The final points of the treaty were hammered out through a grueling process of concession and demand.

Third, Croton would not interfere with Castellum joining the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance, but Crimisa was to remain neutral. This was a critical point for Lysias; with Crimisa located so close to Croton, its inclusion in the Alliance would be like a dagger poised at his city’s soft underbelly. Marigi did not press the issue. The Alliance was not yet strong enough to defend a city so far afield. Nevertheless, Davos later decided to honor the spirit of their agreement with Croton by releasing the prisoners from Crimisa after their six months of labor. The emissary from Crimisa was overcome with gratitude, swearing that his city would “never again be an enemy to the Alliance.”

Fourth, the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance was forbidden from forming an alliance with Locri or signing any treaty that could be perceived as targeting Croton. Lysias insisted on this with unyielding intensity. Marigi feigned great difficulty in conceding the point, though in truth, Davos had privately instructed him that he had no immediate plans to ally with Locri, precisely to avoid provoking Croton and jeopardizing the peace talks. Marigi skillfully used this as a bargaining chip, forcing Lysias to make concessions on other fronts.

Fifth, a peace would be maintained between Croton and the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance for a period of three years, commencing from the date the treaty was signed. Upon its expiration, the terms could be renewed based on the circumstances at that time.

***

The Crotoniate delegation returned to their home city with the preliminary draft of the accord. After it was confirmed by the council, they journeyed back to Thurii one last time to finalize the peace.

As they approached the city, the ever-observant Lysias noted that the marks of smoke and fire had already vanished from Thurii’s walls. The collapsed sections had been seamlessly repaired with newly quarried stone and freshly fired bricks, all sealed with smooth mortar. From a distance, the fortifications looked as if they had been newly built. He was stunned by the efficiency and fervor of the Thurian people. In his heart, he harbored no desire for further conflict with this new Alliance, but he could not forget Milon’s parting words, a stern reminder that any armistice must not exceed a term of two years.

Lysias understood the grim implication: the majority of Croton’s strategoi and council members, led by Milon, had not accepted their defeat. They were already plotting their revenge. Croton was famed throughout the Hellenic world for its athletic prowess, and its people possessed the unyielding spirit of competitors who refused to admit defeat—a quality, he reflected, that was not unlike the Amendolarans he had encountered.

With a soft sigh, Lysias led his party into the Thurian camp.

Save for the term of the peace—which was amended to two years—the treaty remained largely unchanged. In a solemn ceremony, both sides sacrificed an animal to Apollo, their voices rising in unison as they invoked the names of the gods and swore a sacred oath that “neither Croton nor the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance shall ever violate this armistice.” They then affixed the names of their city-states and their own signatures to the document. The choice of Apollo was deliberate; he was the patron deity of both Croton and the old city of Thurii, a shared reverence intended to bind them more tightly to their word.

With the accord sealed, Lysias was eager to depart, and Davos and his council made no effort to detain him. But just before he boarded his ship, Davos spoke with what sounded like genuine sincerity. “I hope that Croton and the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance will never again go to war.”

Davos’s gaze was so sharp, so penetrating, that Lysias felt certain the young Archon had seen straight through Milon’s schemes. “By Apollo,” he replied, meeting the young man’s eyes, “that is my heartfelt wish as well.”

Standing on the prow of his ship, Lysias watched the great construction site of Thurii, still thrumming with ceaseless activity, and gazed at the merchant vessels that shuttled back and forth from the river mouth like a weaver’s loom. With a heart heavy with foreboding, he departed from Thurii’s shores.

Davos and his retinue stood on the pier, watching until the Crotoniate ship was a distant speck on the horizon.

Cornelius let out a long, heavy breath. “We are safe now.”

“For the time being,” Kunogelata countered coolly. “I fear that in two years, Croton will march on us again.”

“He is right. They would not have insisted on shortening the term of the peace otherwise,” Davos affirmed, his voice ringing with encouragement. “Therefore, we must use these two years to their fullest. We must make our Alliance so strong that any power that covets our land will not dare to strike!”

“Well said!” The men’s spirits were ignited by his words.

“Lord Archon, about the reparations from this treaty—” Marigi began, ever mindful of finances.

Davos cut him off. “All reparations will go directly into the state treasury, under the care of Mersis.”

A wide grin spread across Mersis’s face.

“The use of these funds,” Davos continued, “will be planned, managed, and disbursed by the Reconstruction Committee. Just like the supplies we recovered, this money is to be used entirely for the people’s daily expenses, the rebuilding of the city, and public works. Any department requiring funds must submit a formal application to the committee. Only upon approval will an allocation be made. And the Quaestor will be responsible for overseeing it all!”

As Davos finished, Mersis shot a smug, winking glance at Marigi, who turned away in a huff, refusing to look at him.

“Furthermore,” Davos added, his tone turning stern as he addressed Mersis, “on the first day of every month, you are to present a detailed report of the treasury’s income and expenditures to the Senate. Any discrepancies will be your sole responsibility.”

