They Were Capricious

The reverie couldn't last forever, as soon enough Antigonos III's focus went over to the amassing tribes that are hunting and gathering for their number to the north of Mastiapolis, and the surrounding river basin.

So far, only the river in Oscapolis has been thoroughly mapped out by the Macedonians, and they just made the area of Mastiapolis the new capital solely due to the Silver mines present in the region.

The chieftain of the north, named Artemios by the Macedonians, watched the bustling activity of the Mastiapolis with a mix of awe and unease. His scouts had brought back tales of the silver miners' efficiency and the soldiers' discipline. 

He knew that his own people could learn from them, but he also knew that the Macedonian king had his eyes set on the fertile lands beyond the river. Artemios called a council of his most trusted advisors, men and women who knew the land like the back of their hand, and who had fought alongside him in battles that had painted the earth red with the blood of their enemies. 

They gathered in the central hut, a space that smelled faintly of burning pine and the leather of their armor, and they spoke in hushed tones about the looming threat.

Trade agreements from the Carthaginians are still ongoing, and the diplomat they want to send is yet to come over, and Antigonos highly doubts that the Carthaginians have the stomach to start a war with them over Iberia, seeing as to how busy they are contending with the Romans.

Corsica and Sicily are their battleground this time, and while the two powers were busy, Macedonia has consolidated control over the Eastern coast of Iberia from the Pyrenees all the way to here. 

Back at the Palace, Antigonos rubs his temples as he looks at the map a few more times to ease his mind, it seems like Lysandra's promotion should be postponed for now, there are more pressing matters, but he only gets older every passing year.

He decides to send his most skilled envoy, Philokrates, to negotiate with the northern tribes. Philokrates is known for his eloquence and diplomacy, having secured numerous alliances and trade routes in his tenure. He knows the customs of the land and speaks the dialects fluently.

But mostly, he is just an instrument of war, once the tribes let them pass through their land the organized armies of Macedonia can often just snatch the land from them, and since by that time the tribes there are already used to their goods, they have no choice but to let integration happen.

Antigonos knew he had to tread carefully. He had seen too many empires crumble under the weight of their own ambition. He called for Philokrates, his most trusted envoy, to stand before him. The king's eyes bore into the young man's soul as he spoke, laying out the gravity of the task ahead.

"This time your task is to guarantee that our armies are granted safe passage in this valley and this forest here." Antigonos points to the map, at the area where a forest is supposed to be to the north of them, alongside a few more river systems.

He then points to the land a bit to the west of it.

"Right here is the Turdetanii tribe, and this is the next target, we must capture their settlement sometime in the future."

Philokrates nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of the mission. His heart raced at the thought of the unknown lands and the fierce people that dwelt there, but his mind remained sharp and focused on the strategy.

"Understood, my lord," Philokrates said, his voice steady. "I will treat with the chieftain of the Turdetanii with the utmost respect and present our terms with clarity and fairness. But should diplomacy fail, I will not hesitate to remind them of the might that lies behind me."

"Enough, shut up with that senseless flower talk, I am not a petulant king to be appeased with words, this is fucking important do you hear me? Do not even just a peep let the Turdetanii know that we are planning to invade at all, and even if they already know, do some public stunts with your caravan to frame the Turdetanii leaders as war mongers. We cannot afford a full open field battle with them at the risk of the Romans and Carthaginians turning our land into a battlefield." Antigonos says, steely eyed. 

Philokrates nodded again, taking in the gravity of the situation. His mind raced as he thought of ways to achieve this delicate balance of diplomacy and deception. He knew that one misstep could mean disaster, not just for his mission, but for the very existence of Macedonian rule in Iberia.

"I will be as subtle as a snake in the grass, my king," Philokrates assured him, his eyes reflecting the flames from the nearby torches. "I understand the importance of this mission. I shall dance the diplomatic dance with the grace of Hermes and the cunning of Odysseus. The Turdetanii will not suspect our true intentions until it is too late."

'Goddamn this jit speaks like this normally, holy hellas.' "Ok, you may leave." Antigonos rubs his forehead.

Philokrates slinks out of his room like a slimy snake.

A few days ago, a little girl name Pero and his nephew the little Krateros has arrived in Mastiapolis, Krateros immediately proved himself moody, although Antigonos' likeness to his own father eased his troubles, little jit just lost his mom after all, and the rest of the people he knows for that matter.

The city is abuzz with excitement and fear in equal measure. The arrival of Antigonos' kin brings a sense of unity and hope to the people, but the whispers of the northern tribes' movements cast a shadow over their hearts. 

