Beginning

It was winter of 254BC when the letter from the Macedonian fleet arrived in Mastiapolis with word of the fate of Prince Euenios' family. Admiral Hilarion of Epidamnus' solemn words cannot describe the agony Euenios is feeling.

A sense of regret, that sears the soul and tears the flesh, as he was unable to convince his family to evacuate a decade prior, and as it seems then was the last time he will see their faces ever.

Of course there was some good news...

Like how his nephew and niece have survived the Battle of Corinth. The King, his older brother Demetrius Gyros and his twin Damasos have successfully taken down King Areus of Sparta in a 2v1. 

Euenios' heart skipped a beat as he read on. His family, his flesh and blood, had been torn apart by the relentless Spartan blades. His sister's screams, his brother's defiant roars, the clanging of iron against iron - it all played out in his mind like a flashback.

The cold parchment was wet with his tears, the ink smearing as they fell. The images grew clearer, more gruesome with each drip of saltwater: limbs scattered like autumn leaves, entrails coiled around shattered bones, heads rolling like forgotten marbles in the dust. 

Of course he didn't see exactly what happened...

But he has seen enough battles firsthand to know how these things go. He may never know how his nephews fought side by side, or how his brothers fought the Spartan warrior King.

He may never know how his niece took his toddler nephew away or how Cleopatra cut the ropes to let them escape faster. All he knows that it must be bloody, and may Hades guide their souls.

"Argh!!"

"Damn Greeks, Alexander should have killed you all!"

He pummels his desk, but all it has given him is an aching hand, totally useless. He knows he can't toil like this forever. He was naive, believing that a vision from Zeus was all it was mandating for him to take this expedition to Iberia, too bad nobody followed him but hired sellswords and immigrants.

He sighs heavily, his eyes drift to the map on the wall, a map that he had studied for years. The cities of his homeland looked like tiny specks, so far away. He had hoped to find glory and wealth here, to return and rebuild what the Spartans had destroyed. But all he's found are battles, betrayals, and barbarians.

You can't trust anyone, you are alone in this world.

Macedon stands alone.

The words echoed in Euenios' mind as he stared at the map, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows across the parchment. His hand hovered over the specks representing his homeland, his heart heavy with the burden of his family's loss. He felt a cold hand of doubt squeeze his chest. Was this quest truly worth it? Had he led these people into a doomed exile?

He looked outside to see the children of merchants and Iberian tribal leaders playing in the mud, the Macedonians training in the new Roman borrowed system of Legion, although a system for recruiting them has not been drafted up. 

In the time of war the Legions of Rome were merely copied for what they are.

The more Euenios looked at the people outside the less Macedonian they seemed. Although the city was a copy of Pella and Thessalonica, the people in Mastiapolis are not like the people in Pella or Thessalonica. 

These people are Macedonian but they look less Greek by the minute. Is this... 'my own version of Civilization'

What a ridiculous thought...

Euenios shakes his head, dispelling the doubt that had briefly clouded his vision. He couldn't allow such weakness to take root. His family's legacy was at stake, and with it, the fate of Mastiapolis and all its inhabitants. He had brought these people here with a promise of a new life, a new Macedon. He would not let them down.

But as more and more people filed into the morning markets his heart wavered. Is he seriously going to train these people into soldiers just to send them a pointless death in a far away land like Greece?

These people are Macedonian yes, but... Greece has betrayed us. What's the point of it all, the point of Pan-Hellenism? Maybe if we insisted on staying in Greece, a thousand years from now the Greeks would hate us more, call us barbarians, they won't ever say that we are Greek.

Much worse, they would claim our heroes, like Alexander, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, Antigonos, Seleukos, as Greeks and us Macedonians as Barbarian. This is a complete theft of our culture.

He turns to the map again, his gaze lingering on the distant lands of Asia. A new anger simmers within him, replacing the despair. He makes a silent vow to not only survive but to thrive here, to show the Greek world that Macedon lives on, stronger and more resilient than ever.

Maybe not in his lifetime, but Iberia will be Macedon, and one day it will unleash their wrath on Rome and all their enemies! Pergamum, Rhodes, Sparta, Athens! All of them will go the way of Thebes!

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He wipes his tears and calls for the person to enter. It was one of his trusted advisors, Lysandra Pervica.

"My Prince," she began, her voice measured and calm. "The council awaits your presence."

That face of hers... just right now, reminds him of the first visions he had of Zeus, when he was awoken to talk to the Council of Corinth. Also, wipe the tears in front of the girls.

He takes a deep breath and composes himself, straightening his tunic. "Thank you, Lysandra. Let us proceed."

The walk to the large tribal hut that was repurposed into the City Hall was mostly uneventful. Passing through the city and in the center is the City Hall, and the grid-like city planning makes sure that it is visible in all 4 corners.