“Yes, Lord Archon,” Mersis replied, his earlier cheer evaporating.

“Alexis,” Davos said, turning to his next official, “go and inform the prisoners of the terms. Since the Crotoniates forbid them from working in the mines, we will put them to work building a road. A great road, connecting Herakleia, Amendolara, Thurii, and Castellum. Put Heracleides’s son in charge of it. That… what’s his name?”

“Little Heracleides.”

“Yes, him. Make him the director of the entire road project. Have him take a contingent of artisans to supervise the work, following the existing blueprints.”

“It will be done, Lord Archon,” replied Alexis, the Aedile.

“I understand building a road to connect Herakleia, Amendolara, and Thurii,” Anxitanos spoke up, a look of concern on his face. Other Thurian senators murmured in agreement. “But why extend it to Castellum? If Croton attacks in two years, Castellum will not be able to stop them. Won’t a great road simply provide the enemy an easier path to invade us?”

Davos answered him patiently. “By building a road to Castellum, we will increase the flow of people and trade between our cities. Our ties will become stronger, and Castellum will become more dependent on us. The road will also allow us to move our troops and supplies to their aid more quickly. Castellum is now our ally, and we have a responsibility to ensure its security. From now on, it will be our frontline in the south. Of course a road can be used by an enemy,” he concluded, his gaze sweeping over the men, “which is why we must do everything in our power to keep the enemy beyond our borders, so they may never have the chance to use it.”

Anxitanos and Kunogelata seemed lost in thought, while the others were a mixture of inspired conviction and lingering doubt.

***

After a long day of work, Davos returned to his tent late in the night to find someone waiting for him.

“Andrea? What are you doing here?” he asked, a sudden fear gripping him. “Has something happened to Crystoia?!”

Andrea curtsied respectfully. “Honored Archon, my lady has seen how consumed you are with the reconstruction of Thurii and did not wish to disturb you. However, I felt this was news you ought to hear.”

“What is it?!” Davos pressed urgently.

“For the past few days, my lady has been suffering from nausea and has had no appetite. I suspected she might be with child. I had Lord Herpos examine her, and my suspicions were confirmed.”

Before Andrea had even finished speaking, a look of pure, unadulterated joy washed over Davos’s face. “Is Crystoia… is she truly pregnant?!”

“It is true, my lord.”

“Wonderful! This is wonderful!” In a burst of ecstatic energy, Davos swept Andrea up into his arms and spun her around several times, completely oblivious to the shy blush that colored her cheeks.

He turned and bellowed out of the tent flap. “Martius! Martius!”

“My lord? What is it?” Martius hurried inside.

“Ready my horse! I’m riding for Amendolara!” Davos commanded.

“My lord, it is too late. The road is not safe at this hour. Please, wait until morning,” Martius pleaded.

“I cannot wait!” Davos declared, his voice trembling with excitement. “Crystoia is pregnant! I am going to be a father! I must see her at once! At once!”

“Congratulations, my lord! This is a blessing from Hera!” Martius said, his own face breaking into a wide smile. “In that case, we will escort you.”

“Good!”

The small party galloped out of the camp, the urgent drumming of their horses’ hooves waking many of the sleeping soldiers. “Who is that riding through the camp so late? That’s against regulations!”

“I heard it’s the Archon! They say his wife is with child, and he’s rushing home to be with her!”

“Is that so?! What wonderful news!”

A wave of cheers and happy shouts rippled through the quiet, moonlit camp.

***

Davos arrived home in a flurry of haste, taking the stairs two at a time. As he reached the top, a small head peeked cautiously out from a doorway.

“Cynthia!” He swept his young adopted daughter into his arms and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. “Why are you still awake so late? You need a spanking!”

“You woke me up,” Cynthia complained, pouting as she wiped his kiss from her cheek with the back of her small hand.

“Oh, I am so sorry. I apologize,” Davos said, stroking her head with a grin. “Where is your brother?”

“Sleeping inside.”

“And your mother?”

Cynthia hesitated for a moment before pointing toward the master bedroom.

Davos set her down gently and gave her a playful pat. “Go on now, back to sleep.” With that, he strode toward the bedroom door.

He found Crystoia sitting by the light of an oil lamp, poring over account ledgers. Hearing his footsteps, she looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing back?”

“If I hadn’t come back, you would have kept this from me, wouldn’t you?” Davos said, feigning anger. He sat down beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist and giving her a light, affectionate smack with the other. “How dare you not tell me we’re having a child! Don’t you think you deserve to be punished?”

“You know,” Crystoia murmured, her hands finding their way around his neck. “Andrea told you?”

“Thank the gods she did!” Davos pointed at the thick ledgers on the table, his tone turning to one of gentle admonishment. “You are not taking care of yourself, or our child! From now on, Andrea and the others will handle these matters. Your only job is to rest and stay healthy, so our child can grow strong inside you!”