Volume 6: The Meeting of Two Heroes, Chapter 35: Dionia's New Naval Commander and “The Dionian”

Seclian’s heart tightened. He ventured a question: “Sir, are we about to go to war?”

“War may not necessarily break out, but it’s wise to be prepared. I’m sure you attended the public trial at Victory Square—Syracuse harbors ambitions against our Daonia.” Davos was pleased with Seclian’s vigilance as a naval commander. His expression grew somber as he fixed his gaze on Seclian. “If war does come, what are the chances of our entire Magna Graecia navy against the Syracusan fleet?”

Seclian’s face also tensed with gravity, but he kept a clear head and spoke fluently: “Croton, because of its recent war with Locri, can now scrape together at most twenty triremes. Scylletium might have about ten, Caulonia about eight, Trina five… As for the other city-states in the Daonia Alliance—Rhegium has the most triremes, possibly thirty. Heraclea and Metapontum would be lucky to muster five each. Laüs hasn’t yet mastered trireme construction. Castron and Elea have no triremes, only small and medium warships… Oh, and Tarentum—I nearly forgot it—it has about twenty-five triremes…”

Tarentum! That reminded Davos. Over the past two years, relations between Daonia and Tarentum had grown cold. But in the face of a greater threat, Davos decided he would have to improve ties with them soon.

“If we concentrate the naval forces of all the city-states in Magna Graecia, we might have about 130 triremes. Adding small and medium warships… perhaps nearly 250. Meanwhile, according to earlier intelligence, Syracuse currently has nearly 400 triremes, and its total number of warships likely exceeds 600. But despite the huge numerical disparity, we are not entirely without a chance against Syracuse—only—” Seclian’s expression turned melancholy. “The key problem is that these Magna Graecian warships are too scattered. They can easily be defeated piecemeal by the enemy. Even if we manage to assemble them, lack of training and unified command will lead to each fighting on its own.”

Davos pondered for a moment, then asked: “If all these Magna Graecian warships underwent unified training and were under a single command, do you think this joint Magna Graecian fleet could have a chance of defeating the Syracusan navy?”

A newly formed fleet with no battle experience, daring to think of defeating the mighty Syracusan navy? Seclian was not shocked by Davos’s question. Instead, after serious thought, he replied decisively: “I believe it is possible! First, the morale of the Daonian navy’s sailors is extremely high. As you know, sir, all positions in the Daonian infantry army corps are now filled. Many freemen registered with the Census Department and some preparatory citizens, unwilling to wait in the army reserves, have transferred to become sailors. These young men are eager to earn merits like the legionaries, to shorten their waiting period, become full citizens as soon as possible, and receive their allotment. So they train hard and yearn for war. They crave battle and victory more than anyone.”

Seclian clenched his fist, as if to bolster himself, and continued loudly: “Second, although the Syracusan navy is vast in number, their ships are not gathered in one place. They are stationed separately at Syracuse, Acragas, Catana… and now, with Messina added, Syracuse would also need considerable time to assemble all its ships. We could seize the opportunity to swiftly defeat one or two of their squadrons, thereby changing the naval balance of power…”

Davos stared at the young man. He was intelligent, capable, and full of vigor—brave and ambitious in the face of a strong enemy. Judging from his well-organized analysis, Seclian had thought deeply about naval warfare, not confining himself to commanding a single squadron but considering broader strategy. He was a naval talent!

Davos finally made up his mind. He said in a deep voice: “Well spoken! Our Daonian infantry has always triumphed over superior numbers through courage, and that is how we built the Daonia Alliance. I hope the navy will also embrace this spirit of fearing no strong enemy!”

“Rest assured, sir! The Daonian navy will never lag behind the infantry!” Seclian immediately vowed.

Davos looked at him and said solemnly: “Seclian, though you are young, you have performed excellently in training and fleet management, and you enjoy high prestige among the sailors. Now that Eanilus has been imprisoned for breaking the law, the entire Daonian navy lacks a commander. This situation cannot continue…”

As Davos spoke, Seclian’s heart pounded violently.

