《Arslan Senki》
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (1)
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (1)
The sun should have long ago risen, but through the shroud of fog nketing the ins, not a single ray of light could prate. It was, after all, right in the middle of the tenth month, when the autumnal sun grew ever weaker. Nor was there the slightest hint of wind. Indeed, it was a most umon sight for the usual climes of Pars fog so thick that it did not seem it would disperse any time soon.
Arn, the son of King Andragoras III of Pars, gently patted his uneasy mount. As this was his first time participating in battle, Arn was somewhat nervous himself. However, he understood that if he did not keep his horse calm, he would be unable to act at all when the time came.
1 Vahriz of Pars. Though he was already sixty-five years of age, his body was honed from long years of riding to war or to the hunt.
"So that''s where you ran off to, Your Highness. Don''t wander too far from His Majesty''s main battalion, now. It''s no joke getting lost under conditions like this."
"Vahriz, is this fog not disadvantageous to our troops?" Arn asked the old knight. Under his helm, the prince''s luminous eyes shed dark as the clear night sky.
"Whether fog or darkness of night," replied Vahriz,ughing, "or even a great blizzard nothing can halt the advance of the horsemen of Pars. Please, do not trouble yourself, Your Highness. Ever since your father the king took the throne, the armies of Pars have known no defeat!"
But the fourteen-year-old prince was unable to ept such heedless confidence from his elder. Had not the old man just warned him of the dangers of getting lost? With their pace slowed down by this thick fog, were not the very strengths of the cavalry now hampered?2 away. They don''t know they of thend at all. They''ve basicallye all this way to some distant foreign country just to dig their own graves!"
Arn brushed his fingers against the hilt of the shortsword at his waist. Then he stopped and said, "Not long ago, the Kingdom of Maryam was destroyed by the Lusitanians. To the Lusitanians, was not Maryam also a distant foreign country?"
Just as the old man was about to unleash a rebuttal to his overly pedantic prince, another knight emerged from the murk and called out.
"Eran Vahriz! Please hurry back to the main battalion!"
"Are we preparing to sortie then, Lord Qaran?"
The middle-aged knight shook his head. The red tassel on his helmet jerked with the movement. "No, it''s your nephew. There''s trouble."
"Dariun?"
"Yes. His Majesty the king is furious. He''s saying he''ll strip Dariun of hismand. But Lord Dariun is one of our kingdom''s finest heroes"
"Marde-e mardan. A man among men. I know."
"It''ll affect the troops'' morale if something like this really happens just as we''re about to deploy. Eran, please! You must cate His Majesty somehow!"
"What a pain in the ass he is, that Dariun!" Although the old man was indeed angered, his words belied the boundless depths of affection he held for his nephew.
Following Qaran''s lead, Arn and Vahriz urged their horses into a gallop across the ins, through the shadowy fog.
.
Shah Andragoras III of Pars was forty-four years of age. His profuse ck beard and razor-sharp gaze bespoke of the brimming vigor of a general who had gone sixteen years without a single defeat. He stood as tall as a horse, with a tiger''s shoulders and a bear''s waist. At thirteen he had defeated a lion single-handedly, earning the title of Shergir, "Lion-Hunter"; by fourteen, he had participated in his first battle and be Mardan, a full-fledged warrior. He was a man most suited tomanding the vast forces of Pars: 125,000 horsemen and 300,000 footsoldiers in all.
Said king was currently located in a luxurious silk tent in the main encampment, trembling with anger. A single armored young man knelt before him. This man was Eran Vahriz''s nephew Dariun, who was, at twenty-seven years of age, the youngest of the only twelve Marzbans in the entire army.
A marzban was a general with ten thousand mounted warriors under hismand. In Pars, the cavalry had always been venerated over the infantry. All cavalry officers were of the knighted azadan caste, while their subordinates were azat freemen; on the other hand, even infantry officers were mere azat, while the rest were but ghm, or ves.Under the military hierarchy, a marzban was essentially second only to wispuhran, the royalty. For Dariun to have reached the rank of Marzban at a mere twenty-seven, one could easily imagine just what a bold figure he must be.
"Dariun, truly have I been mistaken in you!" roared the king, striking the tent pole with a whip. "You whose reputation thunders as far as Turan and Misr! Have you been possessed by a coward''s ghost? To think that I would hear the word retreat'' from the likes of you, when the battle has not even begun!"
At this, Dariun spoke up atst. "Your Majesty. It is not out of cowardice that I humbly advise you thus."
He was dressed entirely in ck: from the tassel of his helm to his armor and boots, all but for the lining of his mantle, which was the color of a crimson sunset. With his youthful, sun-darkened face and keen, intense expression, one might even consider him handsome, were it not for the fact that armor suited him far more than silk and jewels.
"A warrior fleeing from battle, refusing to fight if this is not cowardice, then what is it?"
"Sire, please think this over. The ferocity and strength of the horsemen of Pars areknown far and wide. For what reason, then, has the Lusitanian army deployed upon the ins, deliberately lying in wait for our troops, when the terrain is clearly to our advantage?
The king fell silent.
"I believe it must be a trap. In such a thick fog, we cannot even be certain of our own allies'' movements. With all due respect, I was suggesting that the troops be pulled back before redeploying closer to the capital at Ecbatana. I did not mean to suggest that we withdraw entirely from the battlefield. In what way is this an act of cowardice?"
With a cruel sneer, Andragoras said, "Dariun. Since when did your tongue grow sharper than your arrows and your de? How could those Lusitanian bastards possibly set up a trap in unfamiliar terrain?"
"That, I confess, I do not know. However, if some of our own people are among the Lusitanian troops, then we can no longer assume that they are entirely unfamiliar with the surrounding topography."
The king red at the young warrior. "Are you saying that our people are aiding those barbarians? Impossible!"
"On the contrary, sire. I understand that it may be difficult to ept, but it is a definite possibility. If a few mistreated ves were to escape, seeking vengeance, they might very well choose to render assistance to the Lusitanians."
The king''s whip suddenly flew out and struck Dariun''s breastte. "ves? What of them? Or is it that you''ve fallen under the spell of that Narses''s ridiculous teachings now? Have you already forgotten that he''s been expelled from court and forbidden any contact whatsoever with my ministers or generals?"
"I have not forgotten, sire. I have neither seen nor spoken to Narses in these past three years. Though it is true he is my friend"
"You call that lunatic your friend? Well said!" said the king through clenched teeth. It seemed as if his fury were about to erupt from every pore of his body. He tossed away his whip and drew the jeweled sword girdled at his waist. The more timid individuals among the gathered bystanders cried out in shock. All those present thought for sure that Dariun''s life was forfeit. But the king had not yet lost his senses entirely. Instead, he stretched his sword out to Dariun''s heart. Then, with the tip of his de, he ripped away the small gold medal hanging there upon Dariun''s breastte. This medal was in the shape of a lion''s head. Only the Eran and the Marzbans were allowed to wear it, as a sign of their prestige.
"I hereby dismiss you from your post as Marzban! Although I shall allow you to retain your status as Mardan and Shergir, consider this a lesson to you!"
Dariun said nothing and allowed his gaze to fall to the carpet. But the wavering glint of his pauldrons betrayed the slightest tremble of his encased shoulders within. It was the only hint of his anger at this unjust sullying of his name.
Meanwhile, Andragoras sheathed his sword once more and raised a quivering finger to the tent''s entrance.
"Now go! Get out of my sight!"
^
2~2000 km ^
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (2)
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (2)
Upon noting the arrival of the prince and the Eran, King Andragoras''s expression grew even nastier. He knew exactly why his own son and his most valued retainer hade here in such a rush.
"My lord father"
Arn''s voice was instantly overpowered by one ten times its volume.
"What the hell are you doing here when I haven''t even called for you? This is no time for you to be poking your nose into other people''s business. Think of your own measly record! Now scram!"
Faced with words that closer resembled outright dismissal than true reprimand, Arn could not help but give rise to feelings of resentment. Though what the king had said was not wrong, Arn could notprehend why his lord father insisted on treating him with such an attitude. In contrast, the king treated Arn''s mother Queen Tahmineh with such warmth and tenderness, one could almost say he doted on her.
Twelve Marzbans in all served under Shah Andragoras III and Eran Vahriz in the armies of Pars. These twelve were named Saam, Qobad, Shapur, Garshasp, Qaran, Keshvad, Manuchehr, Bahman, Khwarshed, Kurup, Hayir, and Dariun. Among them, Keshvad and Bahman were stationed at the eastern border, Saam and Garshasp guarded the capital Ecbatana, and the remaining eight prepared to do battle alongside their king and the Eran at Atropatene. Each of these eight Marzbansmanded ten thousand horsemen. Including the king''s personal guard, the five thousand Athanatoi "Immortals", the cavalry totaled 85,000 in all. All these men in addition to the infantry were currently arrayed upon the hazy ins.
As the crown prince, Arn was in a position to someday take overmand of these men as Shah. However, position and actual power were two different matters. At the moment, he was little more than a lowly officer who had been assigned a mere hundred cavalrymen. Of course, seeing as how this was his first time in battle,manding even this number of subordinates would be no easy task. In fact, it was probably more urate to consider those men his supervisors rather than his subordinates. Regardless, Father could at least allow me to voice my own opinions So thought Arn within his heart.
Vahriz, seeing that Arn was at a loss for words, stepped forward in his ce. But rather than speaking, he chose instead to take action. He strode over to his nephew. Then, suddenly, he raised his hand and smacked Dariun firmly in the face.
"You insolent little brat! Do you not realize your own position? How dare you talk back to your king!"
"Sir, I"
Dariun had only just opened his mouth to speak when he received another p. Left with no further recourse, he heaved a great sigh and turned to the king, wordlessly lowering his head to the floor. Eran Vahriz knelt and bowed to the king as well.
"Your Majesty, allow this sack of old bones to beg your pardon in ce of his foolish nephew. Please, have mercy! Forgive your old servant''s nephew for his transgressions!"
"That''s enough, Vahriz."
Though the king spoke thus, his displeasure was made clear in his tone and expression. He had seen through the old man, and realized that the harsh rebuke of his nephew was actually a clever stratagem to protect him while allowing King Andragoras room to back down without losing face. Had the two parties'' mutual disgruntlement otherwise been allowed to continue causing friction under these circumstances, the scene might well have ended in an irreversible rift.
"Dariun!" King Andragoras addressed the young knight kneeling before him in a voice still brimming with wrath. "The dismissal from your post still stands! However, I shall give you a chance to recover your position! Should you perform well in theing battle in the station of a regr cavalryman, I''ll take your record into ount when I decide how to deal with you!"
"My lord is merciful. Thy servant is grateful," said Dariun, clearly struggling for an appropriate response.
The king did not even bother to spare him a nce. Instead, he turned his cold gaze onto Arn, who was standing awkwardly to the side.
"What are you still doing here?"
"Rest assured, Father. We shall leave at once."
Having spoken thus, Arn immediately exited the tent. Certainly his father the king was in a bad mood, but Arn himself harbored discontent as well. It was more than obvious that King Andragoras had taken Vahriz''s feelings into consideration. But to his own son and heir, could he not disy even the slightest bit of civility?
A rather contrite-looking Dariun caught up to them from behind.
"Please forgive me for causing Your Highness such trouble."
"It''s fine. After all, what you said was not wrong, was it?"
"Yes, and Lord Qaran agrees with me as well. It is not my intention to push me on another, but it was in fact he who first proposed that we speak our minds to the king."
Arn nodded, but his interest had already transferred to a different figure, one who was not currently present at all.
"Dariun, what kind of a person was Narses?"
"I counted him as a friend. To my knowledge, there exists no other man so wise as he."
"What nonsense! A perverse, peculiar fellow, he was," countered the Eran then with a single gibe.
With a spark of challenge in his eye, Dariun replied, "Uncle, did you not once im yourself that Narses was the finest strategist in the entire kingdom? Or was that nonsense as well?"
"I speak of defects of personality, not defects of the mind."
Watching the squabbling pair, Arn could not help but feel a tinge of envy. It urred to him suddenly what a happy thing it would be, if only he and his father could converse like this. With such passion and frankness. Feeling that he could not interpose himself between uncle and nephew any longer, Arn turned his horse away.
The Eran bowed toward the prince''s departing back before continuing to berate his nephew. "Dariun, even if you wish to petition the king, you should choose your time wisely, you know? His Majesty finally acknowledged your talent and achievements and promoted you to Marzban. Yet now, with a single act, you''ve destroyed it all. Was it really worth it?"
"Yes, I know. There is a proper time for making petitions. But if I had waited until after we lost the battle, it would have been toote."
With his king and his prince, Dariun had naturally held back. But with his own uncle, he had no suchpunctions.
"Sir, I have no faith that I will even survive this battle! I am not so incredible that I''d be able to return as a ghost just to present my entreaties "
The old but still quite robust Eran could not help but snort. "Don''t you spout such irritating nonsense. That Narses was the same. The moment he was convinced he was in the right, all restraint was gone. Nothing but ther from his mouth."
Dariun had been about to say something else, but upon realizing that whatever he said would only be met by more digs from his uncle, he kept his silence.
The old man quickly changed the topic.
"Dariun, it''s been sixteen years now since I took on the mantle of Eran."
"You were already Marzban when I was born."
"Indeed! It''s certainly been a long time. Look, my beard''s already turned white."
"But you still have a fine set of lungs!"
"What a cheeky brat you are! Oh, forget it. It''s about time for me to make way for the younger generation anyway."
Dariun blinked.
Upon seeing his nephew''s confusion, the old man said, in a brisk but measured tone, "You shall be the next Eran of the Kingdom of Pars. I informed the queen of my wishes before we set off from the capital."
Dariun stared at his uncle in shock. "I appreciate your efforts, sir, but any decision regarding such matters is entirely at the behest of His Majesty the king. Not to mention the incident just now Uncle, no matter what you say, there is simply no way the king will heed you now."
"What are you talking about? Of course he''ll take heed. He''s well aware of your ability."
The old man gave a slight yawn.
"Ah, that''s right, Dariun."
"Hm?"Dariun leaned forward unconsciously in anticipation of what his uncle would say next.
"I''ve been observing Prince Arn for quite a while now. What do you think of his looks?"
"Well, he has grown quiteely, I should think. In another two or three years, all the young noblewomen of the capital will be fighting tooth and w over him. But, sir, why"
"Who do you think His Highness takes after? The king or the queen?"
Dariun found himself perplexed at his uncle''s query. Surely neither beauty norck of it was an absolutely vital, indispensable quality in a ruler. So why was his uncle so concerned over such a detail?
"If you''re seriously asking, I suppose he takes more after the queen!"
To be more precise, it was not so much that the boy resembled the queen as it was that he didn''t resemble his father King Andragoras III. But as a mere vassal, that was hardly something Dariun could voice out loud.
"As I thought, he doesn''t take after His Majesty," replied the Eran, nodding as if he had read his nephew''s mind. Indeed, were the boy to take after his father the king, the lines of his face would have to be rougher, sturdier, filled with more ferocity and vigor. The Eran continued, "Dariun, may I ask you to dere your loyalty to His Highness Arn?"
The young warrior who had been, until just recently, a high-ranking officer inmand of ten thousand men, looked back at his uncle incredulously.With such an important battle looming ahead, his uncle''s attitude was simply inexplicable.
"I have already pledged my loyalty to the royal family of Pars. And now you want me to swear an oath"
"I mean to His Highness himself, Dariun."
"I understand. If that is what you wish, Uncle"
"Swear upon your sword?"
"I swear upon my sword!"
Having thus sworn, Dariun''s stoic expression spread into a thin, wry smile. He felt that his uncle had been a little too insistent regarding this matter. "Perhaps you would like me to sign a written pledge for you now, sir?"
"No, the oath was enough."
On Vahriz''s face there was not the slightest hint of mirth. On the contrary, he wore an expression of keen intent and spoke with the utmost solemnity. Upon seeing this, Dariun was forced to relinquish his mordant mood.
"All I want is for you to serve as Prince Arn''spanion. After all, not even a thousand cavalrymen can match up to one of you."
"Sir" Dariun could not help but raise his voice. If such was his beloved uncle''s wish, then naturally, he would ept it. However, that did not keep him from expressing his misgivings.
Just at that moment, a horn sounded, piercing through the thick fog to their very ears. The battle had begun. With an easy grace that belied his age, Vahriz spurred his horse toward the main column, and Dariun lost his chance to uncover his uncle''s true motives.
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (3)
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (3)
King Andragoras strode out of his tent, mounted his horse, and rode straight to the head of the main column. In what othernd could one find such a dignified and charismatic king? The retainers at his side could not resist such prideful thinking. He was the king of the great nation of Pars, a fierce and undefeated general, a ruler who struck awe even in the lords and kings of neighboring countries.
Vahriz bowed deeply and proceeded to ry his report.
"85,000 cavalrymen and 138,000 infantrymen, all ready to deploy!"
"What of the enemy''s numbers?"
The elderly Eran summoned Qaran, the Marzban in charge of all investigations.
Qaran respectfully answered the king''s question. "ording to my analysis, I estimate 25,000 to 30,000 enemy cavalrymen and 80,000 to 90,000 footsoldiers. They deployed roughly the same numbers in Maryam."
"After a long string of battles, their numbers should have lessened, no?"
"Or they may have been bolstered by reinforcements from home."
At those words, the king nodded, but not without some amount of reluctance. He had been hoping for more precise, solid data. It had been Qaran himself who volunteered to spearhead the investigations, and it was true he had the requisite ability for it. For that reason the king had allowed him to assume all responsibility for their investigative efforts. And yet now Qaran, who was normally even more fastidious and prudent than Dariun or Vahriz, behaved with such assertiveness before his king.
"That being said, under these conditions we cannot determine the enemy''s exact formations."
1 away, threw a worried nce in their direction, but not a word of their furtive exchange reached the old man''s ears.
"Enemies sighted!"
The cry passed down through the ranks until it reached the main column. The rider who had sounded the alert whipped his horse forward to give his report. There was movement on the enemies'' frontline eight amaj2 ahead.
"Before us lie the slopes of Mount Bashur, where the spirit of Hero King Kai Khosrow stands guard. Nor are there any faults or depressions in the area. No matter how thick the fog, there shouldn''t be any problems as long as our horses charge on straight ahead."
Upon Qaran''s deration, King Andragoras''s face immediately broke out into an expression of smug delight. He had always been an audacious, militant sort of general, more likely to reject the cautious considerations of one like Dariun while favoring a more aggressive strategy. This kind of ferocious direct attack had been his desire to begin with. On the other hand, if Dariun were currently present, he would have probably given rise to the uneasy suspicion that Qaran was deliberately inciting the king to action.
The wind fluttered. The fog rolled. A lucky omen, thought Arn. If the fog were dispersed by the wind, the vast ins of Atropatene would be visible again. The horsemen, the main force of their great army, would then be at an advantage again.
But the fog remained heavy as ever. It shifted slightly with the breeze, but did not drift away from the ins. At the rear of the main column, alone and bereft of anymand, rode Dariun. The image of ck armor shadowed against a sea of white lingered in Arn''s mind.
King Andragoras''s resonant voice pierced through the veil of fog.
"Oh, great kings of Pars! Sage King Jamshid, Hero King Kai Khosrow, and the spirits of all my forebears! May you guide and protect us!"
"May you guide and protect us!"
The riders of the main column joined their voices to the king''s. Their shouts rippled out to even the farthest of the Parsian troops. The king raised his brawny right arm and thrust downward in a forceful gesture. With a great cry, the armies of Pars began their attack.
80,000 cavalrymen charged forward. Their thundering hoofbeats shook the very earth.
.
The fog flowed past the galloping riders. Their armor rang with the sound of impact; the swords and spears girded at their sides glittered with moisture.
