The morning air hung thick with tension as the Lucanian tribal alliance brought their advance to a halt two miles from the Greek lines. The distant rumble of footsteps subsided, leaving only the faint rustle of the wind through the grasses. Across the plain, the Greek forces stood silent and unmoving, their shields glinting in the early light, their spears angled skyward in disciplined ranks. A fragile stillness settled over the battlefield, as if the land itself awaited the first clash of steel.
Both sides had reasons to delay. The Lucanians sought to marshal their strength, their massive coalition a tapestry of warriors from different tribes, each eager for a decisive blow to crush the Greek resistance. Thurii, meanwhile, stood resolute, unwilling to squander the morale of its soldiers or the precision of its formation on a hasty assault. Each side yearned for a decisive battle, and in their shared hunger, the field became a stage for destiny.
