The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe-Chapter 6 - The Chess Player

The tent fell silent, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Oliver broke the stillness.

"It's such a pity darius the Younger is dead!" he said, his tone tinged with regret. "He might have been a Persian prince, but he was polite, generous, and always willing to help others. And let's not forget—he was incredibly handsome! Even the Queen of Cilicia fell for him. If he had lived, he would have made a great king!"

Juleios suppressed a laugh, his inner monologue brimming with sarcasm. Good looks and being good with women make a good king? What kind of nonsense logic is that?

"Yeah," Giorgilos agreed. "darius wasn't like the other Persians who looked down on us. He genuinely treated us Greeks well. If he became king, the relationship between Greece and Persia would definitely improve."

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"And he was a true warrior," Matonis added enthusiastically. "Not weak like the others."

"Most importantly," Oliver chimed in, "he was generous! He gave us so many gold coins!"

The group's collective nostalgia for darius was starting to sound like a eulogy. Juleios, drawing on the fragmented memories of his new body, couldn't help but speak up.

"Generous? darius the Younger? I'm not so sure. Remember, he owed us over three months of wages and only paid us when the King of Cilicia inspected the troops. Even then, it was just four months' worth."

The others exchanged uneasy glances but stayed silent as Juleioscontinued.

"When we suspected he was planning to fight the Persian King and refused to march further, he only agreed to raise our pay from one daric to one and a half. And those two months of wages? That wasn't even his money. Don't forget, he ordered us to intimidate the King of Cilicia, who then paid him a hefty sum. Later, when we discovered his true intentions and caused a commotion, he promised five minas of silver each if we captured Babylon. Did he ever deliver on that promise?"

Oliver muttered bitterly, "He died."

"Exactly," Juleiossaid, his tone sharp. "darius didn't spend a single coin of his own. Instead, he lured us more than 3,000 kilometers from home, into enemy territory, full of dangers. If he'd told us from the beginning that he planned to fight the Persian King, would we have agreed?"

The three shook their heads, their faces pale.

"He hid the truth, offering just enough benefits to keep us moving forward, like leading sheep with grass. By the time we realized the full picture, we couldn't turn back." Juleiossighed. "darius was a master manipulator. Without spending his own resources, he made over ten thousand Greeks fight and die for his ambitions. That's skill."

The tent fell into another heavy silence. Then Oliver burst into angry curses.

"Damn darius the Younger! Damn the Persians! And that idiot Menon! He kept throwing us into the vanguard, saying darius would reward us. Menon's not just foul-mouthed; his brain's rotten too! He's going to get us killed someday. Ugh... my stomach... I'm starving!"

Watching Oliver vent, Juleioscouldn't help but smile. His previous life had been filled with schemes and power plays, both in government and through endless historical dramas. Even if he hadn't been directly involved, he'd seen plenty of manipulations. darius was no exception. Born into the intricate web of palace intrigue, he had risen to become the Persian Western Military Commander. Manipulating the Greeks into serving his ambitions only proved his cunning. As for Menon, Juleiossuspected his actions were less about stupidity and more about greed.

"Juleios, you've changed," Matonis said hesitantly. "You never used to talk like this. Are you really... really..."

Juleiossmiled at his old friend. "Matonis, no matter what happens, I'm still me. I'll always be your brother. I'm grateful for how you've looked out for me, and I hope you'll keep helping me."

After days of subtle hints about being "favored by the gods," Juleioshad decided to embrace it. With over thirty years of experience in his previous life, pretending to be a naive nineteen-year-old Greek seemed both impossible and unnecessary. If people wanted to believe he was blessed by Hades, he wouldn't deny it.

Matonis grinned, his confidence restored. "Don't worry! With me here, no one will dare mess with you!"

"Juleios," Giorgis asked hesitantly, "can we go home?"

Clearly, Juleios' critique of darius had shaken their confidence.

Juleiosoffered a reassuring smile, though doubt churned within him. History had taught him that emperors despised rebellion. The Persian King would surely aim to destroy them as a warning to others. Still, he said, "Don't worry. We'll make it home."

The others visibly relaxed. Juleiossighed inwardly. These simple men had placed their entire faith in his supposed "divine guidance." It was a heavy burden, but also a curious kind of power.

As he pondered their predicament, a thought struck him. He recalled a movie from his previous life, 2012, where the wealthy secured spots on high-tech arks while ordinary people were left to their fate.

To be a pawn is to be moved by others. But to be a chess player is to control your own destiny. How do I become a chess player?

By afternoon, Xilos' squad received half a bag of wheat flour and a dozen dates. The meager rations lifted everyone's spirits.

Struggling to their feet, they began preparing bread. Juleioseagerly joined, asking questions as he worked. Though he had theoretical knowledge from his memories, it was his first time trying it.

Making Greek bread was surprisingly similar to Chinese flatbreads. Fermentation was key, and the Greeks carried yeast as part of their essential supplies.

After kneading the dough, they baked it on iron plates over scavenged firewood. By evening, they finally ate the simple bread, filling their stomachs before falling into a deep, exhausted sleep.

The next morning, Xilos woke them early. "Ariaeus' messenger arrived," he announced. "Ariaeus plans to return to Asia. The leaders, unwilling to return empty-handed, promised to proclaim him King of Persia if he joins us in marching on Babylon. They've sent Clearchus and Menon to persuade him."

"Why Menon?" Matonis asked, frowning.

"Don't you know Menon and Ariaeus are close?" Oliver replied with a knowing smirk.

"Can they convince him?" Giorgilos asked nervously.

All eyes turned to Juleios. Overnight, he had become their anchor. Though the weight of their expectation pressed on him, Juleiosmet it head-on. After a moment's thought, he shook his head.

"Ariaeus is a Persian noble," he said. "As darius' adjutant, he could claim he was coerced into rebellion. But if he continues with us now and fails, it won't just be his life—his entire family would be destroyed. If he truly had ambitions, he would have seized darius' command immediately. The fact that he's only now planning to return shows he's already made up his mind."

Hearing this, the group's shoulders sagged with disappointment.

"Brothers, let the leaders worry about such matters," Xilos interjected. "Menon has ordered us to slaughter extra livestock and prepare more food."

The promise of a full meal brought a spark of life back to the group. For now, their hunger and hope for survival overshadowed their fears of the future.