“A good plan, but I doubt the Persians will have the courage to stick around and attack us again,” Xanthipparis said with a sigh of regret.

“Indeed, the cowardly Persians are like rabbits,” Timasion cursed. The loss of his soldiers had left him both furious and helpless.

“Let me lead the soldiers to circle the ridge!” Xenophon volunteered.

Hieronymus’s expression changed instantly. He remembered the last time Xenophon had recklessly charged out, resulting in heavy casualties.

“I think Xenophon can do it,” Davos immediately voiced his support.

“We have no time to delay! We must move now, or we may have to spend the night in these mountains!” Cleanor said anxiously, looking up at the sky.

And so, Xenophon’s request was quickly approved, and the leaders returned to their contingents to prepare their troops.

Davos, however, lingered behind, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Chrysophus noticed and stopped, turning to ask, “What is on your mind, General Davos?”

Davos was a little surprised that the usually taciturn Spartan was addressing him directly. “I was just thinking… it’s a good thing the Persians didn’t build defensive camps on the ridges. Otherwise, our losses would have been much greater.”

“You think too highly of Tissaphernes,” Chrysophus said, offering a rare, detailed analysis. “Don’t be fooled by the speed of their cavalry and archers; their army’s overall marching pace is much slower than ours. These Persian nobles, Tissaphernes included, cannot endure hardship the way we Greeks can. On the march, they must bring their magnificent tents, their beautiful concubines and dancers, and a great retinue of slaves. They must wait for the sun to rise before breaking camp, for it is too cold otherwise; and they must camp far from the enemy at dusk, for it is too dark. How can their soldiers not be influenced by such habits? I estimate those Persians who attacked us had only just arrived themselves.”

Davos understood. He had thought the mercenary army’s baggage train was bloated, but the Persians were even worse. After a moment, he added, “What if the Persians had divided their light infantry into several groups, hiding them in the forests to our rear, flanks, and front, and then launched successive attacks? Wouldn’t that have been more effective?”

Chrysophus frowned. “You mean to say…”

“Just like what happened a moment ago,” Davos elaborated. “The Persians on the ridge in front of us attack. We drive them off and think we are safe, but then they attack us from the rear. And then again from somewhere else. This would not only inflict more casualties, but it would also force us to run back and forth, scattering our forces. We would have to advance with extreme caution, which would drastically slow our marching speed.”

Chrysophus stared at him in surprise. “You spend your time thinking about such things?”

It was rare to see such a clear expression on the Spartan’s face, and Davos felt a little embarrassed. “Well, I lack experience, so I have to study and think more…”

Chrysophus’s face reverted to its usual stern, impassive mask. “It is indeed a good strategy, but it is not one that just anyone can employ. To execute such a tactic requires a high degree of courage and training from the soldiers, as well as exceptional ability from the commander. Do you think this Persian army is capable of it?”

Davos shook his head.

Chrysophus gave him a deep look. “In the future, if you have any ideas, let us discuss them together.” With that, he strode away.

***

The single Persian ambush had cost the mercenary army over a thousand casualties, more than half of whom were non-combatants.

Davos’s contingent alone had suffered one hundred and fifty casualties. With most of their pack animals also wounded, he was forced to order nearly half his soldiers to the baggage train to help carry supplies and support the wounded.

The entire army, burdened by these losses, moved even more slowly than before. The vanguard, however, made good progress. Xenophon’s rapid flanking maneuver had made the Persians wary of being caught in a pincer attack, and they did not dare to block the path ahead. The mercenaries passed through the mountain ridges without further incident.

At dusk, the soldiers spotted several Persian villages ahead. What followed was a familiar scene: the mercenaries pillaged the villages and set up camp. Fortunately, they also discovered a large cache of provisions that the villages had collected for Tissaphernes’s army. After enjoying a hearty meal, the soldiers’ morale soared. Davos’s field hospital was once again bustling with activity, working late into the night.

***

Crystoia lay on her side next to Davos.

“Herpos says you are a quick learner at the field hospital,” Davos said softly. “And that you’ve done an excellent job managing the wounded and the female slaves. He says the wounded all listen to you. They’ve even given you a nickname: ‘Persephone on Earth.’”¹

“Davos.”

“Mm.”

“Do you know why the wounded soldiers listen to me?”

“I don’t.” In truth, Davos knew perfectly well.

“I had Hylos tell them, ‘I am your leader’s woman,’” Crystoia said, gazing at the roof of the tent as she spoke in a low murmur. “Your prestige in the army is very high now, so they are afraid to cause trouble. I also had Herpos save the treatment for a soldier who tried to assault me for last. His screams didn’t stop until well into the evening. I think that served as a good warning to the others… Davos… do you think I’m…”

“You did very well. Better than I could have imagined,” Davos said, inhaling the scent of her golden hair. “Hylos cannot stay at the field hospital forever, and Herpos is focused on his medical skills. I want you to manage the hospital.”

“What did you say? You want me to manage the field hospital?!” Crystoia’s surprised eyes held a flicker of joy.

“You told me before that your father was busy with the politics of Miletus, and you often helped him manage the slaves on his estate. Your performance these past few days has proven that you are more than capable of managing this small team.” In his past life, Davos was accustomed to the equality of men and women. Unlike the Greeks of this era, who kept their women tightly bound to the home, he didn’t mind a woman taking a public role, even if she performed better than he did. “Of course, Herpos will remain the nominal medical officer, to account for the opinions of others, but you will be the one in charge. I will speak with him about it shortly.”

“Davos!” Crystoia wrapped her arms around him tightly. “I am so glad I followed you!” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Don’t get too excited just yet. You still have a task,” Davos said, gently patting her back. “I want you to convince the doctors from the other contingents who are helping at the hospital to stay voluntarily. And the wounded soldiers, too.”

“Yes, Commander!” Crystoia curtsied with a playful smile. After putting on her chiton, she added, “Davos, I understand why you want to expand the medical corps; we are truly short-staffed. But why do you want to keep the wounded soldiers?”

Davos could not, of course, tell her the full truth: that since arriving in this strange world, he had felt a profound sense of insecurity, and that the more soldiers he commanded, the more it soothed the anxiety in his heart. Meeting Crystoia’s curious gaze, he revealed a sliver of his true intentions. “The road home is long, and we do not know how many hardships lie ahead. It is better that these soldiers are commanded by me than by someone else. That way, we will be safer, and I can make better use of their abilities.”

Hearing this, Crystoia stared at Davos’s young face, a dazed look in her eyes. This is an ambitious and very confident man. For a fleeting moment, his face overlapped with that of Cyrus the Younger. The thought sent a shiver of fear through her, and she reached out, gripping his hand tightly.