The sight of this cavalry charge was one that had always struck fear into the hearts of the enemies of Pars. Before the onught of Parsian swords and spears, enemy troops were mowed down like grass. Even the fog could not suppress the rumble of hoofbeats; rather, the concealment of their approaching figures only served to heighten the sense of impending doom.
Knowing this to be the case, the Parsian troops saw only victory beyond the fog. Faster and faster they charged, spurred on by this illusion. Suddenly, the riders on the frontline realized that the ground beneath their feet had disappeared. With a helpless shout, they pulled back on their reins, but it was already toote. They hurtled off a cliff into empty space and fell.
3 in length, thirty gaz4 in width, and up to five gaz deep. Just like that, this naturally formed ditch felled the hardy riders of Pars, sending them into a mud-spattered heap. Those who had fallen whimpered in pain from broken bones, only for new victims to fall from above, further crushing them. Panic enveloped the Parsian troops. Then those few who had managed to find their feet again smelled a strange odor. As they identified the viscous substance drenching their kness, dread seized their hearts.
"Watch out! It''s oil! They''re nning to use fire on us!"
They had not even finished shouting their warning when a wall of me scorched through the air. Fire arrows. Oil that had been spread across the ins beforehand zed to life all at once, swallowing the Parsian troops.
Hundreds of zing rings swept through the fog, each one surrounding hundreds of Parsian riders. The movements of over 80,000 cavalrymen had been checked; their unity, divided. The rings of fire pierced through the gloom, clearly illuminating the positions of the Parsians to the watching Lusitanians. All of this, in the blink of an eye.
"Whoa! Whoa!"
The Parsians frantically tried to still their frightened, bucking mounts. Then, amid the shrill neighs of horses, the echo of confused hoofbeats, and the angry cries of riders, a new noise joined the fray.
The whistle of arrows raining down from the sky.
The Parsian officers shouted for retreat. Unfortunately, it was impossible to carry out theirmand. Before them, a wall of me over one farsang long blocked their advance. In the remaining three directions, endless rings of fire prevented their flight. And from the fiery wall echoed the screams of men and horses being burned alive.
The Lusitanians had even prepared hundreds of siege towers, each roughly the height of five men. From atop the towers they aimed a constant barrage of arrows at the rings of fire. For the Lusitanians, shooting down their trapped and floundering opponents was little more than a game. As this one-sided ughter continued to unfold, the zing, blood-drenched bodies of Parsians soon covered the ground like weeds.
However, not long afterward, a fraction of Parsian riders broke through the curtain of fire and smoke, emerging before the Lusitanian troops. Either way, only death awaited With this realization, the men transformed thought to action, summoned all their pride and skill as equestrians, and leaped over the ming wall. Those who failed fell right into the waiting fire and disappeared in a mass of me. Of those who survived the leap, most suffered severe burns. And though many horses and riders were swallowed by the ze, just as many were felled by sheer exhaustion.
Once unrivaled in all thend, the Parsian horsemen fell to the ground in wave after wave, like an army of y dolls toppled by a storm. The lives of thousands, the pride of thousands, the legacy of an entire nation: beneath the rain of arrows, amid the endless white fog, all soon would return to dust.
Arn patted away the little mes licking at his sleeves and mantle, choking on the smoke as he called out, "Father! Dariun! Vahriz!"
There was no response.
The Parsians who had escaped their fiery drew their swords once more, beating out the mes on their mantles as they surged forward to meet the Lusitanian cavalry.
This violent charge engendered an inevitable reaction in the enemy. In terms of both equestrian skill and mounted swordy, the Parsians far surpassed the Lusitanians. One by one, the Lusitanians were cut down, their blood soaking the des of the Parsian riders, their corpses piling into burial shrouds for fallen Parsians.
"What terrifying strength! If we''d taken them on head-to-head, we wouldn''t have stood a chance," muttered the Lusitanian general Montferrat, as he waited with his troops behind threeyers of ditches and fortifications. Beside him, General Baudouin nodded in agreement. With the vague, chilly expressions that flickered across their faces, they did not look at all like men expecting an inevitable victory.
The bodies of Parsian riders continued to pile up before their eyes, one after another. The Lusitanians scattered before the Parsians, who slew and slew all the way to the waiting enemy troops. But they were unable to pass the threeyers of fortifications. Meanwhile, the Lusitanians continued to rain down arrows from atop their siege towers. Man and horse alike tumbled to the ground and expired.
Just as the umting corpses threatened to spill over the fortifications, the high notes of a Lusitanian trumpet resounded through the air. It was the signal for a counterattack. The gates of fortifications opened. From within poured forth the main force of the Lusitanian troops, still fresh and uninjured, rushing toward the ins in a flood of armor.
.
"Where''s that damned Qaran!" roared King Andragoras, his face contorting with fury. On the battlefield Andragoras had always brimmed with fearless confidence. This was a quality that had not changed since his days as Eran under the previous king, during the campaign against Badakhshan. And yet today, for the very first time, his valor had taken a great blow. It was precisely because he had never before known loss that he was so afraid now.
At the king''s bellow, one of the thousand-rider captains who served under Qaran''s banner raised his head. He had been stationed with the main column in order to keep themunications between the king and Qaran confidential.
"T-the Marzban has not been seen for some time now. We''ve been searching for him, but"
"When you''ve found him, bring him to me at once! Until you have, don''t let me see your face again!"
" At your will!"
Cringing at the king''s fury, the captain immediately spurred his beloved horse away. As Andragoras watched the captain leave, he let out a low, frustrated groan. It was Qaran who had reported smooth terrain ahead and pushed for an all-out attack. It was because of his advice that this disaster had unfolded.
"That bastard Qaran. Has he betrayed us?"
Vahriz heard the king''s doubtful muttering, but did not respond. Instead, he turned his mount and rode to the other end of the column. There, Dariun looked over his shoulder. Hisncey across the pommel of his saddle. Upon it, his hand rested with a slight tremble.
"Now''s your time, Dariun."
The Eran gently squeezed his nephew''s arm.
"I shall protect His Majesty the king. You must search for Prince Arn."
"The prince?"
"He was at the front. I fear for him. Perhaps it is already toote. Even so, you must find and protect him. I will stay here and bear the consequences."
"Understood, sir. Let''s meet again at Ecbatana!"
^
2~2000 m ^
3~5 km ^
4~30 m ^
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (4)
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (4)
Through the fog coursed the sh of des and spears, like lightning piercing through the clouds of a summer storm. Everywhere whirled the bright red of riotous me. Heat sted past, stinking of char.
The young knight in ck could not help but question whether he were brave or just reckless searching for a single boy amid this vast, chaotic battlefield.
"Arn, Your Highness! Where are you!?"
1 ahead, he had spotted a familiar face. Marzban Qaran. On this face, however, was an expression he had never seen before.
Upon seeing Dariun draw near, Qaran silently raised his hand. The riders around him pointed their spears at Dariun. Dariun realized that they were not men of Pars, but of Lusitania.
"What is the meaning of this, Lord Qaran?"
Despite voicing the question, Dariun had already read the answer in Qaran''s face. Qaran had not confused the enemies'' troops with his own. Nor had he gone mad. Dariun knew very well that Qaran had just knowingly and deliberately roused the Lusitanians to action.
He took a deep breath, then spat, "You''ve turned traitor, Qaran?!"
"It is not treachery. If you truly care for Pars, you should join us in removing Andragoras from the throne."
Qaran had not given the king his due respect, but rather, referred to him by name alone. Dariun''s eyes shed with understanding as he growled, "Is that so? I see now. That''s why you wanted me to address His Majesty before the battle. So that I would incur His Majesty''s displeasure and lose my position as Marzban that''s what you were hoping for, wasn''t it?"
Qaran replied with a highugh. "That''s right, Dariun. You''re no mindless brute. How could I possibly let you remain inmand of ten thousand cavalrymen? After all, no matter how fierce of a warrior you are, there is no way for a single man to affect the flow of battle by himself."
Having gloated thus over his sess, Qaran changed tacks and stilled his tongue. Dariun raised his spear and spurred his ck mount forward.
One of the Lusitanians at Qaran''s side leapt upon a dapple gray horse to meet the charge. He raised his ownnce which, unlike the Parsian equivalent, had a raised vamte in the middle to protect his hand and thrust toward Dariun.
Like two streaks of lightning crossing paths, the Lusitanian''snce nced off Dariun''s armor into empty space while Dariun''s pierced through his opponent''s throat. The tip flew out the back of the man''s head. He toppled to the ground, the spear still impaled through his body.
At this point, Dariun had already drawn his sword. The de gleamed white, like the first light of a winter''s dawn, drawing ribbons of blood from the next rider''s helmeted head.
"Stop right there, Qaran!"
Dariun cut down a third enemy rider. With his following strike, he sent a fourth flying from his saddle in a spray of blood. Before Dariun''s swordsmanship, the mighty Lusitanians who had sent the kingdom of Maryam up in mes were little more than helpless infants. One after another, riderless horses fled wildly into the fog.
"Betraying His Majesty, deceiving me. A crime twofold, for which you shall now pay!"
The ck horse, responding to its rider''s fury, screamed and charged straight toward Qaran.
Even now the remaining Lusitanians intended to halt Dariun''s charge. An admirable sentiment; however, their courage cost them their lives. Dariun''s charge was swift and unrelenting. Before Qaran the light of crossing des flickered. The intense sh of metal rang through the air. Brilliant blood spilled across the earth. And now Qaran himself appeared before Dariun''s eyes. Between him and Dariun there was no longer even the shadow of a single person. Nothing but a bloodstained sword slicing down from above.
Qaran too was a seasoned warrior, but Dariun''s valor had far surpassed his expectations, and perhaps his own guilty conscience had shaken him as well. For suddenly, he turned his horse and fled. Dariun''s sword met empty space.
Through the swirling fog raced the two riders. He who had betrayed his king and yet remained safely ensconced as Marzban; he whose loyalty had cost him his position. They traversed the patch of ins like a pair of tangled threads. Even as he fled, Qaran fought back, exchanging around ten rounds of blows with his pursuer. But there was no one who could counter Dariun''s strikes now. Then Qaran''s horse slipped, throwing its rider to the ground. Qaran''s sword flew from his hand. As he scrambled to his feet, hands raised protectively over his head, he said in a hoarse, strained tone, "Wait, Dariun. Listen to me!"
"What is it now?"
"Just hold on. If you knew the truth, you would not me me for what I''ve done. Please, hear me out "
Dariun''s sword shed out. Not to cut down Qaran, but to knock aside a sudden rain of arrows. When the brief onught came to a stop, Dariun glimpsed Qaran''s fleeing back among the ranks of the Lusitanian archers. There were about fifty riders. They nocked new arrows to their bows, watching for their enemy''s approach. Dariun abandoned all thoughts of pursuit and turned his horse away.
"Plenty of chances left to kill him," Dariun told himself. Upon him still weighed the great responsibility entrusted to him by his uncle. He had to rescue Prince Arn from this fray and bring him safely back to the capital. He could not throw away his life in a fit of passion here.
^
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (5)
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (5)
Unlike his Shah, Eran Vahriz had experienced loss in battle before. The elderly warrior murmured to the grimacing Andragoras, "Your Majesty, this battle can no longer be won. Please, sound the retreat!"
With a re, the king began to bellow at the Eran. How could the Shah of Pars, rightful defender of the Great Continental Road, simply run away without a care? Such an act would bring him shame as a warrior!
"Have you forgotten, sire? When Misr invadedst year, it was also from behind the walls of Ecbatana that we forced their retreat. For the sake of future victory, I beg you to endure this present shame!"
At the capital of Ecbatana awaited 20,000 cavalrymen and 45,000 infantrymen, and stationed throughout the rest of the kingdom were 20,000 more calvarymen and 12,000 more infantrymen. If one were to muster all these forces in addition to the surviving soldiers and generals of the current battle, that should provide sufficient military power to counter the Lusitanian troops.
Of such tactical considerations Andragoras the strategist was well aware. However, he was not just the sovereign of a single nation, but also Lord Protector of the Great Continental Road.
1 east to west, connecting the two ends of the vast continent. The entirety of this route and the caravans that traveled upon it allid under the protection of the Parsian king and paid tribute to him. Thus was the kingdom''s prosperity assured. Was this too not the privilege brought about by undefeated military prowess?
Nheless the old general continued trying to persuade his king. So too did the king continue to resist, until atst the name of his queen Tahmineh reached his ear. What of the welfare of the queen, who yet defended the capital? Surely he did not intend to leave her to the enemy? As soon as those words were spoken, the king came to a decision and made the move to retreat. However, not all of his men were in ord.
"The king has fled! Andragoras the Third has fled!"
Amid the bloody chaos, these cries raced to the ends of the battlefield like a fierce wind. Those under Qaran''s banner had kept close watch on King Andragoras''s movements. The will of the Parsian troops still locked in bitter struggle visibly faltered.
"Though we have staked our lives on this battle, the king who leads us has fled! The banners of Pars have been soiled in disgrace. There is no more hope for recovery!"
The Marzban Shapur removed his bloody, mudstained helm and flung it to the ground. And yet he still held his king in some regard; others disyed expressions of far greater betrayal.
"Forget it, forget it! Just who''re we fighting for anyway? There''s no need for us to throw away the lives of our subordinates for a fleeing liege!"
One-eyed Qobad flourished his longsword again, shaking the blood from his de as he hollered at his men. They nced at each other in uneasy confusion.
"What the hell are you saying, Qobad?" shouted Shapur, spurring his mount over. "How can you who is Marzbanmand his warriors to cease battling? The king has his duties. So too do we have ours."
"The foremost duty of a king is to protect his country. For this reason alone does a king possess the right to rule. Should the king no longer be worthy of rulership, it''ll be the same for us. Were you not cursing him just now as well?
"No, that was a careless gesture on my part. Come to think of it, it is not that the king has fled. Rather, he must surely be heading back to Ecbatana in preparation for the next assault. As a retainer, you should not cast such aspersions upon your liege, or even your allies shall not have mercy on you!"
"Oh? Interesting. And just what do you mean by that?" Qobad''s single eye narrowed.
Among the Marzbans, Qobad was the youngest after Dariun and Keshvad. He was presently thirty-one years of age. The single scar carved deeply into his face across his left eye left an indelible impression on any who saw him. He was unquestionably a fierce warrior and experienced tactician, but despite his impressive record, his reputation suffered among certain factions at court. Part of the reason for this was his tendency toward boastful exaggeration. He imed, for instance, that his left eye had been lost in an epic showdown with an azhdahak, a three-headed dragon, in faraway Mount Qaf. Furthermore, he himself had in turn stabbed out a single eye on each of the dragon''s three heads. In other words, "The three-headed dragon''s now a three-eyed dragon." Most people naturally took it as a joke, and some even frowned upon his indiscretion.
Shapur, who was thirty-six, was Qobad''s pr opposite: an exceedingly uptight man. Perhaps they themselves were conscious of this fact, for it was rumored that whenever the twelve Marzbans were summoned, the two men never failed to arrange themselves at either end of the line.
In any case, this pair of rare valor eachid a hand on the hilt of his sword as he red down his Marzbanrade. The soldiers of Pars panicked. But before the bloodthirsty aura coulde to a head, there sounded a cry of "Enemy attack!" At the sight of the approaching Lusitanian troop, Qobad steered his mount aside.
"Running away, Qobad?"
The one-eyed Marzban clucked his tongue in response to this rebuke. "Much as I''d like to, without driving off these enemy forces there won''t be anywhere to run. Why don''t we have our little chat about a retainer''s responsibilities once I''ve taken care of these bastards?"
"Very well! Don''t you dare im you''ve forgotten all about ite tomorrow!" With a pointed re, Shapur galloped off to give his men their orders.
"I won''t. Not if there still is a tomorrow!" Whether he spoke in seriousness or in jest, Qobad headed back toward his own men as well.
"Now then. Still got a thousand or so riders left, huh. Wonder how I should handle it with these numbers? Better take along the crazy ones."
.
Those who had fled with King Andragoras met with obstruction on the narrow trail arching over the waters of the Mirbn River. Just as they thought they had left the echoes of sword and spear far behind and sessfully escaped the battlefield, an iing arrow pierced through one rider''s face. The rider''s death cry as he tumbled from his horse preluded a slew of arrows hailing down all at once with the terrible noise of a locust swarm taking flight. It was an ambush.
At either side of the Shah and Eran men and horses alike toppled like brittle stone pirs. Both king and general were hit as well, the arrows piercing through their armor and digging into their flesh.
When the rain of arrows ceased, not one single survivor remained in their vicinity. A lone rider spurred his horse over to face them. He bore not the arms of Lusitania but those of Pars. And yet it was something else entirely that seized the attention of the king and his general.
A silver mask. It covered the entire face but for narrow slits at the eyes and the mouth. And through the eye slits leaked a cold, savage gleam.
In the light of day, both king and general would have certainly guffawed at the sight. The silver mask seemed far too much like something out of a y, something impossible to imagine existing in reality.
But here under the dim gray veil of fog, where the veryndscape seemed submerged in the darkness of a Serican ink painting, the mask seemed to freeze within itself the umted misfortune and cmity of the entire world.
"Abandoning your men, Andragoras? How shameless. And how very like you."
Fluent Parsian sounded through the mouth slit. The voice possessed a quality that caused a man''s heart to grow chill.
"Flee, my liege! Let these old bones hold here"
Vahriz, body pierced through with five arrows, drew his sword from its scabbard and nted his horse between the king and the man of the silver mask.
An intense light emanated from the eyes of the silver mask, burning with the radiance of fury and hatredbined.
"Doddering old failure! Enough of your posturing!"
The masked man unleashed a thundering cry. His longsword, glittering white, arced toward the general''s head in a single stroke. Even against an opponent both mortally wounded and advanced in age, his de did not hold back, leaving not the slightest opening for Vahriz, great Eran of Pars, to counter. It was a breathtaking disy of swordsmanship.
Andragoras watched on with deadened eyes as his faithful old retainer''s body crumpled heavily to the ground. His sword arm did not move. It could not, for the arrow piercing his wrist had injured muscle. Left with no further means of resistance, the king could only sit helplessly upon his saddle like a y doll.
"Do not kill him."
The voice behind the silver mask trembled. Naturally, not from terror, but from a wave of barely suppressed passion. Compared to when he was facing Vahriz, he was an entirely different man.
"Do not kill him. For sixteen years I have waited for this day. How could I grant him such easy release?"
Five or six riders from the man''s troop pulled King Andragoras from his mount. The pain from his arrow wound red, but the king endured it.
"Who the hell are you?" Andragoras, wrapped and bound with thick thongs, whispered hoarsely.
"Soon. You shall know soon enough. Or perhaps, Andragoras, you do not understand what sins you must havemitted in order to warrant such enmity?"
Behind every word grated a noise like scraping metal. It was the sound of gnashing teeth as if in that very action, the man of the silver mask could grind away the long endless days of bitter obscurity.
^
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (6)
Book 1: Chapter 1.: The Battle of Atropatene (6)
Even after Andragoras''s departure from the battlefield, blood continued to flow. All across the ins, the fires showed no signs of extinguishing. Wind arose from the billowing smoke, joining the chaotic swirl of fog. Pars was originally and blessed with sun and clear skies, yet now it seemed as if even the weather itself had abandoned the kingdom.
With momentum on their side, the Lusitanian troops resumed their cycle of attack and ughter. No longer were the Parsians fighting for their king; rather, it was for their own lives and honor that they continued to resist. Futile as their efforts were, the Parsian knights were unquestionably strong. Even as the Lusitanians imed victory after victory, their ranks suffered much loss as well. Upon leaving their sturdy bulwarks to join the offensive, the Lusitanians'' dead soon surpassed those of the Parsians. Dariun alone was perhaps ready to take responsibility for at least half of the Lusitanian''s hatred himself. Before long, he came across Marzban Qobad''s troops in the midst of the blood and me. While celebrating their mutual survival, they exchanged some hurried inquiries.
"Have you not happened upon Prince Arn by any chance, Lord Qobad?"
