The bronze hall was packed when Leonidas returned from Amyklai. Word of the battle had already spread—how the Iron Cohort had held the ditch, how the levies had stood longer than anyone thought possible, how Kleon's flank had nearly collapsed until Leonidas's men stitched the wall together.
Villagers sang his name in the streets. The levies whispered it with awe. And that was exactly what the council feared.
The overseers sat in their crescent of stone, faces shadowed by torchlight. Kleon stood to one side, his jaw locked tight, his eyes sharp with resentment.
An elder's voice rang through the chamber. "Leonidas. You defied orders at Amyklai."
Leonidas's brow furrowed. "We secured the village. The wall held. Losses were minimal."
Another overseer leaned forward, eyes cold. "You were told to combine with Kleon's men. Instead, you usurped his command, redirected levies, and undermined his authority."
Kleon's lips twisted into a bitter smile.
Leonidas kept his tone steady. "I did not usurp command. I prevented collapse. The levies were given a task they could survive. Kleon charged uphill without securing his flank. If I had not acted, the line would have broken and Amyklai would still burn."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Some elders nodded; others frowned.
---
The narrow-jawed overseer spoke next, his voice sharp. "Perhaps. But Sparta cannot have captains who act as though they command Sparta itself. You inspire loyalty beyond measure. Too much loyalty. What happens when your men follow you more than they follow the council?"
Leonidas felt the overlay shimmer faintly in his vision:
[Political Hostility: Council Suspicion – High.]
[Threat Level: Sabotage or formal censure likely.]
He drew a slow breath. They fear not the wall, but who the wall stands for.
"My men follow Sparta," Leonidas said firmly. "They follow me because I am part of it. If I fall, they will still bleed for this city. But if you doubt me, test them. Call them to this hall and command them yourselves. See if they stand as firm without me."
The words struck like a thrown spear. The overseers stiffened. They could not afford such a test, and they all knew it.
---
Damaris finally broke the silence. "Enough. Leonidas has proven his worth in battle. He saved Amyklai when others would have lost it. That is fact. If you cannot stomach fact, then you cannot stomach Sparta's survival."
The elder rapped his staff sharply. "We will not censure Leonidas… this time. But understand this: the council alone commands Sparta. Do not forget it."
Leonidas bowed his head. "Sparta commands. I obey."
The words were true enough, but he felt Theron's eyes on him as he left the hall. They both knew the council would not let it end there.
---
Outside, the Iron Cohort waited. Doros clapped his captain on the shoulder. "We heard shouting. You win again?"
Kyros smirked. "Or at least didn't lose."
Leonidas let a faint smile touch his lips. "The council fears walls it did not build. That fear will not fade soon."
Theron's gaze was sharper. "Then we must be ready for daggers, not spears."
Leonidas nodded. His overlay shimmered once more, the system's whisper threading through his thoughts:
[Update: Political Pressure Intensifying.]
[Note: Hostile forces may engineer missions or trials to weaken you. Use caution in alliances.]
He clenched his fist, looking north where Evelyne's banner burned brightest in the night sky. The knights had numbers. Rome had discipline. Persia had fear. But none of them had loyalty that could break the council's chains.
Let them accuse. Let them whisper. Iron does not bend.
And the First Wave loomed ever closer.