War bleeds progress, and progress bleeds into War. The construction of new departments, and the integration of Greeks and Iberians in this new Kingdom with the forceful hammer that is the Romans, has forced the country to progress fast, mostly from copying innovations from the red armored neighbors, and the wild face painted northerners who keep on pushing down south.
Is it really fair to say that the Greeks were just unable to make War in the vast forests of Iberia or the valleys and rocky mountains of Greece? Then the Romans were just superior to them? Yes, yes it is. Not that it matters, Greece is too far, and information has been strangled from Antigonos' hands.
Although a thirty year old man, this is the first major battle of Antigonos in a few years. The affairs in Mastiapolis needed setting up, and the test for the new Macedonian Army is set up against the people of this river basin.
Antigonos is destined to struggle for the rest of his long life. And people are destined to die for him. The air around the forest turns chaotic, as the sound of metal on metal ring across the otherwise quiet foliage, the men refraining from screaming too loudly as they prepare to ambush each other's positions.
Antigonos himself is near the edge of the forest, communicating with the soldiers deep inside to clear the area of enemy combatants. You can't simply march an entire column through a forest as dense as this one. Before the rest of the Army behind them can pass through safely, this unit of young scouts must bleed first. Every inch of land is bled for!
Just as your group is watching the enemy, another group might be watching you. Antigonos and a few of his guards jumped down on the position of another one of the Iberian patrols. With his dagger sinking into the back of the unsuspecting man, the rest of the group had a short skirmish before others can be alerted. Antigonos pulled out his dagger, with the other hand grabbed the man's spine and yanked it out. The scream attracted the other groups, making the leaves shuffle. Now they have to wipe out this group fast.
The suddenness of the attack took the Iberians off guard, their eyes widening in shock as the figure of their leader was brutally silenced. The forest, which moments ago was silent, now exploded with the clang of swords and the grunts of men fighting for their lives. The Iberians, though skilled in their own right, were caught in a battle of speed, unprepared for the ferocity of their Macedonian adversaries.
This forest was thought to be impassable, a natural defense against any invading force, but Antigonos had studied the Roman tactics. He knew that the key to victory lay in adapting to the terrain, in turning the very earth that protected them into a stage for his own conquest. The Macedonian scouts moved swiftly, using the trees as cover, their years of training in the rugged lands of their homeland paying off as they navigated the dense underbrush with ease.
"Hold firm, men! Don't let them get the upper hand!" Antigonos shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. His men, though young, had the steel in their eyes that comes from the harsh reality of surviving the Macedonian military academies. They were trained to follow orders, to think quickly, and to fight like demons when their lives were at stake. 'We should recruit them even younger.'
As the fight raged on, Antigonos could hear the distant sound of horns blaring. The main Iberian force was on the move, likely alerted by the commotion. "Quickly! Finish them and fall back!" he ordered.
They are definitely not supposed to push too much on this terrain, as the Iberians are close, and this area would be highly contested soon. The scouts obeyed, each one took a moment to ensure their kills were thorough before retreating back to the main column.
The forest grew quiet again, the only sounds the gasping breaths of the victorious and the slowly fading echoes of battle. Antigonos wiped the blood from his dagger and sheathed it, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet. He knew this was only the beginning. The real fight was yet to come.
The Iberians hid behind the edge of the forest, hunkering down and pointing their weapons forward. 2 Thousand of them, with their unique mix of armor and weaponry, an interesting positioning, as they are comfortable with the forest to their backs.
The Macedonian scouts regrouped with the main force, panting heavily, their faces streaked with sweat and dirt. "Iberian patrols," one reported, "they were scattered, but more will come."
Antigonos nodded, his gaze scanning the horizon. He knew they had to be ready for the main battle, but first, they had to survive the next wave of the enemy's fury. "Prepare the phalanx," he said calmly, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the soldiers. "We fight as one, as we always have. For Macedon!"
The weak ass rallying speech nevertheless pushes the men into formation.
The Macedonian phalanx was a sight to behold, a wall of bronze and steel that had crushed armies from Asia to Africa. Now, it stood before the verdant expanse of the Iberian forest, ready to be tested once more. The soldiers took their places, their shields overlapping, their spears pointing out like the teeth of a metal beast ready to devour its prey.
The Macedonians managed to shore up 15 hundred men into a standard rectangular mass infantry formation, supported by fast moving light infantry on their flanks. The archers were at the ready, their bows strung tight. The Iberians had the advantage of speed and knowledge of the land, but Antigonos had the might of the phalanx, the very heart of Macedonian military doctrine.
The Iberian arrows smash into the Macedonian column, felling a dozen men as they slowly march towards the Iberians in open battle.
Another volley of Iberian arrows shoot point blank but fail to do much damage.
The Macedonians took cover behind their shields, the iron tips of the arrows clattering off the bronze surfaces.
Once the frontmost column reached spearing range, the 300 Macedonians ran a few steps with full speed and smashed into the 300 on the Iberian lines, skewering dozens of lightly armored infantry.
Antigonos felt the ground shake beneath him as the first wave of Iberians hit his phalanx. The sheer impact was like nothing he had felt before, the sound of bones breaking and men screaming washed over him like a wave of horror.
But the Macedonian line held firm, their long spears keeping the barbarians at bay. The light infantry on the flanks danced around the edges of the fight, their shorter swords darting in and out, cutting down any who tried to outflank the phalanx.
The Iberian infantry push against the front of the long Macedonian line, as well as the Iberian archers on the back kept shooting at them.
The archers had to be dealt with. Antigonos gave them a signal, and a contingent of his elite cavalry, the Agema, charged into the forest, their lances aimed at the archers' position. The Iberian horse could not stand against the might of the Macedonian heavy cavalry, and soon, the archers were forced to retreat deeper into the trees.
200 Iberian Cavalry succeed in plugging the gap, preventing the Macedonians from surrounding the infantry.
The Iberians are slowly being squeezed out of the battlefield, but still 200 more Iberian infantry plugged the remaining gaps. 11 hundred Iberians are still in reserve compared to the 8 hundred Macedonians.
Antigonos' heart raced in his chest, his eyes scanning the battlefield for any signs of weakness in the enemy lines. "To me!" he shouted, and his guards rallied around him, forming a small wedge within the phalanx. They pushed forward, aiming for the heart of the Iberian formation.
Immediately their formation becomes porcupine-like, hundreds of arrows and spears thrusting into the men as they push forward with their King. Almost half of them were cut down in 30 minutes, soaking up damage for the three Phalanx units behind them. The Iberians are starting to target a single unit with multiple with their cavalry and long ranged units.
"Now! Advance!" Antigonos' voice boomed across the battlefield. The Phalanx lurched forward, their collective weight and momentum unstoppable. The Iberian center buckled, men falling like wheat before a scythe.
200 more Macedonian arches arrive behind the Phalanx to assist in a general thrust. But after the half hour long push, the Iberians didn't budge. Antigonos however spots that the Iberian center is now down 20 men.
Another general push from the Iberians fail to cause too much damage as the Macedonians hold the line.
The Iberian lines wavered, their morale dropping as their comrades fell. Antigonos knew this was his moment. "Now, the final push! For Macedon, for victory!"