This would be the final push. The men could feel it in the air, bearing down on Arbela like the simmering heat that still permeated the air even as the sun began to set. Calls of action and hurried marching filled the air as men realigned their formations, every jogging man moving like the parts of a slowly ticking clock. Below them, the monster of an army began to stir like some great seabeast cruising beneath the waves; its massive dark shape swiveling toward Arbela, inexorably approaching to swallow the township up and end every life within its broken walls. Unfortunately for the khareeds, they had Brasidas to contend with.

"Loxos," Brasidas said, biting into one of the last apples in Arbela. The juices reminded him of just how thirsty they might all have been had there not been the river just south of their position. Sayf strung his strange bow beside the two, testing the string with one bulging eye. His Proto Lochias approached mechanically, having been summoned to discuss the plan of battle just before it started. Now that things were in motion, it was time to move.  

"Yes Archontas?" He asked, saluting in the Imperial fashion. In one hand he bore a spear, and the Protostate almond-shaped shield was in the other, the construction of wood, leather, and iron on the central boss made it surprisingly resilient to damage even by Khareed Mamluks. Just as Brasidas, he wore the normal armor of an infantryman, save for some decoration on the helmet. No one, not even the commanders deserved more protections than their men. Sent the wrong message on priorities. 

"The Kahreeds are mad at us, don't you think?" He asked conversationally. 

"Yes, they are." 

Brasidas bit into his apple again, nodding. "I think they miss their comrades. Why don't we give them back to these poor men? ... Let them go, and lead the left wing." 

"Archontas!" He saluted, and hurried away. Brasidas respected the man's professionalism, him and Argyros. Sometimes he wished the two turned off on campaign at least for a moment, but he would rather the man be perpetually professional than not. Sayf was a bit too nonchalant, but as long as he did what he was told, Brasidas didn't reprimand him for it. Speaking of the nomad, he gave the Protos Kapetanos a satisfied smile. "Well Khalkós, am I to go join the others and fight on foot? I am not entirely sure my men's role here, and you have been silent as always. Do you think it is a showing of manhood to not speak?" 

"You and your men support Loxos to the north, and when he gives the order, charge in and take care of your brethren. Let's see if we paid the right Scythians for our service, yeah?" 

"You have a strange strategy Brasidas Khalkós, but who am I to judge? Pay me and my men and we will cut the throats of whoever you wish." He said, and the bow-legged man stalked off to find his horse, weaving through the streets as men charged to and fro, some carrying bags filled with their opening act, ushering them to the front. Brasidas donned his helm, and took his axe. The haft was wood over bronze, giving it extra weight in the swing of its bearded, iron head. The Kahreeds no doubt expected him to head the Cataphracts, and he called twenty of his best men to follow him to the front to watch the festivities commence. 

"Apele theroste tous kratoumenous!" A man cried, and dozens upon dozens of Protostates stepped through the interlocked shields and opened bags of ox-skin. Out tumbled hundreds of severed heads, dried blood caking their necks and eyes filled with feasting gnats, rolling down the slope to their living comrades. Brasidas had them counted, and he watched as a thousand enemy epicraniums crashed into the ranks of advancing soldiers, crowding their feet and smacking into their knees. It slowed their approach and cries of fear rang up as protostate troopers opened fire, loosing their arrows from their long recurve bows. The arrows rained down amongst the enemy, but it was only to soften them up. Now came the true battle. 

"Protostates!" Brasidas cried, cracking his axe against his shield in unison with his twenty Cataphracts, ringing across the wastes. "Follow me into Hades!" He roared. The muscled man cried a warcry and began loping down the decline in his full armor, flanked by his personal guard. The protostates did not hesitate, following their Protos Kapetanos down the hill, some throwing spears but many now unsheathing their spathas to pierce through the kahreed armor once they entered melee. It wasn't just Brasidas's command; Argyros and Loxos made their move, slowly but surely flying out from the north and south; Argyros appearing from the riverside, his men wielding a bristle line of spears, Eirene among them. 

Brasidas himself first crashed into the enemy's ranks, hammering into the front line and cleaving into a kahreed's neck, kicking aside a militiaman with his iron boot as he felt a sword cut his arm. Behind him, his men rolled in amongst the confused but still very dangerous mass of enemy infantry, their arrows flying above them to try and kill some of the Imperials as they charged forward, but with little effect. No more hiding, no more defending. They would break the enemy here and now, or die trying. The Protos Kapetanos cried to his war god as he hacked with abandon, banging his shield against enemy armor and crying out to keep his men by his side. He could not see, but Sayf and his five hundred nomads rode out of the dunes to the north, trading arrows with their counterparts and screaming their undulating cries of battle.

Loxos hurried, but he would not make it to the battle before the next wing arrived. Thankfully, he was not supposed to. Wheeling round the hillock, appearing for the first time in days, the fully mounted Cataphracts thundered over the sparsely grass ground, lowering their lances and readying their maces as they approached, the enemy prepared for an infantry fight, not a charge of heavy cavalry! When they hit their lines, men were trampled by the dozens, and Loxos swept in to keep the melee air-tight. He was good at it. With Argyros at the south, keeping their mass from flanking with the wall of spears? It was now a blood bath, and only the strongest would live.