H9

The small town where King Epulon was camped on the shores of Lake Ohrid was called Bolkospelsos. It stood where modern-day Pogradec would be if I transposed a Hellenistic map onto one from 2021. The Town was built on a rise overlooking the narrow plain between the mountains and the lakeside and had a wood and earth wall rather than a proper stone city wall. Not unusual for a backwater Illyrian Town. What was notable, however, was that Bolkospelsos was in Bardyllis' territory, if only just. It was a former town of the Penestae, who had been absorbed by Bardyllis early on and whose copper and hematite mines kept money flowing into Bardyllis' treasury. This would be a good territory to break off of Bardyllis' Kingdom, as the minerals I could mine from Penestae lands would not only leave me flush with copper, but also iron ore, malachite for dye, and hematite gemstones.

Unfortunately, if I knew that attacking into former Penestae territory was a good option, Bardyllis damn sure knew it as well. Whether Epulon knew it or whether he just was sick of being on the back foot and decided to counter invade was still unknown, but Bardyllis would be coming for us the moment he heard that his rich Southern Territories had been attacked. Bolkospelsos might not be all that rich compared to territories on the south side of the Lakes, but it was a stepping stone that Bardyllis couldn't afford to let us take. I had to speak to Epulon to see about a battle plan.

Epulon's camp was a small, sectioned off, bit of the narrow plain between the Bolkospelsos and the Lakeshore, set up in what has been a wheat field before the arrival of the Taulantii. It was a somewhat shoddy collection of tents and animal pens with a large, but relaxed, guard presence. As my own forces began to set up a more organized camp a few fields away, I spurred my horse into the morass of tents that Epulon's Taulantii had erected. A trio of sentries in leather armor, bearing spears called out to me and I reigned in my horse.

"Who approaches? Friend or foe?" Asked one of the trio.

"I am Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, and friend of the late King Glaukias. I come to aid his son, Epulon, whom I regard as a younger cousin, from the depredations of the Dardanian Tyrant!" I called out in a courtly manner.

The trio looked at each other, then back at me, then at my army erecting camp nearby, and seemed to decide that this was above their pay grade. The oldest, an older man with salt and pepper hair spoke up next.

"If you speak true, then this is a matter for the King. I will escort you to his tent." He said, before moving to take my horse's reigns to guide me to Epulon. With a reassuring pat on his neck, my warhorse allowed the Taulantii spearman to take his reigns, and soon I was being led through a maze of tents, animal pens, and storage areas towards a crimson dyed tent in the center of the camp.

My guide stoically led me through the chaos and to Epulon's command tent, which was guarded by men in Iron Linothorax holding spears and red-painted theuros shields. Far more disciplined and better equipped than the trio of sentries from earlier. As I approached the tent, I dismounted as my guide handed off the reigns of my steed to a nearby groom and prepared to meet with Epulon.

Before I could, I was challenged by a Captain of the Thureophorai guarding Epulon's tent. His rank was only apparent by the deference the other soldiers gave him and the horsehair crest on his Illyrian helmet.

"Who comes before Epulon, King of the Taulantii?" He challenged.

"I am Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, here to aid King Epulon in resisting the Dardanian Tyrant." I replied, removing my own helmet.

The Captain nodded as he saw my face. "So you are. You would not remember me, as you were a younger man then, and I was but a junior officer, but I served under King Glaukias during your installation as King of Epirus. I would recognize you on sight, King Pyrrhus." He replied.

I paused for a moment and Pyrrhus' memories supplied a name to go with the face. "Gentios, aye, I remember you. A Captain now, eh? You seem to have done well for yourself." I grinned.

"You honor me by saying so, King Pyrrhus. In truth, I did not think you would remember." Replied the Captain, Gentios.

"I remember most of the officers I've served with. I seem to recall you had a fondness for garum sauce. Still into spicy foods?" I asked, Pyrrhus' memories giving me a brief description of the man in question. If Pyrrhus could keep memories like this of most of the officers he served with, it was no wonder the man had been beloved by his men.

"When I can get it, King Pyrrhus. The Tyrant Bardyllis' invasion has thrown trade off enough that it has become scarce away from the coast." Replied Captain Gentios.

"Then we shall have to thrash him quickly, that trade might return." I grinned before entering the tent.

Sitting in a chair, frowning over a piece of parchment, was a gangly youth of 16 years. His beard was just starting to come in, in that way that teenage facial hair does, and his Linothorax looked to have been scuffed up in a battle and had been hastily repaired before rushing back into the field. Pyrrhus' memories supplied the image of a younger child, perhaps 5 years old, with the same unruly mop of black hair, back when he was living at Glaukias' court.

"Epulon, thank the gods you're alive!" I said, some of Pyrrhus' enthusiasm at seeing his foster brother again leaking through to my tone.

Epulon looked up from the report he'd been reading and a smile creased his once frowning face. "Pyrrhus! You came to help!" He exclaimed.

"I did. I would not leave you to face Bardyllis' horde alone. There is no time for reunions, however. You invaded one of Bardyllis' most profitable territories. He will be coming." I replied.

The frown crept back on Epulon's face as he waved at me with the piece of parchment he'd been reading. "You're more right than you know, brother. This is a dispatch from some of my scouts. They tell me that Bardyllis is no more than 3 days march away and heading for us like the Hounds of Hades are on his trail." He said.

"Then we don't have much time to prepare a battle strategy." I noted.

Epulon sighed and said, "I had hoped when father died, that Bardyllis would seek new lands elsewhere. I never had the head for tactics that you or he did. I've done the best I could, but it hasn't proved good enough." He gestured over to a map of the area and I joined him there.

As I studied the map, the terrain called out to me. The only way to assault the town of Bolkospelsos was to march an army through the narrow plain, which led through a pass between 2 mountains and on past the town and to the lakeshore. As defensive terrain went, it was pretty good. True you could also sail troops across the lake, or skirt around the lake to the south through goat tracks deeper into Penestae territory, but Bardyllis was coming from the west, after ravaging the Taulantii hinterlands. A plan began to form as I studied the map.

"Alright, this is what we'll do. . ." I said as I began to lay out the battle plan to Epulon. He listened intently and soon the frown on his face had vanished to be replaced by a grin. We called in Astios, as well as our generals, and began to revise things. Before long, a solid plan began to take shape under my direction, with both younger kings making adjustments and deferring to me when unsure. By the time Bardyllis was set to arrive, we had a pretty workable plan. Now all that was left was to see it through.

It was the 27th of October when Bardyllis finally arrived and we put the plan into action. . .

XXXX

AN: Cliffhanger!

The next chapter will be the battle of Bolkospelsos. After that, we'll have the aftermath and the march to Lissos. The Siege of Lissos will be short, and followed by Pyrrhus wintering in Taulantii territory.

Then it's back to Epirus for a bit while planning the war with Macedon.

Of note, we don't have any inscriptions from the Illyrian Town that Pogradec was founded on top of, so we don't actually have a name for it. I went with Bolkospelsos, which should roughly translate to Lakehall from my rudimentary grasp of fragmentary Illyrian. I know, not very imaginative of me. . .