300

When the boy was born…

…like all Spartans, he was inspected.

If he'd been small or puny or sickly or misshapen…

…he would have been discarded.

From the time he could stand, he was baptized in the fire of combat.

Taught never to retreat, never to surrender.

Taught that death on the battlefield in service to Sparta…

…was the greatest glory he could achieve in his life.

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 them, forces them to steal…

…and if necessary, to kill.

By rod and lash the boy was punished…

…taught to show no pain, no mercy.

Constantly tested, tossed into the wild.

Left to pit his wits and will against nature's fury.

It was his initiation…

…his time in the wild…

…for he would return to his people a Spartan…

…or not at all.

The wolf begins to circle the boy.

Claws of black steel…

…fur as dark night.

Eyes glowing red…

…jewels from the pit of hell itself.

The giant wolf sniffing…

…savoring the scent of the meal to come.

It's not fear that grips him…

…only a heightened sense of things.

The cold air in his lungs.

Windswept pines moving against the coming night.

His hands are steady.

His form…

…perfect.

And so the boy, given up for dead…

…returns to his people, to sacred Sparta, a king!

Our king, Leonidas!

It's been more than 30 years since the wolf and the winter cold.

And now, as then, a beast approaches.

Patient and confident, savoring the meal to come.

But this beast is made of men and horses…

…swords and spears.

An army of slaves, vast beyond imagining, ready to devour tiny Greece.

Ready to snuff out the world's one hope for reason and justice.

A beast approaches…

…and it was King Leonidas himself who provoked it.

That's it.

Now, the more you sweat here, the less you'll bleed in battle.

My father taught me…

…that fear is always a constant.

But accepting it…

…makes you stronger.

My queen.

A Persian emissary awaits Leonidas.

In the end…

…a Spartan's true strength is the warrior next to him.

So give respect and honor to him, and it will be returned to you.

First…

- …you fight with your head. - Then you fight with your heart.

What is it?

A Persian messenger awaits you.

Do not forget today's lesson.

- Respect and honor. - Respect and honor.

Councilman Theron. You found yourself needed, for once.

My king and queen, I was just entertaining your guests.

I'm sure.

Before you speak, Persian…

…know that in Sparta everyone, even a king's messenger…

…is held accountable for the words of his voice.

Now, what message do you bring?

Earth and water.

You rode all the way from Persia for earth and water?

Do not be coy or stupid, Persian. You can afford neither in Sparta.

What makes this woman think she can speak among men?

Because only Spartan women give birth to real men.

Let us walk to cool our tongues.

If you value your lives over your complete annihilation…

…listen carefully, Leonidas.

Xerxes conquers and controls everything he rests his eyes upon.

He leads an army so massive, it shakes the ground with its march.

So vast, it drinks the rivers dry.

All the God-King Xerxes requires is this:

A simple offering of earth and water…

…a token of Sparta's submission to the will of Xerxes.

Submission.

Now, that's a bit of a problem.

See, rumor has it…

…the Athenians have already turned you down.

And if those philosophers and boy-lovers have found that kind of nerve, then…

- We must be diplomatic. - And, of course, Spartans…

…have their reputation to consider.

Choose your next words carefully, Leonidas.

They may be your last as king.

"Earth and water".

Madman. You're a madman.

Earth and water.

You'll find plenty of both down there.

No man, Persian or Greek, no man threatens a messenger.

You bring the crowns and heads of conquered kings to my city steps.

You insult my queen.

You threaten my people with slavery and death.

Oh, I've chosen my words carefully, Persian.

Perhaps you should have done the same.

This is blasphemy. This is madness!

Madness?

This is Sparta!

Welcome, Leonidas.

We have been expecting you.

The ephors, priests to the old gods.

Inbred swine.

More creature than man.

Creatures whom even Leonidas must bribe and beg.

For no Spartan king has gone to war without the ephors' blessing.

The Persians claim their forces number in the millions.

I hope, for our sake, they exaggerate.

But there's no question, we face the most massive army ever assembled.

Before your plan is heard…

…what do you offer?

We will use our superior fighting skills…

…and the terrain of Greece herself to destroy them.

We will march north to the coast, where I will make sure…

It is August, Leonidas. The full moon approaches.

The sacred and ancient festival.

Sparta wages no war at the time of the Carneia.

Sparta will burn!

Her men will die at arms…

…and her women and children will be slaves or worse.

Now, we will block the Persian coastal assault…

…by rebuilding the great Phocian Wall.

And from there, we will funnel them into the mountain pass we call the Hot Gates.

Now, in that narrow corridor, their numbers will count for nothing.

And wave after wave of Persian attack…

…will smash against Spartan shields.

Xerxes' losses will be so great, his men so demoralized…

…he will have no choice but to abandon his campaign.

We must consult the oracle.

Trust the gods, Leonidas.

I'd prefer you trusted your reason.

Your blasphemies…

…have cost us quite enough already.

Don't compound them.

We will consult the oracle.

Diseased old mystics.

Worthless remnants of a time before Sparta's ascent from darkness.

Remnants of a senseless tradition.

Tradition even Leonidas cannot defy…

…for he must respect the word of the ephors.

That is the law.

And no Spartan, subject or citizen, man or woman…

…slave or king, is above the law.

The ephors choose only the most beautiful Spartan girls…

…to live among them as oracles.

Their beauty is their curse…

…for the old wretches have the needs of men…

…and souls as black as hell.

"Pray to the winds…"

…Sparta will fall.

All Greece will fall.

Trust not in men…

…honor the gods.

Honor the Carneia...

The king's climb down is harder.

Pompous, inbred swine.

Worthless, diseased, rotten…

…corrupt.

Truly, you're in the god-king's favor now…

…O wise and holy men.

Yes.

And when Sparta burns, you shall bathe in gold.

Fresh oracles shall be delivered to you…

…daily…

…from every corner of the empire.

Your lips can finish what your fingers have started.

Or has the oracle robbed you of your desire as well?

It would take more than the words of a drunken adolescent girl…

…to rob me of my desire for you.

Then why so distant?

Because it seems…

…though a slave and captive of lecherous old men…

…the oracle's words could set fire to all that I love.

So that is why my king loses sleep and is forced from the warmth of his bed?

There's only one woman's words that should affect the mood of my husband.

Those are mine.

Then what must a king do to save his world…

…when the very laws he is sworn to protect force him to do nothing?

It is not a question of what a Spartan citizen should do…

…nor a husband, nor a king.

Instead ask yourself, my dearest love…

…what should a free man do?

- Is this all of them? - As you ordered. Three hundred.

All with born sons to carry on their name.

We are with you, sire.

For Sparta. For freedom.

To the death.

He is your son.

He is too young to have felt a woman's warmth.

I have others to replace him. Astinos is as brave and ready as any.