CHAPTER 183: CHAPTER 183: TRIUMPH CEREMONY: THE HIGHEST HONOR FOR THE ALLIANCE’S WARRIORS

The rooftops lining the streets teemed with people, all vying for the best view of the procession. They shouted the names of loved ones, their voices rising above the clamor, proudly introducing husbands, fathers, or brothers among the marching soldiers to their neighbors. For every soldier, the procession felt like a victorious homecoming.

As Felicius approached his house, his eyes instinctively darted toward the rooftop. Amid the jubilant throng, a young boy leaped and waved, his cries piercing through the cacophony: "That’s my father! That’s my father! Father! Father!" It was Melisanda. Beside him stood Delia, her warm smile a beacon of pride.

Felicius couldn’t help but smile—a genuine, heartfelt expression that briefly melted his stoic demeanor.

The procession turned westward, nearing a towering white marble arch adorned with a gleaming statue of Nike, the goddess of victory. This was the triumphal arch Juleios had envisioned, intended to immortalize the alliance’s greatest battles. While the friezes meant to depict these pivotal moments—defeating the Lucanian tribal coalition, the night raid on Amendolara, the ambush of the Crotonian army, and the conquest of Neutum—remained unfinished, the sight of the arch still inspired awe and pride among the gathered crowd.

Passing through the arch, the soldiers advanced toward a newly built square. Though hastily constructed and yet unnamed, its broad expanse symbolized a stage for the alliance’s unity and power.

Lizalus, leading the procession with the military banner, quickened his pace as he spotted the platform ahead, where the consul Juleios and the alliance senators awaited. The soldiers followed in disciplined unison, their boots striking the cobblestones like rolling thunder.

"They’re here! They’re here!" cried Henipolis, his youthful excitement drawing smiles.

"Calm yourself, son," Avinoges said, restraining him gently. Turning to Juleios, he added, "My lord, thank you for taking care of Henipolis during this time."

"Henipolis has been a delight—eager to learn and quick to adapt. Even Ansitanos praises him," Juleios replied with a smile.

Avinoges nodded, his stoic demeanor softening as he resolved to repay Juleios’s kindness. "My lord, your warriors have arrived!"

"They are not just mine," Juleios corrected, his voice carrying both pride and humility. "They are warriors of the entire alliance, safeguarding the freedom and prosperity of all our allies."

The soldiers marched into the square, the crowd erupting in cheers. Among the Lucanians present—Kxima, Ulaza, and Hermon—emotions ran high as they cheered and danced, their pride uncontainable.

"Look! Bagule is riding in a chariot! How glorious!" one shouted.

"When will it be our turn?" another asked wistfully, inspired by the sight of a fellow Lucanian basking in such honor.

Bagule, astride his chariot, could not see the Lucanian onlookers amidst the sea of people, but their fervent cheers buoyed his spirit. As the chariot made a lap around the square, his imposing presence stirred admiration among the youths who now dreamed of following in his footsteps.

The square fell silent as the drums and trumpets ceased. All eyes turned to the platform, where Juleios stood tall and resolute.

"Warriors of the alliance!" Juleios’s voice rang clear. "For more than twenty days, you braved the rugged mountains, battled relentless enemies, and achieved extraordinary victories. You captured Neutum and aided our allies in reclaiming Laos. Because of your valor, the Lucanian threat to our lands has ended. On behalf of the Senate and the alliance, I salute you!"

He bowed deeply, joined by the senators behind him.

"Victory! Victory! Victory!" the soldiers roared, their voices shaking the square.

Juleios continued, his tone solemn and uplifting. "Because of your efforts, the Dionian Alliance stands stronger than ever. Today, the Senate has decided that this triumph ceremony shall mark the founding of our alliance, celebrated as a holiday across our lands! Your banner, raised high in battle, will now fly as the symbol of our unity—a flag for all the people of the Dionian Alliance!"

"Long live the alliance! Long live the alliance!" The soldiers’ cheers merged with the jubilant cries of the crowd, their collective voices a testament to the newfound strength and unity of the alliance.

Juleios allowed himself a moment of reflection. The alliance’s flag and this national day would do more than honor their achievements; they would forge an identity, binding diverse peoples under a single banner.

That afternoon, Juleios hosted a banquet at his residence for Timasion, Zantiparis, Cleon, and Tolmides. Felicius, Hieronymus, and Agassias joined them, their shared history as mercenaries adding a layer of camaraderie to the gathering.

As the group enjoyed fine wine and exotic dishes, Cleon, slightly drunk, blurted out, "Juleios, look at this grand house of yours... And you, a consul and commander... When will we ever get to live like this?"

The question lingered, its weight palpable.

Agassias sat upright, bracing himself, while Timasion and Zantiparis exchanged subtle glances.

Juleios smiled faintly before replying, "Cleon, achieving such a life isn’t beyond your reach. Work hard, contribute to the alliance, and you’ll not only own land but find yourselves as integral members of this growing nation."

"Contribute? What kind of contributions?" Cleon pressed. "And why does it take five years to become a citizen here? Agassias promised us something different back in Byzantium—said we’d get land, citizenship, and maybe even a seat in the Senate!"

The room grew quiet. Agassias clenched his fists, his face reddening.

Juleios, maintaining his composure, spoke steadily. "Agassias didn’t deceive you. The alliance has its rules: citizenship is earned, not given. The Lucanians you’ve seen today gained citizenship because they proved their value through loyalty, service, and sacrifice. The Senate granted them citizenship not out of favoritism but because their contributions to the alliance were undeniable."

Pausing, Juleios fixed his gaze on Cleon. "The same opportunity is before you. Prove your worth in service to the alliance, and your path to citizenship will shorten. Wars may yet arise, and with victories, you’ll find your place—not just as citizens, but as respected members of the Dionian Alliance."

Cleon fell silent, his drunken bravado subdued. Timasion and Zantiparis, though quiet, seemed to understand the deeper message: the Dionian Alliance was not just a place to live but a chance to build something greater.

The evening ended on a hopeful note, the vision of a united future lingering in the air like the triumphal cheers that had echoed through the square earlier that day.