“That was just a moment of anger,” Antikles said frankly. “In truth, Hylos is a good man, and very humble. He often comes to me seeking advice. Besides, both of my new sons-in-law are new citizens, and my eldest daughter’s husband is a Platoon Commander! See him? Over there… the tall one in the white-crested helmet!”

“Antikles, what is a Platoon Commander?” Stromboli scoffed. “How many men does he command? In our day, you and I commanded entire brigades.”

“That was different,” Antikles countered. “We were nobles, appointed by the Archon because of our status. But I heard from Tritodemus that under the Archon Davos’s new rules, a Platoon Commander must be a veteran of countless battles, and he must be chosen by his own men and approved by his superiors before he can take command. That is the only way to lead soldiers who are just as experienced and proud as he is.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

Stromboli fell silent. He could find fault with many things, but he could not deny the prowess of the veterans of the Persian Expedition. To command such men, one truly had to be exceptional.

***

Crystoia gazed at Davos, who stood tall on the central platform amidst the roaring cheers, and her vision blurred. This is the husband I chose in the midst of war and chaos, she thought. And I was not wrong. He has achieved his dream.

“The Lord Archon is so majestic!” a clear voice said, pulling her from her reverie. She did not need to turn to know it was Andrea. A few days earlier, Crystoia had learned Andrea’s story from Davos and had been deeply moved by her devotion. On the pretext of needing help with her new bank, she had invited Andrea to become her assistant. Andrea had readily agreed, and the two had quickly become close friends. Under the protection of the Archon’s wife, the gossip and scornful looks directed at Andrea had greatly diminished.

“Oh? Have you set your sights on Davos now?” Crystoia teased.

“My lady, please do not mock me,” Andrea replied with a gentle chide.

“I heard Davos ordered the Lucanians to witness this ceremony,” Crystoia said, her tone now serious. “Afterward, I will ask him to arrange a meeting for you. How does that sound?”

Andrea’s gratitude was open and heartfelt. “Thank you, my lady!”

Crystoia turned to look at her, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Do you truly intend to wait for him for five years?”

Andrea nodded without a moment’s hesitation.

Moved by her resolve, Crystoia recalled Davos’s words. “Then you must do everything you can to persuade Bagulos to manage his people well. They must not cause any trouble, and they must diligently complete the tasks the city-state assigns them. When there is a major undertaking, they must participate actively and strive to earn merit. That is the only way to shorten the five-year term.”

Andrea nodded emphatically.

Crystoia gently caressed her cheek. “I truly hope, my dear sister, that your wait will not be long, and that your wish will one day be fulfilled.”

Andrea bit her lip, her eyes welling with tears.

***

The Strategos Philesius stepped forward, his voice booming across the square. “By order of the Senate, I hereby announce the formation of the First Legion of Amendolara! The office of Legion Commander of this legion shall be held by the Archon for Life, Davos!”

A thunderous cheer erupted from below.

“Bestow the standard of the First Legion!”

A trumpet call sounded, and a solemn silence fell over the plaza. Philesius, his expression grave, held up a great standard, four meters in length. Davos accepted it with two hands and raised it high, slowly turning in a full circle on the platform.

From the sidelines, Mersis shouted, “Do you see that? I spent days designing it and supervising its creation! Is it not magnificent?”

“You designed it?” Marigi asked, his face a mask of skepticism.

Mersis let out a dry laugh. “A slip of the tongue. Davos designed the banners, but without me, they could never have been made so quickly!”

The soldiers held their breath, their eyes fixed on the great, glittering standard. At its peak was a brass finial in the form of Hades holding his bident. Below the statue was a thick, crimson tassel. Further down the staff was a square of heavy, red wool-linen cloth, stretched taut. Embroidered upon it in golden Greek letters were the words “FIRST LEGION.” On the reverse, at the center, was a single, gleaming gold star. Davos pointed to it.

“Brothers of the First Legion!” he roared. “This gold star represents your honor as the founders of this new army, for your victory over the Lucanian confederacy and your liberation of Amendolara! It is unique!”

The soldiers cheered, their chests swelling with pride as they gazed upon the gleaming star.

“Henceforth, for every great victory you win, another star will be added to this banner, so that the people will never forget your deeds! I expect you to fill this standard with the gold of countless victories!” Davos’s fervent words drove the soldiers into a frenzy.

“HAIL!”

“HAIL!”

“HAIL!”

The morale of the soldiers in the square had reached its absolute peak.

