The Medionians, thus unexpectedly saved, met in assembly and discussed, among other matters, that of the proper inscription for the shields.
They decided, in parody of the Aetolian decree, to inscribe them as won from and not by the present Aetolian chief magistrate and the candidates for next year's office.
It seemed as if what had befallen this people was designed by Fortune to display her might to men in general.
For in so brief a space of time she put it in their power to do to the enemy the very thing which they thought the enemy were just on the point of doing to themselves.
The unlooked-for calamity of the Aetolians was a lesson to mankind never to discuss the future as if it were the present, or to have any confident hope about things that may still turn out quite otherwise. We are but men, and should in every matter assign its share to the unexpected, this being especially true of war.
King Agron, when the flotilla returned and his officers gave him an account of the battle, was so overjoyed at the thought of having beaten the Aetolians, then the proudest of peoples, that he took to carousals and other convivial excesses, from which he fell into a pleurisy that ended fatally in a few days.
He was succeeded on the throne by his wife Teuta, who left the details of administration to friends on whom she relied.
As, with a woman's natural shortness of view, she could see nothing but the recent success and had no eyes for what was going on elsewhere, she in the first place gave letters of marque to privateers to pillage any ships they met,
and next she collected a fleet and force of troops as large as the former one and sent it out, ordering the commanders to treat all countries alike as belonging to their enemies.
Walbank Commentary