The soldiers train harder, their swords and shields ringing out in the early morning mist, even up to the dark hours of night. The miners work longer hours, extracting the gleaming silver that is the lifeblood of the city. 

The traders haggle more fiercely over goods, eager to stockpile supplies before the storm that everyone feels is brewing on the horizon.

Of course the matter of Pero is a different subject, but since she asked to be let into studies then so be it, Antigonos has been looking for people to handle civilian matters anyway so he can focus on military stuff.

As Antigonos sat on his chair, his gaze drifted from the map of the expanding empire to the scrolls detailing the Roman Republic's governance. He pondered over their Senate and the power of the Consuls, the way they maintained order and unity through a complex system of checks and balances. 

The Romans had conquered vast lands with their disciplined legions and shrewd politics, and Antigonos could not help but wonder if there were lessons to be learned from their methods.

The problem he has now however, is that he lacks people who are loyal to him. He does have the initial 3 families, but he couldn't just elevate them into controlling the entire country, especially since the colony is so young.

They might just up and usurp me, and install themselves as King of a what not, King of something else, and Macedonia in this sense will truly cease to exist.

Antigonos stood up, pacing his chamber, his mind racing with thoughts of Rome. Their Senate, the Consuls, the legions—how did they do it? How did they create a Republic that stretched far, all while maintaining their own culture and identity? 

It was something to envy, but also something to fear. He knew that the Romans had spies everywhere, their eyes and ears extending into every corner of the known world. They had to be playing a long game, biding their time before they turned their sights on Iberia.

So called allies of Rome are actually vassals, and while it is dangerous to be an enemy it is impossible to be released by the jaws of the Roman Republic once you seem like you align with them.

Antigonos knew that he had to adapt to survive. He decided to implement a form of government inspired by Rome's Senate, but tailored to his own needs. He called it the 'Council of Lions' or just the council for short... A council that would consist of members of his own Royal Family.

He would gather his siblings, cousins, and trusted generals who had married into the family, and presented his vision. Each member would lead a "party," but these were not based on ideologies or political leanings but rather on regions and resources of the kingdom. 

Although as of now he didn't have any siblings or cousins, nor does he have much family members because of what happened in Corinth… He has Lysandra Pervica… And Pero… Also himself, he can always create more family members right?

Antigonos knew that power struggles were inevitable, but he hoped that by keeping it within the family, he could control the potential for chaos. The council would serve as a check on his own power, ensuring that no one member of the family could rise against him unchallenged. 

Each "party" would bring forth issues and concerns, and together they would decide the future of the empire.

They would be responsible for the administration and defense of their respective territories, acting as governors and military commanders.

Looking into the pile of books in his study, he sighs deeply. He has been looking at this mess in his office for a while now, once, twice, ten, twenty times and yet he couldn't bring himself to stand up and clean it.

It's not laziness per se, it's more like a paralyzing feeling of… being paralyzed.

Antigonos feels like his thoughts are a jumbled mess at this point, and in times like these he often finds himself looking outside to smell the air or people watching. 

Looking again at the pile of paperwork on his desk, he starts singing some of them and stamping others, scribbling on some and some on others, having no real sense of direction, and it boiling down to just doing something.

It's late at night and it is absolutely dark outside, and he just looks at the stars in this part of the world. They're not the same stars as in Corinth, nor are they the same stars as in Pella, or anywhere in Greece for that matter.

They are different, and they remind him of what a strange land he is in, but they are also familiar, as if whispering ancient secrets that connect all of humanity under their watchful gaze.

Antigonos' thoughts drifted to the gods of his homeland, particularly Zeus, the king of the gods. He thought of the stories his mother had told him as a child, of how Zeus had hurled thunderbolts from the heavens to shape the very world they lived in. 

He felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering the grandeur of Olympus and the power that had once been so palpable in his life.

But now that he thinks of it, Zeus is pretty unreliable… He cheats on his wife, fucks his sisters, and does all sorts of things down here that basically borders into meddling and just sowing chaos, but when their devoted worshipers the Macedonians needed help in Greece, or when he prayed for his family to be saved in Corinth, it seems like Zeus doesn't have his priorities straight.

He values his baby mamas above his people.

Antigonos' thoughts grew darker as he stared into the night sky. He couldn't help but feel a growing sense of disillusionment with the gods he had been taught to revere. 

They were capricious, playing with the fates of mortals like mere pawns in a cosmic game of strategy. He wondered if Zeus looked down upon him now, watching him struggle to maintain order in this distant land. 

Did the god even care about the fate of Macedonian Iberia? Or was he too busy with his own divine dramas to spare a thought for the mortals who bore his name?