dawned on him. The soldier nodded his head furiously, and turned back to the contingent of club wielding men behind him.

"Folgen Sie mir." He said, pointing ahead of him.

After a very short walk through the streets of the town, they reached a well-sized building with an elaborate flag displaying at its helm. Alexander raised his eyebrows at the decor.

They walked in, and the soldier led him to a door, leaving the others outside. The soldier went inside, exchanged a few words with the inhabitant and returned back out in the space of a few minutes. Alexander was stood, waiting in a rather modest hallway during this.

He noticed the rather beautiful woodwork and designs in the hallway, which was something you just wouldn't find in Athens, the city of cascading, beautiful marble; decorated with Greek silk; furnished with Greek stone and sprinkled with the finest festivals. There wasn't a city quite like it.

This town, though, had its own distinct feel. The hatchery of the rooftops and wooden houses brought out a cosy feel which wasn't found back in Athens. There were fire lamps in the corner of the streets, finely carved streets, and, by the looks of it, metal. It was smaller than Athens, but he was sure that it could be just as grand if it took the time to be.

He looked up when he heard a cough from the door. The soldier was standing there, and he gestured in somewhat impatiently.

Alexander walked in silently, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the soldier on his way in.

"Please. come in."

Alexander turned his head very quickly, remembering to hide his shocked look moments before the turn had finished.

"Of course," he stepped in gracefully.

"Let us begin, my friend. I trust you are the leader of another civilization?"

"Yes. I am Alexander, the son of the Gods. I trust you are a friend to Athens and the Greek people?" he said, outstretching his hand.

"Bismarck, commander. I trust you are the same to Berlin and the Germans?" Bismarck said, stretching out his hand, also.

Alexander gave a calculated, slow nod of affirmation. Bismarck returned a smile of approval; they clasped the others hand and shook firmly. This was the beginning of the first alliance the world had seen.

-2800BC-

They had circled the camp for many minutes now. Despite the very best reports they could obtain from the scouts, all they could see was that there were over three hundred hostile men living in this camp. They needed to take it out, and it had taken many, many years for the establishment at home to give the green light. They were sending their own sons to a battle - no one could ignore that. They had waited for research to take place, new spears to be developed, a new unit to be formed - the Archer unit, consisting of only about fifty men. The army alone made up about 20% of the men in the city of Athens now. Some of the men were even borne of Germans, as migrants had flocked a few years back during a time of instability for the German state. Alexander had responded to this by sending some volunteers back, strengthening the close relationship between the countries.

Back to the here and present, the commander was about to yell the command. He could feel it. For such an overwhelming moment, the soldier thought, it certainly didn't feel like one.

"CHARGE!"

Or maybe it did, he thought, giving out a primal scream along with the rest of the frontline. The challengers had come out to face them, and he grinned with blood lust. He wasn't going to go down today.

It seemed that barely a moment had passed - he jammed his spear into the assailant's arm. Ignoring the scream, he elbowed the man in the face. They had what they were coming for, he sneered, after kidnapping and killing tens of Greek workers.

He didn't pause to dream in the slight melodrama, though. A quick swing of his shield blocked the club set o cleave his head open. Another jab of his spear in the direction of the club had him slam his armoured boot in his attacker's stomach. This was almost too easy.

What the Greeks had on skill against these barbarians, they had on them sheer cannon fodder. A steady stream of club-wielding, roaring men and women emerged from the camp, congregating at the palisade 'wall' of the camp. A break had been made through this palisade, and the Greeks went rushing in - this was their biggest misstake.

The Barbarians had no commander as such, but they were built for this. Behind the palisade, the Greeks were away from archer support, and within the Barbarian's grasp. Even the Phalanx formation could have saved them, with its deadly wall of spears, but such was the bad luck here that the Greeks were in fact surrounded. The instant charges of the Barbarians made returning outside nigh impossible. The final nail in the coffin was bashed in in a matter of moments.

The soldier himself could not get in due to flurry of people inside. He was lucky. A second later, a loud, guttural scream rang out from behind him - the commander was being attacked! He ran to the commander's aid - a quick flurry of a spear and bash of the shield straight in the bastard's face was enough, he reckoned, vindictively. Upon laying his eyes on the commander, though, his eyes became wide. The commander... had died?

Shaking himself out of the reverie, he ran back to the mess of Greeks, where he was undisturbed and unaware of what exactly was happening halfway in the camp. Coughing slightly to prepare for the next action, he leaned back and roared, at the top of his very lungs -

"COMMANDER HAS FALLEN! RUN AWAY! COMMANDER HAS FALLEN! RUN AWAY! CONTINGENCY PLAN WILL BE EXECUTED!"

A loud commotion sprung up inside, but he was running already. He had to get to the archers as quickly as he could.

In the camp, the remaining Greeks, maybe twenty or so our of over a hundred originally, had been disarmed and surrounded. A small, predatory circle of grinning lunatics had formed around them; they were helpless. They all prayed to the Gods, Alexander, the lot. The more ardent of them had closed their eyes, awaiting a place in Mount Olympus. The others... they had simply closed their eyes.

Then, at the helm of the circle, the Barbarian made a hand motion. A motion of cutting the neck. At first, there was a little confusion among the less intelligent in the group. Then, the circle closed in, slowly decreasing the space between the Greeks and themselves. Their repugnant smell set itself in the Greeks' noses as they grew ever closer. At last, after a long suspense, the supposed leader growled out, in rough, wolfish Greek,

"No mercy."

The first club swung, and a shout of pain accompanied the sickening crack of stone against bone.

"No peace."

Another swing, another scream. Some laughter resounded in the background.

"NO DEFEAT!"

The circle was suddenly a flurry of primal screams, as cracks and screams rang all about. Laughter soon joined in from the Barbarian ranks, as the massacre finished off. It was the first stepping stone that would transform Greece.

Meanwhile, the soldier had stopped, at the top of the hill, and had watched the massacre from afar. He was sickened by the sight, and shock itself would really only set in later. Right now, he turned back and ran to the archers, just a few metres behind him. He said only three words to the archer commander, in a broken, guttural voice.

"Burn it down."

I loved writing this chapter! I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it - but if you didn't, tell me why!

Oh, if you ever write a battle scene, I recommend having Two Steps From Hell - Heart of Courage on in the background. It motivates you so damn well! Recommended for beasting your way through homework, also xD

R&R, please :)