Kunogelata let out a sorrowful sigh. “Davos had those warehouses and inns built in Amendolara with two hopes,” he continued, his tone solemn and earnest. “To increase the treasury’s revenue, certainly, but also to benefit the common people. If you, a single man—and an outsider at that—were to monopolize all of them, what do you think the citizens of Amendolara would think? I believe that running a business and governing a city-state are much the same. It is not merely about making a profit; it is about winning the hearts of the people.” He imparted this lesson to his son, though what he truly wanted to say was that Davos himself was the very model Sostratus should strive to emulate. In the time he had spent observing the young leader, he had come to see that Davos was not only a military genius but a political one as well. Every proposal he put forth was considered from the perspective of the city-state and its citizens, with scant regard for his own personal gain. This selflessness made it easy to forget that he was, in fact, their sole Archon for Life. As long as Davos continued to lead in this manner, Kunogelata would willingly serve him.

“Father… I understand,” Sostratus replied after a moment of thought, his voice tinged with a hint of reluctance.

“Good.” A gratified smile touched Kunogelata’s lips. Then, another thought occurred to him. “Sostratus, it seems you are set on a path of commerce. Does this mean you have no intention of holding public office?”

“In the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance, can one not pursue both?” Sostratus asked, puzzled.

“Of course, you can. Since you enjoy spending time at the market, why not serve under Marigi as a tax collector? You will have to pass a test, of course.”

“A test?”

“How can you be a tax collector if you cannot do arithmetic?”

“That will be simple enough for me.”

“In a few days, the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance Public Office Act, proposed by Archon Davos, is to be enacted,” Kunogelata confided in his son. “When it is, every citizen of the Alliance will have the right to hold public office and receive a salary for their service.”

“That is just like Athens!” Sostratus exclaimed.

“Not exactly like Athens,” Kunogelata said calmly. “You will see when the time comes.” He marveled inwardly. With the enactment of this law, the people’s support for Davos, already so strong, will surely deepen into true devotion. He is a remarkable young man, daring to think and daring to act!

***

Three months after the signing of the peace treaty, the great road from the ford of the Sinni River to Thurii was completed. On that very day, the Lucanian prisoners who had labored on its construction received a commendation from the Senate: a reduction of their service term by six months. This, added to the two and a half years they had already earned for fighting against Croton and the six months for capturing Melanthius and his officers, left them with only a year and a half of their sentences remaining. For now, however, their work was not done; they, along with the Crotoniate prisoners, were promptly dispatched to begin construction on the road to Castellum.

The new road between Herakleia and Thurii, wide, flat, and solid, was a marvel. It drastically reduced travel time for pedestrians and pack animals by at least two-fifths and was an even greater boon for wheeled carts. Once the slaves and prisoners had mastered the process, the roadwork had progressed at a remarkable pace. The primary challenge had been the bridges. The route crossed four rivers. The Sinni, which formed the border with Herakleia, already had a pontoon bridge, and building a permanent structure in their territory was out of the question. But this still left three other rivers to be spanned. Davos had been specific in his requirements: they were to be beam bridges, not pontoon or arch bridges, to better facilitate the transport of heavy goods.

Little Heracleides spent most of his time wrestling with this problem. He consulted not only his father but also experienced carpenters and even two apprentices from the Pythagorean school, questioning them on the geometric principles of creating the most stable support structures. When he was finally satisfied, he presented his bridge-building plan to Davos. The Archon approved it but added a new stipulation: the prisoners were not to build the bridges. The citizen-soldiers would.

At the same time, Davos issued a new standing order: on military training days, all soldiers were to spend the morning working on the road. His intent was for his men to master the essential skills of road and bridge construction, better preparing them for future campaigns.

Under the direction of Little Heracleides, the soldiers first bound felled logs into pairs. One end of each pair was sharpened and driven at an angle into the riverbed. Ten meters away, a second pair of logs was driven into the riverbed at a corresponding angle, creating a mirrored support. A thick, sturdy beam was then laid across the gap, fitting snugly into the V-shaped cradle formed by the tops of the log pairs. Once lashed and secured, this structure formed a single pier. This process was repeated, pier by pier, across the river. With the foundation in place, planks were laid across the piers to form the bridge deck, completing the main structure. The remaining work—adding railings and reinforcing the piers against the current—was straightforward. After seven days of labor, the first bridge, fifteen meters long and nine meters wide, spanned the Branno River.

