The Thurian senators, hearing such a bold ambition articulated for the first time, were utterly astonished. Burkos’s eyes went wide as he stared at Davos, who stood in the center of their circle, speaking with such calm and easy confidence. He recalled the great lengths he had gone to invite this man to Magna Graecia, seeing in him only a capable mercenary commander. He had never imagined that the young man harbored such grand designs—not only to save Thurii, but to reshape the entire political landscape of the region. For if Davos’s words were to be taken seriously, a council hall for six hundred meant the eventual absorption of a staggering number of city-states.

The other Thurians broke into a flurry of whispers, some even turning to their neighbors to ask, “Who are the Vesba?” Their reactions were a mixture of doubt and excitement, but for the most part, they raised no objections. They owed their lives and the rebirth of their city to Davos and the army of Amendolara. Until they were more familiar with the young Archon’s ways, they would not be so rash as to openly oppose him.

Only Polycletus spoke up again. “Surely there must be a limit to the Senate’s numbers. It cannot simply expand indefinitely.”

“Six hundred,” Davos replied without a moment’s hesitation. “This new hall will hold only six hundred. And on the day it is finally filled, I trust that the state of our Alliance will be vastly different. By then, there may well be new laws and a new council hall.”

Davos’s sheer self-assurance seemed to ignite a spark of jealousy in Polycletus, who remembered a time not so long ago when this same young man would have had to seek his favor just for a chance to speak. He could not stop the cynical words from escaping his lips. “What a pity. I fear I will not live to see that day.”

His remark hung in the air, and the faces of the other senators instantly changed.

Davos fixed his gaze on him, his voice dangerously soft. “Lord Polycletus, I am quite certain you will.”

In that instant, Polycletus felt the back of his tunic grow damp with a cold sweat. Though Davos had not uttered a single word of reprimand, the weight of his unstated meaning was immense. He quickly bowed his head and fell silent.

“Lord Archon,” Kunogelata said, skillfully steering the conversation away from the precipice, “senators serve for life. If we are to bring outsiders into the Senate in this way, how will a citizen of our own Alliance ever earn a seat?”

“Though your question is unrelated to the matter of the Senate House, I am willing to share my thoughts with you,” Davos said, his gaze shifting from Polycletus. He gathered his thoughts for a moment before continuing. “At present, our public offices are held for a term of one year, a practice I find to be rather inefficient. Take, for example, if Amyntas were to be elected as Aedile—”

“My lord, I have absolutely no interest in architecture!” Amyntas blurted out.

The senators erupted in laughter.

“I know. It is merely a hypothetical,” Davos said with a smile. “Amyntas knows nothing of engineering. But if he were in that position, he would be obligated to serve the people. He would have to invest his energy to learn and understand the work. By the time he had finally grasped the basics of construction and the engineering needs of the Alliance, his term would be nearly over. In that year, he would have accomplished almost nothing of value. But if he were given a second year, his performance would surely be far superior to the first, as he would have a basic understanding of the Alliance’s infrastructure. By the third year, his efficiency would be even greater, as he would be fully versed in the role, able to request funds from the Senate and capably direct the engineers, artisans, and laborers in constructing major works and maintaining public facilities. Am I not right?”

The senators nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes, absolutely right!” Amyntas shouted.

Another wave of laughter rolled through the assembly.

“Therefore,” Davos concluded, “electing officials for a single year is a waste of time and leads to inefficiency. We must change this system, though the specific term lengths for each office can be debated later. Now, to return to Kunogelata’s question…” He faced the assembly, his expression serious. “According to the act we are about to enact, every citizen has the right to hold public office. In my view, if an eighteen-year-old citizen aspires to one day join the Senate, he must first serve for a total of five years in at least three different low-level public offices—a patrolman, a firefighter, a census scribe, and so on. At the same time, he must serve in the army and participate in at least two major battles. Only then will he be qualified to apply to the Senate for a higher-level position.

“By this point, he will have gained a wealth of experience in grassroots administration. He will be physically robust and familiar with warfare. The Senate can then, based on his performance, abilities, and particular talents, appoint him to a mid-level post, such as City Defense Captain, Fire Chief, Censor, Aedile, Commissioner of Commerce, Quaestor, or Censor. He would be around thirty years old at this stage.

“Next, he must serve in at least two different mid-level offices and also serve for three years as a company or even a battalion commander in a legion. By then, he would be at least forty. At this age, his temperament will have settled. He will be well-versed in matters of state, capable of handling complex situations, and skilled in leading men in battle.

