Acrocorinth

265BC

The inevitable has occurred, Thessalonica has been captured by the Romans. And in return for the city's defiance, 30,000 people were exterminated. The survivors huddled together in the market square, their faces etched with grief and despair. 

Amongst them, a young girl named Elara clutched a small wooden horse, a memento from her father. Her eyes, once filled with innocence, now mirrored the chaos around her. 

She searched for her family, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest, but all she found were strangers' faces staring back at her. The scent of blood and fear hung thick in the air, a grim reminder of the battle's aftermath.

The people are pushing against each other, rushing to escape into the ships as the city burns, and the Romans are moving in, cutting down people, their swords moving and slashing the fleeing civilians.

A Hoplite grabs Elara and grips her as they flee to the ships, her little legs dangling as the man asks her, "Do you remember your name!?"

"Elara-"

"From where?"

"Gonni."

"Go!" The man roughly throws her into the portside of a ship. She grabs into the wooden surface, some of her nails breaking off. A Hoplite grabs her collar and brings her unto the ship, but as the ship fills up, it moves away from the port, leaving the Hoplite behind.

Grabbing his spear, he faces the green armored faces of death. Thessalonica will die fighting.

This news has also made Pella panic, and the troops there had an orderly retreat, the citizens were either evacuated to Corinth, or they had to flee in their own means. The city was not ready to face the Romans, and the news of Thessalonica's fall had spread like wildfire through the Greek lands. 

People whispered about it in the streets, their voices shaking with fear. The city of Pella was buzzing with tension and confusion, as everyone grappled with the reality of their impending fate. 

The clank of armor and the shouts of soldiers preparing for battle echoed through the narrow streets, mixing with the cries of mothers and children, and the desperate pleas of those seeking refuge.

The once bustling marketplace of Pella was now a chaotic assembly point for the evacuation. Stalls lay abandoned, their goods scattered like a forgotten picnic. The air was thick with the smell of fear, as the citizens hurried to gather what little they could before the Romans arrived. 

Elara's mother, Hestia, had heard the news of her daughter's survival, and her heart was a tornado of emotions. She had to get to Corinth, she had to find Elara. With every step she took, she pushed through the desperate mob, her eyes scanning for any sign of her child.

Her heart was racing so fast she thought it might burst from her chest. The ships were leaving, the horizon a blur of sails disappearing into the distance, carrying the last of the Pella survivors to safety.

Elara will never see her mother, or Greece for the rest of her life.

…

..

.

King Demetrius II is at the head of the army as they approach Corinth. Joining the local garrison, the Macedonians huddled into the city, but the people of Corinth, who have been under Macedonian occupation for a generation, thought differently.

A new league led by the Peloponnese Greek city states was formed with Sparta and Athens, and the Corinthians are planning to revolt. The city was in a frenzy as soldiers patrolled the streets, trying to keep order amidst the swirling rumors of the approaching Roman legions. 

The walls of Corinth, ancient and formidable, stood tall and proud, whispering secrets of past battles. The sun set, casting long shadows over the city, and the tension grew palpable as the citizens awaited the dawn.

The smell of burning torches and the distant sound of clanging metal filled the air as the Macedonian forces worked tirelessly to bolster the city's defenses. 

In the shadowy alleys, whispers grew into hushed debates. Some spoke of a great leader who would unite the Greeks and drive out the Romans. Others spoke of a prophecy, of a child born under the protection of the gods, who would rise to lead them to victory.

But this is all hearsay, bullshit even, King Demetrius II is just spreading propaganda so the population doesn't lose hope. The cobblestone streets of Corinth, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet, now echoed with the tread of armored boots. 

The Macedonian soldiers marched in disciplined columns, their eyes scanning the crowded markets and shuttered windows for any signs of dissent. The air was thick with the scent of fear, mingling with the aromas of roasting meats and fresh bread that wafted from the open-air kitchens.

The city walls, a testament to Corinth's storied past, stretched out like the arms of a giant, embracing the city in a fierce grip. Their stones, kissed by the sun and scarred by battles long forgotten, whispered tales of valor and betrayal, of heroes and tyrants. They had withstood sieges and invasions, but now, the very air seemed to tremble with the anticipation of what lay ahead.

After some time, a few ships arrive, bringing the survivors of Thessaly. Corinth is now packed with refugees, from Pella and Thessalonica. The refugees either disperse into the countryside, or the more staunch Macedonians somehow heard of the Macedonian expedition to Iberia, and decided to find their way there.

A few ships that set off Thessalonica even directly sailed after the direction Prince Euenios went in, but those ships' fate is unknown.

With the orders of King Demetrius II, 700 men were raised in Corinth, put into the Legions.

With the orders of King Demetrius II, 700 men were raised in Corinth, put into the Legions. They were a motley crew, some seasoned veterans from the previous battles, others young and green, their eyes wide with fear and anticipation. 

They were given the Macedonian phalanx shields and spears, the same weapons that had once conquered Asia. Some were given the new Roman style equipment looted and painted over, and were drilled relentlessly in the shadow of the Acrocorinth, the fortress that loomed over the city like a silent sentinel.