Chapter 181

After some time, the port came into view—a dense forest of masts packed so tightly they resembled a series of wooden walls lining the shore.

“So many ships,” Xanthipparis marveled. “It seems no less impressive than Ephesus.” Agasias said nothing. He noted that in the month since he had left Thurii, the port had undergone a remarkable transformation: its area had expanded, new docks had been built, and a breakwater was now under construction.

Just then, a patrol boat approached, signaling for their vessel to halt.

“I am Agasias, a senator of the Thurii-Amendolara League’s Senate! I wish to disembark at the city docks!” Agasias announced from the prow, his commanding presence drawing looks of envy from the mercenaries.

The captain of a sea patrol was, by necessity, a citizen of the League. While he might not have known every one of the dozen or so senators personally, he recognized their faces. The captain ordered his boat closer. After a careful look confirmed Agasias’s identity, he offered a respectful salute. “Honorable Senator Agasias, this Midolrades, captain of the League’s sea patrol, gives you his greetings! It seems you have been away from the League for some time.”

“I have. I left before September for Ephesus and have only just returned.”

“That explains why you do not know. The League has been renamed. It is no longer the Thurii-Amendolara League, but the Theonian League!”

“What? Renamed? Why?” Agasias asked, astonished.

“Because we have taken Nerulum!” Midolrades declared, his voice ringing with excitement. “We have another city, so the name ‘Thurii-Amendolara League’ no longer fits. Not only that, but Laos has become our ally! Lord Davos has fulfilled his promise. We no longer need to fear the Lucanian invasions!”

Nerulum captured, Laos an ally, the League renamed… Agasias felt a dizzying sense of dislocation. He had been gone for just over a month, yet so much had changed that he felt like a stranger in his own home. He burned with the desire to get back to the city, but the patrol boat still blocked their path.

“Honorable Senator,” Midolrades said, his gaze shifting to the mercenaries behind Agasias, “today the League holds a triumph in Thurii for the generals and soldiers returning victorious from Lucania. To prevent any incidents, the League has decreed that no vessel may enter the River Crati. I am afraid you must disembark here, in the outer port.” He then added a pointed reminder, “Furthermore, only citizens, preparatory citizens, and invited dignitaries are permitted to enter the city to view the ceremony. Foreigners and freemen may only watch from outside the walls. These are security measures.”

Though disappointed, Agasias understood the reasoning. He forced a smile. “Thank you, Captain. I will disembark here. Has the triumph already begun?”

“Not yet, I believe. You should be able to make it in time.”

The moment the patrol boat departed, the mercenaries swarmed around Agasias.

“Agasias, you weren’t lying! You really are a nobleman of this city-state!”

“Honorable Lord Agasias, when can we be like you?”

“Congratulations to the Theonian League on capturing another city! Agasias, tell us, how powerful is your League now in Magna Graecia?”

Basking in their envious and amazed gazes, Agasias’s pride swelled. To Timasion’s question, he answered with a booming voice, “As I told you before, the League held Thurii and Amendolara. Now we also hold Nerulum, with Laos and Castellum as allied city-states. These are all great cities, each with its own towns and villages. Thurii especially—its territory is no smaller than Attica of Athens, but far more fertile. The League has vast tracts of surplus land, with too few people to farm it. If we only had enough citizens, our strength in Magna Graecia would be second to none!”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go see Davos at once!” the men clamored.

Following the pilot’s directions, the merchant ship docked at the pier. They had just disembarked when they were stopped by another patrol. The mercenaries, having converted their plundered goods to coin, carried only their armor, shields, and spears. But the patrol deemed several dozen armed men a significant threat, especially with a triumph about to begin. Even with Agasias vouching for them as a senator, the guards insisted they store their weapons. Entry into the League’s territory would be denied otherwise.

With no other choice, the men reluctantly returned their weapons to the ship. Faced with their grumbling, Agasias had to explain, “The League has few citizens, but a great many freemen and foreigners have flocked here. There are often brawls and disturbances, so security must be this strict.”

Some of the mercenaries continued to complain, but the leaders—Timasion, Cleanor, and Xanthipparis—remained silent and thoughtful. They were used to a life of freedom and lax discipline. Agasias had warned them repeatedly on the journey: “When we arrive, you must obey the laws. Do not cause trouble. The League’s laws are exceedingly strict.” Most of the men with him were mercenary captains and officers, and they were generally more disciplined than the rank-and-file, but they had dismissed his warnings as hyperbole. This cold dose of reality was a sobering reminder. Not even the guarantee of a senator of the League was enough to bend the rules. The diligence of the men here was a testament to the order of this new power. In their past experiences, even when hired by a city-state, mercenaries were rarely, if ever, allowed within the city walls.

