That day, the mob had descended upon Kunogelata’s home like a pack of wild animals. One of his sons was beaten to death, and his daughter, having been violated, took her own life. Many of his kinsmen and slaves were wounded, and the majority of his family’s wealth was stolen in the frenzy.

The following day, the heartbroken Kunogelata, too injured to even stand, had a house slave deliver a message to the city hall, offering his resignation from the position of strategos. But the people’s anger was not yet sated. Fearing that Kunogelata would one day seek revenge for their actions, they continued to protest before the city hall, demanding an immediate citizen assembly. General Neanthis and the others “reluctantly” agreed.

The assembly was hastily convened at noon. The first item on the agenda was a motion proposed by the citizens: the exile of Kunogelata. The majority of citizens marked their pottery shards in favor, and the proposal passed. And so, Kunogelata—the man who had served for years as strategos protos in the aftermath of the Peloponnesian War, the statesman who had skillfully navigated the politics of the time to protect Thurii, with its distinct pro-Athens leaning, from retribution at the hands of the new hegemon, Sparta—was exiled from his own city by ostracism, a political tool invented by the very Athenians he had sheltered.

The second item on the agenda was the election of the new “Nine Generals.” Neanthis was ultimately elected as the new strategos protos. Burkos was elected as a strategos for his success in hiring Davos’s mercenary expedition, while Anxitanos, having spoken a few words in Kunogelata’s defense when the mob first surrounded the city hall, was abandoned by the populace and lost his position.

When the news reached Kunogelata in his ravaged home, he sat in silence for a long time before letting out a slow, hollow sigh. According to the laws of ostracism, he could return to the city after ten years, but he had already resolved to leave this heartbreaking place for good. After securing the consent of his wife, children, and kinsmen, he began packing his belongings that very afternoon. He sold his estate and lands at a fraction of their worth. During this time, only Anxitanos came to visit him.

A day later, Kunogelata, accompanied by his family, a portion of his loyal clansmen, and his faithful slaves—a party of nearly one hundred people—set out from the city, their belongings carried in packs and loaded onto carts.

When word of his departure spread, the citizens of Thurii flocked to the streets, not to bid him farewell, but to hurl insults and vent their lingering resentment. They threw refuse at Kunogelata and his family, forcing his retinue to bow their heads and hurry past the jeering crowds. Only Kunogelata himself, lying injured in the cart, met their countless glares with an expression of unnerving calm. Years ago, he had used this same method to drive out the Athenian-descended citizens of Thurii. To fall to the same fate today… it was, perhaps, a form of retribution.

His mind drifted to the other families driven into exile, like the house of Asikourodorax, cast out after a military defeat. He thought of the original Sybarite inhabitants, who had been expelled and even massacred not long after the city’s founding.

Is this the true face of Greek democracy? For the first time, a seed of doubt took root in his mind. He was shaken from his reverie by the voice of his young son, Dikaiokrates. “Father, Neanthis is there!”

He followed his son’s pointing finger. High above on the city wall, next to the gate, stood Neanthis, looking down at them.

As a man who had navigated the treacherous currents of politics for many years, Kunogelata had known from the very beginning who the true puppet master behind the chaos was. Yet now, as their eyes met across the distance, he felt no surge of hatred. There was only a quiet, weary understanding.

He watched him in silence until their procession had passed through the gates. Turning back for one last look at the mother city that had birthed and raised him, a deep sorrow filled his face.

“Neanthis has unleashed the beast of public opinion to devour me,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “I underestimated him this time. But with his limited ability, he will never be able to tame that beast. It’s only a matter of time before it turns on him…”

Dikaiokrates looked at his father, only half understanding. “Does that mean that bad man will be driven out of Thurii too?”

“Who knows?” Kunogelata turned away from the city, stroking his son’s head as he gazed toward the uncertain future to the north. “Let’s go. As we discussed, we will head to Amendolara first.”

***

When Kunogelata’s party reached the banks of the Saraceno River, they saw Davos, the Archon of Amendolara, waiting for them on the opposite side, accompanied by several senators and an escort of guards.

Upon hearing the news, Kunogelata had his slaves hurry the cart to the front of the column.

Seeing the injured statesman lying in the cart, Davos called out in a clear, strong voice, “Lord Kunogelata, I am pleased that you have chosen to come to Amendolara! When we heard you were on your way, our Senate held an emergency consultation and has decided to grant you the full rights of Amendolaran citizenship. Are you willing to accept?”

The offer was more than a simple welcome. Kunogelata had only been ostracized, not stripped of his status as a citizen of Thurii. He could legally return in ten years and simply needed a place of residence in the interim. Amendolara’s gesture could have been seen as presumptuous.

But for Kunogelata, those words were a balm that finally soothed his troubled heart. He immediately expressed his gratitude to Davos, saying with genuine sincerity, “I would be honored to become a fellow citizen of the same city as Lord Davos!”