"The prince? Dunno." With that blunt response, Qobad gave the young knight another look-over, cocking his head suspiciously. "What happened to your men? Got all ten thousand of them wiped out?"
"I am no longer Marzban."
Dariun was filled with a sense of bitterness. Qobad seemed as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind and instead asked Dariun to join him in fighting their way out of the battlefield.
"My apologies, but I made a promise to my uncle. I must locate His Royal Highness Arn."
"Then take a hundred of mine!"
Respectfully declining Qobad''s well-intended offer, Dariun galloped off alone once more. Whether it was ten thousand men or one hundred men, any entourage would serve only to draw the enemy''s attention, contrarily bringing greater danger and turning them all into sitting ducks.
As the fierce winds began to disperse the fog, the physical aspect of the battlefield was atst exposed. Grass sprouted amid the corpses, drenched in blood. But even the realization that he had be inured to the stench of blood and smoke and sweat made no difference to Dariun''s efforts.
Five Lusitanian knights materialized in his path, a most undesired development. If possible, he would have liked for his passing to be ignored, but it seemed the other party had already taken note of him. It was in any case five against one. To them, he must have seemed like easy sport.
"Why, if it isn''t a defeated Parsian dog loitering around for scraps! Looks like you''ve got nowhere to go how about we help send you along your way?"
Dariun should not have been able to understand them, but after exchanging these mocking whispers in Lusitanian, the five riders raised their spears as one and came charging.
For the Lusitanians, this was perhaps the unluckiest day of their lives. Dariun''s de cut through them, sending them on to their heaven.
As the fourth man went flying beneath a spray of blood, Dariun observed at the edge of his vision the lone silhouette of the final man, who had dropped his sword and fled. But he made no move to pursue. Among the riderless horses aimlessly ambling about, there was one upon whose saddle was bound a bloody, wounded man. It was a single Parsian knight who had been taken captive.
Pulling up alongside him, Dariun leaped off his horse and used his sword to sever the thongs binding the knight.
He did not know the knight''s name, but held some recognition for his face. The man was one of the thousand-rider captains who served under the Marzban Shapur. Dariun untied a leather sk from his saddle and poured water over the blood and grime dirtying the man''s face. The man let out a low moan and opened his eyes.
From the lips of this deeply injured man Dariun received information on Prince Arn''s whereabouts. Having broken through the enveloping of fire and smoke, it seemed the prince had fled east under the protection of a measly handful of knights. Wheezing painfully, the man continued, "Of the Marzbans, Lords Manuchehr and Hayir have fallen. Our general Lord Shapur sustained grave wounds as well from both fire and arrow. Whether he still lives or not"
Hearing of the deaths of his friends andrades, Dariun felt a pang in his heart. However, he had yet to fulfill his mission. Dariun helped the man back onto the horse and handed him the reins.
"I would escort you to safety, but I am under orders from the Eran to search for the crown prince Arn. Please escape without me!"
It took the wounded man all of his strength just to keep his seat. That said, it was unthinkable to abandon him here on the battlefield. Lusitanians slew everyst one of their defeated enemies. Dariun had heard that it served as some sort of disy of faith in their god.
After parting with the man, Dariun had ridden about a hundred gaz when he sumbed to a sudden urge and looked back. The horse no longer bore a rider. Instead, long neck stretched out, it nosed mournfully at a crumpled figure on the ground. Dariun sighed and continued east, no longer looking back.
.
Around Arn, not a single ally could be found. His father the king had not bestowed many men upon him to begin with. Although it was true his father had permitted him to act independently, the king himself had been captain to five thousand riders in his own first foray, whereas Arn had been givenmand of no more than a hundred. For that reason Arn had thought to build a record through his own ability, thus proving himself worthy of generalship. However, the reality was that he had lost every single one of his men to the chaos of battle and me. Half of them had fallen in battle; the remaining half had been dispersed. His cloak was scorched, his spear broken, his horse exhausted. He was hurting everywhere. That he still lived was all the more so a wonder. Arn sighed and tossed away his spear.
It was at this very moment that a single Lusitanian rider came charging,nce raised. Decked in golden armor as he was, Arn was unmistakeable as a prince of his country. He must have seemed a most excellent prize. Entire body seized with fear, Arn galloped forth, drawing his sword to face his opponent.
After the initial exchange, it was not Arn himself but his mount that reached its limit and crashed to the ground. Arn rolled back to his feet. With a sh of his sword, the spearhead protruding from the oing horse was sliced away, to his own shock. He had not thought himself capable of such a deed, but he had in fact just saved his own life.
The knight dropped the mere pole that remained of hisnce and drew his sword.
From the knight''s mouth awkward Parsian spewed forth. The tongue of Pars served as the lingua franca of the Great Continental Road; any educated individual among the various nations was capable of such a level ofmunication.
"Well done, boy. Perhaps in five more years you would have be a swordsman whose name was praised through all of Pars. However, I''m sorry to say that both you and Pars shalle to an end today. You canplete the rest of your training with your fellow heathens in hell!"
This jeering was followed by a ferocious assault. Arn was just barely able to parry the iing sh, but the resulting impact from his palm to his shoulder was no small matter. The sensation had not yet dissipated when the second strike fell upon him. Right, left, right, left. As their des continued to sh, Arn kept up his defense with nothing but sheer instinct and reflex.
If one considered it disadvantageous to fight a mounted enemy while on foot, it was nothing short of miraculous for Arn to be putting up such a good fight. Perhaps the Lusitanian knight''s faith in his god wavered. Raising his voice in obvious frustration, he suddenly pulled his horse into a rear. It seemed he meant to trample Arn beneath its hooves. At that very moment, Arn stumbled to the ground, and the knight grew confident of his sess. In the next instant, as the horse kicked down onto solid earth, the knight''s throat was pierced through by the sword Arn had thrown.
For some time Arn sat there, hearing nothing but the sound of his own breathing. It was the tter of swiftly nearing hoofbeats that roused him. Upon casting his gaze in the direction of the sound, he leaped up in a dreamlike state and waved his arms.
"Dariun! Dariun! Over here!"
"Oh, Your Highness. Are you unharmed?"
Arn could think of no more dependable sight than that of the young knight''s pitch ck figure leaping down from his equally ck horse to kneel on the ground before him. Dariun''s helm and armor were painted with spatters of dried human blood. Just what manner of hardship had it taken the man to find him?
"I was sent to find Your Highness under orders from the Eran."
"I am most grateful. But what of my lord father?"
"As long as my uncle and the Athanatoi are with him, I believe they have most likely seeded in their escape," replied Dariun. Suppressing his own sense of unease, he added, "It is on behalf of His Majesty''s concern for your welfare that I havee."
This was a lie, concocted out of the need to convince the prince to depart from this ce. For a moment, under a gaze clear and dark as the unclouded night, Dariun''s heart faltered.
"Lingering on the battlefield any longer is meaningless. Consider this also His Majesty''s will when I beg you to prioritize your own safety."
"Understood. However, if we are to return to the capital, we must traverse the battlefield once more. Unquestioned though your might and courage be, is this not a hopeless feat?"
Regarding this, Dariun had alreadyid ns.
"Let us call upon my friend Narses. He has secluded himself in hermitage at Mount Bashur. For the present, I suggest that we take refuge with him and watch for a suitable opportunity before thinking of a way to return to the capital."
The prince tilted his head doubtfully. "But ording to what I have heard, is it not said that there has been a rift between Narses and my lord father?"
"Indeed. Had our troops imed victory today, and Your Highness were to approach him as a vanquishing hero, Narses would likely refuse the meeting. However, by what one might call some happy chance or miracle, it is now we who are the pitiful vanquished."
"The vanquished Hm, true."
The gloom in Arn''s voice was quite understandable.
"It is for that very reason he will not turn us away. He is, as my uncle stated, a contrary sort of man. Let us rely on that!"
"But Dariun" The youth''s voice and gaze were, for the first time, impassioned. "Upon the battlefield remain many of our own men. Are we to go and abandon them?"
Dariun''s expression turned grave.
"Now that things havee to this, I am afraid we are left with no choice. Seek a rematch on someter date! Only by staying alive now may we avenge their grievances!"
After a long silence, Arn nodded.
The yet undispersed fog and swiftly descending duskpeted for dominion over thend. By their aid, Arn and Dariun were able to evade capture from the Lusitanian troops and escape, vanishing into the dense forests and deep valleys of the Bashur Mountains. Even the most persistent of pursuers, were he to recall the number of corpses umting in the wake of Dariun''s hoofbeats, could not help but quail. On this day, the existence of a ck rider of Pars who had cut down innumerable Lusitanian knights of renown had, to the Lusitanians, be akin to a fragment from a nightmare.
When the half moon rose, illuminating the fog that still clung so stubbornly to the ins, all fighting ceased atst.
As the Lusitanians made their rounds through the illuminated battlefield, any injured Parsians they came across were given no chance to resist or to flee, but instead in on the spot as "heathens." Their god and their clergymen hadmanded them thus. For the sins of pagan worship and denial of the "One True God", redemption could be found only in the cruelest of deaths. Even those who took pity on the heathens were considered to be in defiance of God''s will and would be condemned to hell in the afterlife. Perhaps in part drunk on blood, the Lusitanian soldiers sang praises to the glory of their god Ialdabaoth even as they slit the throats of the wounded and gouged out their hearts.
On the sixteenth day of the tenth month of the 320th year of Pars, upon the ins of Atropatene, 53,000 Parsian cavalrymen and 74,000 Parsian infantrymen lost their lives in battle, halving the military power of the entire kingdom. On the victorious Lusitanian side, casualties also numbered more than 50,000 in cavalry and infantrybined. To have received such a heavy blow under such advantageous circumstances and with such a perfectlyid plot was, from a certain perspective, rather horrific. Then again, all these men who had died with honor would no doubt be extolled as martyrs basking in divine glory.
"s, so many of our people now lie unburied upon foreignnds, no thanks to that possessed king of ours and that ursed murderer of a holy man!"
"It''s just as well, don''t you think? All those poor souls can now go to heaven, while for the living, all of this bountifulnd of Pars is now ours to do with as we please. The Great Continental Road, the silver mines, vast fields of grain!"
Baudouinughed through the blood staining his face, but Montferrat''s expression remained sullen as they rode toward the tent of their king, Innocentius VII. The dying howl of a Parsian as his heart was ripped from him reverberated through the stillness of the night, startling Montferrat. Previously, during the pige of Maryam, even children and infants had been thrown into the fires to burn alive. The Kingdom of Maryam was no heathen nation, and in fact shared the Lusitanians'' faith in Ialdabaoth. But simply because they had refused to acknowledge the Lusitanian king''s religious authority, they had been deemed "enemies of God."
"Even now the screams from that time have not left my ear. Would God truly bless even those who would kill an infant just because it was born heathen?"
However, Baudouin did not hear him. Montferrat''s brooding was overpowered by a great cry resounding from up ahead.
"We''ve captured the Parsian king!"
Hundreds of Lusitanian soldiers called out in refrain, their voices unified as if in song.
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (1)
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (1)
Let us now wind back five years before the Battle of Atropatene, to the year 315 of the Parsian calendar. That year, the three kingdoms of Turan, Sindhura, and Turk formed an alliance, mustered a conquering force of fifty thousand along the eastern borders of Pars, andmenced an invasion. Turan, having in the past done battle with Pars many a time on rtively even terms, was a historic rival. With Sindhura, who now shared a direct border with Pars, there had been ceaseless skirmishes ever since the fall of the Principality of Badakhshan. And Turk coveted Pars''s hold over trade and tribute along the Great Continental Road.
Each had its own motives, but in making trouble for Pars their interests were aligned. And so they conspired to attack Pars all at the same time: Turan from the northeast, Turk from the east, and Sindhura from the southeast. Even the famously valorous King Andragoras could not remain unfazed. Not only did he mobilize all his armies, he also sent summons to all the governors of the kingdom, the aristocratic shahrdaran, ordering them to muster their own personal troops at the capital of Ecbatana.
Among the shahrdaran was a lord by the name of Teos who reigned over the region of Dam, overlooking the Darband Ind Sea to the north. He was an old friend of the king, and promised to ride out with five thousand horsemen and thirty thousand foot soldiers, much to the king''s joy.
Just as they were about to set out, Teos slipped on some steps in his mansion and died from the hit to his head against a stone ledge. Upon receiving notification of this incident, the king was shocked, but for the time being, instated Teos''s son Narses as the lord''s sessor. Even if Teos had passed away, that military force of his remained of utmost import to the king.
Not long after that Narses appeared at Ecbatana with his troops. The king at first rejoiced, then grew stunned, and atst upset for the troops Narses had brought numbered two thousand cavalrymen and three thousand infantrymen. This was not at all what had been expected.
"Why did you not bring more troops? I had an agreement with your father."
"My humblest apologies."
In this mild manner, the then twenty-one-year-old lord offered a bow. The king just barely managed to refrain from shouting.
"Apologies are only to be expected. I want reasons!"
"The truth is, I have emancipated all the ves of our household."
"What!?"
"As Your Majesty must also be aware, the foot soldiers were all ves, so the infantry was of course no more. By announcing that I would hand out wages if they came, I managed somehow to amass these five thousand men and bring them with me here."
"And the decrease in your cavalry''s numbers?"
"Being shocked by these developments, they left my humble employ. There is no helping it, I am afraid." Despite the impable courtesy of his speech, hisck of shame came across as nonchnce. "Ah, truly it cannot be helped. I understand all too well how they must have felt."
King Andragoras had always been a short-tempered, obstinate sort of man. All the disappointment and dissatisfaction that had been exuding from his burly mass focused now into a re directed at Narses. And yet before this kingly gaze that could terrorize even the most seasoned of warriors, the youth retained hisposure. In fact, he proceeded to voice out loud what no sane man would even consider.
"How about this? Should Your Majesty so desire, I do have a strategy that shall impel all three armies of the enemy alliance to retreat"
"What a boast! I don''t suppose you expect me to hand you an army of ten thousand?"
"There is no need for a single soldier. All I should require is a bit of time."
"Time, you say?"
"At your will. Given about five days, I shall be able to chase them all out of the kingdom''s borders. However, it is true that in the end Your Majesty''s military strength shall still be required"
Andragoras gave the youth his consent. It was not so much that he believed in him as it was that he wanted to see the look on his face when he failed.
The young man, along with around ten of his subordinates, disappeared from the encampment. Most people assumed he had fled. Andragoras believed so as well, and further resolved to seize the territories of Dam and bring them back under royal control. About three days had passed when Narses suddenly returned and made another request of the king. Of the prisoners of war who had been captured from the three-kingdom alliance, he asked to be given charge of the Sindhurans. Once more Andragoras gave his consent, if only because Eran Vahriz remarked, "If one''s swallowed poison, one might as well finish the whole te."
As soon as Narses epted those two thousand Sindhuran prisoners, he allowed them all to flee. The warriors who had done difficult battle to capture these prisoners were upset, and demanded to know just what he was trying to pull. Even Dariun could not restrain them.
At Narses''s expression of feigned ignorance, one enraged thousand-rider captain drew his de, challenging him to a duel. The victor was soon apparent. Narses, previously thought of as some bookish young master, disarmed his opponent in less than five exchanges. Narses shouted at the riled up gathering of warriors, "Anyone else? Tonight, the Turks will attack the Sindhurans, even as the Turanians ambush the Turks. If you don''t prepare for the offensive now, you''ll lose your chance for heroics!"
Only Vahriz and Dariun, then only a thousand-rider captain, believed him.
His prediction hit the mark. That very night, violent internal dissent arose among the three allied nations. The Parsian army took the opportunity to rout their enemies. Outshining all others in terms of heroics was Dariun, who cut down the Turkish king''s younger brother from his horse in a single stroke.
Upon Dariun''smendation, Narses simply smiled and replied, "Oh please, it was nothing. Sometimes, a single rumor can ovee an army of ten thousand."
Narses and his men, in those three days, had been spreading various fabricated rumors. For the Turks, it was, "The Sindhurans have betrayed you and are liaising with the Parsians. As proof of this, in one or two days the Sindhuran prisoners of war will all be released." To the Turanians, it was, "The Turks are conspiring with the Parsians. They''re nning to ambush the Sindhurans soon, most likely using the excuse that the Sindhurans are liaising with the Parsians. You mustn''t believe them."
And the released Sindhuran prisoners were told the following: "The truth is, our lord the king of Pars and your king of Sindhura have been in talks for reconciliation since a while back. However, it seems the Turks and the Turanians have caught wind of this. Be wary of attack from those you thought were your allies."
Thus had the alliance started jumping at shadows and suspecting every little thing, all the while disintegrating steadily from within.
At any rate, Narses''s peculiar stratagem had seeded; it could not be denied that the enemy alliance''s self-destruction had saved the kingdom of Pars. Andragoras had no choice but tomend him, reconfirming his sessorship of hisnds, rewarding him ten thousand dinars, and appointing him as a dibir, a high-ranking court scribe. It was widely rumored that he would even someday ascend to the position of framatar, or steward of the realm.
For Narses, the stiff formality of court was infinitely less preferable to living his life as he pleased at home in his own domain, but the king would not permit him thistter. By now, Andragoras did at least consider Narses''s ingenuity and insight a valuable asset. And so Narses had no choice but to stay in the capital.
Two years of rtive peace and stability ensued. Dariun and Narses both gained reputations in their respective positions as military officer and civil minister. However, in the 317th year of Pars, a diplomatic mission was sent east to establish rtions with Serica, the kingdom of silk, and Dariun was assigned as captain of the guard for the expedition. Narses, well versed in Serican history and culture, was greatly envious of his friend, but nheless held a celebratory feast to send him off.
It was at this time that King Andragoras''s authority began to cken, and the iniquities of his ministers and the priests and the nobility grew more conspicuous than ever.
By this time, Narses was more than fed up with life as a court official. Upon opening an investigation into administrative affairs, he presented Andragoras with various reforms, but few if any were implemented to his satisfaction. Andragoras was more interested in war than in administration; and especially with the kingdom''s coffers full and no extant threat from outside foes, instigating reforms now would inevitably create enemies among the priests and nobility. The king ignored Narses''s proposed reforms, but the matter did not end there. For a petition came now from the priests, demanding that the king exile Narses from court.
Narses, you see, had also been investigating the priests'' abuse of their privileged positions to perpetrate sundry transgressions. Not only were the priests exempt from taxes, even if they were tomit a crime, they would not be arrested or executed.
They lent money to the peasantry at exorbitant interest rates and seized theirnds when the money could not be repaid. They also monopolized the underground kariz aqueducts and reservoirs, imposing a water tax on the people. If anyone resisted, they sent forth their personal troops to burn and pige, and afterwards divvied up the spoils. The salt they sold to the public was cut with sand. If the peasantry dug their own wells, they poisoned the wells. After investigating and collecting proof of all these misdeeds, Narses requested that the king exact severe punishment upon the priests.
The infuriated priests plotted an ambush on Narses on his way back from court, but their attempt ended in failure. Of the eight assassins sent, four were cut down by Narses himself, two were injured and caught, and the remaining two just barely escaped with their lives. The priests immediately switched tacks and brought before the king usations of Narses''s uwful intent to harm. Narses, perhaps figuring that it was about time anyway, absconded from court and returned to his own domains.
Dariun, upon returning from Serica and learning that his friend had been banished from court during his absence, was surprised but also regretful. Despite intending to pay a visit at some point, he had not yet had the chance to do so, when the Battle of Atropatene began.
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (2)
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (2)
The hooting of an owl shattered the stillness, disturbing the flow of the chill night air.
"Have you not met Narses since then?"
In response to Arn''s query, Dariun nodded. They were traversing a mountain trail in the deep of night. The light of the half moon through the needled branches of the conifers cast the two riders and their horses in pale silver.
"Nevertheless, if that''s all there was to the matter, I do not believe my lord father would have exiled him permanently from court. Was there nothing else to it?"
