The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe-Chapter 132: The Situation in Lucania

The citizens erupted into joyous cheers as they watched the waterwheel in action. The massive wooden mechanism, driven by the rushing current of the Sinni River, symbolized a new era for Amendolara. The Lucanian slaves, who had labored to dig the canals and construct the towering device, stared in awe. To them, this was no mere feat of human ingenuity—it was the work of the divine.

"Lord Juleios, Zeus bless us! This is truly miraculous!" exclaimed Cornelius, his voice trembling with excitement. "With this magnificent waterwheel, Amendolara will reclaim over 300 acres of fertile land!"

"And more than that," added Scombras, his tone equally jubilant. "Access to water will be easier for all our people. This is transformative!"

Marigi, standing beside them, let out a sharp laugh. "This isn’t Zeus’s work," he declared bluntly. "This is thanks to Lord Juleios himself! He designed the waterwheel with his own hands. If any god deserves credit, it must be Hades!"

Cornelius and Scombras flushed slightly at Marigi’s audacity, but Juleios, observing the scene from a short distance, neither intervened nor feigned humility. He wanted these older citizens, so rooted in the traditions of the past, to recognize the future he was building—a future where Amendolara would rise to glory under his vision and leadership.

The enthusiastic cheers of the citizens stood in stark contrast to the uneasy expressions of some older Senate members. Their discomfort lingered as Asistes arrived in haste, his expression urgent. "Izam has returned!" he announced breathlessly.

Juleios’s demeanor shifted instantly. He delegated the ceremonial duties to Cornelius, whose face betrayed a complicated mix of pride and resignation. Without delay, Juleios, accompanied by Asistes, left to meet the returning scout.

Izam stood in the courtyard, his figure bearing the marks of hardship. Dust clung to his tattered Lucanian robes, his face was blackened from the sun, and his once-thick hair and beard were wild and unkempt. His feet, bare and calloused, bore the signs of a long and grueling journey. He was almost unrecognizable.

Despite his condition, Izam had come directly to Juleios’s residence without stopping at home. His sense of duty was undeniable, but Juleios could not ignore the man’s exhaustion. He immediately ordered a female slave to escort Izam to the baths, ensuring he could wash, groom, and recover some semblance of normalcy. While Izam refreshed himself, Juleios had a lavish meal prepared, complete with fine wine, to create a relaxed setting for their discussion.

By the time Izam returned, clean and rejuvenated, the dining room was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and spiced wine. The lighthearted atmosphere and several cups of wine gradually loosened Izam’s tension.

"Lord Juleios..." Izam began, his voice still rough but steadied by the wine. "As you instructed, I disguised myself as a wanderer and took the mountain paths west of the Sybaris Plain to reach Laos. It’s a small stone city located at the mouth of the Lao River. The city has a port, and its defenses are surprisingly sparse."

He paused to take another sip of wine before continuing. "I worked at the docks, hauling goods every day. Over time, I befriended some of the slaves there. Do you know who they are?"

"Let me guess—they’re Greeks," Juleios replied, his tone calm but expectant.

Izam’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "More than that, my lord. They’re descendants of the Sybarites. Laos was originally built by the Sybarites themselves, intended to serve as a vital trade hub connecting Sybaris to cities like Neapolis and Messinia. It was prosperous once, but after Sybaris fell, the Lucanians swept in, claiming the city for themselves."

Juleios’s brow furrowed slightly. "And the Sybarites who survived?"

"They became slaves, of course," Izam said bitterly. "But some Greeks surrendered and joined the Lucanians. One of the leaders in Laos, Avinogis, is a descendant of those who surrendered. His tribe is made up of Sybarite descendants. But the Lucanians still consider them outsiders, treating them with scorn and suspicion."

Izam leaned forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "Laos is anything but stable. When the Lucanians invaded Thurii, Avinogis’s tribe was excluded from the spoils by Tula, the chief of the Laos Lucanians. This slight has only deepened the divisions within the city."

Juleios tilted his head thoughtfully. "Tula must be attempting to suppress Avinogis and his people."

"Exactly, my lord!" Izam exclaimed, slapping the table in emphasis. "A dock slave told me that Tula recently invited Avinogis to a banquet. When Avinogis returned, several of his guards were injured. Since then, he’s fortified his home and hasn’t left it. He’s waiting and watching—especially for any developments in Nerulum."

"Nerulum?" Juleios’s interest sharpened.

"Yes, my lord," Izam continued. "Nerulum controls the upper reaches of the Lao River. After their chief, Uder, was killed in the battle against us, the city fell into chaos. Most of their warriors died, and now the remaining leaders are fighting for control. Their strength has been severely weakened."

Izam paused, realizing his cup was empty. Juleios stood, refilled it himself, and sat back down, gesturing for Izam to continue.

"Thank you, my lord," Izam said, touched by the gesture. "One more thing—I remember that after we annihilated the Lucanian coalition forces, we rushed to their camp, only to find it burned to ashes."

"Who was responsible for that?" Juleios asked, intrigued.

"The Vigu people," Izam replied with certainty.

"The Bruttians?" Juleios asked, his brow lifting in curiosity.

Izam nodded. "Yes, Lord. Vigu is a Bruttian city south of Laos. They had been forced into the Lucanian tribal alliance but were treated as outsiders and often bullied. After we crushed the Lucanians, the Vigu people declared their independence. They’ve since begun fortifying their city and patrolling their borders aggressively."

Juleios leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing. "What of Grumentum?"

Izam hesitated, then spoke. "Grumentum is in disarray. Their chief, Akpiru, survived but is gravely injured and bedridden. Most of their warriors were killed in the war, and the tribes they had forcibly annexed are now breaking away."

"And Pyxous?" Juleios asked.

"Pyxous is growing stronger," Izam said. "It’s a port city like Laos, but more prosperous. One of its leaders, Gennanet, is vying for power in Grumentum, taking advantage of the chaos."

Juleios nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You’ve done well, Izam. Rest now. Your work has only begun."

Izam bowed deeply. Juleios watched him go, his mind already piecing together the threads of opportunity and risk. The situation in Lucania was a fragile web, and Amendolara stood poised to shape its destiny. freёweɓnovel_com

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