Chapter 103

Davos’s proposal was met with broad approval, especially from the new citizens. They were entirely unfamiliar with the laws of Amendolara, so the prospect of presiding over legal disputes was daunting. Furthermore, the influx of thousands of former mercenaries into the city was a tinderbox of potential conflict with the native population. In their eyes, Cornelius, a man respected by both factions, was the ideal choice to mediate the inevitable friction that lay ahead.

A bitter smile touched Cornelius’s lips. Not even half a day had passed, and his title of Deputy Archon had been unceremoniously stripped away. While the authority of the City Administrator was indeed broader than that of the newly conceived deputy role, a Deputy Archon was, by definition, the Archon’s second—a position that carried with it a faint, implicit power to check the Archon himself. The City Administrator, by contrast, was nothing more than a subordinate, unequivocally under the Archon’s command. But what could he do? Davos now held the Senate in the palm of his hand. And despite his youth, he wielded the tools of politics with the unnerving confidence of a master. Even Raphias and the others believed him better suited for this new role. The fight had gone out of him.

“I am willing to serve as the City Administrator,” he declared, his voice heavy with resignation. He had been thoroughly outmaneuvered.

Davos glanced at him, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Of course, Cornelius. Your duties will be many, especially those concerning the maintenance of public order. It is only right that we provide you with a capable Captain of the Patrol.”

His gaze swept across the assembly. “We shall now elect a Captain of the Patrol. Though it may be considered a junior post, most of you lack experience in civic office. I would advise you to begin at the foundational level and accumulate experience. The floor is open to all present, including the members of this Senate. You may nominate yourselves!”

A contemplative silence fell over the hall as Davos’s words sank in.

“My Lord Archon,” Cornelius interjected, “that position is already filled.”

“Oh? By whom?”

“Antikles. He also serves as the Fire Captain. Throughout his tenure, he has earned high praise from the citizenry. He was wounded in the battle with the Lucanians which resulted in his severed right hand, but he has since recovered.”

“A grievous injury,” Davos said, his tone sympathetic yet firm. “Should a conflict arise, a man so wounded would struggle to command the authority needed to quell a public disturbance. Let him retain the title of Fire Captain alone. For a city like Amendolara, the prevention of fires and the mitigation of disasters are matters of the utmost gravity. Wildfires and mudslides are ever-present threats. Therefore, the role of Fire Captain is one of immense responsibility, one that demands an experienced and capable citizen. In fact, I propose we add the position of Deputy Fire Captain. You may nominate yourselves for this role as well, so that you may learn the vital arts of disaster prevention.”

“A most prudent suggestion, my Lord Archon,” Cornelius conceded. He had to admit, Davos’s grasp of the unique dangers facing their mountain city was remarkably astute. He could not have known, of course, that Davos had once served as a village official in the mountains in a previous life.

“So then,” Davos’s voice cut through the murmurs, “who among you wishes to be Captain of the Patrol?”

The words had barely left his lips when two figures rose to their feet: Sextus and Hylos. A moment later, they were joined by several others.

Davos considered the candidates for a long moment. “Sextus,” he began, his reasoning deliberate and clear, “the majority of our new citizens are former mercenaries who participated in the Persian expedition. These are men who have killed, plundered… men who have done unspeakable things in the East. In the barracks, they were constrained by military law. But here, in the city, I fear they will struggle to adapt and may cause trouble. You are not well acquainted with them, and I doubt they would readily submit to your authority. Therefore, I nominate Hylos for the position of Captain of the Patrol.”

“Lord Archon, you have my word! I will assist Lord Cornelius in maintaining order within the city!” Hylos pledged, his voice ringing with determination.

Davos turned to Cornelius. “What is your opinion?”

“I concur,” Cornelius replied without a flicker of hesitation. He saw Davos’s strategy with perfect clarity: he was determined to place the city’s only standing armed force squarely in the hands of his own man.

Sextus showed no trace of disappointment. Instead, he made another request. “Then I ask to be considered for the post of Deputy Fire Captain!”

“Excellent. I have no objection,” Davos nodded. A willingness to serve was always to be commended.

Naturally, both appointments were passed without dissent.

“Next, do we not have the office of the Censor?” Davos inquired.

“We do,” Cornelius had just nodded when a ripple of laughter spread through the assembly.

