To the citizens of Ionia's coastal cities at the end of the fifth century bc, the sight of mercenaries in the streets was nothing new. For decades, the Persian satraps of western Asia Minor had been employing Greek professionals, Arcadians especially, in their personal guards and urban garrisons. The latest satrap, prince Cyrus, was no different. In Persian eyes, hiring from the other side of the Aegean was far preferable to recruiting locally. The Arcadians and their ilk were just Greek enough that the Ionians would not chafe excessively at their presence, but still outsiders enough to have few qualms about cracking Ionian skulls when ordered to. From the Ionian standpoint, mercenaries were probably tolerated if not entirely welcome. Unless he had to quarter some in his home, the average city dweller probably appreciated the way Cyrus' soldiers enforced order and suppressed crime. Men hoping to make connections with the imperial administration might even seek to marry their daughters to mercenary officers. And for those in the right line of work – tavern-keepers, prostitutes, and armorers come to mind – the presence of a garrison meant steady customers and tidy profits.

If mercenaries normally blended into the fabric of Ionian life, an attentive citizen strolling through town in early 401 bc would have felt something afoot. Garrison units tended to be under strength, but now barracks brimmed with fresh recruits, and smiths and shield makers were doing a brisk business fashioning new sets of arms and refurbishing old ones.