Alexander the Great stood on a dew-covered hill, gazing out to the horizon where the crimson sun was just rising above the tree line. His bronze battle armor, carved with patterns, gleamed in the morning light. Behind him, the army was forming up, calling softly to one another – thousands of Macedonian warriors, phalangites with sarissas, light infantry, and mounted hetairoi.

Alexander gripped the handle of his spear and glanced at his closest confidants – Parmenion and young Cleitus – their faces reflecting a mixture of determination and slight tension. The Battle of Granicus would be the first serious engagement with Darius’s Persian army.

“Today, my brothers,” he began, raising his voice to be heard, “we will show the world what it means to be a Macedonian! These shores have seen only the pitiful streams of human blood brought by cowards. But now this stream will become powerful, cleansing! Darius hopes that we will tremble before his generals, but have we ever trembled when looking into the eyes of the Illyrians or Thebans?

The crowd of warriors roared in approval.

“They are watching us from across the river,” he continued, pointing his spear at the enemy line that was lining up on the opposite bank. “Their hearts are full of fear, because they know that Alexander the Great and his army are not just warriors. They are the spirit of freedom that they will never be able to break.”

Alexander smiled. Adrenaline filled his body. Today will be a day that will be sung in song.

He waved his hand, giving the signal for readiness.

“Forward! For Macedonia! For Greece! For our dream!”

The troops moved, their steps merging into a powerful rhythm, like the roar of a storm that is about to engulf the enemy.