Seeing Cornelius’s perplexed expression, Davos explained, “During our time in Persia, a Spartan Censor and his contingent of several hundred warriors fought alongside us. As a result, many of our men believe they are familiar with the office. However, I suspect that a Spartan Censor and an Amendolaran Censor are two very different things.”

“Why is that?” Olivas called out from the back row.

“Because a Spartan Censor has the power to hold their kings accountable,” Davos clarified. He had no intention of ever allowing such a check on his own power, regardless of past traditions. “I doubt the duties of an Amendolaran Censor extend quite that far.”

“Power to hold a king accountable?!” Olivas and several others gasped in astonishment.

Cornelius, for his part, was no longer surprised by the breadth of Davos’s knowledge. He was beginning to believe the rumors that circulated among the mercenaries: Davos was truly favored by the gods.

“The Censor of Amendolara,” Cornelius elaborated, “is primarily responsible for reviewing the senatorial roll, monitoring the attendance and punctuality of senators during assembly, overseeing the moral conduct of the citizenry, conducting the census, auditing the expenditure of public property, and managing public works…” A collective intake of breath followed his words. The Censor of Amendolara wielded immense power after all.

Seeing the avarice in their eyes, Davos intervened. “A word of caution, gentlemen. To perform the duties of a Censor is no simple task. You must be proficient in writing reports. You must be skilled in arithmetic, capable of deciphering financial ledgers.” Davos tactfully omitted the fact that a Censor could be illiterate and innumerate, so long as he owned a slave who possessed such skills. But such slaves were premium goods at market, a luxury few could afford or would be willing to purchase.

His warning was effective. Most of the men abandoned the notion at once. The new citizens were largely from poor backgrounds; being able to recognize a few letters was an achievement in itself. The thought of writing reports and auditing accounts was a fantasy. Nevertheless, four men nominated themselves: the centurions Antonios and Alexis, and the two Amendolaran nobles, Raphias and Stromboli.

With two of his own centurions competing, Davos was careful not to show favoritism. A vote was held among all present. In the end, Antonios emerged victorious, for a simple reason: Davos had promoted nearly every member of Hylos’s old squad to an officer position. That squad had once served under Antonios’s command, and his affable nature had won him many allies. The votes naturally flowed his way.

“Do not be disheartened, Alexis,” Davos said with a comforting, jesting tone. “This is an annual appointment. By next year, it may well be your turn.”

Alexis, far from being dejected, grinned. “I won’t have to wait that long. I’ll just wait for Antonios to fail, then I’ll take over.”

Antonios shot him a glare. “You think I’m that incompetent?”

The new citizens roared with laughter, while Raphias and the other old citizens remained conspicuously silent. Davos noted their reaction.

“Furthermore,” Cornelius announced once the laughter had subsided, “we have the office of the Quaestor, who is responsible for managing the state treasury, collecting taxes, and overseeing public assets, such as the stone quarry. He is also tasked with managing the city’s population.”

The moment he finished, Mersis rose to his feet. Raphias followed a heartbeat later.

Seeking to lighten the tense atmosphere, Davos turned to Olivas with a smile. “Olivas, why don’t you nominate yourself?”

Olivas shook his head emphatically. “The mere mention of arithmetic gives me a headache. And what if I miscalculate the taxes? If the Censor finds out and orders me to pay the difference, I’ll be ruined!”

Another wave of laughter rolled through the chamber.

“I believe Mersis is the most suitable man for the job,” Olivas continued once the noise died down. “Back when he managed the baggage train, his accounts of coin and supplies were always impeccable. There was never a shortage, never a hint of corruption, and not a single man ever complained about him…”

If it came to another vote, a former mercenary would undoubtedly win again. Davos knew that while this would cement his control over Amendolara, it would be disastrous for the unity of the city-state. After a moment of careful thought, he turned to Cornelius and announced his solution. “I believe we can establish a new office: that of the Registrar. The Quaestor will be responsible solely for finances and taxation. The Registrar will oversee the population: citizens, their families, even slaves and freedmen. He will also be responsible for all freeborn foreigners residing in the city. The Registrar’s duties will be substantial from the outset, with thousands of new citizens requiring documentation. In the future, this office may become even more vital. Therefore, I recommend Mersis for the office of Quaestor, and Raphias for the office of Registrar.”