Pella

266 BC

The winds in Pella and Thessalonica have blown in all ways, but today it blows straight to the sea, against the billowing banners of the Roman Legions slowly closing in the area. The road between Pella and Thessalonica busy with Macedonian troops scurrying about in preparation for the imminent battle.

"Gaius, make sure the horses are ready for the nightfall," commands a centurion, his eyes squinting under the sun's relentless gaze.

The Romans are planning to march on the Macedonians at the dead of night. 

In the flat patch on the banks of the Vardar River, and the black clad Macedonians of just a year ago have been replaced with white clad Macedonian Legionnaires.

Among them, riding with his guard of armored cataphracts is King Demetrius II. With his efforts he has managed to modernize the Army, somewhat by adopting some aspects of the Romans and the Selucids. 

The camp is a buzz of activity, soldiers hammering stakes, cooks preparing the last meal before battle. The smell of roasting meat fills the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and leather.

In his tent, surrounded by maps and scrolls, King Demetrius ponders over the intel brought by his scouts. He knows the Romans are coming and he knows their strength.

But he also knows the power of surprise and the valor of his men. He whispers a prayer to the gods for a swift and decisive victory.

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of crimson and gold. The air cools, and a tense silence descends upon the camp. The soldiers tighten their grips on their weapons, their eyes reflecting the dancing firelight.

In the dead of night, King Demetrius II finds where the Romans are and meets their unit in battle. The two sides slowly walked into each other's range. It's time to put these legionnaires to the test.

The battle starts with a sudden clash of metal and a deafening war cry. The Macedonian cavalry, under the cover of darkness, charges into the unsuspecting Roman flank.

The Romans, caught off-guard, scramble to form their lines as fifteen meters away, Demetrius charges with his Cavalry unit against the Roman legionnaires, burying his cavalry unit in the bosom of the Romans. The other group of Roman legionnaires attacks the flank of the cavalry.

The sound of clanging steel echoes through the night, punctuated by the screams of the dying and the shouts of the officers.

The ground is stained with the crimson of fresh blood, the light of the moon reflecting off the bronze and steel of the soldiers' weapons.

The battle rages on, each side giving no quarter and expecting none in return. The Macedonians, fighting for their homeland, are driven by a fierce determination that seems almost supernatural.

The Romans, seasoned warriors all, are taken aback by the ferocity of the Macedonian charge.

The two sides are locked in their own sense of justice, their own values, and they can never coexist.

Demetrius fights with a fury, his sword flashing in the moonlight as he cuts down Roman after Roman. His men follow his lead, their morale bolstered by their king's valor.

The Roman Cavalry moves in to charge into the Macedonian Cavalry.

The Macedonian legionnaires don't think twice, and run forward, smashing into the backs of the Roman legionnaires, causing the third group of Roman legionaries to move forward and engage the Macedonians.

The battle is fierce and the outcome uncertain.

The air is thick with dust, and the smell of blood is pungent. The only light is the moon and the occasional flicker of a torch, casting long shadows that dance across the battlefield.

The fighting slowly degenerates, and two groups are running around at each other while the Romans are getting cut down to size in the center, the Roman cavalry being routed and fleeing into a direction.

The Macedonians have managed to push back the Roman legions for now, but the battle is not over yet. The Romans regroup and prepare for a counterattack. The night is long, and the price of victory will be paid in blood.

King Demetrius buries his sword on another Roman collar as he rides with the three Macedonian riders left in his Guard unit. He looks at the thirty or so Roman legionnaires as they grind the Macedonian legionnaires in a fight of attrition.

The battle is reaching its climax. The Roman lines are wavering, and the Macedonians are pushing harder than ever before.

A Roman Centurion, with a crimson crest on his helmet, charges towards Demetrius with a roar of rage, his sword raised high.

Demetrius meets his charge with a calm confidence, his eyes never leaving the centurion's.

Their swords clash with a sound that could split the very air itself.

The centurion is strong, but Demetrius is faster, more agile. With a swift twist of his wrist, he disarms the Roman and plunges his sword into his chest.

The centurion's eyes widen in surprise before he crumples to the ground.

The Roman lines falter at the sight of their leader falling, and the Macedonians seize the opportunity to press forward.

With a final surge of strength, they break through the Roman lines.

The Romans retreat, leaving their dead and wounded behind. 

The skirmish lasted for 4 hours, with 239 Macedonians and 291 Romans dead in the riverbed, the skirmish does not even feel like a victory, as 60 Macedonians retreat with their heads hung low back to their post in between the two cities.

King Demetrius rides with his one other Guard to Pella, moving quickly as dawn approaches, a siege of the city is going to be starting up. The Romans would quickly notice that 300 of their legionnaires have been wiped out.

King Demetrius needs to move back quickly.

The adrenaline is wearing off, and the pain of his wounds begins to seep in.

The night has been a blur of steel and sweat, and the cold dawn light is a harsh reminder of the cost of victory.

King Demetrius II, still clad in his battle armor, dismounts his exhausted steed as he reaches the outskirts of Pella. The city is eerily quiet, its inhabitants unaware of the battle that raged just miles away.

The gates of Pella are thrown open, and a contingent of soldiers, recognizing their king, rushes out to meet him. They escort him to the throne room where his advisors and generals await, their faces a mix of relief and worry.

"Lock the city gates, arm the archers and prepare to meet the Roman siege towers." King Demetrius II looks on to the distance, the Romans already starting to march on the city.

The city of Pella is a bastion of hope, the walls gleaming in the soft light of the early dawn, a stark contrast to the chaos of battle left behind. The cobblestone streets are quickly filling with soldiers, their footsteps echoing off the ancient structures.

Demetrius is atop the walls, as the siege towers approach the walls. The Macedonian arrows lit on fire flies towards the Romans, but the Roman legionnaires are relentlessly approaching, no matter the Romans shot down.

The Romans like innumerable green ants rush into one of the towers, and after a few minutes they pour into the city walls, fighting the Macedonian legionnaires on the walls, their short swords and javelins poking each other to death, the ground on the walls getting slippery with the bowels and blood of men.

As more and more men join the fight, some of them are pushed off the edge and fall almost 25 meters into the city, falling into houses and paved roads as mushy blood bags, their body parts strewn across the area. 

In the stampede, some men slip and are trampled, their heads smashed into the pavement. Some men can't even raise up their hands to hack with their swords to defend themselves, getting cut down with no resistance. 

Almost 18 Roman standards are surrounded by 8 Macedonian standards, the legionnaires in both sides with similar weapons and armor fight atop the walls, but the Macedonians are used to thrusting, so most of their swords are thrusted at the Romans, while the Romans are hacking at the Macedonians and Greeks.

The Romans fight until they are completely wiped out on the wall.

While the Romans fighting in the West Wall are wiped out, the Romans in the North Wall are overwhelming the Macedonians, even as the Macedonians throw fast stones at the Roman formation.

Men push against each other, one foot literally dangling on the edge of the wall, the plunge leading straight to death.

The battle is not going well.

The Romans are pushing through the North Gate. The city is in chaos, people running, screaming, and soldiers rushing in the streets.

The Macedonian forces are stretched thin, fighting on multiple fronts.

King Demetrius knows he must act quickly if he is to save his city.

Is he supposed to just let Alexander's city fall?