“I truly admire General Davos,” Marigi said, his words coming from the heart. “He not only commands in battle, but he also has brilliant ideas about commerce. He offered many valuable suggestions. For example, at the market entrance, my original plan was to post two fully armed soldiers as guards. But the commander said, ‘That won’t do. It will frighten away the customers. We must consider the customers’ feelings.’ So it became what you saw today, and as you can see, the customers’ reaction has been very positive. Ha ha! Oh, and the public weighing scales were his idea as well. He has many such suggestions. The reason this market has become so bustling in just twenty days is primarily his achievement. I think that even if he weren’t a mercenary, with his talents, he could surely become a great merchant.”

“Yes, it is quite unexpected,” Burkos said distractedly, his mind clearly elsewhere.

He turned and walked into the market proper. Marigi hurried to keep up, acting as his guide.

Following the flow of the dense crowd, they came to the first stall, which was, of course, the mercenaries’ own. It was a large space, with a vast and bizarre array of objects and exquisite gold and silver vessels neatly categorized and displayed. A large number of people were stopped here, looking, asking prices.

“Mersis!” Marigi called out.

The portly man, who was in the back of the stall directing slaves to move goods, turned his head. He immediately puffed out his chest and said with a swagger, “Marigi! Have you come to congratulate me? I’ve sold quite a lot of merchandise today!”

Before Marigi could answer, Mersis spotted Burkos and his face immediately broke into a wide smile. “Burkos! You’ve come to buy something too? Excellent timing! I have a wonderful item right here. Can you guess what it is?” As he spoke, he held up an object that flashed and glittered, dazzling the eye. It was a delicate silver chain, from which hung a cascade of tiny, paper-thin gold plates forming an inverted triangle. From the top of the triangle, another silver chain extended.

Marigi’s eyes narrowed. He heard Mersis shout, “Marigi, not a word out of you!”

“What is that thing?” Molas asked curiously.

Seeing that a crowd was gathering, Mersis put on a sleazy grin and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “This was a gift from Cyrus the Younger to his most beautiful concubine. It was custom-made for him by the finest goldsmiths in Persia, a wonderful object designed to provide… that kind of pleasure. Can any of you guess where Prince Cyrus’s concubine would wear it?”

“Could it be… down there?” someone in the crowd called out uncertainly.

“Correct! You sound like a man of experience!” Mersis declared, and a wave of suggestive laughter rippled through the onlookers.

“It is said,” Mersis continued, holding the gold chain up and waving it in front of the crowd, “that Prince Cyrus’s favorite wore this every night when she was with him. After Cyrus was killed, his concubine was captured by the Great King, but this little item was left behind in the camp and picked up by one of our soldiers. Take a sniff! It might still carry the scent of her body! I had intended to keep it for myself, but alas, I have no wife. Just imagine, gentlemen! You could buy this, take it home, and experience the pleasures of the Persian royal court with your own wife or lover!”

After hearing this, even Burkos felt a stir of temptation.

A man beside him was already shouting, “How much? I’ll buy it!”

Burkos looked over and was surprised to see it was a merchant he knew from the city of Scylletium.

“Not expensive, not expensive at all!” Mersis said, hefting the chain in his hand, making it jingle with a low, clattering sound. “Look at how exquisitely made this is! And this is all pure gold, not light at all! The lowest price is… hmm… fifty gold darics.”

“I’ll give you fifty-five gold coins! It’s mine!” the merchant from Scylletium shouted.

“I’ll give you sixty!” another man called out.

“Hey, I saw it first!”

“But my price is higher!”

“Sixty-five gold darics!”

Marigi was amazed that Mersis had managed to turn a rare piece of Persian aristocratic jewelry into a royal sex toy and was making such an enormous profit. He decided, however, not to expose the scam. If Crystoia were to hear about this, she would surely not have a good impression of him.

Seeing Burkos push his way out of the crowd, he hurried to follow.

“I see you have merchants from other city-states trading here as well,” Burkos commented.

“Quite a few. They come from Tarentum, Scylletium, Caulonia, Croton…”

At the mention of Croton, Burkos’s eyelid twitched.

Just then, Molas pointed to a group of a dozen burly men up ahead. “Those men must be soldiers from your camp.”

Marigi glanced over. “They are probably from the other mercenary camp next door.”

“It seems there are quite a few soldiers shopping in this market. Your men must be very wealthy,” Burkos said jokingly.

Marigi gave a noncommittal smile. “We are mercenaries. We live for today, for we do not know if there will be a tomorrow. When we have money, of course we enjoy it.”

Hearing this, Burkos’s expression dimmed. He sighed. “Yes. In these chaotic times, life is not easy for anyone.”

Marigi said nothing. In truth, the spirit of the soldiers in Davos’s camp was completely different. Davos had adopted and improved upon the methods of Menon, strengthening the role of the baggage train. During a campaign, the soldiers entrusted the majority of their wealth to the baggage train for safekeeping. They even had to fill out a registration form, stating who should inherit their property in the event of their death. This way, if a soldier fell in battle, his belongings could be given to his designated heir. Furthermore, if a soldier was in urgent need of money, he could request a loan from the commander. If the request was reasonable, Mersis would provide the funds from the treasury, and the debt would be repaid through deductions from his monthly wages, without any interest. These policies not only allowed the soldiers to fight with fewer worries but also greatly reduced the vices common in other armies, such as gambling, loan-sharking, and wasteful spending.

Marigi was certain that the soldiers throwing their money around in the market were mostly from the other camp. In Davos’s army, the number of soldiers allowed to leave the camp each day was strictly limited; only two men per platoon were granted leave, and they had to return by a set time or face punishment under military law.

Marigi had personally witnessed the immense effort Davos had put into changing this army. He had faced countless challenges, even the threat of a full-blown mutiny, but he had never backed down. Now, his soldiers followed the regulations. When they were not in the training yard, they were building camp facilities or checking their deposit records in the baggage train to see how much their wealth had grown. From the calm fire in their eyes, one could feel that this was no longer an ordinary mercenary army.

Marigi had seen the Spartan army led by Chrysophus; they were a group of disciplined killing machines, but they lacked a passion for life outside of battle. He had also seen the Persian armies; though vast in number, they were undisciplined and lacked conviction, especially the vassal troops. But Davos’s army had the courage and discipline of the Spartans, combined with a fierce conviction to fight for a better life. And on top of all that, they had a miraculous commander. What if Davos had not two thousand men, but twenty or thirty thousand? This tantalizing possibility was one of the main reasons Marigi had chosen to stay.

“I see you sell everything in this market of yours!” Burkos’s voice broke Marigi’s train of thought.

“You even have a blacksmith shop!”

“It’s just a small shop to take orders,” Marigi explained. “Thurii won’t let us into the city, but our weapons still need to be repaired and replaced.”

“And that pottery seller?”

“We can’t very well drink water and eat soup with our hands.”

“A clothier’s stall?”

“The soldiers’ clothes haven’t been replaced in half a year. They can’t wear their armor all the time, even when not fighting.”

“And this stone mason?”

“Our camp cannot be built with wood alone. The key positions must be reinforced with stone.”

“And this shipwright’s supply shop?! Don’t tell me your mercenary army is planning to build a fleet!” Burkos’s face was now a mask of fury. He roared, “This is robbery! You are robbing the market of Thurii! You are stealing the wealth of Thurii!”

Marigi lowered his head and mumbled in his own defense, “The quantity of goods being bought and sold is not very large—”