"The truth is"
When he absconded from court, Narses left behind a letter for King Andragoras. As Dariun''s uncle Vahriz put it, this was a rather uncalled for gesture. Nheless, in it Narses had written out a critique of the rampant corruption within the administration of putting a halt to the priests'' moneylending, of entrusting management of the kariz to peasant representatives, of instituting a justice system unaffected by rank or position, and other such suggestions.
O my liege, I beg you: open your eyes and bear witness to the true condition of your government! If only you were to look past that which is beautiful on the surface and face the ugly reality beneath, what a blessing that would be!
"Hmph, that bastard Narses! So he forgets the appointment We bestowed upon him and remonstrates with me in his conceit!"
The enraged Andragoras tore up the letter and ordered Narses''s arrest, but between Vahriz''s mollification and the fact that Narses had by then returned to his domains in Dam, his fury subsided. All injunctions were dismissed but for the banishment from court, which suited Narses just fine. Secluding himself in a cottage in the mountains, he lived alone in peace, immersed in his painting and his foreign literature
"Narses enjoys painting?"
Arn''s question had been intended only as a cursory remark, but Dariun''s reply did not seem to be quite so negligible.
"Well, every man must have his vice." On receiving a confused nce from the prince, he continued in a somewhat exasperated tone, "If one really must speak of it, it can only be described as an extreme case of passion in ineptitude. That man when ites to the movements of the heavens, the geography of distantnds, and the changing tides of history, there is nothing he does not know. However, in this one subject alone, the matter of his own artistic ability"
A sudden whooshing noise pierced through the night. A pale sliver of light skimmed across their vision and stabbed into the trunk of a conifer. The horses whinnied in distress. Even as the two of them soothed their mounts, their eyes fell upon the single arrow buried in the trunk of the tree, glimmering in the moonlight.
"Take one more step, and the next one''ll find your face!"
From the dark depths of the forest echoed the voice of a boy who could only be about Arn''s age.
"Beyond here lies the residence of my master Narses, the former lord of Dam. No one is permitted past this boundary uninvited. Back off if you don''t want to be hurt!"
Dariun called out, "m, is that you? It''s Dariun! I''vee to call upon your master, whom I''ve not seen in three years. Will you not let us pass?"
After a few beats of silence, the shadows rustled, and a human figure emerged in approach.
"Why, Lord Dariun, long time no see. Forgive me for not recognizing you!"
A youth with quiver slung over his back and short bow in hand bowed to Dariun. His uncovered hair shone ck in the moonlight.
"I see you''ve grown. Is your master in good health?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Same as ever then, I suppose, idling away his days with his unpresentable painting?"
The youth made a considering expression.
"What makes art good or bad, I don''t really understand. My folks''st request was for me to take care of Lord Narses, that''s all. After all, Lord Narses was the one who raised them from ghm to azat."
The youth led the pair of them down the dark mountain trail. His night vision must have been most excellent, for his steps were not only light, but sure.
A cottage with a triangr roof made of stone and wood had been erected right at the edge of the forest before the grassy clearing beyond. Below the clearing burbled a stream, and overhead, the sky danced with stars. As the three of them neared, the door flung open, and light spilled out onto the ground. The youth, breaking into a run, lowered his head before his master. Dariun, too, dismounted from his ck horse and called out.
"Narses, it''s me, Dariun!"
"No need to announce yourself, you noisy fellow. I could hear you from a farsang away."
The master of the cottage was no Dariun, but he was nheless tall and blessed with a well-proportioned body. He had a pleasant, intellectual sort of face, and despite his wicked tongue, his eyes were filled with warmth andughter. He looked to be about a year younger than Dariun. His blue tunic and matching trousers gave off an impression of unaffected youth.
"Narses, this here is"
"I am Arn, the son of King Andragoras. I''ve heard quite a bit about you from Dariun."
"My, is that so? I''m afraid I''ve dirtied your noble ears." Narsesughed and bowed, then turned to face the youth. "m, if it''s not too much trouble, would you mind bringing our guests here some refreshments?"
The diligent youth led their two horses to the back of the cottage before heading to the kitchen. In the meantime, both Arn and Dariun shed their armor. Though they should not have yet reached the point of fatigue, their bodies felt conspicuously lighter.
Now the young page, or retak, came bearingrge tters. Grape wine, stewed bird, tbread smeared in honey, skewers of grilled mutton and onion, cheese, dried apples, dried figs, dried apricots, and all sorts of other savory scents wafted through the air, whetting Arn and Dariun''s appetites. Come to think of it, not only had there never been a day until now in which they had depleted so much of their bodily reserves, they hadn''t eaten a thing since breaking fast that morning.
After seating themselves at a low wooden table, they focused wholeheartedly on the food for some time. While m waited on them, Narses sipped leisurely at a ss of wine and watched on, as if marveling at their appetites.
When all the food that had beenid out on the table was now settled in the guests'' stomachs, m tidied up the tableware, brought out the post-meal green tea, then bowed to Narses and retired to his own room.
"Thanks to your hospitality, I feel returned to my senses. I owe you my gratitude."
"No need for thanks, Your Highness Arn. I once received ten thousand dinars from your lord father. Today''s meal hardly even amounts to a drachm, you know."
Narsesughed when he saw the look on his old friend Dariun''s face.
"Well, then. I''m already aware of your general circumstances, but let''s hear the details now. Our armies suffered a great loss at Atropatene, didn''t they?"
As Dariun rted the circumstances of the battle at Atropatene, Narses slurped at his tea and listened. Upon reaching the part about Qaran''s betrayal, his brows narrowed, but he did not otherwise express any surprise at the Lusitanians'' tactics.
"The primary asset of a cavalry is its mobility. If one wishes to ovee that, the only possible strategy is to seal their movements. Encircling with ditches and fences, setting fires, taking advantage of fog. Even using a traitor. There must be some wise fellow among those Lusitanian barbarians, eh?"
"Yes, there must be. Therefore I wish to borrow your wisdom in turn, for Prince Arn''s sake."
"Now, Dariun, you havee a long way indeed. However, I no longer harbor any desire for nor attachment to worldly matters."
"But surely it is far better than holing away in the mountains doodling those crappy pictures of yours!"
At the mention of "crappy pictures," Narses''s expression turned sullen.
"I can already imagine what this Dariun fellow means to say. You mustn''t give him any credence, Your Highness. This fellow may be a peerless warrior of our nation, and can indeed be quite principled and discerning, but he possesses not even the slightest whit of artistic sensibility. Truly, it is most deplorable."
Dariun was about to protest, but Narses raised a hand to silence him.
"Art is eternal. The rise and fall of nations, a fleeting instant."
The solemnity of Narses''s pronouncement moved hispany. Arn, taken aback, remained silent; Dariun cast aside his usual gravity and grinned. Or perhaps, more urately, he could not help but smile.
Recovering himself, the prince said, "Even if this is one of those instants you speak of, we cannot simply cross our arms and do nothing. Please, Narses. I would like to hear your thoughts on this matter."
"Well, if it''s my thoughts you want The Lusitanians believe in Ialdabaoth, their one true god. On one hand, all believers are equal in the eyes of this god. On the other hand, all believers are enjoined to wipe the followers of other religions from the face of the earth. This I heard from Maryamian travelers, but in all likelihood they too are now no more than corpses of so-called heretics buried in the wilds and mountains of Ecbatana."
"I shall not allow the followers of this god to seed in their aim. How do you think this should best be handled?"
"At this point, Your Highness Arn, it is toote to do anything. His Majesty your father ought to have abolished the institution of ghm altogether. What reason do those oppressed by a nation have, to fight for the sake of said nation?"
Narses''s voice was tinged with fervor. A change had urred at some point. His heart was no longer that of a hermit who had forsaken the world.
"What happens next can already be foreseen. The Lusitanian army will encourage the ves to convert to the Ialdabaothan faith, and grant freedom to those who do so. If they are then given arms and incited to action, acting in concert with the Lusitanians, Pars shall be annihted. After all, the ghm far outnumber both the nobles and the priests."
As Narses concluded rather cynically with this ominous prediction, Arn, swelling with unease, raised an objection.
"However, Ecbatana shall not fall. Last year, when the great armies of Misrid siege to the capital, it did not even waver in the slightest."
Narses looked at the prince with pity.
"Your Highness, even Ecbatana has not long left. Indeed, the gates of the capital shall not be brought down so easily by fire arrow or battering ram. However, external attacks are hardly the only viable tactic in warfare, you see."
"You mean, if the ghm in the capital were to cooperate with the Lusitanians?"
"Exactly, Dariun. The Lusitanians will no doubt appeal to them from outside: O ves of the city! Rise up and cast down your oppressors! Our god Ialdabaoth promises you all freedom and equality! Bothnds and riches are yours for the taking!'' Something like that''d be pretty effective, wouldn''t you say?"
After a brief nce at Arn, who seemed to be mulling deeply over something in silence as if he had swallowed his voice, Dariun inquired after possible countermeasures to such a scenario.
"Ah, that''s right, I suppose we could promise the ghm soldiers that of course they would also be raised to azat as a reward for doing well in battle. That ought to work for a while. But it wouldn''tst long, eh?"
"I intend to return to Ecbatana before then," said the prince. "Narses, please. Will you not lend us your wisdom after all?"
Narses averted his gaze from the prince''s earnest eyes.
"I am truly sorry, Your Highness, but it is my intent to seclude myself in these mountains and dedicate the rest of my days to the creation of Art. I already hold no more concern for the world outside this mountain. Please do not think ill of me no, even if you should, it cannot be helped"
Dariun shoved aside his teacup on the table.
"Narses! Is there not an excellent line that goes, Apathy is but a breeding ground for Evil; ''tis no ally of Good''?"
"Excellent? Pretentious, rather. Who said it?"
"Why, you did, Narses. When we were drinking together, the night before I left for Serica."
" That certainly is some worthless drivel you''ve remembered."
Narses tutted in disapproval, but Dariun persisted.
"It''s said that the Lusitanians massacre all non-worshippers of their god Ialdabaoth. Don''t you think it''s doubtful that a people who would discriminate thus in their god''s name would truly have any intent to emancipate the ghm?"
"Even if that is so, a ve would certainly choose to be released from the undeniable dissatisfactions of the present, rather than the uncertain horrors of the future."
Having so dered, Narses turned to face the prince. "Your Highness Arn, I am not in your lord father''s favor. If you insist on employing me as an adviser, it shall only deepen his displeasure. I daresay that won''t do you much good."
Looking terribly young and so very unlike his father the king, the prince allowed a bitter smile to sh across his delicate face.
"That is not an issue. I myself have never been in my lord father''s favor. And Dariun here has also fallen from my lord father''s esteem. In any case, we are all of us fellows in his dislike. Is that not so?"
Was this prince truly so unaffectedly honest? Or was he just at a rebellious stage? Narses gave him a brief, considering nce. Arn met his gaze with a starched, utterly guiltless expression, upon which Narses let out a small sigh.
"Whether in war or in politics, all fades to ash in the end. That alone which survives through posterity is the work of a Great Master. Truly I am aware of how rude this must seem, but I absolutely cannot make any promises about leaving this mountain. But if there is any way I might serve you during your stay here"
"I understand. I apologize for needlessly pressing the matter."
Arn smiled gently. Then, weariness settling suddenly onto his face, he yawned.
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (3)
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (3)
For some time after the prince had crawled into bed in the adjacent room, Dariun and Narses continued their conversation in hushed tones. It was at this point that Dariun confided in his friend the peculiar orders of his Uncle Vahriz.
"That His Majesty can adore Queen Tahmineh to such an extent, and yet keep himself so oddly distanced from His Highness Arn I really cannot make sense of it."
"The queen consort, eh" muttered Narses, folding his arms. "I happened to see Queen Tahmineh a few times myself when I was a child. Her beauty was truly not of this world. But at any rate, before she became Prince Kayumars''s consort, it seems she was his framatar''s intended."
"A lord steals his vassal''s intended? Such is the seed of national turmoil. And what happened to this miserable framatar?"
"Committed suicide, apparently. Pitiful to be certain, but I suppose there''s no guarantee things would have turned out better had he lived on."
The two turned to their wine and fell silent, each recalling the history of events that had preceded Arn''s birth.
.
In the 301st year of Pars and the thirtieth year of his reign, Shah Gotarzes II, Grand Protector of the Great Continental Road, passed away. The sixty-one-year-old king was survived by two sons, twenty-seven-year-old Osroes and twenty-five-year-old Andragoras. Before his passing, the king had already formally instated Osroes as crown prince, and as younger brother Andragoras was in full support of his older brother''s ession, Osroes seeded the throne without incident.
The new king instated his younger brother as Eran, turning overmand of the entire army to him. For two years the brothers sessfully cooperated in upholding the legacies of their illustrious father, but it was not long before disaster came calling.
In the year 303 of Pars, civil discord arose in the southeastern Principality of Badakhshan, which had until then been allied with Pars. This nation had always been situated between Pars and Sindhura, and as such was sometimes on better terms with the former, and sometimes on better terms with thetter, but ever since the ession of Gotarzes II they had maintained an alliance with Pars. Despite this, upon Gotarzes II''s demise, the waning Sindhuran faction at the Badakhshan court began to wriggle back to life.
"The Kingdom of Pars owes its stability entirely to King Gotarzes. Without that great king, Pars is no longer to be relied upon. We ought to make a treaty with the Kingdom of Sindhura in order to ensure peace for our nation."
As those voices gained in influence, the Principality of Badakhshan expelled the Parsian ambassador and established amicable rtions with the Kingdom of Sindhura.
Andragoras made Vahriz his deputymander and led ten thousand riders sweeping into the territories of Badakhshan. Prince Kayumars, the lord of Badakhshan, sent out a distress call to Sindhura requesting aid. Although Sindhura immediately sent relief forces, Andragoras had already, with cutthroat speed, traversed the entirety of Badakhshan and destroyed all the bridges on the river that the Sindhuran army needed to cross into the country. With the Sindhuran army''s advance thus obstructed, Andragoras turned his own forces back around and seized the capital of Badakhshan, Helmandus. Prince Kayumars of Badakhshan threw himself off one of the city towers, and everyst one of the two thousand ministers and generals of the Sindhuran faction who had tempted him down this path were killed by the conquering Parsians. Upon Andragoras announcing the annexation of Badakhshan to Pars, the Sindhuran army gave up and returned to their home country.
Up to this point the Kingdom of Pars still had no inkling or foreshadowing of the misfortune yet toe.
However, Andragoras had discovered inside the capital a single woman whose existence would soon irrevocably alter the destinies of the two royal brothers. That woman was the deceased Prince Kayumars''s young consort Tahmineh.
Osroes dly weed his victorious little brother back to the capital Ecbatana. To reward his brother, he intended to confer upon him the entire territory of former Badakhshan along with the title of Vice Regent.
But Andragoras shook his head and replied, "Brother, I need neithernds nor throne. All I ask for is Kayumars''s consort"
That he should make this request was in ordance with thews of Pars. All spoils of war went first to the king, who then distributed them among his soldiers as he saw fit.
"What, more thannd or position, you say you want but a single woman? What an undesirous fellow! Very well then, I shall give you that woman along with a new estate, and jewels to adorn her with!"
After Andragoras gave thanks and took his leave, Osroes''s curiosity was unexpectedly piqued by this woman who had stirred his brother''s heart. When it came to warring and hunting and feasting, Andragoras showed plenty of enthusiasm, but never before had gossip linked him amorously with any woman.
Osroes secretly called upon the mansion where Tahmineh was being held under house arrest, and there beheld her taking a stroll in the courtyard under the light of the moon. By the time he departed from the mansion, he had decided to wed Tahmineh himself. Neither his station as king nor his position as an older brother carried weight with him any longer.
During his time as crown prince, Osroes had taken a wife at eighteen and by the following year had sired a son. After that, his wife passed away from illness, and he had never officially named a queen, preferring to maintain a bachelor''s lifestyle. But now, he meant to bring those days to an end. The very next day, when Andragoras went to visit Tahmineh, she had already been moved to court on his brother''s orders.
Andragoras was furious. He pressed his brother the king, dering "This is not what you promised!" but Osroes resorted to the excuse that there had been no witnesses nor written agreement and dismissed his brother''s protests. At the same time, he granted his younger brother not only the territories of former Badakhshan and the position of Vice Regent, but also bestowed upon him 100,000 dinars and several beauties, thinking to cate him in this manner. However, Andragoras withdrew to his own estates and from then on refused to show his face at court.
Osroes had intended to wed Tahmineh by force, but due to the remonstrations of Vahriz and various other important retainers, he had no choice but to give up on that notion. No matter how he tried to defend himself, the fact remained that he had broken his promise to his younger brother.
Thus did the rtionship between the brothers drastically sour, and discord spread throughout the court. If one were topare, the sympathies of the courtiersy inrge part with the valorous warrior Andragoras, rather than the weak and ailing Osroes. Naturally, those who sided with the younger brother incurred Osroes''s displeasure, and were expelled from court, exiled to provincial cities and border regions. Vahriz, too, was relegated to a fortress at the western border with Misr.
Andragoras was growing increasingly unamused. Abandoning his duties as Eran, he holed up in his own residence and drowned his sorrows in drink. For King Osroes, this served as a perfect excuse. He dismissed his younger brother from the position of Eran, demoted him to Marzban, and deployed him to the eastern border.
"If I keep Andragoras and Vahriz too close, they shall no doubt plot rebellion. Splitting them up east and west by three hundred farsangs shall keep them from being able to discuss betrayal with one another."
Such had been his considerations, but just as the new assignments were to be publicly announced, Osroes took to the sickbed. He had taken Tahmineh out hunting when his mount shied and threw him, injuring his shoulder. Because of this wound, he came down with a high fever.
After several days of unabated fever, the king''s physical condition swiftly deteriorated. His physicians'' arduous treatments were ineffective; the priests'' prayers were in vain. The king descended into a critical state.
If a king were to die, he must have a sessor to take his ce. Usually it was the king''s eldest male child who would continue the royal line, but as Osroes''s son was only eleven years old at this point, the ceremonies formally naming him crown prince had not yet been held. Osroes had kept from doing so on ount of younger brother Andragoras and his supporters. After all, powerful enemiesy on either side of Pars, and if a mere boy of eleven were to take the throne, it would no doubt stir the ambitions of those various nations.
On the neenth day of the fifth month, a cloudless summer night overflowing with moonlight and flowery fragrance, Andragoras, younger brother of the king, was summoned to the royal pce. One hourter, news of Osroes''s demise and Andragoras''s ession was officially announced.
"King Osroes wrote a will stating that the prince was to seed him after his death, with Andragoras serving as regent. But Andragoras smothered the king in his sickbed with a pillow and thus became king himself."
"No, King Osroes grew suspicious of the rtionship between his younger brother and Consort Tahmineh. Mad with jealousy, he summoned his brother to the pce with murderous intent, only for the tables to be turned on him."
All manner of rumors propagated, but after Andragoras became Shah with the overwhelming support of the military, the people mped their mouths shut. Not long afterward, a corner of the pce identally caught fire, and the previous king Osroes''s son burned to death. The pce chef who took responsibility for setting the fire was executed. Subsequently, the newly kinged Andragoras named Vahriz Eran. The mysterious longstanding guest of the pce Tahmineh was wed to Andragoras in the following year, and epted the mantle of queen. After another year, Prince Arn was born
And until this year, not even the slightest peep of conflict had stirred Andragoras''s reign.
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (4)
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (4)
By the time Arn awoke the next morning from a deep, dreamless slumber, the autumnal sun was already high overhead. It seemed rather embarrassing to bezing around indulgently in bed despite all the hardship and difficulties he would no doubt be facing from now on. Bedding had beenid out on the floor, too, where Dariun seemed to have spent the night. Feeling that he had been cruelly monopolizing a great many privileges simply on ount of being a king''s son, Arn grew subdued. He dressed hastily and headed to the adjacent room, where it seemed Dariun and Narses had also only just awoken.
