The sun shone over the rooftops of Sardis as Daniel, now twenty-one years old, set out on a journey that would mark a before and after in his life. He did not travel alone. More than five hundred people followed him—artisans, soldiers, scribes, translators, slaves, and scholars—along with several of his dinosaurs, carefully hidden in reinforced wooden crates, guarded day and night under large tarps.
The order came directly from the Great King. Daniel, the young foreigner who had risen to prominence during the Ionian Revolts, had been summoned to the royal court in Susa to be rewarded for his efforts. With imperial honors and sealed letters in hand, he departed from Sardis along the Royal Road, heading toward the heart of the Achaemenid Empire.
They passed through Kelainai, crossed the winding Meander River, and traversed the fertile plains of Phrygia. The seasons changed along the way, just as the languages of the people did. But everywhere, the name of Darius the Great carried power, resonating from village to village.
By the time they reached the Euphrates, Daniel had begun to understand the sheer scale of the empire. He saw towering ziggurats, bustling markets where five languages were spoken at once, and ornamental gardens that mimicked those of Babylon. Nomadic tribes crossed paths with spice caravans, and military outposts stood as reminders that order flowed from Susa.
In Babylon, Daniel stopped briefly. He passed through the imposing Ishtar Gate, marveling at its cobalt-blue tiles and massive mosaics. Once the jewel of Mesopotamia, the city now stood proud yet sober, repainted in Persian hues.
After crossing the Tigris River, the road narrowed. Dust clung to every step until, finally, the domed rooftops and towering columns of Susa appeared on the horizon.
The royal gardens of Susa were unlike anything Daniel had ever seen. Artificial canals meandered between palm trees and flower beds, and enormous columns supported painted ceilings adorned with mythical creatures. The great banquet had already ended, but rumors of the foreigner who had helped quell the Ionian revolts still echoed through the palace halls.
Though not of Persian blood, Daniel had earned the king's favor. Still, by tradition, he was not permitted to attend military councils or sit with imperial advisors. Instead, Darius sent him gifts: gold, Bactrian fabrics, a chariot pulled by Median horses, tools, a set of cuneiform tablets, and most importantly, a written decree granting him authority over the city of Cyzicus.
He was also granted a private audience in one of the palace gardens. There, surrounded by fountains and marble lions, Darius spoke candidly.
"You are not one of us," the king had said, "but you have helped protect what is mine. That earns you favor. Govern well, foreigner. The eyes of the empire are many."
The return journey was faster and more organized. With new resources, trained personnel, and royal backing, Daniel led his caravan northwest. He was no longer a traveler, but a governor in preparation. Wherever they stopped, the locals greeted him with a mixture of awe and curiosity. He took notes on waterways, storage structures, potential defensive sites, and ports at every turn.
At last, the salty breeze of the Propontis (Sea of Marmara) reached his senses. The city of Cyzicus rose before him, a gateway between Asia and Europe. The coast shimmered under the spring sun, and Daniel's heart beat faster.
"So this is where it begins," he murmured, staring at the waves.
It had been five years since his arrival in this world—confused, lost, chased by fate. Now he returned not as a child or a soldier, but as a man with a vision, a fleet of followers, a few strange creatures under his care… and the unconditional support of an empire.
The road to Cyzicus had been long, but it had given Daniel something he rarely had during the years of war: time to reflect. Riding near the head of his caravan, shaded by a decorative umbrella held by one of his attendants, he often contemplated the horizon in silence. His thoughts wandered beyond the hills, beyond the seas, toward a city yet to be built: a city of the future.
Riding beside him was a group of trusted companions—his inner circle, bound not by blood, but by loyalty and survival.
There was Metrophanes, a former Sardian mason, now Daniel's chief of construction. A burly man with granite hands and a booming voice, he had helped fortify Sardis against the Ionian rebels and had earned Daniel's unshakable respect.
Then came Eshar, a young Persian scribe with a brilliant mind and a talent for recordkeeping. Though quiet in crowds, he spoke with sharp wit in private and was one of the few who could read Elamite and Old Persian fluently. The satrap had assigned him to Daniel, but over the years, he had become more ally than overseer.
Next was Anytos, a former mercenary from Ionia. Sent to spy on Daniel during the early stages of the rebellion, he switched sides after a near-death experience—saved by a dinosaur hidden under Daniel's control. Anytos was now his military advisor, though some Persians still called him "the traitor."
Among the caravan were dozens of people from Sardis: artisans, blacksmiths, young scribes, even some elders weary of old politics. They followed Daniel not just for his growing prestige, but because they believed in something he had yet to fully express: a vision of something new.
But not everyone who followed was a friend.
Word had spread that Daniel, a foreigner of unknown origin, had been granted governance over a valuable city. In every Persian inn or Greek tavern they passed, rumors followed him. Some called him "the king's favorite." Others accused him of sorcery. Some Greek nobles from nearby cities sent no gifts—only cold stares.
A noble from Lampsacus even tried to bribe one of Daniel's guards during a stop in Dascylium—likely hoping to learn more about his convoy… or sabotage it.
Daniel took note of everything.
"Let them watch," he told Eshar one night by the campfire. "We'll give them something worth fearing… or admiring."
During the quiet hours of travel, Daniel reviewed the Dino Points he had accumulated—the invisible system that had guided him since his arrival. The numbers glowed faintly before his eyes whenever he focused:
Available Dino Points: 1250
He had spent points wisely over the years, unlocking four powerful companions: the agile Velociraptor, the speedy Coelophysis, the sharp-eyed Pachycephalosaurus, and the intelligent Troodon, who now assisted with scouting and assassination when needed.
But now, the needs were different.
This wasn't a battlefield. It would be a city. A city he intended to shape, not just rule.
He considered his options.
A large herbivore could help with agriculture and construction—perhaps a Stegosaurus or Iguanodon.
A flying creature, like a Pteranodon, could offer rapid surveillance over vast areas, perfect for coastal patrols.
A semi-aquatic dinosaur, maybe a Spinosaurus, could patrol the city's port once tamed—if he could find or build the right enclosure.
But points were limited, and massive dinosaurs required more than clicks. They demanded planning, space, and knowledge.
Along the way, he began sketching ideas for wide boulevards, sloped aqueducts powered by dinosaur labor, sewage systems, watchtowers, and a harbor lined with cranes pulled by giant reptiles.
Not a city of marble… but of wonders.
As they descended the hills toward Cyzicus, Daniel looked out at the coast with anticipation and a weight in his chest. The future was near.
And soon, the city of Cyzicus would no longer be just a port. It would be the first of its kind: a living fusion of human ambition and prehistoric power.