“Only then,” Davos finished, his voice resonating with authority, “may he apply to join the Senate, and the Senate will decide his fitness for the role based on his record. As for the position of City Administrator, that could only be held by a sitting senator. I ask you, do you find this proposal acceptable?”

“Agreed! Agreed! The young must be tested!” the senators cried out in near-unison.

We won’t have to worry for at least twenty years, thought the less capable among them.

A senator selected in this way would be a true elite of the citizenry. A fool like Neanthis would never again become Strategos Protos in our Alliance! Kunogelata silently endorsed the plan with all his heart.

It seems I must take on more public duties and accumulate administrative experience, lest I be looked down upon by the younger generation, thought the diligent ones, like Hylos.

The vast majority of the senators approved of Davos’s proposal. The extended terms and strict requirements for high office served to protect their own interests. But there were still some who raised objections.

“There are only so many public offices in the Alliance,” Anxitanos noted with concern. “If the terms are lengthened, many men may never get a turn to serve.”

“For now, that is true. But in the future, a man may have to travel hundreds of miles to take up a post in a distant city. By then, every city will require its own junior census officers, junior treasurers, and so on, all of whom would be overseen by senior officials subordinate to the Senate. We will need to establish a committee within the Senate specifically to supervise, manage, and evaluate the performance of these public servants.”

The ambition contained within Davos’s words thrilled some and gave others pause, but on the whole, the senators were pleased. The creation of a new committee meant new positions of power and purpose for those who were currently idle.

Only Mersis was worried. “So many future offices… how much will all those salaries cost?!”

The assembly laughed once more. Davos could only reply, “We will discuss the matter of salaries at a later date.”

With the resolution to build a six-hundred-seat Senate House passed, the discussion turned to the reconstruction of the temples. This was expected to be a simple matter of rebuilding them on their original foundations. The senators had few objections, and the resolution was on the verge of passing unanimously when Praexinas rose to his feet.

“I object to the rebuilding of the Temple of Apollo!” he declared.

A stunned silence fell over the assembly.

Praexinas, clearly satisfied with the effect his words had produced, glanced at Davos and then continued, ignoring the shocked expressions all around him. “Our piety to Apollo was not returned with his protection! The freemen betrayed us, our city was overrun, and all of Thurii wept, yet Apollo turned a blind eye. His inaction was so egregious that even the other gods could not bear to witness it. That is why his temple, too, was forsaken and reduced to ashes in the flames!”

To blame the destruction of Thurii on Apollo was bordering on blasphemy. And yet, for Apollo to have failed to protect even his own temple—this fact, now that Praexinas had so starkly highlighted it, struck the senators, who put great stock in divine signs, as deeply unsettling. Had Apollo truly abandoned Thurii?

Davos watched Praexinas with a look of keen interest.

“Who, then, saved the citizens of Thurii and avenged our city?!” Praexinas’s voice boomed. “It was, without question, the citizens of Amendolara! And which god supported their army? Look to the standards our brave soldiers carry! Was it not the King of the Underworld, wielding his bident, who brought death to the Crotoniates? And was it not Hades who, at the hot springs marsh, blessed the mercenaries and allowed Death himself to unleash the winds of the underworld, which effortlessly claimed the lives of eight thousand Lucanians? Now, as Thurii rises from the ashes and Amendolara and Thurii have become one, it is Hades—the protector of Amendolara’s army and the god who twice saved our city—who has caused Apollo to yield his place. We must not forget his grace and his protection! Therefore, the new temple in Thurii, the temple on our acropolis, must be built in honor of Hades, to ensure the eternal peace and security of our city!”

When Praexinas finished, the assembly erupted in an uproar. Kunogelata shot a furtive glance at Davos, only to see that the Archon looked as surprised as anyone. Was this Praexinas’s own mad idea?

“Praexinas, you know that Apollo is one of the principal gods worshiped in Magna Graecia, along with Hera,” Anxitanos reminded him. “It was with his blessing that our ancestors were able to safely cross the sea and found our city-states. Apollo is of vital importance to the people of Thurii!”

“Of course, I know that,” Praexinas said proudly. “The citizens may still build altars to Apollo and continue to worship him. But as the patron god of our city, his inaction has concluded his tenure! In these chaotic times, we need a new, powerful god who is more willing to grant the people of Thurii his protection! Therefore, the temple on our acropolis must be a temple to Hades!”

“In all my memory,” Polycletus stood and objected loudly, “there are almost no public temples to Hades in the entire Hellenic world, let alone a city that has taken him as its patron god! And why? Because his realm is a grim and terrifying place, and men fear him! If you build a temple to Hades, no one will be willing to go to the acropolis! To say nothing of the fact that we will be mocked by every other city-state!”