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On campaign with his father, Alexander had finally been given the chance to prove himself.
Things were not always so harmonious between father and son: Alexander's fiercely protective mother Olympias was not Philip's only wife.
Nor was she a full-blooded Macedonian.
At the wedding feast for Philip's seventh wife, the girl's father proposed a toast.
May the Gods bless this union — and may it produce a legitimate Macedonian heir.
And what am I then, a bastard?
Philip rose, drew his sword, and advanced — not on the man who had insulted his son, but against Alexander!
Thoroughly drunk, the one-eyed conqueror tripped and fell flat on his face.
Here is the man who would lead you from Europe into Asia, and he can't even cross from one couch to the next!
Yet for every quarrel, there was a reconciliation, and Alexander once again rode at his father's side as Philip bore down on Greece.
Philip had long wished to be master of the Greek world, and the wily campaigner had used all manner of diplomatic tricks to extend his influence to the south.
For years, an uneasy peace abided; but now, the Greeks prepared to make one last stand against their would-be conqueror.
Astride the road to Chaeronea, the Greek forces waited.
On their right, the Athenians, their empire long diminished but their pride irrepressible. On their left, the Thebans, among their ranks the elite Sacred Band.
From the north, their long pikes swaying above storms of dust, came the Macedonians. And on their flank, with full command of the king's finest cavalry, was Alexander.