The council's resentment had not faded. Word of Leonidas's reforged Cohorts spread too quickly for them to bury. Whispers of "the Polemarch with reborn soldiers" ran through Sparta's markets and barracks alike. To contain it, the elders arranged what they called a trial of unity: war games in the valley fields beneath Lakonia.
In truth, it was a test designed to humiliate Leonidas.
Three Cohorts of Sparta's standing army would face his Iron Cohort, the Lakonian recruits, and the two newly reforged Cohorts. The elders believed Leonidas's soldiers were too green, too mismatched, too strange a blend of young and newly reborn to withstand the disciplined lines of Sparta's traditional forces.
The overseer who had tried to cast him down leaned forward from the dais. "Let the Polemarch prove his worth. If his men cannot hold the line against Sparta's best, then his promotions and his fire are wasted gifts."
---
The valley floor thrummed with anticipation. On one side, Leonidas's wall stood in uneven order: bright-eyed recruits beside scarred veterans now reborn, the Iron Cohort anchoring the center. On the other, the pristine lines of Sparta's standing Cohorts gleamed, armor polished, spears leveled, their cohesion a mirror of tradition.
Leonidas studied his overlay.
[Iron Cohort – Cohesion: 98% | Loyalty: 99%]
[Lakonian Recruits – Cohesion: 84% | Loyalty: 88%]
[Reforged Cohorts – Cohesion: 93% | Loyalty: 87% | Tactical Acumen: Exceptional]
Against them: [Council Cohorts – Cohesion: 96% | Loyalty: 70%]. Strong, but bound by obedience, not belief.
Doros shifted beside him, licking his lips. "They think we're a joke. Let's show them iron doesn't laugh."
Kyros twirled his spear with his usual grin. "First man to break their line buys the wine."
Theron simply said, "They'll underestimate the old wolves. That will be their mistake."
---
The horn sounded.
The council's Cohorts advanced in perfect step, shields locking, spears like a forest of teeth. Dust rose beneath their march. The overseer watched with smug satisfaction.
Leonidas raised his hand. "Hold." His wall did not move, waiting, every shield set, every eye on him. He dropped his hand. "Step."
The Iron Cohort surged forward first, Doros at their head, their cohesion unshakable. The recruits followed, shield-to-shield, guided by veterans now reborn. The reforged Cohorts moved last—and their precision stunned even Leonidas.
Their lines were clean, tighter than he had dreamed possible. The years of experience that had once been trapped in broken bodies now sang through whole limbs. They shifted as if the earth itself moved with them, catching the council's strike on angled shields, twisting, thrusting, answering not as individuals but as one entity.
The clash was thunder. Shields slammed, spears cracked, men grunted under the weight of force.
---
At first, the council's Cohorts pressed hard, driving Leonidas's recruits back. But the veterans barked commands, pulling them into rhythm. One old captain, face lined and voice like gravel, shouted, "Breathe together!" and suddenly the recruits held, their shields locking tighter.
On the flank, Kyros darted with his file, finding cracks in the council's formation. On the other, Theron used shadows of dust to veil a maneuver, pulling the reforged Cohorts into a pivot that struck the council's Cohorts from the side.
The overseer leaned forward, his smile faltering.
Leonidas saw the moment. "Press!" he roared. The wall shifted forward, inexorable. The council's men, disciplined but bound only by duty, wavered under the weight of soldiers who believed not in orders but in one another.
The clash ended when the overseer raised his hand, unwilling to see more of his men thrown down. Dust and silence filled the field.
---
The dais was quiet until Damaris spoke. "The wall holds." His voice carried across the valley. "And it does not just hold—it grows. These Cohorts fight as one. They are not Sparta's shame. They are Sparta's iron."
The crowd roared, soldiers cheering for Leonidas's name more loudly than the council's. The overseer's face twisted, but he could not undo what had been seen.
The overlay pulsed: [Faction Reputation: Rising. Popular Support: Strong.] [Reforged Cohorts – Loyalty: 87% → 92%.]
Leonidas looked at his men, battered but unbroken, and knew the truth. The council's trap had given him more than soldiers. It had given him a legend.