Aeolus had the pleasure of being in the first ranks of the right flank, the hammer that will strike the anvil. Kneeling on the ground, he could feel the vibrations of the marching Persians, knowing they were getting closer by the second. Aeolus was scared, there was the chance he would die this day, but where he was now, he couldn't admit such a weakness.
He felt a nudge in his back, his friend Valtius trying to encourage him a bit. "So how many do you think you'll kill before they beat a hasty retreat? Fifty? Maybe a hundred?" Valtius gave a great grin, hoping to boost his spirits.
"If we could manage such feats, I think the Spartans would be trying to sign us up for their army. Though who knows, maybe between the two of us, we may get the awe of those Spartans and make them wish they showed up for this." For his friends sake, Aeolus grinned. Someone is going to die this day, but he had only hope that it was only going to be the Persians. A naive hope, but hope non the less.
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