The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe-Chapter 171: Reuniting with Timasion

After much debate, the assembly agreed to remain cautious, observing how events would unfold. Never in the history of Greek colonization had anyone successfully ventured beyond the safety of the coastline to conquer and hold the mountainous strongholds of indigenous peoples. The Tula Alliance might have claimed Neutum, but how could their modest forces possibly subdue the relentless Lucanians, who knew every crevice of the rugged terrain? And what of the inevitable retaliation—a united Lucanian army descending from the peaks to reclaim their land? These uncertainties weighed heavily, casting long shadows over their triumph.

Seeking clarity amidst the fog of possibilities, the town hall resolved to act shrewdly. Merchant ships would be dispatched to Pyxis, a neutral port, under the guise of trade. These voyages would not only serve commerce but would also collect vital intelligence about the evolving Lucanian region. The web of alliances and enmities within the mountains would soon be illuminated.

Far to the east, where the Aegean waves kissed the shores of Asia Minor, lay Ephesus—a city that had shone brightly under the reign of the Lydian kings. Across the glimmering gulf, Samos Island stood as a beacon of prosperity, while to the south, Miletus basked in its reputation as a hub of culture and intellect. Together, these cities formed a triangle of brilliance, bound by trade, wealth, and shared heritage. At its heart rose Mount Mycale, a mountain steeped in history and crowned by the sacred Panionion, a sanctuary once revered as the Temple of All Ionians. Though diminished in splendor, it retained an air of solemnity, drawing pilgrims who sought to honor the unity of their ancestors.

Yet, rising above even the Panionion in fame and grandeur was the great Artemision, a testament to the devotion of Ephesus’ people to the goddess Artemis. A century earlier, Ephesus had already emerged as the commercial capital of Asia Minor. Traders, artisans, and wanderers from all corners of the Greek world thronged its streets. But such vibrancy demanded more than material wealth—it sought divine solace. The humble altar to Artemis, suffocated by the growing crowds of worshippers, became a flashpoint for conflict. Pilgrims jostled for space, and quarrels disrupted the sanctity of the site. A greater temple was desperately needed.

The solution came in the form of the Lydian king Croesus, whose name echoed through history for his boundless wealth and generosity. The finest architects and artisans of the time were summoned, and under Croesus’ patronage, the Artemision began to rise. The result was a masterpiece unmatched in beauty and scale. One hundred meters long and fifty-five meters wide, the temple stood on 127 columns, each towering eighteen meters into the heavens. Its roof, supported by massive stone slabs, seemed to defy gravity, a marvel of both engineering and devotion. At its heart stood a bronze statue of Artemis, two meters tall, crowned and armed with a bow, her expression radiating a serene authority. The open roof above her invited the worshippers to gaze at the sky, bridging the mortal and the divine.

Despite the fall of the Lydian Kingdom and the turmoil of the Greco-Persian Wars, the Artemision stood firm. For over a century, it had been a beacon for pilgrims, its sanctity unshaken even by the tides of history. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

On this day, a broad-shouldered Greek man approached the temple with purposeful strides. His weathered face bore the marks of battle, and his sharp eyes swept over the bustling scene. Worshippers thronged the grand staircase leading to the temple’s entrance, their prayers and offerings clutched tightly in their hands. The man ascended the steps with steady determination, his disciplined frame betraying only a faint hint of fatigue by the time he reached the top.

"Timasion!" A voice called out, clear and familiar, breaking through the hum of the crowd.

Startled, Timasion turned toward the sound. At the temple’s entrance stood a man clad in a luxurious purple tunic, waving enthusiastically. His posture exuded an air of authority, yet his grin betrayed the camaraderie of an old friend.

"Agasias?" Timasion’s voice wavered between disbelief and recognition as he stepped closer to the man who had once shared his hardships.

"Call me Lord Agasias now," the man replied with mock seriousness, adjusting his tunic in a manner befitting a Thurii senator. His hand rested casually at his waist, mirroring the dignified poses of Greek statesmen. "The rumors are true, my friend. We’ve become rulers of city-states!"

Timasion blinked, struggling to reconcile the Agasias he remembered with the refined figure before him. "You’re serious?"

"Not just one city-state, my old comrade—two!" Agasias grinned, holding up two fingers. "Juleios is now the lifetime archon of both."

Timasion’s brow furrowed as memories of Juleios surfaced. He could still see the man leading their band with wit and grit, his eyes alight with an indomitable fire. That same man, in less than a year, had risen to such dizzying heights? "A lifetime archon..." Timasion murmured, the weight of those words sinking in.

Agasias, sensing his doubt, spread his arms dramatically. "If you don’t believe me, Artemis herself is right inside. I’ll swear an oath before her!"

Timasion chuckled, shaking his head. "No need. I believe you." His tone grew serious. "But why are you here?"

Agasias’ expression softened. "Because, Timasion, we haven’t forgotten those who stood beside us in the fire of battle. Archon Juleios sent me to find you. He wants you to come to Magna Graecia."

Elsewhere in Ephesus, Tibron, the Spartan governor of Asia Minor, paced his quarters, his mood as dark as a stormy sea. His campaigns against the Persian satrap Tissaphernes had brought him victories, forcing the satrap to halt his advances. Yet, these successes were overshadowed by his failure to capture Larisa after months of grueling siege. The Gerousia had ordered him to abandon the effort and instead march on Caria—a humiliating decree.

The arrival of the ephor Chirisophus that evening only deepened his frustration. Chirisophus bore grim news. "Tibron," he said coldly, "the Gerousia has sent Dercylidas to replace you. You are to return to Sparta for investigation."

Tibron’s anger erupted. "This is absurd! I’ve achieved more for Sparta than anyone else here!"

But Chirisophus’ expression remained impassive. "The accusations are clear. Your troops have plundered allied territories, and the city-states demand justice."

Though Tibron protested, he knew the truth. The mercenaries under his command, unrestrained and hungry, had turned on Sparta’s allies. His failure to enforce discipline had bred resentment, threatening the very alliances Sparta sought to protect.

Chirisophus departed, satisfied that Dercylidas—a man of both discipline and strategy—would soon replace Tibron and restore order to Sparta’s campaigns.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light over the Artemision, Timasion stood in thought. Agasias’ words stirred something deep within him—a call to return to the camaraderie of old, to carve a future among those who had once shared his struggles.

Finally, he looked at Agasias and spoke with quiet resolve. "Tell Juleios, I will come."

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