The sun slowly fell over Cyzicus, dyeing the golden fields and the calm waters of the harbor in shades of crimson and purple. By Daniel's order, all citizens had been summoned to a festival like no other: The Festival of the Great Harvest, a celebration of the third year of abundance and peace.
Since morning, artisans have decorated the streets with garlands of flowers and olive branches. Colorful canopies and flags were raised in the squares, and the roads were covered in petals and scented sand. Vendors offered spiced wine, sweet breads, honey, dates, and dishes of roasted fish, while musicians with lyres, flutes, and drums roamed the streets playing lively melodies.
Children ran with crowns of leaves, and domesticated beasts — Iguanodons, Protoceratops, and small valley herbivores — paraded adorned with ribbons and dyed fabrics.
In the afternoon, in the great square before the palace, Daniel gave a speech:
"Three years ago, this city was dust and fear. Today, we are strong, abundant, and united. This day we celebrate not only the fruits of the earth, but the fruits of courage, labor, and faith in a different future."
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Races, wrestling matches, fire shows, and demonstrations with the Nothosaurus in the bay followed, swimming beneath lit torches and small boats, causing awe and joy.
At night, torches illuminated every street, and the temples held ceremonies of gratitude. Daniel watched from the palace terraces, satisfied, though knowing this calm was a mere illusion.
Preparations in Greece
Meanwhile, far from there, in restless Greece, the poleis were preparing.
In Athens, the council of strategists gathered beneath the still-unfinished Parthenon. Miltiades, a veteran and fervent enemy of the Persians, spoke:
"Datis and Artaphernes are already sailing towards us. We must raise citizen armies, arm every free man, call for reinforcements from Plataea, and fortify Marathon."
The citizens chose their leaders — the strategoi, commanders elected annually by vote — in a tense and divided assembly. The voices of demagogues and aristocrats clashed, but fear of Persia united them.
In Eretria, a smaller yet brave city, the council of elders and generals, known as the Archons, debated whether to resist or evacuate. In the end, they chose to fight alongside Athens, sending messengers and ships filled with hoplites.
Greek ports filled with triremes, blacksmiths forged spears, and the training fields echoed with the shouts of young men leaving their plows behind to take up shields.
The Palace of Darius
At the heart of the Persian Empire, in the splendid capital of Susa, Darius I the Great stood in his gardens, surrounded by palm trees, fountains, and reliefs of gold and lapis lazuli.
Informed of the Ionian revolt and the Greek betrayal, the king ordered his eunuchs and viziers:
"The Greeks will pay for every stone and every word of rebellion. Send orders: Datis, veteran of the eastern wars, and Artaphernes, governor of Sardis, will command the expedition."
The news swept through the empire like an electric current. Datis was already on the coasts of Asia Minor, assembling a colossal fleet, while Artaphernes, well-acquainted with the rebellious poleis, prepared his troops.
Darius swore before his god Ahura Mazda that Athens and Eretria would be destroyed. He even placed a slave behind his throne, whose duty was to remind him every day:
"Remember, oh king, the Greeks."
Thus, while Cyzicus danced, Greece forged its spears, and Persia raised its banners.
Messengers galloped between cities and ports, ships sailed with messages and soldiers, and cities murmured the names of battles yet to come.
Daniel knew it. From his torchlit terrace, he could feel in the wind the vibration of a world preparing to change.
Everything built could be lost.But for now, Cyzicus lived, celebrated, and dreamed.
4o