The spring days passed quickly in Cyzicus, and with them came new changes. The city, once divided by noble houses and their jealousies, now followed a new order. The fall of the rebellious nobles in the winter had reshaped the balance of power, leaving Daniel as the sole authority figure.
Daniel spent his mornings reviewing the troops. What began as a handful of loyal men had now grown into a disciplined force — infantry armed with spears and shields, archers trained for defense, and a small cavalry unit. Beside them, his dinosaurs stood as symbols of strength: Iguanodons for labor, Protoceratops for transport and farming, and his agile Velociraptor and Coelophysis patrolling the outskirts.
One clear morning, as the wind carried the scent of flowers and damp soil, a second messenger arrived from Sardis. This time, the letter bore the royal seal of Darius himself.
"By order of the Great King, the cities of Asia Minor are to ready provisions, men, and equipment. The campaign against the Hellenes begins soon."
Daniel summoned his council — artisans, merchants, and military officers. The mood was tense.
"We knew this was coming," Theron muttered."It'll be a bloody business," said Pheidon, a former noble who had joined Daniel's side after the winter revolt. "And the people fear being dragged into war."
Daniel stood at the head of the council table, his voice steady."Cyzicus will meet the King's demands, but not at the cost of its people. We'll give what's fair, no more."
There were murmurs of approval. The scars left by the nobles' greed were still fresh.
In the afternoons, Daniel inspected the construction sites. The palace walls were higher now, wide streets traced between new houses, and stone foundations were laid for a public bathhouse and a granary. The people worked harder, motivated by a sense of shared purpose. The old fears of dinosaurs had faded, replaced by curiosity and pride.
As night fell, Daniel walked along the city's outer wall. The wind from the lake was cool, and the fires of the town flickered in the distance. He thought of Greece, of the rising storm beyond the sea, and of the blood that would soon be spilled.
In his heart, there was a quiet resolve. Cyzicus would not be a pawn. It would stand on its own feet.
That evening, he met with his officers again. Plans were made to secure supply routes, prepare defensive positions, and discreetly watch for loyalists of the old noble families still hiding in the region.
Daniel knew well — war abroad often stirred rebellion at home.
And so, as the full moon rose over the quiet spring city, the men of Cyzicus sharpened their blades, gathered their harvest, and waited for the storm.
Spring deepened, and with it came a strange sense of calm over Cyzicus. The air smelled of fresh earth, the fields near the lake shimmered with young crops, and the streets buzzed with the sounds of hammers, voices, and wagons.
But underneath that peace, rumors were beginning to spread.
It started in the market. Merchants arriving from Sardis and Ephesus brought news of soldiers gathering in the west, of Darius raising a massive army, and of Greek city-states refusing Persian rule. Whispers in taverns spoke of coming war — one that would cross the seas.
Daniel was aware of every word.
He called a meeting in the council hall, gathering his most trusted men and women: artisans, traders, military captains, and land overseers. The room was bright with morning light, maps of the city laid over the table, and plans of buildings still under construction.
"Before war finds us," Daniel began, "we build. Cyzicus must be strong not just in arms, but in stone, harvest, and spirit."
The council nodded.
Theron reported on the progress of the city walls, reinforced since the rebellion.Pheidon outlined new farmland allocations and grain stores in preparation for uncertain months ahead.Lysa, a merchant leader, suggested expanding trade with nearby villages and islands while they still could.
Then came the military report.
Captain Adrastus spoke, his tone careful."Bandits and rogue noblemen still cause problems in the hills. It would be wise to increase patrols. Under that pretext, we can train men without drawing suspicion of preparing for war."
Daniel approved.
"We'll send a respectable number to aid Darius — enough to fulfill our duty. But Cyzicus will not be left unguarded. Tell the King's envoys that local unrest has weakened our numbers."
There was quiet understanding around the table. Everyone knew this wasn't cowardice — it was survival.
Small preparations began immediately:
Extra grain was hidden in secure storage.
Blacksmiths quietly produced weapons for the city guard.
Patrols increased, both to chase away bandits and to quietly train soldiers for battle.
The dinosaur teams were readied — Protoceratops and Iguanodons were assigned to move heavy supplies and assist in farming, disguised as simple labor beasts.
In the evenings, Daniel walked the streets, listening to people talk of the Greeks, of great battles far from their world. He spoke with farmers, builders, and fishermen, reassuring them.
"Cyzicus stands strong," he would say. "No war will shake us while we stand together."
Yet in his heart, Daniel knew — this was only the beginning.
He returned to his unfinished palace, the walls now half-raised, and watched the sun set beyond the hills. The city had changed in these months, reshaped by conflict and ambition.
Tomorrow, more meetings will be held. New plans drawn.
But for now, Cyzicus lived. And that was enough.