Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 942: Song of the Daionian Legion

When the lively music of the third act's finale began to play, the performers on the field quickly formed a neat triangle and danced with abandon. Max and the rest of the Roman soldiers stared wide-eyed. They had never seen such a peculiar dance. Moving to the rise and fall of the melody, the dancers shifted seamlessly from vigorous, masculine movements to soft, fluid sways, and then into comical gestures. They tossed their heads, twisted their waists, and swung their hips. It was a style of dance the Romans had never seen or heard of, yet the movements matched the music flawlessly and in perfect unison. It made everyone's blood pump, their bodies unconsciously twitching to the beat as they fought the urge to join the frenzy.

In truth, the moment the music started, many Daionian soldiers had already stood up. Humming the melody, they bobbed their heads and swayed their bodies, dancing in place alongside the performers on the field.

The performance lasted for over an hour. When it finally concluded, cheers erupted across the grounds. Even many of the Roman soldiers couldn't help but join the men beside them in shouting their approval.

The Romans soon fell quiet, but the Daionian soldiers' cheers only grew more thunderous. Standing in the center of the field was their beloved king, Davos.

Davos wore the same black tunic as his men. Holding a wine cup, he surveyed the crowd before speaking in a solemn, ringing voice. "Brothers! On this expedition to Latium, it took you a mere four months to conquer Rome and its surrounding city-states. You saved our allies and eliminated the threat to our kingdom's north. Your deeds in this war will be carved into stone for future generations to remember! Your families will be proud of you, and the kingdom will be proud of you! Here, on behalf of the Senate and the generals who led you, I offer you a toast. Thank you for the blood you shed and the sacrifices you made in this campaign!"

With that, Davos bowed slightly, raised the wine cup high above his head with both hands, and slowly turned in a full circle.

At that moment, the field packed with tens of thousands of men fell dead silent. Only the howling of the sea breeze could be heard.

Davos stopped turning and shouted once more, "This cup is for you, the heroes of the kingdom! Cheers!"

A deafening roar erupted across the field like a clap of thunder. "Cheers, Your Majesty!"

Davos downed his drink in a single gulp. He wiped the wine from his lips and pressed his hands downward, signaling the crowd to quiet down. Then he called out, "Did you enjoy the play?"

"Yes!"

"Then how about I put on a performance for you next?"

"Yes!" the soldiers yelled enthusiastically.

"This is a song I wrote just for you!" The moment Davos said this, the soldiers' excitement spiked, their anticipation reaching a fever pitch.

Davos cleared his throat, and the entire venue instantly fell silent.

"We are soldiers of the Daionian legion, Brave warriors who guard our realm's might, Taking up our dear spears and long shields, Marching without hesitation to the fight;

Our parents bid farewell with heavy hearts, Our wives and children await us at home, Bearing their longing we rush to the field, To win glory and bring it to our own;

We are soldiers of the Daionian legion..."

Davos had been working on this song for some time. The melody came from "Katyusha," a famous Soviet song from his previous life. It was simple yet beautiful, its brisk rhythm carrying an air of heroism mixed with a touch of romance—perfect for soldiers to sing on the march or into battle. By introducing it now, Davos hoped to help his men overcome the exhaustion of prolonged warfare, rekindling their passion and fighting spirit for the upcoming war against Carthage.

Just as he expected, the soldiers loved the song after a single listen. Thanks to its simple melody, many quickly picked up the tune and hummed along. By the time Davos sang it for the third time, the warriors were singing along at the top of their lungs, their voices ringing across the field in a lively, deafening choir.

When Davos finished, the singing continued. The soldiers were completely swept up in the melody.

It took quite a while for the venue to quiet down again.

Davos shouted, "Brothers, was it good?"

"It was incredible, Your Majesty!"

"Do you want to know the name of this song?!"

"Yes!"

"It is called the Song of the Daionian Legion!"

The soldiers weren't the only ones shocked; the officers were just as surprised. "This is a song written just for us?!"

Pride swelled in everyone's chests. Those who had stopped singing began to chant the lyrics again, their voices ringing out even louder than before. "We are soldiers of the Daionian legion..."

They sang with such devotion that the fervor soon infected the Roman soldiers. Although they didn't understand the lyrics, they hummed the melody under their breath. The tune was undeniably catchy.

Singing it over and over, the Daionian soldiers committed the melody and lyrics to memory.

Davos once again signaled for silence. With a wide smile, he shouted, "Next up, Legion Commanders Amyntas and Matonis will put on a wrestling match for you! Do you want to see it?!"

