CHAPTER 182: CHAPTER 182 TRIUMPH CEREMONY AND FORMER COMRADES (PART 2)

Lizalus hadn’t expected to receive this honor, so much so that his usually stoic face had been beaming with a continuous smile throughout the march. As they neared the crowd, he straightened his chest once more, raising the legion’s banner high. The cheers, exclamations, and praise washed over him like a divine elixir, instantly filling him with energy.

Timasion squinted and saw the solemn and majestic bronze statue of Hades holding a bident atop the towering banner. This reminded him of the rumors that "Juleios is a favored of Hades."

Staring at the banner embroidered with the golden words "First Legion" and four golden stars, and listening to Agassias explain its origins, Timasion and the others were momentarily spellbound.

Behind the legion’s banner came another military flag. Beneath the grim-faced statue of Death with outstretched wings, the flag bore golden embroidery that read "Second Cohort, First Company." Although the greatest credit in this campaign should have gone to the Fourth Cohort, considering public sentiment,

Juleios awarded the honor of leading the entry to the Second Cohort, First Company. After all, they had also performed meritoriously, especially in guarding the Laos fortress—a feat no one could dispute. As compensation, Juleios awarded the honor of carrying the legion’s banner to the Lucanians.

The soldiers marched with powerful strides, heads held high, as they entered the crowd, basking in the cheers of the people...

The mercenaries watched intently. For the untrained eye, it was just a lively scene, but for the experienced, it revealed much. Zantiparis remarked to Agassias, "Your soldiers are not bad—their morale and spirit are impressive!"

"But still worse than us!" Cleon retorted indignantly.

Agassias merely smiled, not offering a comment.

At this moment, Tolmides exclaimed, "Look at those soldiers—they’re probably not Greeks!"

Agassias focused his gaze: the banner carried by the second group entering the crowd was embroidered with "First Legion, Fourth Cohort."

Since when did the alliance have a Fourth Cohort? With questions in mind, Agassias looked closer at the soldiers’ appearances. Remembering that Neutum, a Lucanian city, had been captured, he began to understand Juleios’s intentions: "Those are Lucanians. If they’ve become legion soldiers, they must already be alliance citizens."

Foreigners can become citizens of your alliance?!" Zantiparis exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face.

Agassias, though uncertain of the exact policies, replied vaguely, "There are, of course, specific conditions, but yes, the Dionian Alliance is more inclusive than other Greek city-states. For instance, there’s a Persian merchant—Marigi—who once followed Juleios. Not only is he a citizen now, but he’s also a senator and the commerce officer of the Senate."

The mercenaries gasped in unison, their astonishment rippling through the group. Someone, half-jokingly and half-seriously, quipped, "If even a Persian can become a senator, then surely we—his comrades-in-arms—deserve that honor as well!"

"Exactly!" others chimed in.

Agassias hesitated, unsure how to temper their expectations. But before he could respond, the coachman, Solikos, who had been quietly listening, interjected with a wry laugh. "You foreigners should stop dreaming! Becoming a senator isn’t some casual affair. First, you have to pay your taxes on time, participate actively in military service, and keep a spotless legal record. Can you honestly claim to meet those standards? That Persian merchant, Marigi, revitalized Thurii’s port and market. What have you done for the alliance?"

The mercenaries were momentarily silenced.

"So," Solikos continued, "if you truly want to stay in the alliance and thrive here, focus on earning citizenship first. Anything more is just wishful thinking."

"That’s enough, old man! Stop lecturing us!" Torax, one of the younger mercenaries, snapped angrily. His indignation found echoes among his comrades, their voices rising in frustration.

Tension thickened as words escalated. Agassias and Timasion intervened swiftly, calming their group, while Solikos, ever the pragmatist, persuaded his fellow coachmen to avoid trouble. After much effort, the situation de-escalated before the city’s patrol squads were alerted.

As the coachmen drove off, Solikos muttered to his peers, "If these men linger in Thurii, the patrol squads will have their work cut out for them."

Timasion, watching the coachmen disappear, leaned toward Agassias and whispered, "Is it really that difficult to become a senator?"

Agassias nodded solemnly.

Zantiparis sighed, his regret palpable. "If we’d known what you would achieve, we’d have followed you from Byzantium. Still, what’s done is done. We should aim for citizenship and land now."

Cleon, gruff as ever, muttered, "Better to stay free in Asia Minor than be shackled by so many rules in this remote place."

Agassias said nothing. As the triumph procession unfolded before them, the mercenaries’ emotions were a mixture of envy, curiosity, and resentment.

The Fourth Cohort passed, their formation rough compared to the earlier ranks, but their sheer physicality and enthusiasm drew cheers from the crowd. These Lucanians, once outsiders, now basked in the alliance’s acceptance. Many waved to the spectators, their faces alight with pride.

After them came wagons laden with spoils—golden goblets, silver vessels, glittering jewels, and finely crafted statues. The treasures sparkled under the sun, drawing gasps of wonder from the crowd.

Timasion leaned closer to Agassias. "Do you have to hand over all the spoils to the alliance?"

"Most of it goes to the state treasury," Agassias explained. "A portion is distributed to the soldiers, but private hoarding is forbidden."

"That takes all the fun out of fighting," Cleon scoffed. "Why risk your life if there’s no loot to claim?"

Agassias replied earnestly, "Because they’re citizens, Cleon. Defending their land is their duty. And the treasury uses the spoils to care for the injured, support families of the fallen, and maintain equipment. When we were mercenaries, did we ever receive such benefits?"

Cleon grumbled but had no rebuttal.

The crowd erupted again as the chariots entered the procession. The first, drawn by two pristine white horses, carried a man clad in gleaming armor. His face was stern, his movements deliberate.

"Phelicius!" the mercenaries shouted, stunned.

"Phelicius! Hero of the alliance!" the crowd roared, their cheers rolling like thunder.

Timasion and the others watched as their old comrade, once their subordinate, stood high in glory. Phelicius’ expression softened as he waved, but his gaze never caught the mercenaries watching from afar.

The second chariot carried Drakos, captain of the Second Cohort. Though unfamiliar to the mercenaries, Agassias filled in the details: "He was a mercenary, like us, and has fought alongside Juleios in every campaign."

The third chariot drew gasps.

"Hieronymus!" the mercenaries exclaimed.

Once a disgraced leader, Hieronymus now stood tall, a respected figure in the alliance. His stoic demeanor only emphasized his transformation. Timasion and the others exchanged uneasy glances, their envy unspoken but felt.

The fourth chariot bore Bagule, the Lucanian captain of the Fourth Cohort. Despite his initial anxiety about being ignored, the crowd welcomed him warmly. Bagule’s heart swelled with pride as he thought of the Lucanian citizens watching.

The final chariot carried Epitenes, a familiar face to the mercenaries. Known for his affable nature, Epitenes smiled brightly and waved enthusiastically, drawing cheers and even flirtatious shouts from the crowd.

Timasion and his comrades felt an acute sense of loss. Once leaders commanding thousands, they now stood as spectators, watching those they had dismissed as lesser men bask in glory.

As the procession neared Thurii’s gates, a shower of colorful petals rained down from above. The petals fluttered like confetti, their vibrant hues catching the sunlight and adding a touch of romance to the spectacle.

The mercenaries watched in silence, their hearts heavy with a mix of emotions. For all their pride and strength, they couldn’t deny the allure of the alliance’s unity, order, and promise of a brighter future.

"Perhaps this isn’t just another city-state," Timasion murmured, his gaze fixed on the golden banners swaying in the breeze. "Perhaps this is something greater."