The yard was still stained with dust from the trial when Leonidas returned to Lakonia. Word had already flown ahead of him—fifty Spartans had broken a hundred. Kleon's name was whispered with scorn, Leonidas's with awe. For some, he was a miracle. For others, a danger.
Leonidas knew the truth. He was neither. He was iron, and iron had simply remembered its shape.
The Lakonian recruits, once sullen and half-hearted, now stood taller. Their loyalty bars flickered upward as he walked among them. A young farmer with a bandaged wrist stepped forward nervously. "Captain… I thought Spartans fought as wolves, devouring all. But yesterday… you fought like brothers. You made us fight like brothers too."
Leonidas clasped his arm firmly. "A wall doesn't care if its bricks are old stone or fresh clay. Only that they hold together."
The system shimmered:
[Lakonia Recruits – Loyalty: 80% (Rising steadily)]
Doros overheard and bellowed a laugh. "Brothers, aye. Next time, they'll be more Spartan than Spartans." Kyros smirked. "At least they've stopped crying when I shove their shields."
---
At dusk, he went to the forges. Sparks leapt into the dark as Phokas hammered iron and Lyra poured molten bronze into new molds. Their rivalry filled the air with heat and noise.
Lyra caught his eye, her face smeared with soot. "Word of your victory spreads like fire. Craftsmen from nearby villages will come to see the weapons that made fifty stand against a hundred."
Phokas grunted without pausing his hammer. "Weapons are nothing without the arm behind them. But sharper edges don't hurt."
The overlay pulsed:
[Faction Reputation – Rising: Artisan recruitment chance increased]
Leonidas nodded. Walls need stone, but also mortar. These two will give me both.
---
Damon, the farmer, showed him the new fields carved out near the village. The grain bent under his fingers as he inspected it. "We've already doubled the yield. Give me more land, and I'll feed not just men, but whole armies. Hungry soldiers run. Fed soldiers fight."
Leonidas's hand closed on a ripe head of barley. "Then we'll conquer fields before fortresses."
For the first time, Damon smiled faintly. "Practical as the soil itself. Good."
---
In the open fields beyond, Eryx drilled the riders. Horses thundered across the earth, hooves pounding in unison. The men sat their saddles better now, their lines tighter. Dust plumed like storm clouds as they wheeled in formation.
When Leonidas approached, Eryx guided his mount close. "Your Cohort proved itself. My riders want their chance. Let us flank the next battle, and they'll see cavalry belongs in Sparta."
Leonidas clasped his shoulder. "You will. The Wave doesn't ask if Sparta approves. It only asks if we're ready."
The overlay shimmered:
[Cavalry Cohesion: 86%]
---
At night, Leonidas stood before the villagers, soldiers, and artisans alike. His voice carried steady, not loud, but with the weight of stone.
"Sparta does not stand on bronze alone. It stands on men and women who choose to hold together. Farmers, smiths, riders, soldiers—you are all part of the wall. And iron walls do not bend."
For a breath, silence. Then cheers rippled through the square. Mothers lifted their children to see him. Merchants nodded, murmuring of safety and trade. Even the Lakonian elders who had once doubted now bowed their heads slightly.
The system flickered:
[Faction Morale Increased]
[Future Recruitment Potential: Enhanced]
---
But not all eyes looked kindly. In the bronze hall, the overseers seethed. The narrow-jawed elder slammed his staff. "He steals hearts. Soldiers, peasants, artisans—they follow him more than us. He builds a kingdom inside Sparta's shadow."
Another spat, "If the Wave does not break him, we must."
Only Damaris stayed silent, his gaze heavy, as though weighing whether the wall Leonidas built would someday stand higher than the council itself.
The overlay whispered faintly at the edge of Leonidas's vision:
[Council Hostility: 84% – Sabotage Likely]
Leonidas heard the system and ignored it. Around him, his men laughed, the forge sang, horses snorted, and fields rustled with grain. Piece by piece, brick by brick, he was binding the city to him.
Steel bent. Bronze tarnished. But iron—iron endured.