"Yes!" Hearing that such a spectacle was next, every soldier screamed in excitement.

Wrestling was the most common event at all Greek sports games. Every Daionian soldier had practiced it to some degree growing up, and it served as a standard exercise to build physique during military training. However, they had never seen two high-ranking Legion Commanders wrestle before, naturally sparking immense curiosity.

According to Greek tradition, wrestlers were supposed to compete naked and slathered in olive oil. However, the autumn nights were chilly, and the two Legion Commanders were no longer young. To avoid catching a cold, they both wore black tunics. This did nothing to dampen the soldiers' enthusiasm. When the two generals stepped into the center of the field, the surrounding cheers only grew more intense.

"Are you ready?" Davos asked with a chuckle.

Amyntas locked eyes with his opponent and tilted his chin up. "Matonis, you always love to compete with me. Today, I'll let you know who the kingdom's fiercest warrior truly is!"

Matonis blinked and brushed off the remark. "Old captain, you're older than me. Don't worry, I won't go all out."

"Trying to provoke me?" Amyntas grinned, though his expression quickly turned serious. He took a small step back with his right foot, dropped into a half-crouch, arched his back, and spread his arms wide, ready to strike.

Seeing this, Matonis immediately assumed a grappling stance as well.

Playing the role of referee, Davos shouted, "Begin!"

Both Legion Commanders let out a fierce roar and lunged at each other.

The venue instantly boiled over. Soldiers of the First Legion and Second Legion screamed to cheer on their respective commanders. Men from the other legions cheered for both, as the two generals carried immense prestige throughout the army. If not for the officers maintaining order, most of the soldiers would have likely swarmed the center of the field. Even though they couldn't leave their spots, they all stood up, jumping and waving their arms frantically. The atmosphere was explosive.

Fueled by the deafening crowd, Amyntas and Matonis threw Davos's earlier warning—"It's just a performance, don't take it too seriously"—completely out the window. Their fighting spirits soared, and both men unleashed every trick in the book, desperate to crush the other.

The two grappled for quite some time, panting heavily. Even their tunics were torn in the struggle. In the end, Amyntas—who was six years older than Matonis—ran out of stamina. He was thrown to the dirt, losing the match.

Matonis immediately helped him to his feet.

Patting the dust off his body, Amyntas grumbled in defiance, "Kid, if this were ten years ago, you'd never stand a chance against me. But now... I've grown old."

Having won the bout, Matonis didn't bother arguing. He simply wore a triumphant smile.

Davos turned to the surrounding troops and called out, "Soldiers! Was the Legion Commanders' wrestling match spectacular or not?!"

"It was spectacular!" the soldiers hollered back in excitement.

Pointing at the two men who were still dusting themselves off, Davos said earnestly, "Legion Commander Amyntas is fifty-four years old, and Legion Commander Matonis is forty-eight. They may be older, but they remain strong and agile, no weaker than any of you young men. This is the result of years of consistent exercise. Therefore, you should all learn from these two commanders. Unrelenting training will not only sharpen your skills to kill the enemy and earn more military merit, but it will also keep you healthy and young! Am I right?!"

"Yes!" the soldiers roared in agreement, especially the men of the First Legion.

The resounding cheer washed away the lingering embarrassment in Amyntas's heart.

Next up to perform were Epithenes and Oliphus. Both were cheerful, lively generals, and they held a handstand-walking race. This completely caught the soldiers by surprise, and the two men's comical performance left everyone roaring with laughter.

This was followed by a sprint race between Third Legion Commander Lizarus and Mountain Scout Corps Commander Izam; an equestrian demonstration by Cavalry Legion Commander Lydas and Curtius; a heavy infantry combat duel between Sixth Legion Commander Trotidis and Palace Guard Commander Martius; and a mast-climbing competition between 3rd Fleet Commander Midorades and his crew...

Seeing these highly prestigious generals—men who commanded massive armies and charged straight into enemy lines—now performing so earnestly in the center of the venue was a profound novelty. Some even abandoned their dignified bearing, screaming and shouting with contorted faces until they were covered in dirt. It gave the soldiers a great sense of psychological satisfaction. This was one of the main reasons Davos had insisted the generals put on such a vigorous show for the troops on this special night.

However, the situation was different for the troops of the Roman Reserve Cohort and the surrendered soldiers of the Roman Aristocracy. While they were astonished that the Daionian generals didn't put on airs and mingled so freely with their men, they weren't quite as excited as the native Daionians. After all, they weren't familiar with these generals and didn't share the same emotional bond. That is, until Sextus stepped into the center of the field.