The City Hall is a round building, with four marble spires jutting upward and pointing inward, and it is tall enough to overlook Mastiapolis.

Euenios steps into the dimly lit chamber, the scent of burning incense mingling with the dusty air. The council members, a mix of Macedonian nobility and Iberian tribal leaders, are already seated around the central table. Their faces are etched with concern, eyes flickering to the prince as he enters.

Of course as the founding of any city, various wealthy families and Iberian Clans were invited to participate in the Governance of the City. 

They were a mix of the old and new, and the tension was palpable. The Macedonian's felt superiority was clear in their eyes and posture, while the Iberians were unsure if they had made a deal with gods or madmen.

But three families have joined to be staunch allies of Euenios. 

The first one is the Epidamnus Clan. Led by Hilarion of Epidamnus, the moment they landed in Iberia instead of retirement the Clan decided to focus on ship building and trade. They had been a mariner clan since the dawn of the Greek city states, and had hoped that with Macedonian backing they could make Epidamnus the next great maritime power in the Mediterranean... at least that's what they told him.

He trusts their skill enough and no more questions were asked.

The second one is the Scodra. Jason of Scodra, a rather effeminate man is heading his family as they go about the place gathering medicine.

They had been the first to join Euenios after he had saved Jason's son from a rabid animal, a bond of debt and friendship that had grown stronger as the years passed. Their knowledge of the local flora and healing had been invaluable to the fledgling city, keeping the people healthy and the soldiers on their feet.

How any woman has agreed to have a son with this femboy is beyond Euenios, but he is literally out of options here, and an entire group of people eager to be doctors is eh, fine.

The last one is the Abydos Clan. These guys are from Egypt, and and they came here with a promise of building a new library like the one in Alexandria.

They had been scattered after the fall of Alexander's Egypt and the chaos of the Wars of Diadochi, seeking a new home for their vast knowledge. They had brought with them scrolls and scholars, and had been instrumental in the education and cultural development of Mastiapolis.

The nerdy family have slowly formed a little Club for all teachers in the City and even Euenios is not too stupid to not know the importance of education.

"Good day, esteemed council," Euenios began, his voice firm. "We gather today not just as leaders, but as custodians of a shared destiny. Our city, our people, face challenges unknown, but together we will forge a path to greatness." (the usual long ahh speech for all leaders)

Hilarion of Epidamnus stood, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and calculation. "Prince Euenios," he said, "We have received word that a Carthaginian envoy is en route to Mastiapolis. They wish to discuss a treaty, perhaps an alliance."

Hilarion's quick interruption gained him a thumbs up from Jason Scodra.

The room buzzed with whispers. The Carthagians were powerful, and their navy could be crucial in securing trade routes and protecting the city from the ever-expanding Romans. But they were also known for their cunning diplomacy and ruthless expansion.

They were also a godless bunch, worshipping their god Baal. Of course only Zeus is the real god between them right?

"Ah, Carthage," Euenios murmured, stroking his beard. "We must tread carefully. They are a serpent coiled around our continent, waiting for the right moment to strike." He glanced around the table, his gaze settling on Jason of Scodra. "What do you know of their intentions, Jason? Your connections in the medical world often yield surprising insights."

Jason visibly groans, like, when will they start talking about the new curriculum?

Jason's delicate fingers drummed on the table, his expression contemplative. "The Carthaginian envoy is said to be a man of culture, a scholar of sorts. He speaks of mutual benefits and the exchange of knowledge. Yet, beneath the veneer of peace, I sense a hunger for power."

"Money!" Eugenios Abydos interrupts.

"So as I, the Carthaginians love money above all else. They barely fight their own wars, relying on mercenaries to expand their Republic." the fat Merchant of the Abydos pats his own blubber.

"We must consider the offer, Euenios," Hilarion interjected, his eyes on the strategic implications rather than the spiritual. "An alliance with Carthage would grant us protection and wealth. We could focus on growing our city without fear of Roman retribution."

"Being an enemy of Rome is dangerous, but being a friend is fatal." Jason nods.

Euenios' eyes narrowed. The council members looked to him expectantly, awaiting his wisdom. He knew that alliances could be as treacherous as battles. "We will meet with this envoy," he decided. "But we must be cautious. We need not rush into any agreements. Our priority remains the prosperity and safety of Mastiapolis."

"Conquest of the rest of Iberia will also be a priority. Oscapolis is proceeding as usual, and Mastiapolis needs to be secured before we move on to conquer the Turdetanii tribe to the north of us." he continues.

The council nodded, the Macedonian families eager for more land to claim, the Iberian leaders wary of the power dynamics shifting once again.

The day grew cold as the sun dipped below the horizon. The council meeting adjourned and Euenios retreated to his chambers. The walls adorned with the spoils of his military campaigns, the trophies of battles won, and the artworks of the lands he had conquered.

He feels like he has been idling this entire decade... but his life has only just begun.