Just as the three of them were exchanging their greetings, from the outside there sounded the rumble of hoofbeats. Everyone inside tensed at once.
The window was open a crack. Dariun peered through, sweeping his gaze across the scene outside. Though he''d not had the time to don his armor, he had with one hand already drawn his sword from its scabbard.
"I''ve seen those faces before. Qaran''s men."
"Oho" Narses tapped his chin with a finger. "Well, aren''t they discerning ing all the way here to search for you two. I suppose that''s Qaran for you, to have trained such excellent subordinates"
Suddenly Narses snapped his mouth shut and sent a suspicious gaze toward Dariun. Dariun attempted an innocent expression, but Narses shrewdly pressed on.
"I''d forgotten to inquire until now, Dariun, but by which route did youe here?"
Aware of Arn''s shocked stare affixed on his profile, Dariun shrugged his wide shoulders and offered a few ce names.
" Well, around thereabouts."
"Right past Qaran''s stronghold!" groaned Narses, pitching a wild re at Dariun''s face. "You scoundrel! You knew perfectly well there were other ways here, but purposely chose the one route you knew Qaran''s men would be watching! You meant to drag me into this from the start, to force me into bing your ally, didn''t you!?"
Having been seen through, Dariun came clean at once.
"Forgive me, but I had no choice. All was for the sake of your genius. Now that we''vee to this, Narses, you might as well give up on that hermit lifestyle of yours or whatever ande serve His Royal Highness!"
Narses growled again and kicked at the floor. He had no time to settle things with Dariun. He bade Arn and Dariun climb up into the ceiling from the adjacent room, then pulled away thedder. m''s voice echoed from the entrance.
"Lord Narses is still in slumber. I humbly request that you leave ah, how rude!"
The door was forced open and m shoved aside as several soldiers stumbled in. When Narses had finished helping him back up, a total of six armored knights had entered. Each one rested a hand on his sword. No doubt they were aware of Narses''s reputation with a de.
The middle-aged man who seemed to be the eldest of the six spoke up. "You are none other than the former lord of Dam, Sir Narses, if I am not mistaken."
"I am but an ordinary hermit."
"You are Sir Narses, aren''t you!?"
"I am indeed Narses. However, having offered my name, I wonder if the other party might not identify themselves as well?"
Narses spoke in a voice so low he could barely be heard. For a moment the knights quailed, but on noticing that Narses carried no sword, they rxed and became quite courteous.
"Our deepest apologies. We are here on themand of our lord, Eran Qaran of Pars."
Up in the darkness of the ceiling, long-limbed Dariun twitched. Arn, too, stopped breathing. Ever since King Andragoras''s ession, any mention of the Eran of Pars should have referred to Vahriz alone.
"Eran Qaran certainly has a nice ring to it. Be that as it may, the vicissitudes of the world truly are imensurable. When I withdrew from court, themander-in-chief of this country was still the doyen Vahriz, but perhaps the good elder has retired as well?"
Narses raised his voice so that the hiding Dariun andpany could hear clearly of these developments.
"Or perhaps, you cannot mean that he has passed away"
"Old man Vahriz has indeed kicked the bucket. And not of illness either. Even now, his wrinkled head lies rotting before the gates of Ecbatana, mouth hanging open, demanding the surrender of everyone in the city!"
A violent tremor jolted through Dariun''s body. The sound seeped through the thick panels of the ceiling, arousing the knights'' suspicions.
"What was that noise?"
"Wild rats, no doubt. They''re alwaysing in after my grain stores, the nuisances. Incidentally, might I inquire what purpose you have alle calling for, so early in the morning?"
In truth, there was no need for him to ask, but Narses made the inquiry regardless, deliberately and shamelessly ying dumb. The knights pursed their lips in displeasure.
"Several witnesses have stated that they saw the defeatedmanders Arn, as well as Dariun, fleeing toward these mountains. Was the Lord Narses not aware of this?"
"Well, not in the slightest."
"Truly?"
"You speak of defeatedmanders, but to begin with, Dariun would never lose to anyone. As long as he did not encounter some incredibly ignoble treachery, that is."
The knights'' expressions filled visibly with rage, but their representative restrained hisrades.
"In that case, I do have a single request to make of you. In the name of our lord Eran Qaran, I ask that Sir Narses consider entering into our lord''s employ. The honorable master''s ingenuity, in addition to his first-rate swordsmanship, ce him highly in our lord''s regard"
Narses stroked his chin, looking rather bored.
"Hm. In the event that I should be Qaran''s subordinate, what manner ofpensation should I expect, I wonder?"
"All the privileges of a follower of Ialdabaoth."
The silence dragged out.
"And as an expression of gratitude, you may also resume lordship over the territories of Dam. What is your response?"
"Must I answer now?"
"By all means."
An acerbic smile surfaced on Narses''s face.
"Well, then. Go back and tell that dog Qaran this: Finish that rotten meat yourself. Narses finds it most unappetizing!''"
1. Howls of fury and dismay trailed behind the knights as they toppled deep into the ground beneath. There arose the sound of violent sshing and ttering armor. Apparently a pitfall had been dug out there and filled with water.
"Fools. Did you think I would not have made measures for entertaining discourteous or uninvited guests?"
Narses turned his back on them. A storm of curses hurled up from the shadowy depths, but Narses did not even spare them a nce as he called for Arn and Dariun toe back down from the ceiling.
As Dariun walked in, he peeped into the darkness of the pit and said, "Those bastards can''t crawl back up, can they?"
"Not to worry. It''s about seven gaz from the surface of the water to the floor here. As long as they don''t hail from some n of newts, they shan''t be climbing out any time soon. That said, whatever shall we do with these fellows?"
"If it''s true Uncle has been killed, the bastards are of a feather with my sworn enemies. For that they shall pay."
Dariun''s voice trembled dangerously. Narses made a contemtive gesture.
"Now, hold on there. Murder isn''t going to put any food on the table. Let''s think of something a little more useful."
"Will they not drown?"
"Your Highness, there is no need for concern. The water is not even a gaz deep. As long as they don''t wish it, they shall most certainly not drown."
At that moment, the youth m interrupted.
"Lord Narses, breakfast has been ready for some time now. What should we do?"
"Ah, I''dpletely forgotten."
Narses''s mouth stretched into a broad grin, as if he found this all quite amusing.
"First, let''s go fill our stomachs, shall we? We can deal with those rude fellows anytime, but there is, as they say, a proper time for repast!"
Whether this was a sign of audacity or of remarkableposure, or nothing but a simple matter of frivolity, his reasoning was difficult to argue against.
At any rate, they proceeded to breakfast. Arn thought to help m in preparing the meal. It just didn''t seem right to sit around doing nothing while a boy his own age busied about. But m rejected Arn''s proposal in polite terms, then bluntly excused himself. The implication, more or less, was that the prince would probably end up more hindrance than help.
In the end, Arn directed all his attention into eating, but could not help but obsess over his own shorings regardless. Ever since the previous day, he had done nothing but ept help and support from other people, or to put it another way, it seemed he hadn''t done a thing for anyone else
Narses suddenly picked up his emptied te. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the te flying right into the face of the knight who was just about to crawl out of the pit onto the floor. There was an angry, agonized groan, followed by the sound of armor crashing into water. Just as they''d finally made it out of the pit to the surface by lifting each other up on their shoulders, they were forced to fall right back to where they started.
"Your efforts are appreciated, but I''m afraid you''ll just have to try again," said Narses with his wicked tongue.
"Lord Narses, please don''t abuse the dishes."
"Oh, sorry, m, sorry."
Scolded thus by his youthful retak, Narses rubbed the back of his neck in apologetic shame. It seemed that even for a man who did whatever he damn well pleased, there were asions when he, too, could only meekly lower his head to another.
"Lord Dariun, it doesn''t seem you''ve touched much of the food. Should I make something else for you?"
"No, m, it''s fine. This is enough."
All of a sudden Narses turned cross.
"No need to do anything for the likes of him. No thanks to this scoundrel, we must go searching for a new refuge now."
"Then why don''t you just cut it out with all this talk of giving up on the world and"
"Quiet, you traitor. You''ve no right to fuss over my peaceful lifestyle."
Seeing that Narses had turned a deaf ear to whatever he might say, and indeed seemed to want to give him a piece of his own mind instead, Dariun simply lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. That he so easily held his tongue was likely because he was busy thinking of how to interrogate the soldiers in the pit regarding his uncle''s death.
Arn set down his soup spoon.
"Narses, will this do? I, too, beg you: please join Dariun in aiding me."
"You are much too kind. However"
"Then how about this? In exchange for your loyalty, I shallpensate you ordingly."
"Bypensation I suppose you mean something like the dinars your lord father bestowed upon me?"
"No. I do not believe money could buy your loyalty."
"Rank, then? Framatar, perhaps?"
Narses''s only reaction seemed to be boredom. Written inly across his entire face was the sentiment, Do I really look like the kind of man who can be bribed with wealth or position?
"That''s not it. When I have expelled the Lusitanian barbarians and be the king of Pars, I shall wee you, Sir Narses, as my official court artist. How does that sound?"
Narses gaped at the prince. This had certainly fallen outside his expectations. A few beats of silence passed before he broke out in low, merryughter. It was as if something inside him had been removed or chased away.
"I like it. And how!"
After muttering to himself for a bit, Narses cast a triumphant nce at his friend.
"How about it? Did you hear that, Dariun? His Highness''s pronouncement is the perfect example of what they call a ruler''s magnamity. What a world of difference his broad-mindedness is,pared to one who lives his life wretchedly devoid of art!"
"Just drop it. Even if it is a wretched life, at least it''s one that doesn''t have anything to do with the likes of your so-called art."
As barbed tongue met barbed tongue, Dariun turned to look at his prince.
"Your Highness, if one such as Narses bes the official court artist, Parsian culture is doomed to degenerate. To make this man a scribe or a minister shows a ruler''s discernment, but to make him court artist of all things"
"Isn''t it all right, Dariun? Rather than allow some famed Lusitanian artist depict the manner of my death, I should rather have Narses illustrate the circumstances of my life. Do you not agree?"
Once more Dariun fell silent. Narses pped his hands together in glee.
"Your Highness, it seems Dariun is saying that as much as he dislikes the idea of dying, he dislikes the idea of me drawing his portrait even more! For that alone I would love to ept this assignment, but"
His joking manner vanished, reced with grave consideration.
"I suppose it''s true I cannot simply stand by and watch as the Lusitanian armies trample my country underfoot. Perhaps I have no choice but to put forth some effort, but still, it is as I mentionedst night: to King Andragoras, my name is taboo. Even though it is more than possible that Your Highness shall be incurring displeasure on my ount, is this still eptable?"
"Of course."
"Understood. Then I shall aid Your Highness, reluctant as I am to y straight into the hands of that ckguard Dariun"
Narsesughed as if everything was settled. The youth m prostrated himself before his master.
"You''ll take me along too, won''t you, Lord Narses?"
" Mm," answered Narses, a little too quickly, evidently reluctant to make an immediate decision. "I''ve an acquaintance in the port city of Gn. I''d meant to entrust you to him."
This acquaintance was the mercantile shipowner of about ten sailing vessels; even if the Lusitanian army''s invasion were to reach so far, those vessels could still set sail and escape across the sea to othernds. A letter would be provided when he went, along with enough money to cover travel and living expenses all of this Narses exined, but m refused it all, begging to stay by his Lord Narses''s side.
2alike was not shabby. Furthermore, for Arn, it was an opportunity to make a friend of the same age whom he would have never met at court.
^
2short sword ^
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (5)
Book 1: Chapter 2.: Mount Bashur (5)
By the time the knights serving Qaran finally seeded in crawling out of the pit, each of them soiled and dripping with water, blood, mud, and humiliation, the sun had just about hit high noon. Of course, Arn and his party of four were long gone, as were the seven horses the knights hade on. They copsed onto the floor.
Before long, an angry curse erupted from the blood-smeared lips of the knight whose face had been struck by Narses''s te.
"Damn! Escaped, have they?"
"Lord Qaran''s got men stationed unfailingly along every route leading from the mountains to the ins. Had he not made such considerations, what kind of a strategist or Marzban would he be? Just you watch! We''ll spit on their corpses before the day''s over!"
"They must have confidence in breaking through the encirclement, no? Whatever you say, it''s Dariun and Narses!" one of thepany replied gloomily. Having been so splendidly taken advantage of already, his thoughts inclined towards pessimism.
After rampaging through the room in retaliation, those undeservedly titled knights filed back down the mountain trail. Arn and the others, hiding in a cave on the mountain, received the report of this from m.
"Tough for them. Descending the trail in full armor and on foot, it''ll probably take them the rest of the day just to reach the base. Well, let''s pray for their sake that they don''t run into any bears or wolves, eh?"
Narses exined the situation to Arn and Dariun. Were they to also descend the mountain right away, they would certainly be caught in a blockade. Better to hole up in this cave for the time being and raise doubt in the enemy. Only then would Narses put his strategy into y.
"At this point what I want to say is that it''s all thanks to Dariun''s meddling that Qaran''s people have surrounded the mountains. But the fact is, no matter what, a blockade was inevitable. Let''s think of a way to take advantage, shall we?" said Narses, who actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Arn asked what he meant to do, but received no concrete response.
"Have the enemy forces gather right where we want them. That is the very first step of what we call military strategy."
No matter how much military power one might possess, said Narses, to achieve victory without expending said power or doing the impossible was the whole point of strategy.
Arn attempted a mild rebuttal.
"But in order to save me, Dariun broke through an entire army on his own."
"That is a matter of individual valor."
As he offered this pithy remark, Narses winked at Dariun. Dariun remained silent, his only response a faint, wry smile.
"A warrior of Dariun''s caliber is not even one in a thousand. That, of course, is where his value lies. But anyone whomands an army must base his standard on the weakest of his soldiers and construct a strategy that shall lead to victory even under such conditions. So too is it for one who calls himself ruler of a nation. Supposing his is the most ipetent ofmanders, to avoid defeat at enemy hands he must even work out stratagems that involve no fighting at all."
Narses''s voice brimmed with passion. Sooner orter, Arn thought, he would have given up on the hermit''s life regardless of my interference.
"Regretful as it is to put in such terms, to be enthralled by one''s own military power while underestimating enemies and thus neglecting strategical considerations, what recourse is left when in a single moment the entire situation goes to pieces? The tragedy of Atropatene could be said to be a perfect example of this."
Arn could only nod. At the ins of Atropatene he had witnessed it all with his own eyes: just how bravely the knights of Pars fought as well as how futile their efforts were in the end.
"From since before his ession, King Andragoras has never once suffered a military defeat. And so, in his conceit, no matter what manner of problem he encounters, his solution is to use military force. That which cannot be solved through battle, then, he would avoid. As much as he enjoyed taking the heads of enemy generals on the battlefield, he cared not one whit about the internal hypocrisies and injustices of the kingdom"
Narses''s eyes were entirely devoid of humor.
"Your Highness, should I at any time feel that you, as King Andragoras''s sessor, show no inclination to do better in this regard, I shall relinquish the position of court artist."
What Narses was saying was that a retainer had the right to abandon his lord; however, it had been just three years ago when he had done precisely that. This was no mere bluff. Arn nodded feelingly. Regarding the governance of his father the king, the prince was not at all without his own views. With a slight smile, Narses called out to his friend, who had been staring at his sword in stony silence.
"Dariun, even if Qaran shows his face, you''d better not kill him! There''s no mistaking it: for whatever reason, he''s aware of some outrageously dirty details, eh? We absolutely must hear them from the man himself."
"Dirty details?" demanded sharp-eared Arn. Narses had no choice but tough it off.
"Indeed. Truly outrageous matters. Nevertheless, whatever those matters may be, I cannot even begin to guess at right now."
Nodding, Arn surveyed the interior of the cave. It was spacious enough to amodate four people and eleven horses with ease; the winding entryway prevented passersby from seeing inside. Though at first nce one assumed it was a conveniently positioned natural formation, it turned out that Narses and m had tunneled it out themselves.
"One never knows what might happen, after all. As a rule, I maintain several such hiding ces at any given time," exined Narses. On being questioned if there were perchance any other entrances or exits, the response was a cool nod. Along with the pit in the cottage, everything disyed what a meticulous sort of man this was.
Arn could not help but feel that he had acquired a most excellent ally, vastly iparable to himself in both age and ability. Nothing could be more reassuring than this, and yet his thoughts strayed to even more terrifying heights. Inadequate though he himself might be, Arn now had no choice but to be someone worthy of the loyalty of the likes of Dariun and Narses.
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Ablaze (1)
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Aze (1)
The sun sinks, casting the western horizon in gold.
In an instant, the clear blue skies deepen to dusk; flocks of birds streak away from their formations, returning to their nests. Oranges and ears of wheat flush amber across the ins. The eternally snowcapped peaks stretching far to the east and north reflect the light of the setting sun, dazzling the eyes of everyone on the road. Travelers both mounted and on foot bustle along paths shadowed by elm, cypress, and por, hurrying to reach the gates of Ecbatana before they close for the night.
Such was the typical scene of an autumn sunset in Pars. But now, smoke rose dark from the burnt fields, the roads were littered with the corpses of ughtered peasantry, and the air was rife with the smell of blood.
Following the devastating loss at Atropatene, the Parsian capital of Ecbatana had been surrounded by Lusitanian forces.
Ecbatana served not only as the royal capital of Pars, but also as the most vital stop along the entire Great Continental Road. Caravans from countries far and wide assembled here silks, ceramics, paper, and tea from Serica; jades and rubies from the Principality of Farhaal; horses from the Kingdom of Turan; ivory, leather handicrafts, and bronzes from Sindhura; olive oil, wool, and wine from the Kingdom of Maryam; rugs from the Kingdom of Misr all these misceneous goods giving rise to a teeming hotspot of trade.
Aside from Parsian, the lingua franca of the GreatContinental Road, dozens of othernguages formed a medley among the people, horses, camels, and donkeys milling about the paved streets. Inside the taverns, golden-haired Maryamian women, dark-haired Sindhuran women, and beauties from all the nations vied with each other in terms of allure, and guests were served with famed wines from all over the world. Serican conjurers, Turanian stunt riders, and Misri magicians entertained the masses with their clever tricks, apanied by Farhaali musicians on flute. Thus had Ecbatana flourished for the past three hundred years.
1 east to west, 1.2 farsangs2 north to south, 12 gaz3 in height, and 7 gaz4 in thickness. Each of its nine gates was defended by iron double doors. Even under siege from the great armies of Misr the previous year, they had not so much as quivered.
"But back then, within these walls stood King Andragoras. Now"
Although the two Marzbans Saam and Garshasp were present, with the king''s whereabouts unknown and only Tahmineh in charge, the people of the city grew increasingly uneasy.
Suddenly, there was a strange urrence. Heading toward the front ranks of the besieging Lusitanians, there appeared an uncovered horsecart guarded by about ten soldiers. Another pair of figures rode on top besides the driver. As the taller figure in the back was gradually identified beneath the darkening skies, the Parsian troops were shaken.
It was Shapur, one of the Marzbans of Pars. Two thick thongs encircled his neck, and his hands were likewise bound behind his back. Blood and grime smeared his entire body, but especially horrific were the wounds on his brow and lower right, gaping ever wider as blood oozed incessantly from beneath the dressing. The Parsian soldiers cried out upon seeing the famed Marzban in such a terrible state.
"Hear me, o infidels of the city, who know no fear of God!" someone roared in heavily ented Parsian. All the soldiers on the walls directed their attention to the little ck-robed man standing beside Shapur.
"I am a priest who serves the one true god Ialdabaoth the Archbishop and Grand Inquisitor Bodin! To convey the will of God to ye infidels have Ie. Through this infidel''s flesh shall I convey all!"
