Ἰβηρία ἐν ἑκατὸν ἐτῶν

Iberia en hekaton eton

263BC

The Macedonian Navy has been resupplying in Africa for a few months, following the coast until they are blocked by the Carthaginian Navy. The ships are forced to retreat into the open sea, where they encounter a mysterious storm that seems to follow them wherever they go.

The ships are separated and the fleet's leader, Hilarion, finds his ship, the 'Agamemnon', surrounded by an eerie calmness amidst the chaos. His men, once robust and jovial, now huddle together, whispering fearful prayers to Poseidon.

Hilarion is a Greek from the town of Epidamnus in Illyria. In his travels he has found himself in Pella, then in Thessalonica where his ship was hired to transport a few refugees and Hoplites all the way to Iberia.

Although it's really far, the pay was well enough and the Macedonian Prince has promised him land, so as a man with no family he might be lucky enough to start a new simple life in the new colony.

The sea around them turns a strange shade of purple, the waves frothing with an unnatural light. The sails hang limp, the oarsmen too petrified to move, their eyes reflecting the unearthly glow. Hilarion's hand grips the railing tightly as the ship rocks gently, a stark contrast to the violent sea they had just left behind. He tries to reassure his men, but his voice is a whisper in the vastness of the ocean.

Is this a sign from Poseidon to turn back?

"People, relax, this is a test from the Gods!" a voice can be heard speaking into a convex shape in the front of the fleet. Their ship is not too far away to not be heard, and the seas are calm enough for the waves to not make too much of a sound hitting the ships.

"Just like Hercules, where he was tested by the Gods, we will surely succeed! Don't forget where we came from." The small speech from Prince Euenios has managed to calm the superstitious Macedonians and Greeks, but their nerves remain on edge as the ships sail straight to Iberia.

Hilarion looks at the Prince in awe, but he is a simple man, and he plans to retire in the colony after his long life of 38. 

The storm rages on outside the purple calm, but within their temporary sanctuary, the fleet remains untouched. Hilarion can see the fear in the eyes of his crew, but also a flicker of hope. They are all seasoned sailors who have faced the capriciousness of the sea before, but this feels different. It feels like they are being watched, and perhaps, guided by unseen forces.

He orders the ships to maintain their formation, and they sail onward, their destination unchanged. The silence is broken only by the occasional snap of the sails and the mournful cries of seabirds that seem to be lost in the tempest.

The seas calmed once again and the fleet moved forward.

Prince Euenios walks back to his quarters. No longer the young man he is, he's now 27 years old, 4 whole years in the open seas, and every day fills him with worry, worried about Macedonia, worried about his family back home.

Since he has gotten the dreams from Zeus, he hasn't even visited his sister or mother once, especially his sister Cleopatra, who he grew up with. And 4 years at sea was enough time for him to regret a lot of things.

If he stayed in Corinth, if he let things happen, if he joined the army as his father intended, and fought the Romans there, would Macedonia be saved? In truth, he's running away, like a coward, it's too much hubris.

Too much hubris to think that he alone is the turning point, the prime factor that saves all of Macedonia, that if he stayed Macedonia would be saved. But he also couldn't stop thinking if he did stay…

Or at least he'd marry, have kids, live and die with his family.

…

The fleet sails into the night, the purple calmness surrounding them like a protective veil. The stars above are obscured by the tempest, but the moon peeks through the clouds, casting a silver path on the water.

Hilarion, standing at the helm, watches the horizon, his mind racing with thoughts of what awaits them in Iberia. The land promised to them is said to be rich and fertile, a place where they can build a new life, far from the wars and hardships of their homelands.

But as they venture further, the air grows colder, and the crew begins to feel a sense of unease that even their bravado can't shake off. They have all heard the stories of sea monsters and vengeful gods, and the silence that envelops them seems to whisper these ancient tales.

They are sailing to the edge of the world, Iberia… 

261BC - 260BC

An entire year and a half passed by, the fleet had to turn back to Mauritania for supplies, and by the autumn, the fleet had passed by Palma, and the islands in the sea. Iberia is close by now, a month away.

The fleet however had to slow down a bit, as the Carthaginian Navy was lurking around Palma, as the Carthaginian presence had already penetrated this far. The Macedonian Navy has made it this far, and it continues moving.

Prince Euenios has been a solitary man this decade, only spending all his time in his cabin with his assistant Lysandra. He hasn't even met with the ports, governors, different city states the fleet has docked in. At this point the entire world knows Macedonia sent a fleet to Iberia, but the Romans either too preoccupied to care or they see no threat from 1000 Hoplites and some refugees fleeing.

The Greek City states along the way and Carthage didn't see a need to deny trade with a large flotilla, and had no desire to start wars. 

The fleet slowly approaches the north eastern coast of Iberia, the shoreline stretching out like a dark serpent before them. The anticipation is palpable among the men. Some whisper of the riches and glory that await them, while others murmur about the potential dangers lurking in the unexplored lands ahead.

Hilarion's eyes scan the horizon, searching for any signs of the fabled colony where they are to settle. The ships are now a collection of wooden beasts, scarred by the sea and the sun, their sails tattered from the storms.

Yet, despite their weariness, there is a sense of excitement that has replaced the fear that once gripped them. They are pioneers, forging a path into the unknown, and with every stroke of the oars, they are one step closer to their new home.

The fleet sails through the night, their destination looming closer with each passing hour. The moon, now a sliver in the sky, casts a ghostly light on the water, guiding their way through the inky darkness.

As dawn breaks, a shout from the lookout pierces the stillness. "Land! Land ahead!" The cry is taken up by the rest of the crew, their voices echoing across the water.

The fleet quickens its pace, the rowers pulling in unison, driven by the promise of solid ground beneath their feet. The shoreline grows more distinct, the outlines of trees and cliffs emerging from the shadows.

The fleet approaches a cove, the water calm and inviting. Hilarion gives the order to drop anchor, and the ships come to a gentle rest in the embrace of the land. The sailors, weary from their long journey, prepare to disembark.

Prince Euenios runs to the edge of the ship, the salty wind hitting his face. After 10 years, the 30 year old Prince Euenios, still filled with hope, sees the shore.

"Alexander has conquered the East." The words roll off his lips.