“Therefore, I have decided to propose to the Senate that you succeed him as naval commander. I believe the appointment may be announced tomorrow.”

When the immense fortune he had hoped for came crashing down, Seclian was too excited to know what to say. He could only thank him repeatedly: “Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir! Thank you—”

“Don’t thank me yet. You must understand that this appointment is not an honor but a heavy responsibility! If the day comes when Daonia goes to war with Syracuse, Daonia’s long coastline will be under attack by the powerful Syracusan navy. The fleet you lead must do everything possible to protect the alliance’s territory from enemy invasion and prevent the loss of citizens’ property. Your responsibility is immense!” Davos said sternly.

Under Davos’s gaze, Seclian’s expression gradually hardened. “I understand, sir!” He saluted with great force.

The next day, the Senate voted to approve Seclian’s appointment as naval commander. Two additional bills were also passed: first, integrating the warships of the allied city-states into the Daonian navy’s order of battle for joint training and patrols; second, increasing the construction rate of triremes from the original five per year to ten per year.

…

At the Great Theater of Dionysus in Athens, the famous playwright Aristophanes’ new play *The Daonians* was being performed. The play told the story of a Daonian non-Greek citizen participating in the Olympian Games. In it, Aristophanes used exaggerated and mocking brushstrokes to depict an absurd, ignorant Daonian foreigner utterly clueless about traditional Greek culture. Since its premiere, it had been greatly admired by Athenian citizens; theaters were often packed.

For example, at that moment on stage, the referee announced the athletes’ entrance. This oddly dressed foreigner refused to strip naked. When the referee asked why, he replied: “There are many snakes and insects in our mountains. I must keep my clothes on, otherwise something might get bitten off—”

“Ha ha ha…” The entire audience erupted in laughter.

“I love this part—it’s hilarious!” A spectator clutched his stomach, tears of laughter streaming down his face.

“The next part is even funnier. I’ve watched it several times!” Another spectator said excitedly.

A whistle blew on stage. The actor playing the Daonian foreigner desperately mimed running motions, but the referee stopped the race and demanded to know why he had cut inside the track circle. The man replied innocently: “In my tribe, when tracking prey, we always take shortcuts. Only that way can we catch it.”

When the referee explained the rules, he complained: “How foolish these rules are! No wonder I haven’t seen you wearing animal skins or feather ornaments—you can’t possibly catch any prey.”

The audience laughed almost from start to finish.

In the finale, this foreigner won the foot race. The temple priest crowned him with a laurel wreath, but he threw it to the ground and said angrily: “Our magistrate cheated me! These twigs are worthless. He promised a reward for winning!”

He then turned to demand the priest’s golden scepter.

The foreigner’s greed and the priest’s anger closed the play.

The entire audience rose and applauded, cheering in one direction.

An old man with graying beard stood up, waving his hand in thanks. He was Athens’ revered playwright—Aristophanes. Despite his age, as was his habit, he sat among the audience during the premiere to observe their reactions and contemplate improvements to his work.

*The Daonians* was inspired by the farce that had occurred at the Isthmian Games a few years ago (that is, the incident where Lizaru caused an uproar at the stadium). Most Athenians took it as mere comedy, but only a few understood the deeper meaning.

In Magna Graecia’s Daonia, Sicily’s Syracuse, Campania’s Neapolis, Thessaly in northern Greece, and Macedonia—more and more city-states were beginning to accept non-Greeks into Greek society. This was eroding traditional Greek culture, precisely what Aristophanes, always dedicated to defending classical Greek values, feared. Through this ridiculous foreigner in his play, he warned Athens and the entire Greek world to be vigilant. But how much effect it would have, even he could not be sure.

Leaning on his slave, he left the theater and descended the mountain path. The crowded flow of people voluntarily made way for the respected old man.

Just then, cheers erupted ahead.

“What happened?!” Spectators tapped each other on the shoulders, eagerly passing the news forward.

“We won! We won! The fleet led by Conon defeated the Spartan navy at Cnidus! Athens has won!!” People ran spreading the news, some weeping with joy.