Bodin eyed the mortally injured Parsian warrior without mercy.
"First I shall chop off the little toe of this knave''s left foot."
There was the sound of smacking lips.
"Next shall be his ring toe, then his middle toe when I have finished with his left foot, I shall continue with his right, and then with his hands. I shall make all the infidels of the city realize the fate that awaits those who defy God!"
All the Parsian soldiers standing on the city walls cursed the priest''s brutality, but what angered Bodin were the shouts of censure from the ranks of his own allies.
He uttered, in a soft but perfectly clear voice, "Godforsaken fools!"
The archbishop red at his allies, as if to stave off any criticism with his ck-robed chest, and yelled out in Lusitanian.
"This knave is an infidel. A demon worshipper who holds no faith in the one true god Ialdabaoth, one who has turned away from the light, a beast who is cursed to dwell in darkness! To take pity on an infidel is the same as turning your back on God!"
At this point, the bloody, mudstained Marzban''s eyes zed alight, and he opened his mouth.
"A bastard like you has no right to denounce my faith!" spat Shapur. He did not understand Lusitanian, but just by seeing the priest''s wrathful state he could guess at the gist of whatever was being said.
"Kill me at once! If your god is truly a savior, then let him send me to hell or wherever he pleases. And from there I shall watch as your god and your country alike are consumed by your own cruelty!"
The archbishop jumped up and beat Shapur viciously across the mouth with the staff in his hand. Unsettling noises could be heard as thetter''s lips were torn, his teeth shattered, his blood sttering into the air.
"Damned heathen! Godforsaken infidel!"
Amid this cursing, Shapur''s face was struck a second time, and the staff snapped. In all likelihood his cheekbones had been smashed in as well. Even so, Shapur opened his stained red mouth and called out.
"Oh people of Ecbatana! Should you have pity, then shoot me! There is no more saving me now. I would rather die by the arrows of my own people than be tortured to death by Lusitanian barbarians!"
He was unable to finish his speech. The archbishop leaped up and raised a great shout, and two Lusitanian soldiers rushed up, one stabbing his sword through Shapur''s leg and the other ying his chest. Cries of rage and sympathy echoed from the walls of Ecbatana, but no one seemed to possess enough skill toe to the aid of the unfortunate warrior.
At that moment, a swift soft whistle passed by everyone''s ears. Lusitanians and Parsians alike looked up. From atop the walls of Ecbatana an arrow came flying and found its mark between Shapur''s eyes, forever releasing him from his suffering.
Cheers resounded. Considering the distance between Shapur and the city walls, it must have taken an archer of great strength to y him in a single shot. From the Lusitanian ranks flew forth several dozen arrows, each aimed at a shadowy figure loitering atop a corner of the ramparts. But not a single one reached the walls, much less hit their target.
All eyes focused on that single point, raising quite a stir of both praise and curiosity. The one who had shot the original arrow was a single young man. He was no armored soldier. Despite the bow in his hand and the sword on his hip, he was wearing an embroidered hat and a simrly embroidered tunic, dressed just like some young vagabond. An oud lute was propped by his feet. Two soldiers hurried toward the young man and called out to him as they neared.
"The Queen Consort requests your presence. She wishes to reward the one who relieved the brave Shapur from his suffering."
"Oh I suppose I''m not to be interrogated for murder?"
^
2~6 km ^
3~12 m ^
4~7 m ^
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Ablaze (2)
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Aze (2)
The queen consort Tahmineh was waiting in the audience room for the heroic nameless archer. To the left and right of the throne she was supported by the principal retainers who yet remained in the capital the prime minister Husrav and the Marzbans Garshasp and Saam.
The queen looked younger than her thirty-six years, or to be more precise, hers was an ageless beauty. Her raven hair, jet-ck eyes, and ivory skin glimmered all the more for the jewels and silks adorning her.
On a rug ten gaz before the throne, a young man knelt down in reverence. The queen studied him with great interest.
"By what name art thou known?"
The young man lifted his face and replied to the queen''s query in a singsong voice, "Giv they call me, Your Majesty. A wandering minstrel by profession."
This young man named Giv looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three. His hair was rich and dark as wine, and his eyes were the deepest of blues. Thedies-in-waiting whispered and sighed, admiring his long, lithe build and fine, delicate beauty. But his expression as he stared back at the queen was incredibly brazen. Along with his earlier disy of archery, it was hard to imagine that he was just a man who wandered the world plying his trade as a musician.
The queen inclined her head. The light of thenterns seemed to sway with her movement.
1, Your Majesty. Other than that, I can either flute or sing; I am a poet and a dancer as well. I''m not bad with the barbat2 either." He continued shamelessly, "If I might add, my technique with bow, sword, and spear is also a cut above the rest."
Marzban Saam furrowed his brow while Garshasp scoffed. For two valorous Mardan-level warriors, this could onlye across as a bunch of hot air.
"I too witnessed thy skill at archery from the west tower. Thou didst rescue faithful Shapur from his suffering. For that I must thank thee."
"I am truly honored."
Despite his words, it was clear from the way the young man looked at the queen that he expected some other reward in addition to her gratitude.
It might have been a look of worship, or perhaps even longing. Faced with the indescribably beguiling beauty of the queen consort Tahmineh, any young man would harbor such cheap sentiment, and likewise Tahmineh was used to being the subject of such. However, that was not the case here. His expression was not only one of brazen insolence, but seemed to regard the queen of an entire nation as one might judge any ordinary woman, and furthermore disyed dissatisfaction at being showered with mere praise, as well as a demand for some further form of rpense.
It was at this point that one ofdies-in-waiting standing in attendance at either side of the queen stepped forth and raised her voice in shrill protest.
"Please pardon my interruption. Your Majesty, your humble servant recognizes this individual. He is a most outrageous man."
Thedy stabbed an usatory finger at this "vagabond minstrel."
"This man cannot be trusted. He is a chatan who deceived me."
"Deceived thee? How so?"
"Allow your servant to confront this man, and it shall be known."
Upon obtaining the queen''s permission, thedy red at Giv and berated him.
"You are a prince of the State of Sistan, disguised as a minstrel while traveling about various nations in order to undertake training as a warrior did you not tell me this just the night before?"
"I did."
"But now you im to Her Majesty the queen that you are just a minstrel. Is that not a lie!?" shrieked thedy. Giv, unaffected, rubbed at his jaw as he looked back at her.
"Not with the intention of pulling the wool over your eyes did I speak thus! That was my dream, a dream you shared with me for a single night. And when the darkness of night surrendered to the light of dawn, that dream vanished like dew upon grass and leaf. Nothing but lovely memory remains now."
These could be described as lines no one could possibly stomach, but recited in Giv''s musical tones they sounded like the most natural thing in the world. It was really quite incredible.
"Come, is it not foolish to shred such a lovely dream with the wretched de of reality? If only you had understood, the dream would have transformed into memory, all the more sweet and beautiful for it, coloring and enriching the rest of your life. Forcing everything to adhere to a pragmatic philosophy of profit and loss is uncouth. There is no need to pursue such a barren path."
Giv had basically wrung everyst drop out of thisdy-in-waiting. Having left her with no possible counter, he turned to the queen.
"Sistan is the name of an ancient nation that no longer exists in this world, and thus is not something that should trouble a single soul. Rather, one cannot help but marvel: are women all over the world truly so weak to the word prince''? No matter how a sincere a lover she might have, a woman will toss him aside just for a strange vagabond who ims to be a king''s son. Truly, such shallow women are suited only for equally shallow dreams."
He was rather impudently dodging the point, but when it came to this young man named Giv, what was truly deceptive was the refined, princely mien he had been graced with. That, far more than the reality,y in perfect ordance with the fantasies of most young women.
"Of thy eloquence I am now well aware. Thy archery, too, I have already witnessed. Now it should be time to disy the skills of thy original vocation."
Queen Tahmineh waved her hand slightly, and herdies carried in a barbat made of gold. Giv epted it and confidently began to strum.
Even if his technique was not perfect, of those present, not a single person could tell. To the mesmerized courtiers, the sound of his ying possessed an elegant lyricism, and to the women in particr every note seemed to be steeped in sensuality.
After a single song, the women greeted the beautiful minstrel with fervent apuse. The men followed, somewhat more reluctantly.
Queen Tahminehmanded the chambein to award Giv two hundred dinars. One hundred for his archery, and one hundred for his music, she dered. Giv dipped his head respectfully, but in his heart he decried the queen as an unexpectedly stingy bitch. He''d been expecting a reward closer to five hundred dinars, at least. At this point the queen spoke.
"For the crime of misleading my handmaiden, some amount was /watch?v=UDYsDzphlIU^
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Ablaze (3)
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Aze (3)
At the walls in the far reaches of the capital where the sound of Giv''s barbat could not reach, fire and sword continued to conduct a symphony of ughter. The Lusitanians who had been momentarily daunted by their hostage''s death resumed their assault on the walls, and the Parsians as well met them in battle from the ramparts. On seeing the approach of the Lusitanians'' siege towers, a single soldier rushed to report to Marzban Saam.
"It''s them! Those are the towers from which they shot fire arrows and shamed our troops!"
"That sort of child''s y?"
With a cluck of his tongue, Saam ordered the soldiers to fill bags of sheepskin with oil. Lining up shields to block the onught of arrows from the towers, they took advantage of a break in action tounch the bags from catapults. The bags hit the towers, and oil spilled out from the torn stitches, drenching the soldiers on top.
"Release the fire arrows!"
Right onmand, hundreds of fiery arrows colored the sky in red streaks. Not a single thing obstructed the view from the walls to the towers.
The Lusitanian siege towers transformed into towers of me. The Lusitanian soldiers, bodies engulfed by fire, howled as they tumbled to the ground; soon afterwards, the towers themselves copsed as well.
Having lost their towers, the Lusitanians leaned scalingdders one after another against the walls and began to climb. In turn, the Parsians on the walls released a barrage of arrows upon their enemies'' heads, showered boiling oil on them before loosing fire arrows, and every now and thenunched heavy rocks via catapult to crush the Lusitanian soldiers. The asional Lusitanian did manage to reach the top, but was each and every one surrounded by the defending Parsian soldiers and in.
At this point the seige of Ecbatana had alreadysted ten days, but the Lusitanians had been unable to progress a single step into the city. The Lusitanians, having already lost fifty thousand of their number at the Battle of Atropatene, perhaps realized the foolishness of a direct assault through force alone and chose to resort atst to psychological tactics.
On the fifth day of the eleventh month, more than a hundred heads were lined up on a tform at the forefront of the Lusitanian ranks. "Surrender, or share their fate!" a simple threat, but upon seeing such faces as had been familiar to them in life, the audience was struck no small blow.
The queen consort Tahmineh turned a pale face to Marzban Saam, who hade to the pce to make his report. "Surely not, surely not His Majesty."
"No, my queen. His Majesty''s was not witnessed among them. Only the Eran, Lord Vahriz, and the Marzbans Manuchehr and Hayir"
Saam spoke through gritted teeth. To behold, in such a manner, the heads of men with whom he had once ridden to battle and shared drinks together, one could not possibly remain unfazed.
"Saam! Best to open the gates and sound a charge! What else is the cavalry for? We must not let these Lusitanian barbarians continue as they please," proposed Marzban Garshasp.
"There is no need for panic. We number ten thousand within these walls, and our provisions and weaponry are both more than sufficient. If we wait for reinforcements to arrive from the eastern border, with their support we can engage the Lusitanians out there in a pincer attack and demolish them in a single morning. Is there, then, any need for us tounch a premature attack?"
As the two men in charge of the city''s military affairs, Garshasp and Saam often butted heads. Garshasp favored swift action and resolution; Saam favored battles of endurance. Furthermore, when the Lusitanians outside the city had incited the ghm in the city to action with promises of emancipation, Garshasp supported methods of force to suppress the ves, while Saam opposed him, insisting that such actions would only further raise their ire andy the grounds for greater unrest.
"How many times must I tell you? No reason to panic. There is still Keshvad. Bahman as well. They will surely lead troops to our aid."
"When?"
Terse though it was, Garshasp''s response was filled to the brim with animosity. Nor did Saam feel any urge to answer him. Even if Keshvad and the others stationed at the eastern borders turned back toward the capital immediately upon receiving news of the defeat at Atropatene, it would take them no less than a month to arrive. Besides, he and Saam must now set aside these military matters to deal with a far more urgent quandary.
"Neither the status of His Majesty the king nor that of His Royal Highness the crown prince is known. Whom should we look to for leadership in the battle ahead of us?"
Garshasp spoke thus: "If by some mad chance something has happened to both of them, what shall be of the Kingdom of Pars?"
"When the timees, we shall have no choice but to crown the queen consort Tahmineh and have her rule the country as Queen Regnant."
"Tsk" Garshasp clucked his tongue. "If such a thinges to pass, no doubt the people of Badakhshan will rejoice. The consort of the Prince of Badakhshan bes Queen Regnant of Pars! In the end, is it not Badakhshan who has thestugh?"
"Don''t quibble over ancient history. Whatever she may have been in the past, she is at present none other than the queen consort of our kingdom. Other than her, who else can possibly be suitable for the position?"
Even as they spoke, the Lusitanians'' attack continued. In particr, the shouting directed at the ghm in the city increased relentlessly.
"O oppressed of the city! Mankind was not meant to be enved. All are equal in the eyes of Ialdabaoth. Whether king or knight or peasant, all alike are disciples of God. For how long do you intend to groan under the weight of tyranny? Redeem your dignity and break off your chains!"
"What nonsense. Aren''t you bastards the ones who are oppressing us?"
As Garshasp muttered unhappily to himself, an urgent report arrived.
"The ves have set fire to the Great Temple! They beat the priests to death with their chains and intend to wee the Lusitanians through the west gate!"
Garshasp was at that time directing the defense of the north gate, but immediately entrustedmand to his subordinate and rode alone to the west gate. Amid a swirl of me and smoke shed a skirmishing mob of ves and soldiers.
"Defend the gates! Don''t let them be opened!"
As Garshasp flew to the gates on horseback, the ves, bearing torches and sticks, at first made as if to run. But on noticing that Garshasp was by himself, they swarmed forward again. It seemed they meant to drag him from his mount.
Garshasp''s sword shed left and right from atop his horse in flurries of pale light. Bright blood leaped from the ground in response as the corpses of ves began to litter the stone pavement. Crying out in despair, the ves attempted to flee, this time for real, only to find themselves surrounded by Saam and his arriving men. Thus were the gates barely secured.
"Garshasp! Is killing ves something to be proud of?" spat a disgusted Saam.
Garshasp lost his temper. "They are not ves, but insurgents!"
"Wielding nothing but sticks?"
"Within their hearts, they carried swords!"
Confronted with this sharp rebuttal, Saam shut his mouth. But as he watched the ves being whipped back into ce and dragged off, he spoke again.
"Look at their eyes, Garshasp. You may have killed a dozen insurgents, but in exchange you have given birth to a thousand more."
Saam''s prognosis hit the mark.
The very next day, not far from the north gate, the ves who had been imprisoned there in a small cell revolted.
Unable to put up with these sessive ve riots any longer, Marzban Saam sought audience with Queen Tahmineh and offered exhaustive advice on how to ameliorate the situation.
"There is no longer any other choice. Your Majesty, I beg you: emancipate all the ves in the city, raise them to azat, and offer thempensation and arms. If this is not done, the impregnability of the royal capital shall be little more than a fanciful illusion."
The queen''s slender brows knit together in consternation.
"It is not that I do not understand thy suggestion, Lord Saam. However, the wispuhran, wuzurgan, azadan, azat, and ghm form the cornerstones of Parsian society. Wert thou to disturb the very foundations of the nation for naught but a momentary security, upon the return of His Majesty the king no excuse or apology should suffice."
Saam heaved a sigh at the queen''s obstinacy.
"That is indeed true. But with all due respect, Your Majesty, those so-called foundations are, even at this very moment, jeopardizing the capital. Who, after all, would fight for a country that keeps him under bondage? The enemiesying siege to us have promised these ves exactly what we cannot grant them. Even if that sort of promise can hardly be anything trustworthy, from the perspective of ves who have lost hope in their present circumstances, believing in such a promise is no longer unreasonable."
"I understand. I shall consider it."
As the queen offered no furthermitment, Saam was forced to withdraw.
And so the situation continued to worsen.
.
To the minstrel Giv, who had been bestowed a room in the pce, it was as if the fiery chaos of battle outside wasn''t any of his business at all. He indulged in a life of luxury, fine dining, and general indolence, until one night, he was summoned to the offices of the prime minister Husrav.
The prime minister, who, due to a bad stomach, looked as scrawny as an impoverishedmoner, greeted the young minstrel with an obsequious smile.
"I rather wonder if, as it seems to me, your wits are not just as impressive as your archery."
"So I''ve been told since I was a kid."
Giv''s blithe eptance of this ttery left the prime minister Husrav at a loss for words. His gaze roved about the detail of the mural on the walls. Then, with the manner of having made some sort of discovery, he invited Giv to sit. Well aware that he had the upper hand, the young minstrel settled down without the slightest hint of reserve.
"Now, then. There''s something I''d like to discuss with you. Given your indubitable cleverness, I suppose I can rely on you?"
Giv did not respond immediately. He fixed his gaze upon the minister''s face, everyst one of his senses probing the air about him. He could feel the metallic aura of de and armor. If he refused the minister''s proposal, his opponent wouldn''t be just one single fully armored knight. Besides, he was currently unarmed. If it came down to it, there was always the option of using the minister as a human shield, but this withered little official seemed to be sharper than he looked.
"So? How about it? Will you ept?"
"Let''s see given a proper reason and a proper reward, and not to mention the possibility of sess, then of course I''ll ept, but"
"To ensure the continuation of the Kingdom of Pars: that alone is the reason. The reward, I believe, shall be satisfactory."
"If that''s the case, Your Excellency, then I shall do my humble best."
Evidently gratified, Husrav nodded.
"Is that so? When she hears your response, I''m sure Her Majesty the queen shall also be pleased."
"Her Majesty!?"
"Summoning you here was not my idea. It was the will of Her Majesty. A sign of the great faith she ces in you."
"My, my. To ce her faith in a vagabond minstrel such as myself I''m quite simply ovee."
Neither party was being entirely sincere. Only one as stupid as a pig would believe in the courtesies of the powerful and the privileged.
"In brief, Giv, I would like you to escort Her Majesty the queen through a secret passage and take her somewhere safe outside the city."
"Her Majesty is going to escape the capital?"
"That''s right."
"The royal capital is titled thus because of the presence of the king and his consort. The moment either one is absent, Ecbatana shall no longer be worthy of her good name."
Whatever sarcasm was present in his words, the minister did not seem to notice, wrapped as it was in pleasant, silvery tones.
"If the queen sessfully escapes, and joins elsewhere with His Majesty the king in safety, thus establishing once more the royal authority of Pars, those generals and soldiers and subjects who yet remain loyal will surely gather there. Ecbatana or not, there is no need to fuss and cling over such a thing."
All in all, well said.
"There are a million citizens in Ecbatana. What about their lives?"
The moment Giv pointed this out, the minister instantly revealed his displeasure. As such talk was no longer mere sarcasm, but outright censure, the minister could hardly not notice.
"That has nothing to do with you. Most importantly, the royal family must be protected. It is simply impossible to take into ount every singlestmoner out there."
" That''s it. That''s exactly why innocent citizens have no choice but to fend for themselves. Just like me."
As the minister was no mindreader, he was unable to hear the muttering in Giv''s heart. That he had served as the prime minister of Pars for sixteen years without incident was simply because he adroitly anticipated the will of Andragoras, whose authority was absolute, without ever getting on his bad side, and possessed exceptionally keen judgment regarding both internal and external court intrigues.
