The dawn in Cyzico was not silent.
Six months had passed since Daniel had taken his first steps into Cyzicus, a city once fractured and neglected, now slowly pulsing with life. His palace, though only 40% complete, already stood as a proud and commanding presence above the city's center. Built with a blend of local stone and wood, it was still partially scaffolded, but Daniel lived there nonetheless, directing its construction and overseeing the city from its terraces.
Before the first ray of sunlight touched the stone platforms, the pounding of hammers, the creaking wheels of carts, and the distant roar of dinosaurs had already awakened the city.
Each morning, Daniel awoke before the sun rose, greeted by the damp air and the cries of seagulls from the nearby coast. From his high vantage point, he could see the shimmering lake nearby—Lake Daskylitis, its waters calm and reflective, fed by streams from the nearby hills. He had already commissioned canals to carry water into the city's agricultural fields, a first step toward true sustainability.
Daniel woke up as always, at the first sound of birds singing from the lake. He had no luxuries: his bed was firm, the roof over his head still unfinished. The walls were undecorated stone, covered with thick curtains to mitigate the wind that blew down from the mountains.
He dressed in a simple but clean linen tunic. The morning chill was sharp, but soon the sun would warm the marble. He stepped out onto the terrace of his room in the north wing of the palace under construction and leaned on the makeshift railing.
From there I could see the city.
New streets. Clay roofs mixed with Greek tiles. Caravans arriving. Columns rising. People hurrying. People hopeful. Everything... revolving around one idea: order.
"It's not a perfect city," he thought, "but it's starting to look like what I dreamed of."
He had a light breakfast: bread with goat cheese and dates. Then he walked toward the central plaza. He didn't use armed escorts. His protection was respect (and the dinosaurs sleeping in the stable next to the palace).
The Coelophysis scampered around the courtyard. The workers left it with fish scraps. A more serious Velociraptor stood watch atop a wall as if it understood its duty.
"Good morning, Governor," a group of children greeted him, always waiting to see him pass by.
"Have you been to classes?" he replied with a smile. "The library doesn't fill up by itself."
From the plaza, he went to the archives. Meetings with those in charge of the land registry, emissaries from neighboring towns, or farmers with irrigation complaints.
—We need a mill. —Salt is expensive. —The nobles refuse to let the cattle through.
Most of his time was spent just that: talking, listening, thinking, taking notes, and delegating. He wasn't a warrior or a magician. He was a young man with a lot of paperwork... and a world in the making.
His daily routine was a mixture of curiosity, leadership, and burden. Accompanied by trusted aides—local Sardians who had chosen to follow him—and a few Greek merchants, Daniel often ventured through the city's growing districts. The common people revered him, calling him the "Tamer of Beasts," a title born from their awe at the dinosaurs he'd brought. Most believed them to be fabled creatures, perhaps the distant cousins of lions or dragons in their legends. Daniel did little to correct them, instead encouraging their fascination.
To solve labor shortages in the fields, Daniel had recently considered using the Iguanodon and Protoceratops to help plow the land and move heavy loads. The strength and stamina of these creatures were unmatched by any ox or mule. Yet, as he walked through the cool air, he looked up at the grey skies and sighed.
Winter was coming.
The winds from the north had turned sharp, and merchants arriving from the inland routes spoke of early snowfalls in the mountains. It would soon be too late to plow or expand the farmland. The dinosaurs would be too valuable as beasts of burden in the city, helping lift stone, clear roads, and transport goods. The agricultural plans would have to wait until spring.
Around noon, he would visit the palace construction site. He would climb among the scaffolding, examine stones, and ask about the use of pulleys.
"This wall is too thick. Reduce it, and create a channel behind it to prevent moisture." "Take these excess stones to the aqueduct." "Who drew this plan? The windows should face south, not west."
At times, he seemed more like an architect than a ruler. But that was Daniel: obsessed with details.
He ate lunch in the central courtyard, under a pergola that still had no shade. He shared the table with the foremen, a loyal nobleman or two, a local scholar, and always one or two ordinary citizens.
"The city is not governed from above, but from the ground up," he said.
In the afternoons, he would walk through the neighborhoods. He would greet the baker, the fisherman, and the potters. He would observe the homes, the markets, the small weaving workshops. He would learn about the price of wheat, the state of the roads, or if any families needed help.
Many were grateful. Some ignored him. Others regarded him with suspicion.
But everyone knew him.
And in the background, on the periphery, the eyes of the suspicious nobles followed his every step. They knew the young foreigner wasn't so naive.
At night, Daniel would retreat to his study. He would light oil lamps and unfold maps, notebooks, and sketches.
Thought.
I was dreaming.
I doubted.
"Will it be enough?" he wondered as he looked out over the city from his balcony. "Can I build something that will outlast my name?"
He took out his clipboard. He checked his score. He considered which dinosaurs would be most helpful. An Iguanodon for pulling carts? Another Protoceratops for light cargo?
He wondered whether to expand, trade more with the islands, or perhaps… establish a formal school. A city only lives if its ideas live on.
The moon illuminated the nearby lake. The wind carried the smell of wet stone, firewood, sweat… and hope.
Daniel sighed.
"Tomorrow will be another day of work," he said softly. "But one closer to my dream."
And he closed the curtains.
And so Daniel's thoughts turned inward—about the future of this city, his role, and the world he was helping shape. He dreamed of a place filled with wide avenues, organized sectors, sewage systems, clean wells, terraced gardens, and public squares. His engineers, inspired by his drawings and knowledge, worked with him to build the foundations of this vision. Yet he knew he was just getting started.