Alexander’s speech moved some but confused most.
They knew the word professional- which meant someone expert and army which meant, well an army.
But what did a professional army mean?
Although in their defense, their confusion was justified as the concept of a professional army did not really exist at the time with only Exolas being the exception.
Even Amenheraft’s so-called elites were originally just farmers that regularly received just two weeks of training per year during the winter when the peasants had nothing better to do.
Of course, the war over the last two years had transformed many into seasoned veterans.
Seeing the quagmire of confusion his soldiers were in, Alexander expounded, “Our employers hire us to either to protect their land or capture new territory. And the biggest complaint both of them have is mercenaries are destructive, mercenaries spoil the land that they conquer.”
Alexander then clenched his fist and pronounced, “I want us to be different. I want us to be elite soldiers that fight and kill, but do not steal, loot or ****. This means the cities we capture will be intact for our employers and so be more valuable.”
Alexander then gave a light smile, “Of course, such services will come with extra costs. Our regular rates will be what the Cantagenans offered and there may be other perks along the line.”
Alexander added mysteriously.
Alexander then finished in an understanding way, “Don’t worry, none of you will have to make the decision right now. You have three days. Think it over.”
“But remember, though the payment will be higher, the training and discipline will also be harder. Dismissed.” Alexander warned and then dismissed them, ordering one hundred to guard the inner gates, two hundred to follow him, and the rest to go back and escort the rest of the camp back to the city.
After all these orders, Alexander sighed in his heart, ‘My original condition had no additional pay. Just the chance of being with me. If I had done, probably less than twenty would have stayed.’
Alexander felt that his thoughts might have been a little naive when he figured that because he had just won them the city, they would be more susceptible to coercion.
But he was wrong!
Mercenaries were inherently unruly and Alexander understood that when he campaigns in the future, tragedies will surely occur under his name.
The social and political structure was such that it would be impossible for him, a single man to go against this tide of inevitability, at least in the near future and all he could do was try and minimize the damage. 𝒃𝙚𝙙𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝒍．𝒆𝒕
With the soldiers set to sack the city, Alexander then suddenly remembered about a person.
And asked some of his soldiers, “There’s a Sycarian by the name of Laykash who was injured and is probably near the gates. Go get him into the palace and then inform me immediately. Go, do it quickly.”
Then Alexander asked everyone else that was present to join him in the palace and soon this small group made their way through the streets in silence, though for very different reasons.
Ptolomy was a bit sad about Barzan and seeing his city be molested while his entourage was going through a crisis of loyalty.
Alexander’s group was silent for completely different reasons.
They were tired from staying up all night and then fighting in a melee and then marching here.
And now they were immersed in a kind of dreamlike state as they still couldn’t believe that they had managed to capture his magnificent city as they soaked themselves within the grand, imposing, architecture that adorned both sides of the city.
The roads were cobbled with stones and each side was decorated with beautiful homes and expensive spires and minarets – made of the finest timber and stone, giving the whole place a feeling of majesty and mobility.
The only caveat was that some of these beautiful structures seemed to be smoking and their ears would be at times blasted by the screams of men dying and women being humiliated, sometimes literally in front of them as they made their way to the palace through the wide road.
Many houses they crossed seemed to be entertaining guests, though likely not willingly as it was clear as day what the soldiers were doing to the men, women, and children.
Alexander turned a complete blind eye to the burning and plundering taking in front of him, because even if he could stop the things happening right here, what about the fact that the same thing was repeating all over the inner ring?
Was he supposed to ride throughout the city and stop everyone at the same time?
And even if he was capable of this superhuman feat, even many of Alexander’s own men, men he considered very loyal to him had refused to listen to him when given the ‘controversial’ command.
So how could he expect others, who respected him but ultimately only followed him because of necessity, to heed his command?
And that was beside the point that this destruction had strategic value for Alexander.
The killing was restricted to mostly the inner ring, because all the best loot and women were here and because his force of ten thousand was grossly inadequate to rampage throughout the entire twenty square kilometer city.
This meant it was the nobles, rich merchants, and their servants, totaling around thirty to forty thousand who were ultimately bearing the brunt of the assault.
And given how hedonistic these privileged groups were by Ptolomy’s description, which Alexander believed, the latter felt not a shred of compassion for them.
These people had let the common mass suffer brutal hunger and destitution for three whole years while they lived in the lap of luxury, refusing to make an inch of concession to their lifestyle, and although many individuals might have been innocent, as a whole the group deserved to be punished.
‘The lesser the number of nobles, the better the world will become,’ Alexander said to himself, trying to justify the atrocities he was in part allowing to happen as he saw a woman literally be thrown out of her house and into the road, get her clothes ripped off and then be humiliated right in front of him, while the soldier doing this seemed so out of it that he had even noticed the large contingent of people approaching him, only shouting, “For my brother. You bitches sacrificed my brother.”
The group soon made their way to the palace ‘enjoying such delightful scenery,’ some producing sadness in their hearts seeing these events, some feeling anger, some like Ptolomy having ambivalent feelings like angry at the plundering taking place but also happy seeing the nobles punished and some feeling nothing – like Menicus who had been long inured to such scenes, having seen, participated and even replicated such horrors in his long mercenary career.
And the palace was no rosy side of the picture as well. Even well before entering even the outer gates, the same, horrific sounds could be heard emanating from the palace and Alexander knew the five hundred men were enjoying the best time of their life right now.
“Protect the princesses. These men have gone half mad with pleasure.” Alexander warned as he moved the three of them- Hellma, Azura, and Azira into the center of the group and made thirty bodyguards be the vanguard.
As they slowly approaches the palace, they spotted only a few palace guards’ corpses sprawled across the walkways and gardens, as most had run away at the first sight of five hundred men charging on horses straight at them.
Now, instead of soldiers patrolling the grounds of the magnificent castle, bloodshot, lust-addled brutes roamed the premises, hungry for their next victims.
Some of these in their craze even attempted to attack Alexander’s group but after getting booted squarely on the chest by Alexander’s bodyguards and knocked back to their senses, they managed to recognize Alexander and after bowing and thanking him, promptly turned around to carry on their mischief elsewhere.
The group finally made their way to the palace entrance and the scene here was even more horrific.
The number of corpses was much more numerous here, likely because the inner guards were chosen more carefully and had more loyalty, so they didn’t break and run, instead choosing to stand their ground and defend the palace to the last men, only to be slaughtered by the Sycarians.
But the tragedy was not over with the deaths of these men as many women too lay with them, either dead or on the verge of it, many with their lower parts destroyed, many having their breasts chewed out, and many suffering lacerations of various degrees.
Some were being raped even when Alexander appeared, being dragged out of the palace by their hair, their screams drowned out by the cackling of beasts in human skin as the men threw the women into the pristine stone walkway and violated them, many times multiple men preying on a single woman.
In this way, Alexander was greeted into the palace, with the walkways dyed red and decorated with the bodies of its defenders, with the mournful tragic music of women being humiliated in the background.
‘If this is just the front gates, what’s happening inside.’ Alexander felt an uncharacteristic chill in his heart seeing the scale of the atrocities.
‘*Sigh*, If god exists, will I be judged for these crimes? Or will it all be written off as an inevitable product of the time?’ Alexander could not help but ask himself, knowing if he were to try and make his ambitions come true, such events will be repeated many times over.