All decisions were left to Andragoras. All Husrav had to do was realize those decisions ordingly. Though he did also enrich his personal coffers every now and then,pared to most other nobles and priests his offenses were not outrageous; and besides, it was probably taken for granted that a high-ranking official would take advantage of his position, and that one in a position of power would receive certain allowances from themonfolk. He had no reason to exin himself to the likes of some lowly vagabond minstrel such as Giv.
One hundred dinars were bestowed upon Giv. Giv epted them with a great show of reverence. No need, after all, to turn down that which was freely given.
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Ablaze (4)
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Aze (4)
Giv was walking along a long, spacious underground aqueduct that led outside the city. Torches zed all along the brick and stone-enforced waterway, and the flowing water reached halfway to Giv''s knees. Giv and the ck-veiled woman he was guiding had already been traipsing down the dark passage for about an hour.
This underground aqueduct existed for the royal family to escape in times of emergency, or so Giv had been informed by the prime minister. It was like that in all times and ces. Royalty and powerful officials always had an escape route set aside for their use alone, forbidden to themonfolk. Even the knowledge of their existence was not permitted. While themoners were ughtered by enemy soldiers, their corpses piling into a wall, the king and his n fled alone to safety. Was this not rather contrary? Without any nation to speak of, it was the king who''d be in trouble, not the people.
"No matter how you look at it, they''re selling me short."
Giv mocked both himself and the minister. As if the queen consort, unapanied by a single retainer ordy-in-waiting, would really entrust her fate to some wandering minstrel. That kind of thing happened only in the fanciful imaginings of a troubadour.
"You must be tired. Shall we rest a bit?"
The woman veiled in ck shook her head wordlessly. She probably hadn''t any confidence that her voice would tally, so to speak.
"Don''t push yourself, now. It''s gotta be tough just pretending to be Her Majesty."
After a long pause, a resigned voice broke the silence. It was, as it turned out, someone else''s.
"How did you realize?"
"The smell."
Giv pointed a finger at his shapely nose and disyed a knowing grin.
"Yer body odor''s not a thing like Her Majesty''s. Even if you use the same perfume."
To that, thedy had no response.
"Using you as a double while that fibbing queen consort makes her getaway. It''s that sort of arrangement, isn''t it."
Thedy''s lips remained sealed.
"That''s what highborn people are like. Assuming that it''s perfectly natural for others to serve them. Taking it for granted that others will sacrifice themselves for their sake. Not knowing a damn thing about gratitude. Conceited creatures they are, see."
"I shan''t allow you to nder Her Majesty."
"Good grief"
"No matter what Her Majesty and the Lord Minister think, I hear and obey loyally. All I have to do is fulfill my own duty."
"Now that''s what they call a ve mentality."
Giv spoke boldly and utterly without mercy.
"It''s because of servile types like you that the highborn can go on acting as they please. While they wallow in their owncency, you folks are the ones who end up suffering. That kind of duty sure as hell ain''t my thing."
"In that case, do you mean to say that you cannot take me any further?"
"Well, the agreement was for me to serve as the queen consort''s escort, not the escort of some courtdy ying pretend. Seeing as I''ve brought you this far anyway, you''ve got no cause forint, eh?"
Giv''s lithe body suddenly leaned back as thedy unsheathed her acinaces with a single sh. As he lightly dodged her second strike as well, a wry smile surfaced.
"Aw, cut that out. Faithless fellow I may be, but I''d never turn my de on a pretty woman."
In an instant, that smile went the way of dispersing mist. Even as she attacked with her shortsword the second time, thedy had also kneed Giv in the groin, leaving him speechless.
With Giv left unable to even fire onest retort, thedy ran off, water sshing in her wake. She probably intended to return to court to inform them of the situation. Wrong direction, Giv wanted to say, but couldn''t make a sound.
After running for a while, thedy lost her way and came to a stop beneath the frail light of a torch. Soon enough, a shriek escaped her, for she had spotted the outline of a strange figure all too close at hand.
"Well, well. What''s this? Does Her Glorious Majesty of Pars mean to forget the sufferings of her people and escape alone?"
The mes of the torch reflected off a silver mask, dissipating into little bursts of light.
"What a fitting pair she makes with that viin Andragoras! One deserts his men and flees the battlefield; the other abandons the capital and its people to burrow away underground. Where have you misced the responsibilities of those who sit the throne?"
In the shadows behind the ominously masked man lurked several dozen more figures. Amid her fear, thedy recollected her duty.
"Who art thou?"
This simple but grim query was repelled by chillingughter from the silver mask.
"One who shall exact true justice upon Pars."
The voice resounded against the walls and the water before dissolving into the darkness.
Hisughter had been cold, but utterly without humor. The man of the silver mask, at least, held no doubt whatsoever about his quest for justice.
Though her body was seized up in terror, thedy, still attempting to flee, kicked up her feet in the water. But when her gaze passed over a familiar face, her mouth opened in a cry.
"Marzban Qaran, milord! What are you doing in this kind of ce"
"Milord?"
As he caught her words, the masked man''s suspicions transformed at once into certainty.
"Wench! You''re not the queen!"
The man''s hand tore off the veil, revealing the face of a young woman who, thoughely, was far from any match for Tahmineh. Staring into that terror-paled face, he of the silver mask soon understood all he needed to know.
"That doddering Vahriz was one matter Everywhere I turn, all these loyalist fools getting in my way!"
When the sound of grinding teeth filtered through the mouth slit of the silver mask, the surrounding knights ducked their heads as if in distaste.
Thedy''s face twitched in fear, then in the clutch of overwhelming agony. The man of the silver mask closed his hands around thedy''s neck with merciless strength. From the slits around his eyes surged a reddish light that was difficult to behold.
Even when thedy''s iling arms drooped from midair, the masked man''s hands continued to press. Only when the dull snap of bone was heard did the man finally release the unfortunatedy.
Thedy''s body dropped into the shallows like a log, sshing droplets onto the silver mask like countless gems.
Without a word, the man of the silver mask moved as if to step out of the water. It looked, too, as if he hadid to rest all his rage, hatred, and disappointment in the waters alongside thedy.
"Hold it!"
A sharp voice arrested the silver mask''s steps. As one thepany turned to see a young man whose appearance, bathed in the wavering light of the torches as he advanced step after step toward them, could only be described as elegant.
"What''s the point of offing a beauty, even if she wasn''t particrly stunning? If you''d let her live, maybe she''d have had a change of heart and let me be her kept man."
No one but the "vagabond minstrel" Giv would possibly say such a thing. In the unfriendly silence that ensued, he coolly swept forward and tossed his own cloak over thedy''s half-submerged body.
"How ''bout giving me a peek at your face,dykiller?"
He received no response.
"Or maybe that is your actual face, coz it''s not blood that flows through your veins but quicksilver?"
"All of you: squash this jabbering mosquito. I''m going after the real queen."
Having tossed out those words, the silver mask''s towering figure turned around. Qaran followed behind, while five of the knights stood forth to block Giv''s way.
There was the sound of des unsheathing in session. Five swords shed before Giv in a ring. No doubt sensing their determination, Giv backed up against the wall of the waterway to avoid being surrounded. The moment he brandished his own sword, the first attack sliced down at him through the air.
The walls and the ceiling of the underground aqueduct echoed again and again with the sh of des. The water about their legs sshed and soaked, and the light of the torches sizzled down to a sickly color.
"One down!"
The counting voice was apanied by an impressively conspicuous spray of water mixed with red.
Every time the torchlight shed off Giv''s de, blood and water formed an inverted waterfall. If the man of the silver mask were present at this scene, there was surely no way he could disregard this disy of swordsmanship. Even so, by the time the fifth knight had fallen to the sh of his de, Giv had also frittered away a considerable amount of time and energy.
They''d not been shabby opponents.
"Alrighty, off to rescue that liar of a queen, or should I just stop now that I''ve done my dinars'' worth?"
Giv stroked his chin as he deliberated, and in the end chose a third path. He''d follow the aqueduct back down to the pce and take advantage of the chaos to help himself to the treasury. As long as it was just a matter of himself, he was confident that he could protect himself no matter what transpired.
Just as he was walking off, Giv came to a stop again. He searched the bodies of the Lusitanians he''d just cut down and came away with several small woolen pouches in hand. After opening them to confirm the presence of Lusitanian coin, he shamelessly performed a gesture of tribute.
"The dead have no need of such things. I''ll put them to good use, so thanks!"
The dead of course had no reply for him, but Giv didn''t seem to mind either. He strode over the corpses and started heading back down the darkness of the aqueduct to return to Ecbatana.
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Ablaze (5)
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Aze (5)
Even as the incident at the pce unfolded, Marzban Saam was directing the defenses at the gates. That night, the Lusitanian army''s onught was particrly aggressive. They scaled the walls under a rain of arrows, swept away by wave after wave of attack, only to reform and resume their assault each time.
Of course, this was all happening in ordance with the man of the silver mask''s movements in the underground aqueducts. They had no intentions of allowing the Parsian army even the slightest hint of what was transpiring.
As the bodies of their dead piled up at the foot of the walls, the Lusitanians simply erecteddders on top of the corpses and continued their assault.
By the time the pce lit aze, half the night had already passed. Witnessing this sight from atop the walls, Saam handedmand of the defenses to a subordinate and descended alone to jump on a horse and gallop toward the pce.
Smoke engulfed the pce. The sound of shing des echoed everywhere. Saam leapt from his horse and dispatched a pair of slow-reacting assants, only to freeze, not quite shocked, upon the appearance of a third.
"You You Qaran!"
Bloodstained sword still in hand, Saam stared aghast at his formerrade. But only for a moment. Had not the half-dead troops who''d straggled back from Atropatene said as much? It was because of Qaran ying the turncoat that their side had suffered such great defeat, they''d imed. Though he''d not believed it at the time, the answer as to who, between user and used, was in the right, stood now before his very eyes!
Saam raised his arm in a gust of wind.
des shed. Sparks danced in the dimness. In the next moment, the two men''s positions had swapped.
Qaran proved the faster in their second exchange. Saam''s de sliced through the night wind, toote for attack, but managing at least a sessful parry, thus saving his own neck.
Through the smoke and the screams of the courtiers, their fierce encounter continued. Qaran''s helm was sent flying; Saam''s armor cracked. Their des crossed at an awkward angle; under those close constraints, their res suddenly locked. How many blows had they exchanged by now? Neither was keeping count.
"Qaran you why have you sold out your own country?"
"I have my reasons, but the likes of you would never understand."
"Oh, but of course. How could anyone?!"
Their des nced aside. The men danced apart. Saam panicked, realizing that he had beenpletely surrounded by Qaran''s people though he had not yet noticed that behind him now stood the man of the silver mask, withnce in hand. Conversely, Qaran grew in confidence.
"Surrender, Saam! If you convert to the faith of Ialdabaoth, they''ll let you preserve that miserable life of yours, along with your position!"
"How absurd for a dog to be muttering on and on about the likes of human status!"
Even as he cursed at him, Saam thrust his de toward Qaran''s face. Qaran twisted to avoid the attack. In that moment, Saam, not one to miss his chance, took advantage of the space that had opened up and slipped through. With a single strike he cut down the knights lined up before him like a row of candles, leaving not a single trace of human hindrance. It seemed that Saam had sessfully broken through the encirclement.
It was then that the man of the silver mask thrust forth thence he was wielding. That long and heavy weapon speared past Saam''s armor, through his back, and out his chest. While he faltered, stunned speechless, another pair of knights caught up and stabbed their des into him.
For a time Saam stood there, his torso pierced through with ance and two swords. Then, with a heavy tter, he crashed to the stone pavement.
" What a pity."
Silver Mask''s murmur, swept away by the night wind, could not have been heard by anyone present; perhaps, then, it was because he shared the same sentiment that Qaran responded with a nod of his own. Gazing upon the fallen body of his formerrade, his expression wavered ever so slightly, and he knelt, feeling for Saam''s pulse.
"My word. Even like this, he still clings to life!"
.
Lusitanian soldiers poured through the gates Qaran had opened. The people of Ecbatana screamed and cried in their attempt to escape, only to be kicked down by horses, their skulls shattered as enemy riders stabbednces through their backs. It made no difference if they were women or children. Every killed heathen brought them one step closer to Heaven.
Straining desperately all the while to stem the torrent of people and horses was Garshasp. As he screamed rebukes at the subordinates swarming at his feet, he brandished his sword and set his horse before the invaders in attempt to block their passage.
However, in that very moment, a Lusitaniannce lunged forth and pierced the chest of his mount. With a sharp cry, the horse bucked off its rider and toppled to the ground.
The thrown Garshasp had just managed to lift himself halfway from the ground when Lusitanian des fell upon him from above, behind, before, and to the sides. The proud Marzban was now nothing but a bloody lump of meat.
.
The crisp night breeze carried the stench of blood all the way to themercial districts of Ecbatana.
Drunk on blood and alcohol, the Lusitanian soldiers dragged the bodies of women along as they trampled all over the corpses of the citizenry.
From a corner of the pce, the man of the silver mask surveyed the bloodstained streets.
"Enjoy today''s victory while you can, Lusitanian barbarians."
Though they were supposedly his allies, the Lusitanians were not spared any contempt in Silver Mask''s muttering.
"The more you mongrels indulge in such bloody, vulgar revelry, the more the people of Pars shall seek a savior. A hero, to chase you from thisnd and restore the glory of the kingdom. When that timees, you bastards shall pay for the crimes of this day."
Below him, yet another group of Lusitanian soldiers ran past. No doubt they were nning to loot the Great Temple. Those who did not fear the authority of the Parsian king naturally did not fear the power of their gods either. Moreover, they believed it a just cause to destroy such a stronghold of idtry in the name of their own God. At longst, the doors of the Great Temple were destroyed, and they all barged in at once.
To their left and right were arrayed the statues of various divinities of the Parsian pantheon.
Crowned in gold and draped in a robe of beaver skin was the goddess of all waters, Anahita, she who was also known as the goddess of birth.
The white horse with a golden mane was an avatar of the rain god Tishtrya.
He with the wings of a giant crow in ce of hands was the god of victory Verethragna.
Goddess of beauty and luck was the virginal guardian deity, shining Ashi.
Andst but not least: he of the thousand ears, and of the ten thousand eyes, who knows of all in the heavens and all among men. Mithra, god of the covenant and of loyalty, worshiped also as the god of war.
Around these statues the Lusitanian soldiers shouted and gathered, pulling them down from their tforms one after another. The statues were made of varying materials. Some were carved from marble; others had been cast in bronze and gilded in gold.
The marble figures shattered upon hitting the ground. The bronzes were stripped of their gold by de and by hand. "Heathen gods!" "Evil demons!" proimed the soldiers, along with other utterances of their faith, even as they hoarded gold leafing to their bosoms and spat on the faces of the statues.
"Pigs will be pigs, I suppose."
The sound of cold mockingughter brought their movements to a sudden halt. The figure of a single young Parsian stood amid the fallen statues.
"Cruelly rendering the statues of such beautiful goddesses into such a sorry state does that not indicate your so-called aesthetic deficiency? Is that not proof of just how barbaric you filthy lot are?"
The Lusitanian soldiers looked at each other. Among them, one who understood Parsian as the lingua franca of the Great Continental Road, shouted angrily in return.
"What are you thering on about? You idol-worshipping heretic! With the advent of the one true god Ialdabaoth at the end of days, all you ursed heathens shall fall into the very depths of hell for the rest of eternity. You won''t even have a chance for regret then!"
"Who''d wanna live in a heaven rife with Lusitanian pigs like you anyway?"
Even as the youth Giv spat out that venomous retort, he shifted so that he could draw his sword at any time. Lusitanian soldiers began to surround him, swords bristling in their hands.
"Lovely Ashi, Lady of Luck, who guards the springs and moistens the earth; hear me, o goddess!"
As if dedicating a verse to a beauty, Giv raised his face to the skies.
"Here stands one of your adherents, fine of face and blessed in form, about to be in by lowly Lusitanian pigs. If you have a heart, I beg thee, grant me thy protection!"
Those who understood Parsian were infuriated; even those who did not understand grew upset. One, who seemed like the soldiers'' captain, brandished a broadsword in attack.
Giv''s de painted a silvery crescent as the Lusitanian captain danced close, like a flicker of moonlight, flinging his sword high into the night sky. The captain, so summarily defeated, was still standing helpless and dumbfounded as Giv dove straight to his side.
Twisting the captain''s right arm with his left hand, Giv leveled his own sword at the stunned Lusitanians with his free hand and began to descend a set of stone stairs, step by step.
The Lusitanian soldiers, exchanging panicked and uneasy nces, shrank back, cringing. Already they realized that this pretty-facedd, so facetious in speech and conduct, was in fact a swordsman of awe-inspiring prowess. Better that their captain should be killed, perhaps, than to suffer equally overwhelming defeat at his hands.
"Don''t you dare move, ya damn barbarians."
Giv continued to threaten the Lusitanians in a half-singing tone.
"Take one more step, and your captain''ll find himself a head shorter. Those of you who understand human should trante for your fellow pigs, by the way," he continued, saying pretty much whatever he wanted. "Now then, oh lovely goddess Ashi. I have managed to sweep away a little of your nuisances. And now I n to make these pigs repent for their sins. Please dly ept these goods that they plundered from the Parsian popce and the pce as their offerings to you."
Giv raised his voice.
"That pig over there. Mantle. Off. Now collect all the loot your buddies have gathered. If you''ve got anyints, do remember what I said about your captain''s height"
Seeing that it made no difference whether they liked it or not, the utterly defeated Lusitanians did not even think of disobeying.
Five minutester, Giv had forced the captain, bearing all the loot bundled in the mantle, down into the underground waterways. Outside the thick door, the Lusitanians btedly burst into an uproar, but by then they weren''t even a minor annoyance.
Upon reaching a suitable location, Giv knocked out the captain with the hilt of his de, set him down against a wall, and shouldered the bundle of loot himself, before eventually resurfacing in the middle of a forest just outside the city. Smoke continued to billow from the capital, as well as in the opposite direction.
Probably the Lusitanians razing yet another vige as they continued to pige and ughter. By morning, hundreds more "heathen" heads would no doubt be lined up on pikes before the city walls.
"What a pitiful end."
Burdened with his ill-gotten goods, Giv continued to walk along, considering where he might procure a horse.
" Thus the hero-king Kai Khosrow seated himself upon a throne of gold; and all the kings across the vastnd knelt before him in obeisance; and the Kingdom of Pars was united"
Giv hummed a verse from the kingdom''s founding epic to himself. From the hard glitter in his eyes, as sharp as starlight reflected off a sword, one could see that his expression had lost its previous merry frivolity.
The fall of Pars was an inevitability. This was a nation built upon the ashes of other nations; that which was born from ash can only return to ash. And yet, even so watching the Lusitanian barbarians trampling all over the vastnds of Pars, killing and plundering as they pleased, was not something that sat well with him. (His own modest profiting off the situation was another matter entirely.) Somehow or other, those bastards had to be taught a lesson.
Before dawn had brokenpletely, Giv put the matter of the capital behind him and vanished into thest vestiges of night.
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Ablaze (6)
Book 1: Chapter 3.: The Capital Aze (6)
At present, the pce had be a hunting ground for armor-d predators.
"Find the queen! Capture her!"
The hollering and heavy footsteps of the trespassing Lusitanians ttered across the mosaic tiling.
Capturing the queen consort Tahmineh may have been the Lusitanian soldiers'' official goal, but in the meantime, they were also busy satisfying their own personal desires. They assaulted the fleeing courtdies, and after killing them seized their nes and rings, thus king all three of their lusts at once.
No matter how barbarically they acted towards the heathens, their god Ialdabaoth would forgive them. This their clergymen had guaranteed. Their persecution of the heathens was all ording to the will of God, and was their duty as His adherents. They had no reason to hesitate. Besides, by doing so they could unleash their own bestial urges
And so the pce was filled with the raucousughter of the victors and the desperate wails of the defeated. The magnificent marble halls that had, before King Andragoras''s departure for the front, been filled with such splendor and luxury, transformed into a swamp of blood and disgrace.
