A spy had again snuck into the city to open the gates once the Thracians approached. The Macedonians within the city had no idea how easy it was going to be.
1000 Thracians under the command of Burnt Pies stood against 600 Macedonians. Even if they had 6000 Macedonians, it would make no difference.
Prince Euneus had no idea that the Thracians were attacking when he awoke. Why should he have to know what a barbarian was doing? He was a bureaucrat and politician, not some thug who only needed to learn what end the pointy end of a stick should face. As he took his morning stroll, he noticed that a lot of the peasants were panicking. He took to the wall and was greeted with the reason for such unrest.
A thousand barbarians stood in the fields outside,a thousand strong men all glaring at the walls of Bylazora and listening to the words of a gigantic man whose armour identified him as being in command of this force. He chose not to attempt to understand their words and left to make preparations, hearing their hoots and laughter upon the breeze. He only had a 150 men within the city and 450 had been putting down bandits and rebels. But they would never make it in time.
Burnt Pies led his cavalry through the open gates, running down the few peltasts that had been placed in their way.
The Peltasts never even lasted a minute.
300 Hoplites began their trek to the town square where Euneus, his bodyguard and the lancers under his command awaited the Thracians.
As the Hoplites joined the battle, one of the rebel Hoplite groups broke formation and began to rout. Burnt Pies did not care, a single group of outsiders would not make much difference in this battle.
He had to respect the Macedonians though. They had charged the Hoplites before they could get into a true Phalanx formation and were now fighting well.
But fighting well was never enough when facing a true Thracian warrior.
Euneus had even managed to survive for five minutes in combat with a Thracian. That he had to respect.
The Macedonian reinforcements had arrived to late to save their prince but still wanted to fight on and save their city. They possessed the arrogance of many a Macedonian that hadn't seen their foe.
The falxmen and cavalry crashed into the side of their formation and began to kill like men possessed. Many of the Macedonians fell at their swords and many more began to rout. But they were still bunched up in their formation, they were unable to escape from their fate.
All that remained was a force of Pikemen. Cowards that preferred pikes over a sword or a spear so that they wouldn't have to fight close to the enemy.
The cowards broke within 30 seconds. The battle became a massacre as they put their own survival above that of killing as many foes as possible.
600 Macedonians took to the field that day to face 1000 Thracians.
All that remained was a solitary figure fleeing into the mountains.
The day belonged to Thrace and another city fell to the might of his warriors. It was not the first time it had happened and it was not going to be the last.