[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 17 ----

It was not long ago that I marched by the side of the great Alexander, learnt battle formations and strategy from his cunning hand. Now, abandoned by the same, I am forced to listen to a local crazy woman about how to arrange my troops.

The hoplite formation was designed to fight as one unit, the spears and weight of the rear ranks lending support to the front line. Stacked sixteen rows deep, this dread formation is nearly unbreakable in battle. I was there at Cunaxa, when the entire wing of the Persian army fled merely at our approach. Imagine if you were dressed in light cloth, armed with a short sword, and, with a rabble of your companions, you looked up to see the sun glinting off a thousand Greek shields, a thousand Greek spearheads blackening the sky. Only insanity or superhuman bravery would compel you to stand your ground, much less fling yourself onto their lines to have your body broken and trampled forever into the dust.

Nowhere on earth has anyone been able to withstand the phalanx. A hundred, a thousand years from now, men will still march out in this formation; it is the ultimate, definitive, triumphant Last word in warfare.

But, no, heaven forbid we go with what works. I know, let's divide the strength of the phalanx into tiny little two and three man squads, cluster each of them around a bloody mystic, and, what's more, test this formation in battle, not against a light rabble, but a strongly defended province reputed to be guarded by women who are renowned for their battle progress. But Divikar carries orders from the village elders that Amshula should try this new tactic, and so we are all going to die.

A scout from the eastern marches has sent word that a disturbing race dwells north of this warrior-women province. Their practices are rumored to be quite barbaric, and I hope they have been somewhat exaggerated. On the other hand... sacrificing female virgins. I mean, it's wrong and despicable, an affront to civilization. But I cannot help thinking that Amshula has never been married...

Divikar also brings word of another failed attack upon Skeldmarsh. Apparently a few locals decided to steal some hoplite armor and go avenge Limmy's death. They were scattered like leaves, but some people cannot get enough punishment, and so they are preparing yet another attack. Apparently all the semi-intelligent people on the council have been overruled by the Limmy fanatics, who spend all their time wandering around, wailing his name.

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