Herald of Steel

"Hold your ground! Don't take a step back!"

"Push back! Push and fight your way through!"

"You cowards! Stop being a wuss always hiding behind your shield! Be a man and punch back! Show your fangs!"

"Swing your weapons men. Swing your weapons and open some free space. Or you will all die."

The officers tried to make their men counterattack the Margraves and Lord Parker forces like this, wanting to ward off the attackers, but it was to little effect.

The enemy just kept a safe distance and kept poking and prodding the formation with their long, sharp spears, like any good spear formation, not killing the legionaries outright but instead piercing their flesh with many small, painful wounds, ones that caused unbearable pain.

The legionaries were unable to withstand such torture for long, the many cuts and wounds quickly starting to add up, as their bodies instinctively recoiled to try and preserve themselves, even though their conscious mind told them to stand and fight.

This proved that they were only human.

Thus the enemy advanced- slowly and steadily, one step at a time, in a methodical, almost mechanical way, being accompanied by a chorus filled with ecstatic bloodlust and malice that was visible even through the full helmets that covered their faces and cheeks.

It was sensing this aura radiating towards from either side that none of Alexander's men bothered to even contemplate the option of surrendering.

They were all veterans of many wars and knew what such auras meant. They had seen it many times and had even emitted it many times.

It represented the complete will to slaughter and take no prisoners. So they would be only humiliating themselves if they were to raise the white flag.

Much better to go off fighting like a man rather than crawl and beg for one's life like a dog, they all thought.

There was however one man that was an exception to this rule.

One who seriously pondered getting on his knees and surrendering, even if meant he had to act like a dog.

And that person was none other than the Lord of Zanzan himself- Alexander.

As the noose around him got tighter and tighter, and malevolent forces got closer and closer, the young pasha had found his mind becoming increasingly erratic.

Hence, currently, inside his own mind palace resided an angry, disheveled, and scared out of his mind child, one who paced back and forth in the white space like a maniac, uttering and recalling all kinds of rubbish.

In there Alexander, Cursed his own incompetence and hubris for letting himself get caught like this, for not keeping his eyes and ears alert. Swore that he would never lead another battle again if he made through this.

Rebuked himself for not taking Hemicus's offer when he still had the chance.

Regretted not taking taking Hemicus's offer when he still had the chance.

Lampooned the imminence of his and the death of all the men that were with him here.

And most of all reminisced about all the things he had experienced up until now.

Thus came the flashing faces of wives- Cambyses, Mean, Ophenia, and surprisingly even Gelene, followed by the faces of his mistresses, the women he had slept with as well as the people he knew and interacted in general- be they his retainers, his stewards and workers, and even his enemies. But most of all what he recalled were the faces of all his children, and here Alexander regretted not spending as much time as he would have liked with them.

And this was followed closely behind by Zanzan, the city that he had built basically with his own two hands.

He had found the settlement to be little more than a mere heap of rubble and left it a city of marble. Oh, how his heart cried to see that place that just once more again- that place where lay gaint concrete roads, stood giant concrete buildings, beat the roaring heart of a blast furnace, existed so many different workshops, and so much many.

And oh, how his heart cried to think what would happen to all this, to all his family and to his all influence once he died.

It was that single mortifying thought that hounded Alexander the most while he was stuck atop the bridge, and the one thing pushing him to surrender, to try and stay alive, no matter how ignoble that life might be.

Thus the man found himself being torn between the choices.

Humiliating himself in front of all his and begging Achillas to spare his life, all in the hopes that he would be taken captive and be ransomed, thus ultimately saving his realm.

Or leave this world with pride and dignity, with the risk being he would get to meet his family there soon afterward, as all his life's achievements are eaten up by his enemies.

From such a perspective, the former choice, surrendering, did not seem even worth ruminating over, it was the easiest and most obvious choice.

If Alexander's life could be saved by just raising the white flag and then redeemed with just some cold hard coin, it would be perhaps the deal of the century. If there was no one the man did not lack in this world, it was money, as well as the means to make more of it.

But even when the path was crystal clear, at the end of the day, Alexander found himself very reluctant to bend his head like this.

This was due to a combination of the thought of how he would lose the respect of many of his soldiers, how his image would shatter among the nobles back at home, and the biggest and most decisive reason of all, the general shame of what he had to do to get that deal.

It had appeared so easy from a logical point of view, but when push came to shove, Alexander suddenly found his knees stiffening and not willing to bow.

This was not logical, but his body refused to follow logic.

So it seemed that although the man considered himself to be cowardly and perhaps even craven, treasuring his life above almost anything else, when tested with true adversity, he suddenly seemed to realize that there were certain things he could not do despite his life depending on the line.

And one of them was groveling.

His pride as a lord, as a warrior, and even just as a man would not allow him.

He would not surrender to Achillas only to be then be paraded around the city like a prized circus animal like so many captured kings and lords had been done throughout history.

Not to mention, every time he thought about raising the white flag, Miss Linda's beautiful but sinister face flashed in front of him.

His gut told him that landing in her hands would not end well for him. Which was prudent of him since the lady had vowed to violate Alexander the moment she got the chance. And it would not be the playful, pleasurable kind.

Thus when Hemicus shouted the alternate plan, "Alexander! Jump! Jump to the sea and escape! Jump!", the pasha seriously considered it.

Yes, jumping from such an intense distance was a great risk.

He had as much a chance of breaking all his bones and dying as he had surviving it.

But when the alternative was this or dying for sure, the choice appeared to become much more obvious.

Thus hearing the idea, he snapped his head to look at the ocean behind him and seriously started to study it, pondering on it.

'If I jumped with my legs pointed downward, like I have seen marines jump out of helicopters, then, I should be alright, right? Maybe I will break a few bones, but as long as I don't land on the shallows, I should be fine… right?'

Alexander had absolutely no experience in deep water diving and so could only hypothesize theoretically like this, not knowing whether all his assumptions were true and if it was indeed possible to survive the fall with the intended technique.

Not to mention even if he did choose the right technique, there still remained the question of the depth of the water below.

Because even though the sea looked deep, he had no idea if it was truly deep, deep enough to allow him to descend to an adequate depth safely and not hit land.

The sea below had to let him displace all the kinetic energy from his fall to the surroundings, hence cushioning his blow, so as to not break all his bones and kill him

However despite a large number of huge ships sailing over these waters, each ranging several tens of meters in length and weighing 50 to 100 tons, it still did not work to inspire any kind of confidence in Alexander.

Because these vessels were all made of light wood and thus displaced much less water than what an equivalent steel ship would do. So it was possible for them to safely sail with only a few feet of water underneath.

But Alexander guessed the waters had to be much deeper. The only problem was he did not by exactly how much.

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