over the years. In the Alliance democracy, however, her role was limited. The real power lay in the permanent members of the Boule; the veterans who presided over official business and decided what would be discussed and what vote would take place. The President was a mere figurehead who represented the Alliance and made long and boring speeches. At least, that was Xenophon’s assessment.
“My fellow citizens. Today is a grave day indeed. As you know, we have been involved with border skirmishes and open battle with the Laconian League for nearly thirty years. Today a vote was cast by every single citizen member of the Alliance to make a decision, possibly the most important one of the century. Until now, our forces have assisted our allied worlds against the oppressive actions of the League. So far, we have avoided a direct confrontation with the Laconians themselves. With the mobilisation of their entire military they have struck our friends, and they have been powerless to hold them back. It is one thing to provide military assistance, and quite another to put the lives of the men and women of the Alliance in harm’s way.
Glaucon pulled Xenophon close to him.
“I told you, the people want it.”
The people are idiots. If we did what they wanted, we’d all be poor and sitting around wondering what went wrong, he said to himself.
“The complete results from all voting stations through Alliance territory are in. I therefore announce the vote is unanimous, and with seventy-two percent voting in favour of the proposal. It is with a heavy heart that I announce the intention for a general call-up by lottery of those of service age, to serve for as long as is necessary to end this war once and for all. As you will all understand, this mass mobilisation is for a single reason. The Armada will assemble and be used directly against the Laconian League. As of five minutes ago, we are at war with the League, and may the Gods save us all.”
Xenophon shook his head at the news. Deep down he knew the public would vote for it, but it still hurt. As a young boy, he had visited with a number of the key Laconian families and had found more similarities than differences in their outlook on life. Just because they refused the so-called enlightened views of the Alliance, they were considered backward primitives.
War with the Laconians? They should be our allies, not our enemies. The fools! Look what they’ve done, he muttered inwardly.
Glaucon and most of the other young people stood up. Some shouted, but most simply cheered. Kratez also stood, but he neither said nor did anything. He had that look he was so familiar with. The one he reserved for when a particularly taxing problem appeared. Xenophon moved over to him, still only half dressed from the fighting display.
“You’re not cheering, either?” he asked.
“Of course not. War has a sweet taste to the young, but as you gain in age and wisdom, it turns bitter. I fought in the border skirmishes with the Laconians. They are born to fight, and no sacrifice is too great for them.”
Xenophon nodded in agreement.
“You think this is a mistake?”
“To go to war with the Laconians? Of course, and how far are we prepared to go? Will we keep fighting when half of the boys and girls sent to fight are dead or badly hurt? The one thing we know about the Laconians is they will not give ground. The harder we press them, the harder they will fight. In all my years, I know of only one occasion where the Laconians surrendered. The potential loss of just three hundred of their warriors was enough for them to come to the table. They may not have many citizens, not like the hordes that we have. The real difference is that one of theirs is worth a hundred Alliance citizens.”
Glaucon stood up on one of the tables. He held one of the many glasses of wine up high and whistled loudly. He found it difficult to balance, and it took three people grabbing at him to keep him