Davos ignored him, his voice ringing out over the murmurs. “To the new citizens. Those who fought to defeat the Lucanian tribal confederacy, who liberated this city, and who have this day joined Amendolara, the lands you now possess shall also be exempt from taxation! In time, we will mint another series of clasps: the‘Re-founder’s Silver Clasps’. Every new citizen shall receive one, to be kept in perpetuity and worn upon his chiton on all great public occasions, so that future generations will know of your great deeds!”

“Now that’s more like it!” Matonis declared, sitting down with a satisfied grunt.

A surge of pride straightened the backs of the new citizens. They, too, had been granted honor.

By bestowing a unique glory upon each faction, Davos had satisfied both, and a fragile peace returned to the chamber. Cornelius watched it all unfold, forced to admit that the young man’s political instincts were nothing short of terrifying.

“But if no one is paying the tax, what is the point of this law?” Mersis protested, his fiscal sensibilities offended.

“Don’t you see, Quaestor?” Cornelius said with a knowing smile. “All current citizens are exempt from the land tax. But any citizen who joins Amendolara in the future and acquires land will be required to pay it.”

“And let us be clear,” Davos added, his voice sharp, “it is only the lands you currently possess that are exempt. Any new lands you acquire in the future will be subject to the tax!”

“If that is the case, then I can accept it,” Antonios announced, rising to his feet. His words served to bridge the divide. “Amendolara was founded by the ancestors of Cornelius and his people. They have suffered greatly, and we must honor their history. We, in turn, have shed our blood and sweat for this city, and we too have earned our reward. Anyone who joins hereafter will be enjoying the fruits of all our labors. It is only right that they contribute something in return. A tax, I believe, is a good way to do it!”

“Antonios is right! We agree to this!” The new citizens voiced their assent in a unified chorus.

“Yes! We are the founders of this new Amendolara!” Protesilaus cried, his voice trembling with emotion. “Future generations must know what we have done here today! This tax-exempt land and these silver clasps are the proof—the ultimate honor!” The other old citizens did not object.

***

After the meeting finally concluded, the new citizens streamed back towards the public square, while the old citizens began their trek up the rugged mountain path toward their homes.

“Cornelius, you were far too lenient with that young man tonight!” Stromboli complained loudly. “You did not challenge a single one of his proposals! You just stood by and watched him sway those ignorant mercenaries!”

“Hush, Stromboli, do not shout ‘young man’ this and ‘young man’ that,” Raphias cautioned, glancing nervously behind them. They were not far from the others. “Davos is our Archon. We owe him respect.”

“Archon? A king, more like! Did he seek our consent on a single matter before proposing it? Was a single one of his bills discussed with the senators beforehand? He packed the meeting with those mindless soldiers who do nothing but obey him, for the clear purpose of making himself the sole authority! Why are we even here? To be his puppets?!” Stromboli’s voice was a torrent of frustrated rage.

Scombras could not help but interrupt. “If you have such objections to the Archon, why did you not voice them in the chamber?”

Stromboli was momentarily speechless. His eyes darted around. “None of you were objecting, so why should I be the only one? I’m not a fool! Oh… I see now. Cornelius is the City Administrator, and Raphias is the Registrar. You are both great men now! Favors from our gracious Archon. It would be unseemly to object, wouldn’t it?”

Scombras lunged in front of him, his eyes blazing. “Silence, Stromboli! Cornelius did everything in his power to protect this city; you will not speak of him that way! And… though those soldiers are louts, and they assaulted me, I will speak the truth: the proposals of this young Archon are fascinating. That tax law, in particular… I was shocked, it’s true. But Amendolara has not changed in a hundred years…”

“Uncle Scombras is right!” Tritodemus declared, his expression solemn. “After suffering such a catastrophe, we cannot go on as we did before! Be it his appointment as Archon for Life or these new proposals, if it makes Amendolara strong and ensures we are never humiliated again, I will accept it, even if it means changing every one of our sacred traditions!” Several of the others nodded in quiet agreement.

“It’s more than just avoiding humiliation! We will attack the Lucanians! We will defeat them and have our revenge!” Protesilaus, the youngest of the six, exclaimed, his eyes shining with zeal.

“The Lucanians are numerous and their lands are vast and mountainous. Attacking them is not so simple. The young Archon is merely boasting,” Stromboli said doubtfully.

