The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe-Chapter 126: Recruits and Training (Part I)

The drill instructor addressed Arsinis with a voice that brooked no argument, "In war, the actual combat is brief. Most of the time is spent on marching and setting up camp. A well-trained Amendolaran citizen-soldier must first adapt to and master the art of marching."

Arsinis nodded solemnly, trusting the instructor’s wisdom. He had heard tales of this man’s bravery on the battlefield, and his reputation was unmatched. Following the guidance given, Arsinis synchronized his steps and adjusted his breathing, learning to conserve energy during the relentless march.

As the recruits marched in formation, Arsinis’s gaze drifted toward a group of Lucanian slaves laboring nearby, carrying freshly cut logs. In the past, the sight of them would have stirred his rage, and he might have hurled curses or stones in their direction. Now, however, he restrained himself. The city-state’s laws were clear: these slaves were Amendolara’s property, contributing to its wealth and rebuilding. Harming them would not only bring punishment but also reveal weakness—a lesson his instructor had emphasized repeatedly. A true warrior defeated his enemies on the battlefield, not through petty actions. Arsinis aspired to be such a warrior.

The Charge Drill: Discipline in Chaos ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

The five-kilometer armed march ended, yet the day’s training was far from over. After a brief rest, the recruits embarked on charge drills, a grueling yet thrilling exercise for Arsinis.

Fully armed, the recruits formed a dense phalanx. At the sharp command of drums, they began their march. As the drumbeats quickened, their pace shifted from a steady walk to a jog and finally to a full sprint. The ground before them was no smooth terrain; narrow ditches and earthen mounds appeared without warning, challenging their agility and endurance. Recruits stumbled and fell, only to rise again, spurred on by their comrades and the relentless reprimands of the instructors.

The most demanding aspect of the charge drill was maintaining formation amidst the chaos. The recruits had to move as one cohesive unit, ensuring no gaps formed in the phalanx. The instructors, hawk-eyed, barked corrections at those who lagged or broke formation, their voices cutting through the clamor. By the drill’s end, the recruits were utterly spent. Shields and helmets lay discarded on the ground as they collapsed, gasping for breath.

The Sisno River: A Soldier’s Respite

Yet there was no true respite. The instructors, indifferent to the recruits’ exhaustion, prodded them toward the Sisno River for the next exercise—swimming. This, however, brought cheers from the weary soldiers.

Amendolara, though a mountain city, was crisscrossed with rivers, and swimming was a skill many citizens excelled at. Arsinis and his companions eagerly shed their gear and plunged into the cool waters. The river washed away the heat and grime of the day, rejuvenating their spirits.

Laughter rippled through the air as the recruits watched seasoned soldiers, often haughty in their demeanor, flounder in the water. Despite their struggles, these older warriors persisted, determined to master the skill. Arsinis’s mirth faded as he recalled the instructor’s earlier words: "In Persia, we crossed countless rivers under enemy fire. Those who couldn’t swim drowned like stones. A soldier unprepared for war’s demands is a soldier prepared to die."

A cheer from downstream broke his reverie. "What’s going on?" he asked his companion, Melisanda, who was peering toward the commotion.

"I heard the consul is racing someone in the river," Melisanda replied. The sixteen-year-old’s youthful energy mirrored Arsinis’s. Though below the legal age for military service, Melisanda had been allowed to train after insisting he wanted to honor his late father, who had fallen in battle.

"Consul Juleios?" Arsinis repeated, surprised.

Their instructor’s voice answered from behind, "Consul Juleios never asks others to do what he won’t do himself. He often trains alongside the seasoned soldiers."

A Challenge in the River

Curiosity piqued, Arsinis and Melisanda rushed downstream. Five swimmers raced through the water, their strokes matching the rhythm of urgent drumbeats. Among them, one figure moved with exceptional speed, tilting side to side in a unique, fish-like motion that left the others far behind. When the race ended, the swimmer stood waist-deep in the river, his broad smile and piercing eyes unmistakable. It was Juleios.

"Who else wants to compete?" Juleios called out, his voice carrying across the gathered soldiers.

The crowd grew silent, their earlier boisterousness replaced by awe. Seeing no takers, Juleios began to climb ashore, but Melisanda, with a mischievous grin, shoved Arsinis forward.

Stumbling out of the crowd, Arsinis blurted nervously, "I... I’ll compete!"

Laughter and murmurs spread through the onlookers. "It’s just a kid," someone said dismissively.

"Age doesn’t matter!" Melisanda shot back. "Consul Juleios isn’t much older than us!"

Juleios chuckled, his warm gaze settling on Arsinis. "Youth isn’t defined by years but by courage," he said. "Step forward, soldier."

Arsinis, bolstered by the consul’s words, stepped into the water. Despite his nerves, he met Juleios’s challenge. Of course, he lost, but the experience was unforgettable. Afterward, Juleios patted him on the shoulder and said, "Train hard, and one day you’ll surpass me."

Arsinis nodded vigorously. Though only two years separated them, Juleios’s authority and charisma made him seem like an elder. As Juleios rejoined the soldiers on the shore, he turned to them and asked, "Do you want to learn how to swim faster?"

"Yes!" they shouted.

"Good," Juleios replied. "I’ll write down my technique. Practice it, master it, and make it a part of your training. An Amendolaran soldier must be ready for any challenge!"

Strength in Unity

As the sun climbed higher, it was time for lunch. Traditionally, Greeks ate only two meals a day, but Juleios had introduced a midday meal for the soldiers to sustain their energy during training. Bowls of steaming lamb soup were distributed, funded by the city-state’s treasury and a portion of the profits from the weapons shop.

Arsinis sipped the hearty soup, strength returning to his limbs. "Melisanda," he said thoughtfully, "I’ve heard some elders say the consul is too authoritarian, that he makes all the decisions himself and leaves no room for debate."

Melisanda scoffed. "They’re just jealous. Juleios has done more for Amendolara in a short time than they’ve managed in years. Look around—everything we’ve achieved is because of him. I wish he were even more decisive!"

Arsinis nodded, feeling a newfound respect for the consul. As he gazed at the river and the soldiers around him, he realized that under Juleios’s leadership, Amendolara was not just a city-state—it was a force to be reckoned with.

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