The year was 492 BCE. The Aegean winds blew stronger that summer, as if echoing the tension rising across the seas. News of the First Persian invasion of Greece had spread, and though the rebellion in Ionia had ended years ago, the embers of resistance were not entirely cold. Cýzicus, under Daniel's leadership, had prospered into a thriving city-state on the southern coast of the Propontis, but its location also made it a potential target.
Just weeks earlier, a group of Greek raiders had attempted to strike at the city's harbor. But they had underestimated Daniel's foresight. The newly domesticated Nothosaurus, trained for aquatic reconnaissance and pursuit, slipped through the waters with speed and instinct. With the help of three swift local galleys, the enemy vessels were intercepted and their crews captured. It was a small but symbolic victory.
In response, Daniel ordered the immediate acceleration of shipbuilding efforts. Drawing from old Phoenician designs and with inspiration from both Persian and Greek methods, he commissioned a new fleet of pentekonters — long, narrow wooden ships with a single row of fifty oars. These ships were simple compared to triremes, but fast and perfect for coastal defense.
The city's shipyards became a center of activity. Massive pine and cedar logs were brought in from Mysian forests to the south. Artisans began shaping keels and ribs. Blacksmiths forged bronze nails and rudder fittings. Daniel introduced basic pulleys and hoists to speed up hull construction and improve rigging. Hemp was imported from the east for strong rope. Simple cranes were installed to lift and fit the heavier components.
With each ship completed, the sense of security grew. The city guard was retrained to serve also as rowers and marines. A dedicated boathouse and naval arsenal were established.
Meanwhile, across the empire, preparations were escalating. Daríus, after appointing Mardonius to lead the campaign, began consolidating his power across Thrace and Macedon. While the land forces moved slowly, Persian fleets sailed along the Aegean coast, subduing island cities and sending envoys ahead to demand submission from Greek poleis.
In Greece, city-states responded in varied ways. Some, like Thebes, leaned toward compliance. Others, like Athens and Eretria, readied themselves for war. Assemblies were held in the agora. Hoplite armor was inspected. Blacksmiths worked day and night producing bronze spearheads and greaves. Some coastal cities even fortified their harbors with wooden towers and fire signals.
Daniel watched from afar, mindful of his role. Though he was part of the Persian structure, he knew too well the pride and independence of the Greek spirit. In Cýzicus, he continued building.
New districts were opened for craftsmen and merchants. Stone warehouses were erected to store supplies in case of blockade. The city's aqueducts were reinforced. The palace added a war council chamber, where maps, ship manifests, and troop rosters were kept.
One evening, overlooking the bay from his terrace, Daniel took a deep breath. He had built a jewel on the Propontis, but storms were coming.
The First Greco-Persian War had begun. And though Cýzicus was not on the front lines, it would be tested all the same.
Cyzicus, late 492 BCE
The port of Cyzicus buzzed with renewed activity. Ships were being refitted, new hulls coated with pitch, sails mended, and oars tested. After years of development, Daniel's city had grown into a vital coastal hub, and now the empire called upon it—not for tribute, but for strength.
The command came directly from Artafernes, satrap of Sardis and brother of King Darius: Cyzicus was to prepare its fleet and mobilize soldiers to support the great expedition being assembled. This long-threatened campaign would punish the Greek cities that aided the Ionian Revolt, especially Eretria and Athens.
Daniel, now twenty-four and a seasoned governor, knew this was the turning point. He oversaw the outfitting of the ships: mostly penteconters, agile vessels with fifty oars, and a handful of triremes, more advanced ships boasting triple rows of oars and reinforced rams. Though costly to maintain, the empire had begun adopting these designs after capturing Greek and Phoenician models. Basic technologies like bronze sheathing, double-anchor moorings, and improved rudder controls were now standard among Persian-allied fleets.
Along the docks, cranes of pulleys and levers lifted amphorae of grain and dried meat. Artisans worked in shaded tents crafting spare sails, spearpoints, and leather water skins. Soldiers trained near the shoreline, many of them raised in Cyzicus or the surrounding countryside—an army not massive, but loyal and efficient.
The city itself reflected the times. Watchtowers now dotted the outer walls. Defensive ballistas were mounted overlooking the bay. The streets, paved and well-drained, supported not just trade but defense coordination. Daniel had even begun building underground stores to hide strategic food reserves.
Inside the palace, now fully completed, a war council convened. Daniel and his advisors discussed fleet assignments, ration schedules, and communication protocols with Sardis. A map of the Aegean covered the main table, with markers showing key naval routes, wind patterns, and hostile territories. It was not only war planning—it was empire-building.
Rumors drifted from Greece. Eretria and Athens were preparing. In Athens, the new democratic system voted to resist Persian demands. Ships were being built. Hoplites were drilling in the countryside. The Athenians had no illusions—they expected Darius's vengeance.
Meanwhile, in Persia, Darius's anger had not cooled. After the Ionian Revolt, he wanted to send a message, not just restore order. Artafernes would co-lead the expedition, but another man had been selected to command the armada: Datis, a trusted Median general known for both ruthlessness and discipline.
Daniel read these reports in silence. Though not part of the high Persian elite, his growing wealth and efficient governance gave him influence. And yet, he knew: his role would remain supportive. His men would join the fleet. His ships would carry the grain. His city would help supply for this coming storm.
But Cyzicus, he promised himself, would not be drawn into reckless exposure. It would serve—but it would survive.
And so the preparations continued. Winter neared, and by spring, the fleet would be ready. The great war had not begun yet. But the sails were rising.