“Davos led a smaller force of mercenaries and annihilated a larger Lucanian army. Is that not a fact? He retook Amendolara in a single night. Is that not also a fact? Tell me, which of the generals and citizens of Magna Graecia could have accomplished either of these feats?” Protesilaus retorted.

Stromboli just grunted, offering no reply.

“Did you see the way those new citizens look at him?” Protesilaus continued with dramatic flair. “It is as if they are gazing upon a god!”

“They call him the ‘Favored of Hades’,” Tritodemus mused. “Perhaps he truly can perform miracles. I have long heard of a beautiful, great lake upstream on the River Sinni, in the northwest of our lands. The Lucanians call it Dokala. It seems I may not only get to see it, but perhaps even gain a plot of land there.”

Stromboli grunted again, though with noticeably less anger in his tone.

“War always means death,” Cornelius sighed. “It is better to avoid it if we can.”

“It’s not as if we will be the ones fighting,” Raphias said with a shrug. “And those mercenaries seem quite keen on it.”

“They are citizens of Amendolara now,” Cornelius reminded him. He paused, then added with a sigh of his own, “We have all underestimated Davos. He may be young, but his familiarity with the politics of the city-state is uncanny. Could it be true, as the new citizens whisper, that Hades himself has blessed him with wisdom?”

His wondering question was met with silence. It was clear that the others were just as astonished.

“Nevertheless, his actual ability to govern remains to be seen,” Cornelius warned, his voice grave. “We do not yet know what effect these new laws will have on Amendolara. Our duty is to do everything in our power to ensure the city’s stability and to advise Davos when we see problems. For now, at least, he does not seem to be another Dionysius of Syracuse.”

Four of the men nodded, but Stromboli’s voice was low and grim as he asked, “And what if he throws Amendolara into chaos? What if he refuses all counsel and acts as he pleases?”

“If it truly comes to that…” Cornelius trailed off, unsure how to answer.

“Then we drive them out,” Scombras said with brutal finality. “For the sake of Amendolara, we will even ally with Thurii again if we must.”

The others looked at one another, and in the torchlit darkness, they silently, grimly, nodded their assent.

***

By the time Davos returned to the square, the night was far gone. He made his way back to his command tent. Inside, a single candle still burned, and Crystoia, who had been waiting for him, had fallen asleep on the pallet they had made on the ground.

He moved silently to her side and knelt, the dancing candlelight illuminating her beautiful, sensual face. Her breathing was light and even, and a faint smile graced her lips.

She must be having a sweet dream, he thought, gazing at her, entranced. He had come to this strange world alone, fighting desperately just to survive. Though he had comrades to whom he could entrust his life, it was she who had given his lonely, wandering soul a harbor to call home.

He reached out, unable to resist, and gently stroked her soft, long hair. Her eyes fluttered open at his touch. She rubbed them sleepily and murmured, “You’re back.”

He took both her hands in his, holding them together. “Crystoia of Miletus,” he said, his voice soft and full of tenderness, “will you be my wife?”

Her eyes suddenly blazed with a brilliant light, her face radiant in the candlelight. The greatest fear she had carried with her on their long, perilous journey had vanished in that instant. She threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight as she whispered the words that would bind her life to his: “I will.”

***

Later, after a passionate embrace, Crystoia lay upon his chest, listening as he recounted the events of the night’s meeting. Sleep was slowly creeping over her when he spoke again.

“Crystoia, there is something I am considering asking you to do.”

“What is it?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Have you ever heard of a bank?”

“Of course. It is for lending money. My father was involved in that business in Miletus. I remember him speaking of it. He most admired the Athenian banker Pasion, not just because he became the richest man in Athens through lending, but because he also managed to win the respect of its citizens…” A shadow of sadness passed over her as she recalled her past life.

“Perfect!” Davos exclaimed. “I want you to open a bank in Amendolara, dedicated to providing loans to our citizens.”

“A bank? Me?!” Crystoia was stunned.

“Yes, you,” Davos said, tilting his head up to meet her gaze, his eyes filled with absolute trust. “You managed the medical corps so brilliantly. I have no doubt that you can manage a bank just as well.”

Crystoia collected herself, her mind already turning to the practicalities. “But that will require a great deal of silver.”