The flickering light from the torches in Andolara’s Senate chamber cast long shadows, illuminating the grave expressions of those gathered. Juleios stood at the center of the room, his commanding presence holding the attention of every senator.
"Let ask you, which is better: forcing people to work with a stick, or inspiring them to work willingly, driven by hope?" His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of his vision.
"Obviously, the latter," Asistes replied after a mont of thought, intrigued by where Juleios was leading.
Juleios nodded. "Exactly. More importantly, I don’t want the Lucanians to remain slaves. I want them to beco citizens of Andolara. Only then can we grow stronger! Picture this—one day, when the native Lucanians see our forces march upon their lands, they will notice among our ranks soldiers who share their appearance and language, but who now wear Greek armor, eat Greek food, and speak freely and amicably with Greeks. What will they think?"
Asistes hesitated before answering, "They might surrender without a fight."
Juleios’s eyes glead. "Precisely. Bagul and his people can beco living proof to the Lucanians that surrendering to Andolara does not an annihilation—it ans a chance to live better lives. Think about the Persians and how they incorporate other ethnic groups into their empire. We can do better. We can embrace them more equally, treat them with dignity, and allow them to beco full citizens with the sa rights as us."
Juleios’s words carried a conviction that left Asistes speechless. The consul wasn’t simply mulling over pragmatic politics; he was sowing the seeds of an entirely new societal ideal.
"Your vision is remarkable, Consul," Asistes finally said, bowing his head in respect.
Juleios smiled, but his expression quickly shifted to one of mischief. "By the way, Asistes, I noticed you didn’t choose a wife during the matchmaking event. How about marrying a Lucanian woman? Perhaps Bagul has a sister; you could form an alliance through marriage."
The image of Bagul’s fierce visage flashed through Asistes’s mind, and he shook his head vigorously, eliciting a laugh from Juleios.
"Well," Juleios said, half-joking, "if you do marry a Lucanian woman, and one day we conquer Lucania, I might appoint you as its governor."
The thought of becoming a governor planted a spark in Asistes’s mind. He recalled the Persian satraps he had encountered—figures of imnse power and influence. Though he dismissed the idea as fantasy, the temptation lingered.
A New Role and A New Request
Asistes left, and Juleios pondered creating a new administrative position: a secretary under the consul’s office. Such a role would allow him to train loyal, competent subordinates while delegating so responsibilities.
Before he could delve deeper into the thought, Cristoia entered the room. "Oliver is here," she announced.
Juleios frowned. "At this hour? What could he want?"
Before Cristoia could answer, Oliver’s boisterous voice echoed through the hall. "Consul! This house is so grand! I nearly got lost! And this statue... the sculptor truly captured every detail of the muscles—"
"Oliver!" Juleios interrupted sharply. "If you don’t get to the point, I’ll have you escorted out."
"Wait! I have a request!" Oliver exclaid, his usual confidence giving way to an almost bashful deanor. "Consul, I... I need your help to propose!"
"Propose?" Juleios raised an eyebrow, taken aback.
"Yes, to Marigi’s daughter, Mitra!" Oliver declared, his voice ringing with determination.
Juleios smirked, recalling rumors among the soldiers. "You’re serious?"
Oliver nodded eagerly. "She likes too! But Marigi doesn’t know yet, and I need your help to win him over."
Juleios chuckled. "Fine, I’ll speak with Marigi. But whether he agrees depends on how well you present yourself."
Oliver left the room singing and dancing, leaving Juleios shaking his head in amusent.
A Bold Proposal
The next morning, protests erupted outside the Senate building. New citizens who had failed to find wives during the matchmaking event demanded a solution. Their proposal: to marry Lucanian won.
The Senate convened in urgency. Inside the chamber, senators debated fiercely as the shouts of the protesters echoed through the walls. Juleios, ever composed, played his role, leading the discussion toward a calculated resolution.
The first proposal passed swiftly: the Lucanian captives—n, won, and children—would beco city-state slaves, their labor contributing to Andolara’s rebuilding. However, the Senate also decreed strict protections for these slaves; harming them was forbidden, as they were now considered valuable assets of the city-state.
The second resolution, far more controversial, proposed allowing new citizens to marry Lucanian won.
Juleios then introduced another motion, one that caused imdiate unrest among the elder senators: granting freedom to the rcenary slaves who had fought alongside the Andolaran forces and allowing them to apply for citizenship.
"This is unprecedented!" Stronpolis objected vehently. "No Greek city-state has ever allowed slaves to beco citizens. If we do this, Andolara will be ridiculed throughout Magna Graecia!"
Antonios countered, his voice steady but impassioned. "These individuals are no longer slaves. They fought with us, bled with us, and contributed to our survival. They are our brothers. If Andolara can accept us foreigners, why not them?"
Other senators, including Amintas, recounted personal stories of slaves who had shown courage and loyalty during their campaigns. The atmosphere grew increasingly charged, and Juleios refrained from speaking, letting his allies carry the argunt.
The motion passed with andnts: freed slaves could apply for citizenship after a two-year probation period during which they must reside in Andolara, learn Greek, and abide by its laws. A fee of 200 drachmas would grant them preliminary citizenship, but exceptional contributions, such as participation in military campaigns, could shorten their probation.
A Legacy in the Making
As the session concluded, Juleios stood before the Senate, his eyes burning with ambition. His proposals had challenged Andolara’s traditions, yet they had also laid the foundation for a stronger, more inclusive city-state.
In ti, historians would look back on the Juleios reforms as a turning point not only for Andolara but for the entire Greek world, a bold experint in unifying cultures under a shared vision of equality and strength. For now, however, Juleios allowed himself a mont of satisfaction, knowing that the seeds of his vision had taken root.
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