The port had indeed changed. It was larger, with more docks and buildings, and now it was enclosed by a new wall, patrolled by soldiers. Agasias and his companions had to pass through a checkpoint at the gate to enter the League’s domain. The sentries questioned them meticulously and recorded their names before finally allowing them to pass.

Timasion frowned. “Agasias, the rules here are strict. It is well enough for us, as we are with you. But I fear our brothers who are arriving scattered and in smaller groups will face some trouble.”

“Do not worry. I will come here every day to meet them,” Agasias replied without hesitation, having already considered the problem. Three thousand men was no small number. The other leaders immediately pledged to join him in welcoming their comrades.

Just beyond the wall lay the marketplace of Thurii, which had also expanded. New buildings had sprung up beside it: an armory, a clothier, a wagon repair shop, a ship chandlery, a goldsmith, a pack-animal rental, a bakery, inns, and taverns. But the market, which should have been a hive of activity, was strangely quiet.

They skirted the marketplace and reached the main road, where dozens of carriage drivers immediately surrounded them. “Off to see the triumph, are you? It’s about to start! Take a carriage, you can still make it!” they called out, each vying for their custom.

The price of one obol per person was reasonable. Though the market was only a few miles from Thurii, the mercenaries were eager to experience the novelty of riding in a carriage. The ride on the smooth, flat road was swift and steady. They were still reveling in the exhilarating speed when a colossal wave of sound washed over them.

Before the city of Thurii, a sea of people had gathered, their roars of excitement shaking the very earth, a single chant echoing across the land: “They’re coming! They’re coming!”

To the west of the city, advancing into the gentle morning sun, a long, golden dragon of a column snaked its way toward them.

The carriage drivers reined in their horses. The crowd was too dense to press through, but standing on the carriages, they had a clear view of the spectacle. At the head of the procession marched the standard-bearer, a soldier chosen for his exceptional bravery in the recent campaign. Lizaru could scarcely believe he had been granted this honor. From the moment the march began, an uncharacteristic, broad smile had been fixed on his normally stern face. As he approached the roaring crowd, he straightened his back once more and thrust the legion’s standard high into the air. Cheers, gasps of awe, and words of praise rushed toward him like a physical force, a divine elixir that filled him with an indomitable strength.

Timasion squinted, his eyes focusing on the crest of the towering standard. It was a bronze statue of a grim and imposing Hades, clutching his bident. The sight brought to mind the old rumors of Davos being a favored of the god. The banner itself was embroidered with the golden words ‘First Legion’ and four gleaming, five-pointed stars. As Agasias explained their significance, Timasion and the others were momentarily lost in wonder.

Following the legionary standard was another banner, this one topped by a grimacing statue of a winged Thanatos. The flag bore the golden letters, ‘Second Cohort, First Century.’ The greatest honors of the war should have gone to the Fourth Cohort, but out of consideration for public sentiment, Davos had given the honor of leading the procession into the city to the men of the Second Cohort, First Century. Their service had been no less arduous, and no one could dispute their valor in defending the fort on the River Laos. As compensation, Davos had bestowed the honor of carrying the legion’s standard upon a Lucanian.

The soldiers marched with powerful, confident strides, their heads held high as they entered the throng, basking in the adulation of the people. The mercenaries watched them with a professional, critical eye. “Your soldiers are impressive,” Xanthipparis remarked to Agasias. “Their morale and bearing are excellent.”

“But they are still not our equals,” Cleanor added, a defiant edge to his voice.

Agasias simply smiled, offering no comment.

Just then, Tolmides gasped. “Look! Those soldiers… they are not Greeks!”

Agasias followed his gaze. The next unit entering the crowd marched under a banner that read, ‘First Legion, Fourth Cohort.’ When did the League get a Fourth Cohort? he wondered. Then he saw the faces of the soldiers, and recalling that the captured city was the Lucanian stronghold of Nerulum, he began to understand Davos’s strategy. “Those are Lucanians,” he said, a note of awe in his voice. “And if they are marching as legionaries, they must already be citizens of the League.”