“In all my decades of fighting for this city, I have never seen such a standard! Nor such a way to inspire the troops!” Antikles exclaimed, his eyes full of longing as he gazed at the banner. “What an honor it would be to fight under such a standard!”

“I hear the finial is a statue of Hades,” Stromboli grumbled. “It is Davos’s veiled declaration that he is the god’s favored one.”

“And are there not many who believe it to be true?” Antikles retorted. He clutched the stump of his right arm. “Besides, to have Hades on our side, bringing death to our enemies, is a good thing! I foresee that our First Legion will become a truly terrifying army! A pity… a pity that I can no longer fight beneath the banner of the Underworld King.”

***

“Let the Standard Bearer of the First Legion, Martius, come forth to receive the banner!” Philesius cried.

Martius, the captain of the guard, normally known for his boldness, could not help but feel a tremor of nerves. He tightened his armor, straightened his helmet one last time, and ascended the platform with a solemn expression. He stood before Davos, came to a halt, and struck his left breast with his right fist in a sharp salute.

Davos returned the salute. “The Legion Standard Bearer is chosen from among the bravest soldiers in the entire army!” he declared. “It is the highest of honors! I expect you to carry this standard high on the battlefield, to advance forever forward, no matter the danger, and to inspire the whole army to victory!”

Martius accepted the standard and swore a solemn oath. “Hades be my witness! I, Martius, will guard this standard as I guard my own eyes, and I will carry it ever forward, and never retreat!”

Amidst the cheers, Matonis muttered under his breath, “If I hadn’t been made a Centurion, that would be me up there.”

“Let the Chiliarch of the First Brigade, Capus, come forth to receive his standard!”

Before Capus could even move, the soldiers behind him began to urge him on. “Go, commander! Go and receive the banner!”

Capus walked up to the platform with a calm, steady gait. Davos took the brigade standard from a guard and held it out to him. “The First Brigade of the Legion is to be the model for the entire army,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning. “The elite of the elite. In battle, wherever the fighting is thickest, wherever the danger is greatest, the First Brigade must throw itself into the breach and open the gates of victory for the whole army! I expect you to remember this!”

“The First Brigade of the First Legion will not disappoint you, Lord Archon,” Capus replied, his tone as hard and unyielding as stone. “It will forever be the spearhead of the army.”

He took the standard and examined it. Unlike the legion standard, its finial was an iron statue of Thanatos, the god of death. He held a sword, was cloaked in black, and his great wings were spread wide, his face a mask of grim ferocity. Below the statue was a red banner, embroidered with the golden Greek words “FIRST LEGION, FIRST BRIGADE.” On its reverse was a single gold star. Capus raised the standard high, and the soldiers of the First Brigade below let out a deafening roar.

Next to ascend was the Chiliarch of the Second Brigade, Drakos. His wounds had not yet fully healed, and bandages were still visible beneath his armor, but he had insisted on attending in full kit. As he limped onto the platform, a wave of encouraging cheers rose from the soldiers.

Looking at the tough man with whom he had once come to blows, Davos asked with genuine concern, “Drakos, are you well?”

“The physicians say I am fine,” Drakos replied, his expression serene. The man who had once fought him now inspired nothing but respect. “Thank you for your concern, Lord Archon.”

“The battle with the Lucanians showed me the courage of the soldiers of the Second Brigade,” Davos said, his tone earnest. “But in truth, there is still a considerable gap between them and the First Brigade. I expect you to use the new military code to discipline and train them, and to bring them up to standard as quickly as possible.”

“You have my word, Lord Archon,” Drakos said, his voice like iron. “The Second Brigade will not lose to anyone.”

When the Chiliarch of the Third Brigade, Hieronymus, came to the platform, Davos said little more, for he knew the man would drive himself and his brigade to the breaking point to prove their worth.

Finally, it was the turn of the Chiliarch of the Seventh Brigade, Epitenes. The clever commander took the opportunity to make a request. “My lord, as you can see, my brigade is the smallest, four hundred men short of its full complement. Would you permit me to send recruiters to Thrace, Crete, and Rhodes to enlist some peltasts, archers, and slingers?”

“To come to Amendolara as freedmen?” Davos asked, a wry smile on his face.

“They would start as freedmen, of course,” Epitenes replied with a grin, “and then, according to the proposal you made in the Senate, they would apply for citizenship after a few years.”

Davos was pleased to see this kind of initiative, but he had a word of caution for Epitenes.