With the experience gained from the first, the subsequent bridges were built even faster. By the time they reached the third, the work was completed in just two days.

Davos was effusive in his praise. He ordered Little Heracleides to codify the methods for constructing wooden beam bridges and include them in the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance Articles of War as a guide for future campaigns. This encouragement filled the young man with pride, but he soon had a new problem to vex him. The next challenge was the Crati River, a far more formidable obstacle. Though the new bridge would be built at the site of the old pontoon bridge west of Thurii, where a delta provided some purchase, the main channel of the Coscenus tributary was still over twenty meters wide and too deep to wade. He first had to devise a way to drive the foundation piles into the deep riverbed with greater ease and stability.

As he agonized over the problem, Davos sought to inspire him further. “For now, we build with wood,” the Archon said. “But in the future, we will build with stone. We will build bridges high enough for a trireme to pass beneath, and we will build aqueducts the likes of which have never been seen. If you can achieve all this, you will be remembered by posterity as a master of your craft!”

Davos’s words filled Little Heracleides with a profound sense of pressure, but also with a fierce, burning ambition.

***

A few days later, the initial phase of Thurii’s reconstruction came to a close. A flood of countless freemen descended upon the census office. The Censor, Raphia, received over ten thousand applications for citizenship in a single day. Utterly overwhelmed, he was forced to send an urgent plea to the Senate for more staff.

Meanwhile, the Senate itself was in session, debating the construction of a great public square, or agora, large enough to hold tens of thousands of citizens for assemblies and for mustering the army before a campaign.

“I have no objection to the construction of a great agora,” began Cornelius. Nearly six months in his position as City Administrator of Amendolara, and especially the last three overseeing the reconstruction of Thurii, had imbued him with a new confidence. He spoke with calm self-assurance before the assembled senators. “Raphia’s desperate letter makes it clear that our number of full citizens will easily surpass ten thousand within a few years.” His comment drew a ripple of knowing laughter from the senators.

“However,” Cornelius continued, raising a point of order, “I must question the need for a Senate House with a capacity for six hundred. At present, our Senate has fewer than fifty members. To build such a large hall would be a waste of the manpower and resources we so desperately need for the rest of the city. Furthermore, it would be quite difficult to hear one another when debating issues in such a vast space.”

His practical objection resonated with a number of the senators, who nodded in agreement.

At that moment, Davos rose from his seat on the grass. (As the Senate House had not yet been built, the senators were meeting in an open field in the camp.) All eyes immediately turned to him, not only because the grand council hall was his proposal, but because for the Thurian senators, who had so recently survived the destruction of their city, Davos was the man who had saved them twice. As the supreme leader of their new Alliance, he commanded their respect and a measure of awe.

“The reconstruction of Thurii is not merely about rebuilding homes for our people,” Davos began, his voice carrying across the field. “It is about planning for the future of our Alliance. That is why we have built better roads and stronger bridges. It is why we will build a better-situated port, a larger agora, more orderly streets, and even elevated aqueducts never before seen! In the years to come, the new Thurii will be one of the most beautiful city-states in Magna Graecia, and perhaps in the entire Hellenic world! The Senate is the center of our Alliance’s power, the place where the best among us will gather daily to decide matters of our survival and prosperity. It is a place our people will watch and our neighbors will visit. Can we allow it to remain unchanged from the past? We can be frugal, yes, but our own citizens would not stand for it! They will say, ‘Look at that tiny Senate House! It does not match the beauty of our city! It makes our beautiful Thurii ugly!’”

The senators chuckled, and many nodded, conceding his point.

“Lord Archon,” someone spoke up, “we can certainly make the council hall more beautiful, but it need not be so large.”

Davos did not recognize the voice. He looked and saw that it was Polycletus, a man he had met only once before. He acknowledged him with a nod. “I proposed a hall for six hundred with the future in mind. The senators from Amendolara know that six months ago, our Senate had only twenty-odd members. Today, we approach fifty. It is likely that in the future, other city-states or tribes will wish to join our Alliance. Should we not, then, welcome their elites and chieftains into our Senate, just as we have done now, to ensure the smooth and stable integration of new peoples, to safeguard their interests and win their loyalty? What if, in a year, the Vesba tribe asks to join us and become citizens? What of Castellum? Perhaps one day they, too, will ask to be fully incorporated into our Alliance…”

The senators from Amendolara, well aware of Davos’s long-term ambitions to campaign in Lucania, were further convinced of his foresight by this victory over Croton and the successful merger with Thurii. They raised no further objections.