A collective sigh of relief went through his followers. Although Thurii and Amendolara had just signed an alliance, the historically poor relationship between the two cities had made them fear they would be refused entry.

In truth, it was precisely because of this long-standing tension that Davos had opted for a low-key reception, fearing that a grand welcome for a Thurian statesman might provoke discontent among Amendolara’s original citizens. Davos had only met Kunogelata twice and knew little about him personally. But in those brief encounters, he had sensed a sharp political mind. The reports he had received confirmed that during Kunogelata’s tenure as strategos protos, Thurii had enjoyed political stability and commercial prosperity, a testament to his administrative skill. It was a pity his lack of military talent had led to his downfall. Yet, in a way, this very weakness made him a perfect fit for Davos’s plans. Furthermore, Davos sensed there was more to Kunogelata’s exile than met the eye, and it was this intuition that prompted his enthusiastic welcome.

On the road to Amendolara, both parties tactfully avoided any mention of the events in Thurii.

“There are still some vacant houses in Amendolara that you and your family may borrow,” said Mersis, the Quaestor, his tone blunt and business-like, making no special allowances for their distinguished guest. “However, I would advise you to purchase them, as the price is not high. As for your kinsmen, they will only be able to rent for the time being, as they are not yet citizens of Amendolara.”

Kunogelata expressed his understanding. “I’ve heard that the city-state recently passed an Immigration Law. I wonder if my people might meet the qualifications to apply for citizenship?”

So, word of the law has already spread to Thurii! Davos was pleased to hear it. “Of course they can apply,” he explained in detail. “The matter is handled by our Censor, Raphias. I see no issue with them passing the review and being registered. However, according to the Immigration Law, there is a rather long observation period, typically two years. During this time, they must familiarize themselves with the laws and customs of Amendolara and commit no crimes. Only then can they become preparatory citizens, at which point they will enjoy some of the rights of the city-state. After another two to three years, they can become full citizens.”

“So, it takes five to six years to become a full citizen of Amendolara?” Kunogelata asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. He felt a weight of responsibility for these kinsmen, who had chosen to leave their home because of him.

Davos heard the objection in his tone. “That is because, according to the new laws of Amendolara, every full citizen is granted a plot of land,” he emphasized. “Therefore, we cannot afford to be anything but cautious.”

Kunogelata thought he had misheard. He stared at Davos, but the young man’s expression was completely serious. Land grants were a right typically reserved for the founding of a city. Thurii, with far more territory than Amendolara, had not distributed new plots of land to its citizens since its establishment. How could Amendolara, a much older and smaller city, have surplus land to give away to new citizens, let alone enshrine it in law? Kunogelata was tempted to question him, but he was a newcomer. It would be unwise to challenge the young archon from the outset and risk appearing difficult. He could always inquire about these things later.

He changed the subject. “I have also heard that it is easy for slaves in your city-state to become freemen, and that they even have the opportunity to become citizens.”

“That is true, but their circumstances were special,” Davos said honestly. “If you wish for your slaves to become citizens of Amendolara, the conditions they would need to meet would be quite difficult.”

“As long as there is an opportunity, that is enough. I will do everything in my power to help them become citizens, to repay them for the loyalty they showed in risking their lives to protect my family in Thurii,” Kunogelata said, the first time he had directly referenced the incident. His expression was calm, as if he had seen through the vanities of the world.

This was a far different man from the Kunogelata Davos had heard about. Could this disaster have been a rare, transformative lesson for him? Some people grow through adversity, while others are crushed by it. If Kunogelata was the former, it would be a great fortune for Amendolara. At this thought, Davos said with admiration, “Those slaves are truly lucky to have you as a master.”

Kunogelata immediately responded, “And Amendolara is fortunate to have you as its Archon. The changes that have occurred are unprecedented.”

“Change is not a choice,” Davos replied, his tone firm and devoid of false modesty. “In this chaotic era, to not change is to perish. To change is to survive.”

Kunogelata fell silent, mulling over those words. He was still contemplating their weight when they reached the foot of the mountain on which Amendolara was built. His eyes fell upon the Lucanian slaves toiling on the construction sites, and he stopped, his expression a mixture of emotions. After a long moment, he said in astonishment, “It’s truly unbelievable. These Lucanians… they are so obedient! There must be more than a thousand of them here, yet there are so few soldiers guarding them, and they are working with such diligence!”

“That is because,” Davos said, his voice imbued with a deep significance, “the city-state did not cut off their path to life for the crimes they committed. Instead, we gave them hope.”

“Hope?”

“Why must Greeks and Lucanians slaughter one another? Why can’t they live together peacefully within one city-state?” Seeing the promising changes in Kunogelata, Davos decided to reveal a glimpse of his grander vision.

The words struck Kunogelata like a bolt of lightning. He whipped his head around to face Davos, his face a mask of utter disbelief.