Tyrant: Destroyer of Cities by Christian Cameron

Sea of Grass were brother and sister – twins, in fact – was convenient, but it did not represent a union of the crowns in any way, except in special cases.
    But in the east, his Maeotae and Sindi farmers along the Hypanis River had no horse-nomad overlords, no archons, no tyrants. And they were wealthy men – or wealthy enough, with good stone houses, barns heavy with grain, slaves, horses and cattle – men of property who deserved his consideration. More than his consideration.
    He looked at Gardan, who had fought for his father at the Ford of the River God and had raised a tagma of archers for the campaign that ended at the Battle of the Tanais River. Gardan was, in his quiet way, an important man in his kingdom. A man who had saved him, and his sister, when they were penniless, hunted exiles.
    ‘A fortification on the Hypanis River would appear to Sinope to be a provocation,’ Satyrus said to the group. They were not well dressed, by Greek standards – large, dark men with furry wool cloaks and homespun chitons. Many of them wore trousers, like the Sakje. ‘And your farms are under no threat.’
    ‘Three summers ago, Sauromatae raiders burned my house,’ Gardan said. ‘Lord, you can’t tell us it couldn’t happen again.’
    ‘The western Sauromatae are settling our lands,’ Satyrus said. ‘In a generation they will be neighbours.’
    ‘Raiders attacked out east. I heard it from a trader when the river opened.’ Scarlad Longshanks was another veteran of their campaigns. He shook his head. ‘Lord, we don’t have a city. Give us a fort.’
    ‘Does this fortification need soldiers?’ Satyrus asked.
    ‘Wouldn’t be much use without them,’ Gardan said. ‘Lord – we pay taxes, and we fought for you.’
    Satyrus heard them out, because one of the tricks of ruling that he’d already learned was that listening cost him nothing and often went a long way to satisfying dissent. He listened, he talked of the new plough and showed it to them, and then he met with Coenus and Nikephorus, formerly an enemy and now the commander of his infantry.
    Coenus just shook his head. ‘It’d be the last straw for Heraklea and Sinope,’ he said. ‘They already think we’re out to take them.’
    Nikephorus shrugged. ‘That’s as may be. It’d be nice to have a couple of garrisons where we were welcome, and where the lads could have their own places. Billets on the populace make trouble in the end – always.’
    Satyrus sat with his chin in his hand, picking at his beard. ‘I hadn’t expected to keep you all sitting around so long,’ he admitted. In the aftermath of his victory at Tanais River, he’d had two thousand of his own mercenary foot, mostly Macedonian veterans, and he’d captured Nikephorus and his equally good Greek mercenary foot – another two thousand. He’d expected further campaigns – at least in the east – but the complete collapse of the Sauromatae Confederacy with the death of Upazan left him with no external enemies unless he chose to invade his neighbours. No external enemies, and five thousand veteran soldiers (12,500 drachma per day, plus officers and bonus payments, food and equipage). He used them as marines, and he loaned a thousand of them to Heraklea during a slave revolt, but day to day they were the second largest expense in the kingdom, after the fleet.
    Coenus raised an eyebrow. ‘But?’
    Satyrus sat up straight and spread his hands. ‘It seems foolish, but the whole world is at war and the cost of the fleet and the army seems to me to be an insurance. We’re strong enough to discourage any attempt that any of the main players could make. With the city militias and the Assagetae, we could defeat anything they could roll at us.’
    Coenus smiled, and his eyes narrowed. ‘In fact, we have.’
    Satyrus nodded. ‘So I’m no better than the farmers. I want to keep the army and the fleet together just in case . And we can afford it. Stability is the key to the future. Good