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Your good-natured questions and sharp intellect lead to you several conclusions over the hours traveling with Sinis: in the last few years, Damachides’ attention on his own military forces has waned – some other project has become the focus of his works and days. In years past, he was a constant presence in the training yard and in the field, handpicking his lieutenants and commanders, but this has apparently been left to his second, Corcyrus – a hardened Epirot, whiplike and vicious.
You ask many questions about the disposition of Damachides, Charima and Corcyrus, but you’re unsurprised to learn that your guide knows little more than he’s already said. He has seen Damachides in person perhaps only ten times over the years and has obviously never spoken with him. Charima, it is said, refuses to speak with commoners at all, being mostly accompanied by handmaidens of lesser noble ancestry. Sinis doesn’t know Corcyrus any better than Damachides, unfortunately – Sinis has done everything in his power to avoid attention, it seems, and can only report that discipline has begun to fragment in the vacuum of Damachides’ absence. Sinis knows many Damachidean spearmen who have taken to the collection of road taxes, in violation of King Peleus’ authority. Apparently, if the lion’s share of these bribes are passed up to the top, no further questions are asked.
As you approach the interior of the Damachidean estates, you begin passing through seemingly endless fields of grain and rolling pastures - truly, Damachides is wealthy – slaves of all builds and colorations tend to his agricultural properties, scattered through these and laboring in the hot, arid winds of Notus. The slaves don’t approach the road close enough for close inspection or conversation, but you note that each contingent of the enslaved is accompanied by a squad of ten spearmen. Your οἶκος has never been wealthy enough for such large numbers of slaves, but to your eye, it seems like an unusually heavy guard.
Asking your guide about this, Sinis simply spits on the earth, remarking that “all slaves must taste the lash now and again to mind their station well.” Between the increasing lawlessness of the Damachidean forces reported by Sinis, and now this detail about the slaves – you sense the outlines of a larger story. As you mull this over, you keep up an endless burble of meaningless chatter on your end, revealing nothing of your origins - your escort is seemingly happy to listen to a beautiful woman speak.
