The megalith at the head of the bay of Calamassika has been the subject of prolonged speculation. Some claim that the statue bears the likeness of an ancient king, who built it in his likeness to beckon grain ships to the harbor and bid farewell to his sailors and soldiers destined for distant conquests. Others contest the monument to be some long-forgotten deity pondering deep upon a grand boulder, since spuriously refashioned into a throne.
Both may be right- for kings are prone to pomp and thinkers oft misportrayed.
In Calamassika are found two kinds of men. In the orderly lowland part of the city, there are upright men of caliber, but in the disorderly highlands of the older city, they are all jejune- running drunk up the old walls and aqueducts and up and down the steps onto the roofs of the houses. One city is respectable. The other is not- but the highlands continue to climb the hills, while the lowlands fortress themselves for the onslaught of the sea.