Playing the Peasants for Fools
Leonidas stood at the edge of a raised platform in Sinope looking down at the massive crowd before him. He was tired. The night before, he had given a pretty little handmaiden a good toss in mourning for his late wife, who had died in an accident two or three days prior. Varying reports gave it as a chariot accident, a freak assassination, or a simple suicide, but really few had paid much notice. Leonidas had no need for a Macedonian noblewoman now that all Anatolia divided Pontus from the nearest Macedonian outpost. Now the pressing need was to show loyalty to the people. It did help that Leonidas was the legitimate ruler of Pontus, being the firstborn of a family that ruled the region since the Persians swept through Anatolia and having been a noble family even before then, but some agitators (who of course all simply wanted the throne for themselves) had pointed out Leonidas's readiness to adopt their conquerors' customs, language, and religion without so much as an explanation to the people of Pontus. These radicals had, of course, been silenced in a manner befitting their insolence, but not before their sedition could poison the people against their benevolent ruler. Thus, Leonidas's third wife had to go to make way for a local girl who would be selected today. Of course, had Alexander not gone and died this would all be much easier. Leonidas had everything set. He had married into one of Macedonia's best families, had adopted their customs, had convinced even Alexander of his bravery and dedication to destroying Persia (never mind that not a soldier has lifted a blade in Pontus since the original Persian invasion), and could easily count on perhaps becoming the ruler of all Anatolia one day. But then Alexander died, the empire collapsed. That same withdrawal of his rulers that gave Leonidas his freedom also withdrew the soldiers who had been Leonidas's only protection from fearsome barbarians north of the mountains of Colchis. Leonidas had never been a talented military commander, and so had grudgingly turned the responsibility of command over to his Greek-educated youngest son, only fifteen years old. With his mother's "accidental" death, however, that state of affairs may no longer be practicable, as the strange boy had learned such poisonous doctrines as loyalty and honor and morality from his Greek tutors, and Leonidas could tell he was not well liked by his son already. Leonidas, however, was quickly brought back to the reality of the moment by the sound of horns announcing his arrival to the city. Oh, how he hated those horns. The headaches they have caused! They were almost as bad as the military formations which tradition dictated had to be present at these things, with their brilliant bronze shields and steel armor and bright new banners with the standard of Pontus on them. But, Leonidas had a purpose here. He stepped out into the light, looked into the crowd, pointed at a pretty-ish little girl who he vaguely knew was as native to the region as it got, and walked back into his palace, letting his advisors and heralds tell the people the news of their new, native queen.
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Originally Posted by Agamemnon
