The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe
Chapter 86 Undercurrents

Chapter 86: Chapter 86 Undercurrents

Cincinnatus and Sedorum both fixed their gazes on Akpiru, their expressions taut with expectation.

Akpiru’s eyes, sharp as a falcon’s, swept over the gathered men. He missed nothing—the tension in the air, the faint tremor of unease in Sedorum’s stance. He knew the truth: the Vig warriors had not fought with their full might. They were Bruttians, after all, not Lucanians—an important distinction in this precarious balance of power. And yet, Sedorum’s claim held weight; the Vig had saved the right wing and contributed to the victory.

Akpiru’s mind, ever calculating, turned to Cincinnatus. He understood the man too well: greedy, opportunistic, and ever the bully. None of this surprised him. As the alliance leader, Akpiru bore the weight of justice—to reward valor and punish betrayal. Yet he could not afford to blindly adhere to the alliance’s strictures. Picossis, Grumentum’s staunchest ally, had been the cornerstone of its rise to dominance. Alienating Picossis would risk unraveling the fragile unity of the Lucanian Tribal Alliance.

To the south, the fragmented Bruttian tribes loomed—a divided and weakened people ripe for conquest. Grumentum’s path was clear: after crushing Thurii and claiming the fertile Sybaris Plain, they would turn their might upon the Bruttians. The submission of Vig, a city precariously close to Lucanian territory, was a calculated boon. Though their surrender had come under the shadow of Lucanian power, it opened the door to Bruttian lands. Akpiru, ever the tactician, could not be harsh—but neither could he permit them to forget their place. The Lucanians were the masters, and the Bruttians? They were born to serve.

Having resolved his course, Akpiru’s voice rose, calm yet commanding, "This victory belongs to all of us, to the strength of our united efforts! When we seize this land, I shall reward each of you richly, according to your deeds. However—" He turned, his gaze like a blade, cutting through Sedorum’s composure. "As allies, we cannot abide treachery! To kill one’s comrades in battle is a crime that defies the gods themselves and demands atonement. Vig must pay a fine equal to Picossis’s losses. Furthermore, an equal number of Vig warriors must forfeit their lives in sacrifice!"

The Vig warriors erupted in fury, their voices a storm of indignation.

"We will not stand for this!" they cried, their shouts echoing like thunder across the field.

Grumentum and Picossis warriors moved swiftly, shields raised, spears bristling, surrounding the Bruttians in a show of overwhelming might.

"Sedorum," Akpiru’s voice cut through the din like a cold wind, "do you agree with my decision?"

Sedorum stood frozen, his head bowed. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Sweat beaded upon his brow as his silence stretched unbearably.

"Chief, you cannot agree!" Saru, one of his men, shouted, his voice trembling with rage. "They are humiliating us! We should leave!"

"Yes, we’ll go back! Chief, lead us away from this!" the Vig warriors cried, their faces burning with fury and shame.

"Leave?" Cincinnatus sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "So much for Bruttian loyalty. They would break their sacred oaths before the gods! If that’s the case—"

Sedorum’s head snapped up at Cincinnatus’s words. He saw the venomous smirk on the man’s lips, the cold finality in Akpiru’s gaze, and the glint of spears encircling his warriors. The Vig were hopelessly outmatched—poorly armed and outnumbered. Their leather armor and spears were no match for the bronze shields and superior equipment of their Lucanian counterparts.

With a trembling breath, Sedorum’s resolve crumbled. His voice barely a whisper, he said, "I... I agree."

A cry of anguish rose from his warriors, their voices breaking like waves against the cliffs of his despair. Sedorum staggered back, the weight of his shame too great to bear, and collapsed to the ground.

Akpiru’s voice remained steady as he commanded, "Ulder, oversee the punishment." He cast a wary glance at Cincinnatus, whose smug satisfaction threatened to spark further unrest. "We will leave no room for discord."

Ulder, chief of Neritum, bowed his head. "As you wish, Chief."

Turning back to Sedorum, Akpiru’s tone softened, offering a lifeline. "Once we occupy this land, I will grant you and your people a portion of the Sybaris Plain—a land far more fertile than the rugged hills of Bruttia. Use it to graze your cattle and sheep."

"Thank you... Chief..." Sedorum forced the words through clenched teeth, swallowing the bitterness of his defeat.

Before Cincinnatus could speak, Akpiru shifted his attention to Genat, his expression warm. "Genat, my dear child, how are your wounds?"

Genat, straightening despite the pain, replied, "They are but scratches, Chief."

"Good," Akpiru said with a laugh. "Take care—I expect grandchildren soon, and my daughter wouldn’t wish to raise them alone!"

The warriors laughed along, though the mirth carried a weight of expectation.

Amid the levity, a voice rang out, sharp and mocking. "Lucania’s greatest warrior? Defeated by a handful of Greeks? How shameful!"

The speaker was Severa, a Grumentum chief whose disdain for Genat simmered beneath every word. Genat’s retort came swift and biting, and the tension flared anew, only for Akpiru’s stern command to restore order.

As the sun sank lower, painting the horizon in blood and gold, Akpiru declared with fiery resolve, "Tomorrow, we will lay claim to this land. We shall build a Lucanian city here—a beacon of our might! The Greeks are finished. Let their mercenaries starve in isolation, or face their doom at our hands. Lucania’s glory shall rise!"

The warriors, stirred by his words, prepared for the dawn of conquest.

The Lucanians retreated.

Amid the triumphant cheers echoing through the camp, Phelicius made his way to the main tent, seeking Juleios. Yet, upon entering, he found the leader wholly engrossed in his thoughts, crouched low and tracing patterns in the dirt with a wooden stick. Outside, the noise of celebration surged like a mighty tide, but Juleios remained untouched, his focus unshaken as he paced the tent, muttering under his breath.

"Juleios," Phelicius called out, his voice cutting through the din. But Juleios did not stir. After several attempts, Phelicius relented, choosing instead to watch in silence. He craned his neck to examine the markings on the ground.