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Today, no Spartan dies!~
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At age 7, as is customary in Sparta the boy was taken from his mother and plunged into a world of violence. Manufactured by 300 years of Spartan warrior society to create the finest soldiers the world has ever known. The agoge as it's called, forces the boy to fight, starves him, forces him to steal... and if necessary, to kill.~
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(as Leonidas bids farewell to his wife) "Goodbye my love." He doesn't say it. There's no room for softness, not in Sparta. No place for weakness. Only the hard and strong may call themselves Spartans. Only the hard. Only the strong.~
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(regarding the Arcadians) They shout and curse, stabbing wildly, more brawlers than warriors. They make a wondrous mess of things. Brave amateurs....they do their part.~
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Now, as then, a beast approaches, patient and confident, savoring the meal to come.~
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It is not fear that grips him. Only a heightened sense of things.~
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The old ones say we Spartans have descended from Hercules himself.~
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Taught never to retreat, never to surrender. Taught that death in the battlefield in service of Sparta is the greatest glory he could achieve in his life.~
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And so the boy, given up for dead, returns to his people, to sacred Sparta a king, our king, Leonidas!~
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(as the Persian ships are struck by a thunderstorm) Zeus stabs the sky with thunderbolts, and batters the Persian ships with hurricane wind! Glorious. Only one among us keeps his Spartan reserve. Only he....only our King.~
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(regarding Captain Artemis) Upon seeing the headless body of his own young son, the captain breaks rank. He goes wild, blood-drunk. The captain's cries of pain at the loss of his young son are more frightening to the enemy than the deepest battle drums. It takes three men to restrain him and bring him back to our own. The day is ours...no songs are sung.~
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They have served the dark will of Persian kings for five hundred years. Eyes as black as night, teeth filed into fangs. Soulless. The personal guard to King Xerxes. The Immortals. We put their name to the test.~
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The Immortals, they failed our king's test, and a man who fancies himself a god feels a very human chill crawl up his spine.~
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His helmet is stifling. His shield is heavy.~
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(later, as Leonidas throws his spear at Xerxes) His helmet was stifling; it narrowed his vision, and he must see far. His shield was heavy; it threw him off balance, and his target was far away.~
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