The first hammer struck stone before sunrise.
The transformation of Cyzicus had begun.
On the old ruins of a burned-out quarter, Daniel's team started carving a new path—a wide, straight avenue lined with foundations for future buildings. Farmers and masons gathered under banners stitched with a symbol no one recognized: a blue star between two green hills.
They called it "The Path of the Dreamer."
"Five meters wide. Stone base. Drainage on both sides," Daniel ordered. "And shade trees—olive or fig, every twenty paces."
Thales barked orders with military precision. Alea handed out chalk plans. The people stared, confused yet hopeful. Who was this young man who planned cities like a god?
Not everyone was pleased.
A few miles from the city, in a seaside villa, Lord Melkion of Lampsacus sipped his wine and spat it into the dirt.
"He's a child with delusions," he sneered. "A foreign child. With Persians behind him. What does he know of Ionia?"
Beside him, Damon, a Hellenic noble with thinning patience, responded, "He's building something. That's more than you've done."
Melkion narrowed his eyes. "Then let us remind the people who hold the land. Not some boy with strange beasts."
Two days later, Daniel took a walk through the heart of the city.
He passed through the artisans' lanes, inspecting the flow of the new irrigation trenches. Nearby, water from Lake Dascylitis trickled down carved channels. Children ran barefoot over the damp soil, and women smiled as carts of bricks rattled past.
And then they saw them.
Behind Daniel marched three creatures: his Protoceratops, a pair of Coelophysis, and the ever-loyal Velociraptor, now wearing a finely stitched leather harness with bronze studs.
A hush fell across the market.
People stopped. Jars were dropped. One child screamed. But no one ran.
Daniel raised a hand calmly.
"These are animals from distant lands," he said, with practiced ease. "As rare as lions from Nubia or snow-bears from the north. They are hunters—yes—but loyal to me. They follow only my voice."
One old man stepped forward and knelt beside the Protoceratops, wide-eyed. "Is this... a god's beast?"
"It eats figs and sunbathes all day," Daniel chuckled.
Laughter broke the tension.
Soon, the creatures were surrounded—watched with curiosity and fascination. The Coelophysis tilted their heads, eyeing roasted lamb on a stall. The Velociraptor growled once, low and calm, but Daniel gave a soft whistle, and it stood still.
By the end of the hour, children were calling them "forest dragons," and women offered small wreaths for their heads. The myth was forming—but not out of fear. Out of wonder.
Despite doubt, the city grew.
Within a week, the first avenue was half-finished. A dozen homes had been torn down to create planned plazas. Inspired by the vision, artisans—stoneworkers, sculptors, even a few curious philosophers—began offering help freely.
Daniel created sectors:
District of Crafts, near the south gate.
Garden Quarter, along the lake, for public parks and homes.
Temple Hill, to be reserved for the cults, once properly designed.
The Elevated Court, his future palace and administrative center.
He dreamed of glass windows, underground cisterns, and aqueducts flowing across hills.
He even sketched a blueprint for a circular library, one day.
That night, Daniel stood again on the rooftop, his feet dusty, his arms sore.
He looked at the glowing fires of construction camps and heard distant hammering. Cyzicus was changing—so was he.
Behind him, the Velociraptor rested silently near a pile of cloth. Troodon stood nearby, alert.
He opened the app.
Points Remaining: 820
Upkeep per day: -3
Unlocked Species: Troodon, Velociraptor, Coelophysis, Protoceratops
Max of 5 per species
He whispered to himself:
"Maybe I should bring another Protoceratops... for the children."
The first walls of Cyzicus were as old as the memories of their ancestors. They had been hastily erected, poorly repaired, and abandoned for generations.
Now Daniel was walking on them.
"The east is cracked, the towers barely standing," Thales said, looking worried.
"We can't just build columns," Daniel replied. "We need security. Reinforce them. Add new towers and prepare surveillance channels. We're going to make this city stand for centuries."
So the restoration began: stone by stone, using simple pulleys and inclined ramps. Daniel showed how to tie ropes to wheels to lift larger stones, how to use counterweight systems. The workers stared at him in disbelief… but they understood.
"This isn't magic," he said. "It's common sense, and a little bit of physics."
On the central hill, the foundations of the new palace began to be laid. Daniel envisioned it not as a castle, but as the heart of the city.
A large open courtyard with gardens and fountains. Administrative rooms, an archive, and a private space that combined Mesopotamian style with Greek courtyards.
"I want it functional, not just majestic," he said. "With ventilated corridors, water tanks, and rainwater drains. A king won't live here, but a servant with vision."
He laid out wide roads connecting markets, plazas, and agricultural areas. He ordered canals to be built from the hills and collected water from the nearby lake to irrigate urban gardens. But not everything flowed like water.
Upon receiving the first administrative reports, Daniel understood the truth: Cyzico was a bankrupt city.
Local nobles owned 80% of the land.
They paid mere crumbs in taxes.
They had private armies and behaved like petty kings.
They controlled the warehouses and sold the scarce wheat at ridiculously low prices.
Peasants lived on minimal rations. Fishermen were harassed by the port nobles. And artisans had little access to raw materials.
"This isn't governing, it's parasitizing," Daniel said angrily, after reading the records.
"And what will you do?" asked Alea, who had already heard threats against him.
"New laws. Land registry. Tax reform. Redistribution if necessary. But first, let's feed the people."
He ordered the granaries to be inspected. He bought emergency wheat with his points and the gifts he still had from Darius. He established communal kitchens. He organized a market directly supervised by his officers, where bread was sold at fixed prices.
Meanwhile, their dinosaurs helped carry stone and wood, causing more and more admiration every day. They were useful. Not gods or demons, but allied beasts.
That night, from a newly reinforced tower, Daniel watched Cyzico.
The lights flickered. The sounds of work continued.
I was thinking about what was coming.
He had already repaired roads, built walls, and fed people. But he still didn't have a strong city. Just a town of hope… and with internal enemies.
He took out his notebook.
— Pulleys: smaller for wells. — Silo system to prevent hoarding. — Urban census. — New land tenure regulations.
And in the corner of the page, he wrote:
"My path remains to be defined. Ruler? Builder? Guide? Or simply a young man with toys from another era…?"