The man of the silver mask paced around the pce, alone. His goal, however, was not at all the same as that of the Lusitanian soldiers. Though his leather boots were drenched in blood as he tread across dismembered bodies, he was not moved even in the slightest. No one could hear the muttering hidden behind his mask.
"That woman can''t have expected that Ecbatana would fall so swiftly. She must have intended for that double to draw Lusitanian attention away from her, while she herself would escape only after they let their guard down. If that is the case, there must be some hidden chamber or other secret passage somewhere"
Silver Mask stopped pacing. One of the heavy curtains that had been sliced in half was wriggling about like a squirming caterpir. After determining that there were no other Lusitanians going about their business in the vicinity, Silver Mask strode over and ripped away the curtain, revealing a single cowering figure.
It was a middle-aged man dressed in the vesture of a magpat, a high priest. Those priestly robes in their gaudy gold and purple did not at all emphasize the greasy man''s saintliness, but rather, his worldliness.
"Convert! I''ll convert!"
Before Silver Mask could even open his mouth to speak, the priest had already thrown himself to the ground, groveling.
"I shall make my disciples convert as well. Nay, I shall have every single priest in the nation pledge fealty to Ialdabaoth. Thus I beg you please, spare me!"
With the demeanor of one ignoring the squealing of a pig, the man of the silver mask was just about to walk away when the priest spoke again, his voice at once both unctuous and sly.
"Truth be told regarding the matter of where Queen Tahmineh has secreted herself away, I may perhaps be of some help."
Despite wincing at the vicious nce directed at him from the silver mask, the shameless priest proceeded to tell all.
"Now that I have informed you of this, please deal with the matter of my conversion and salvation as you see fit, please, oh please."
" Very well. As you wish."
And thus was the queen consort Tahmineh sold out to her enemy by this high priest, in exchange for all manner of privileges and favors.
When she, along with several of herdies, was dragged out from a secret room beneath the wine cer, the queen consort stared down the silver mask with cool regality. So too did the man return her gaze.
"That''s right, this is the woman. She with whom Andragoras was so obsessed, the consort of Badakhshan"
His voice was like stagnant water drawn from the deepest wells of memory. Though Tahmineh''s expression did not falter, her cheeks paled noticeably.
"You haven''t changed at all since that time. Only by nourishing yourself with the lives and fates of countless men can such beauty have been preserved, oh monster!"
The unimaginable depths of hatred shrouded within his insult brought chills to all those present.
.
Two gs waved at the fore of Ecbatana. One was the national g of Lusitania, and the other was the standard of Ialdabaoth. The two differed only in the color of their fields; their designs were otherwise identical. In the center was a silver emblem formed by two short horizontal stripes crossed with a longer vertical stripe. The border, too, was lined in silver. The national standard was fielded in red, while the religious standard was ck. Red to signify earthly authority; ck to represent the glory of heaven.
The Lusitanian generals conversed while gazing at the gs.
"Seems that fellow with the silver mask''s captured Queen Tahmineh."
"Oh? Capturing both of the royal couple all by his lonesome, huh? What an impressive achievement."
"That man, has he perhaps truly devoted himself from the bottom of his heart to our Kingdom of Lusitania after all?"
"Hmph, if that were the case, then why has he not yet revealed to the Parsians that their king is now his captive?"
Voices expressing disbelief, suspicion, and distaste surged forth.
"If the damn fools knew their own king had been captured, it would be a great blow to their morale. Those Parsian heathens wouldpletely lose their will to resist. Just like that, the entire city would capitte. So why hasn''t he acted? It''s the same with that secret underground waterway. Sneaking in with only himself and his own men, while making us engage in a brute force attack!"
"I bet he just wants all the credit to himself. Not endearing at all, but understandable, at least."
"I suppose it''s something like that. However, one still can''t help but wonder if he''s concealing some sort of plot."
Though the man of the silver mask could not hear any of this, he probably wouldn''t have paid them any heed even if he were to hear. Silver Mask was just then taking the captured queen consort Tahmineh to the Lusitanian king, Innocentius VII. They were at the audience chamber, a spacious room from which the blood and the dead had just been hurriedly cleared away.
King Innocentius VII of Lusitania looked like no mighty conqueror or fiendish invader. He was certainly tall and well-built, but he had a badplexion, and his skincked the sheen of vitality. Passion emanated from his eyes, but that passion was not directed toward anything of the earth.
He could be described as the very model of devoutness as a follower of Ialdabaoth. He did not drink, nor did he consume meat. He worshiped thrice daily, and had done so for thirty years without fail. When he was ten, he had fallen seriously ill, and at the time vowed thus: until he had destroyed everyst heathen nation in thend and erected temples to Ialdabaoth in all their capitals, he would never marry. Even now, at forty years of age, he remained unwed.
"All obscene texts that contradict the holy scriptures shall be burned; everyst heathen shall be wiped off the face of the earth."
Such had been his lifelong creed. Fifteen years he''d ruled now, and in this time he had killed around three million heathens infants included and burned around a million volumes of texts on witchcraft, atheism, and foreign culture. Schrs who insisted "There is no such thing as God" had their tongues extracted. Lovers caught in ndestine meetings at temples of worship were burned bright red, impaled on giant iron skewers so that "the two would be one flesh."
Should such a fanatical king ever cross paths with a heathen queen, the only possible oue was surely the cruelest of executions. However, his vassals'' expectations all fell short of the mark.
Upon beholding Tahmineh''s visage, the Lusitanian king fell silent for some time. Gradually, the evidence of profound impact began to suffuse his face, and before long, his entire body was in a shiver.
Several of his vassals exchanged nces. As the shadow of misfortune fell across their hearts, they gazed in constrained silence at their own king and the queen of their destroyed enemy.
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (1)
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (1)
When King Innocentius VII first set out from his true mothend, the full military strength of the Lusitanian army was said to consist of a cavalry of 58,000, an infantry of 307,000, and a navy of 35,000, for a total of 400,000. Of those, 32,000 had been lost during the subjugation of Maryam, and disregarding the over 50,000 lost at Atropatene, 25,000 had been killed in the siege of Ecbatana, cutting their numbers down to less than 300,000.
When the storm of ughter and piging settled, the chief generals of the Lusitanian army had no choice but to begin working out long term strategies for subjugating the rest of the Parsian kingdom. It was at this time that a single message arrived, and sent them all into such a frenzy that had not been seen since they first departed from Lusitania.
In this message, their king Innocentius VII proimed his desire to wed Queen Tahmineh of Pars.
"Just how old is the Parsian queen anyway?"
"Well, she should be in herte thirties or so. Of an age not unsuitable to His Majesty, at least."
"That''s hardly the issue here. That woman is the queen consort of another kingdom, not to mention a heathen. Should not such a marriage be utterly unthinkable to begin with?"
Flustered by this unexpected development, the generals gathered at once before the king to persuade him of the foolhardiness of his desire.
"Tahmineh, queen of Pars, is a most inauspicious woman. All men involved with her ultimately meet with doom."
"As long as she is no heathen, as long as she is not the wife of another man, Your Majesty has the authority to make any woman your queen. Take your pick from the finest beauties of Lusitania."
The king fell into a sulk. He''d known from the start it was an impossible desire. Upon seeing the king''s demeanor, one general pressed on loudly without thinking.
"Prince Kayumars of Badakhshan, the prince''s minister, King Osroes V of Pars, and Andragoras the Third. These unfortunate men, bewitched by Tahmineh''s beauty, all ended in demise. Even knowing this, does Your Majesty wish to be the fifth?"
King Innocentius, as if struck, remained silent. The king had always been an obtuse one, and within him now superstitious fear seemed to do battle with extreme fixation. Atst, the king said, "However, those unfortunate men were everyst one of them heathens disfavored by Ialdabaoth, were they not? It may well be that God Himself set her these trials. Perhaps it is fated for her to be a devout Ialdabaothan wife."
And that was that. The generals were unable to protest. Clucking their tongues in dismay at the king''s obsessive sophistry, they retreated for the moment to await the next suitable opportunity for remonstrance.
.
Gold, diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, pearls, amethysts, topaz, jade, ivory the mountain of valuables in the Parsian treasury dazzled the Lusitanians'' eyes. How could they have triumphed over such a powerful and wealthy nation, they wondered? Even if all of Lusitania were to be wrung dry, such a fortune could not be amassed. This was the reason for their aggressive territorial expansion.
The horses for the exclusive use of the king and his consort were perfumed with saffron upon their manes and heads. Scented torches illuminated the paths of the courtyards as well; the torches had all been dabbed in musk.
The pce treasury had not been targeted by looting Lusitanian soldiers. This was because, unlike the other rooms of the pce or the homes of the citizenry, the treasury was off-limits, and anyone who attempted to would be sentenced to death by fire.
During the king''s initial inspection of the treasury, the generals apanying him cried out in wonder.
"The wealth of the Parsians surpasses even rumor!"
"All belongs to God! By no means shall this fall into the hands of the likes of you."
The king''s genuine piety caused his generals much displeasure.
Of course their official reason for abandoning their destitute, dry and rocky homnd to invade these otherwise untroubled heathen nations was to sweep away everyst existing heathen for the glory of Ialdabaoth. However, already Atropatene had been won, and the capital Ecbatana destroyed, and the glory of God achieved. Was it not now the turn for mortals to benefit?
Everything goes to God, the king dered in his blind faith, but in the end the ones who managed thesemodities for God were the "holy men" as represented by Bodin. And what could they im to have contributed to these victories and conquests?
This along with the matter of Queen Tahmineh caused resentment against the king to fester among the generals, who pinned their hopes more and more on another royal, Duke Guiscard.
As the king''s younger brother, Guiscard was possessed of more titles than he could count: Duke, Knight Commander, General, Lord Governor, and so on and so forth. He stood about as tall as his brother the king, but his figure was far more youthful and defined, and his gaze and movements both brimmed with vigor. Unlike his brother, who looked only to God and to the clergy, he cared far more about earthly and human affairs. By nning carefully around such matters and hoarding material wealth, only then could there be a life considered worth living for him.
King Innocentius, or "The Possessed" as his little brother called him, had never had the ability to conduct a campaign across even the western third of the continent to begin with. Presented with the question, "What shall we do for supplies, oh brother mine?", he was the type of man who would reply, "God shall rain manna from the heavens upon His followers."
In the end, the one who organized that army of 400,000, made arrangements for supplies, prepared the naval fleet, plotted their course, and directedbat, leading their generals to victory, was Duke Guiscard himself. All his royal brother did was pray to God for victory, withoutmanding even a single soldier. All the more incredible was that he did not even ride his own horse, but hade all this way borne on carriages and litters.
It is I who am the true king of Lusitania; so too was it I who actualized the conquest of Pars, thought Guiscard, as he expressed his sympathies for the disaffected generals who''de running to him.
"I understand your feelings well. I too have felt this way for some time that my brother the king is overly generous to those clergymen who offer him naught but lip service, while overlooking such meritorious veterans as yourselves"
The royal prince Guiscard''s voice was low, but impassioned. He was fanning the mes of the generals'' discontent inrge part for the sake of his own ambitions, but what he spoke was no lie. That rabble-rouser constantly lurking at the king''s side, Archbishop Bodin, was a particr source of indignation.
"Your Royal Highness, take for instance that cur Bodin. Subjugating heathens, eradicating heretics, hunting witches all just an excuse to torture and ughter those who are helpless to resist. Not even once has he stood upon the battlefield and crossed des with the enemy himself. Why is a man like that allowed all the wealth and power he desires, even as the rest of us toil and risk our very lives?"
"There was that incident from before, too. Heathen though he may have been, that Shapur was nheless a hero worthy of respect. Had his hands been free, a man of Bodin''s caliber would have been crushed like a chick. Making a scene with all that hollering and iling about with his rod made him as unsightly as some crazed monkey."
The generals'' ire over these various matters, along with their overall agitation, served as a most valuable source of information for Guiscard. It did get rather tedious, but to just bluntly dismiss their concerns was out of the question.
Upon hearing that his brother had be enamored of the Parsian queen, Guiscard''s initial reaction was tough coldly to himself.
"That brother of mine, enthralled by a woman? Apparently it''s impossible for a man to lead a life devoted solely to God after all. Still, no matter what, better a young maiden than one already matured"
Curiosity thus roused, Guiscard took a peek at the captive Queen Tahmineh, and found that he could no longerugh at his brother. It wasn''t just a matter of physical beauty; it was as if Tahmineh herself emanated some great power, a beguiling charisma that affected all who came into her presence.
This time, as Guiscard brooded in private, there came someone to advise him. This was the man unofficially in charge of operations under Guiscard, the one responsible for guiding their expeditionary forces, a man whose true likeness even Guiscard himself did not know. This man, who never removed his silver mask in the presence of others, warned the Duke in a goading manner, "Should Your Royal Highness aplish all that you intend, not just one but any number of beautiful women shall be yours for the picking. What reason is there for you to dwell on this woman of a fallen nation, who belongs to another?"
" Mm, I suppose that''s true."
As if shaking off any lingering regrets, Guiscard nodded and gulped down a goblet of wine before heading off to see his brother the king. When it came down to it, the greatest difference between him and his brother was probably his ability to give up.
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (2)
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (2)
Even one such as Innocentius VII, who had used God and fate to justify himself to his generals, probably did not dare appeal directly to God regarding this matter. He had been fretting all by himself in the bedchamber of Andragoras, from which all traces of blood had been wiped away.
Since he abstainedpletely from alcohol, the silver goblet set on the Serican-imported red sandalwood table was filled with nothing but sugared water. This was one of the things Guiscard found tiresome about his older brother. Nevertheless, reining in his feelings, Guiscard expressed his approval regarding the marriage between his brother and Tahmineh.
"Oh, is that so? You approve?"
Innocentius VII''s sallow face was suffused with joy.
"Of course I approve. Albeit not just for your sake, brother mine. If the queen of Pars were to wed the king of Lusitania, it would strengthen the rtions between these two nations of ours."
"Indeed, it is as thou sayest."
King Innocentius took the powerful hands of his brother, only five years his junior, into his own plump and feeble grip.
"Unfortunate though it is that much blood has been spilled, that which is already past needs must be forgotten. The people of Lusitania and the people of Pars must join hands in the name of the one true god, and together build a kingdom of heaven upon earth. For that purpose, my marriage to Tahmineh is certainly of utmost necessity."
Guiscard gaped in amazement at how promptly his brother had managed to twist everything into his own self-justification. Joining hands was all well and good. But to the Parsians who had been brought to such bitter grief, was "forgetting the past" something so easily aplished? Such were the thoughts he harbored, but what he said out loud was something else entirely.
"s, brother mine, there are still two or three minor impediments to your blessed marriage."
Hearing him say so, the Lusitanian king''s anxious eyes swiveled over at once.
"And what might those be, my beloved little brother?"
"First and foremost is the archbishop Jean Bodin. As Queen Tahmineh is a heathen, that fussy archbishop shall certainly not ept it. How are we to deal with him?"
"I see; however, this is easily resolved bymanding the archbishop to convert Tahmineh to the faith of Ialdabaoth. Should the archbishop so desire, I shall donate however much he wishes from the Parsian treasury or some such, and if that is still not enough, from our own treasury"
Cut this shit out already, swore Guiscard inside. That brother of his simply did notprehend just how many sacrifices they''d made to get their hands on "the Parsian treasury or some such."
Having ended the conversation at a suitable point and taken his leave, Guiscard returned to his own room and downed several cups of wine in session. It seemed he''d drunk too much sugar water, for he felt sick to the stomach.
It was then that the man of the silver mask appeared, and Guiscard spluttered out the gist of the discussion.
"Well done."
Silver Mask,mending the royal prince, whispered poison into his ears.
"If His Majesty the king donates overly much to that Bodin, the dissatisfaction and unrest of the generals shall only grow. And should Bodin still cleave stubbornly to his doctrine and obstruct the king''s marriage, he shall almost certainly incur His Majesty''s displeasure. No matter how things progress, Your Highness shall not be at a disadvantage."
"Right, that''s good. But even so, my brother just doesn''t understand a single damn thing. Countless enemies remain within Pars. It''s uncertain how Misr, Sindhura, and Turan shall move next. To say nothing of marriage! If those bastards unite and attack"
Guiscard mped his mouth shut. His expression shifted slightly as he nced at the man of the silver mask. Something seemed to have urred to him.
"Speaking of which, you sure were a great help at the battle of Atropatene, eh?"
"You tter me."
"Some say that the unnatural appearance of fog at Atropatene was caused by sorcery."
There was no reply.
"That fog certainly was convenient. No matter what strategies we came up with, if it hadn''t been for that fog, we probably wouldn''t have defeated the Parsian army."
"Is it not said in the teachings of Ialdabaoth that sorcery cannot ovee the power of God? It must have been divine providence."
"Hm"
Though he didn''t seem entirely satisfied with this, perhaps the wine dulled his persistence, for Guiscard did not pursue the matter further, and the man of the silver mask took his leave.
Silver Mask strode swiftly and without hesitation through the long, confusing corridors of the pce. Paying no heed to the looks of disgust shot toward him from the Lusitanian soldiers he passed by on his way, he began to mutter to himself as if out of habit.
"When Badakhshan fell, still that woman survived. And now that Pars has fallen, yet again she lives on. However, upon the fall of Lusitania, that shall no longer be the case. When she has gone to the next world, I wonder how that woman ns to face all those men who died for her."
In an arcade along a spacious cloister that showed signs of recent devastation, the man of the silver mask came to a stop. Qaran, after walking around to confirm no others were present, bowed.
"Qaran, have you not yet captured Andragoras''s brat?"
"My deepest apologies. I ordered my men to expend all their efforts in the search, but still we have been unable to uncover his whereabouts."
"Have you not grownx?"
Although this was not at all a strong rebuke, that Qaran grew somber was due tothe silver mask''s voice. That voice was once again in its most natural state, a striking contrast to the polite tones he had produced when facing the royal prince Duke Guiscard. Qaran, with something resembling fear to any potential onlooker, bent his waist deeply once more.
"To hear such words, my shame knows no depths. I did not mean to disappoint"
For a man of his size to be cowering in this manner was most unlike the behavior of a Marzban.
"No, you have done fine. Not the type to be negligent, are you? Come to think of it, Pars is vast. Even the shade of an orange tree is enough to hide a single lone brat. One single lone brat"
The man of the silver mask trailed off. A brief silence was followed by a brief chuckle. The rays of the setting sun dappled through the leaves of the orange trees in the courtyard, caressing the side of his mask.
The very next day, a single pale-faced knight, whose pride had suffered deeper wounds than his body, rode forth from Qaran''s territories, heading toward his master in Ecbatana.
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (3)
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (3)
"I am truly ashamed for what has transpired. The crown prince Arn and his fellow fugitives escaped our encirclement and have concealed their current whereabouts."
Looking down upon the subordinate who hade groveling to him in report, Qaran''s eyes shed with near murderous fury. He had always treated his men with generosity and fairness, for which reason they had followed him until now. However, this time, Qaran was forced to suppress his urge to kick his groveling subordinate in the head.
"How did the situation turn out like this? Exin to me clearly!"
When Qaran managed atst to school his expression into calmness, quite some time had already passed.
Aware that if he continued babbling excuses, his master''s barely restrained anger would no doubt explode, the subordinate outlined only the essentials.
As Arn, hiding at Mount Bashur, had not immediatelye down from the mountain, Qaran''s men had conducted a search of the mountain itself.
At this time, a single woodcutter showed up to inform them that just the other day, he''d heard the sound of human conversationing from a cave that should have been uninhabited. The men hiding within were tying messages to pigeons'' feet in order tomunicate with their allies outside the mountain. ording to him, it seemed they nned to act in concert from within and without, and break through the blockade on the night of the fourteenth that very month.
Qaran''s men, exulting at their good fortune, prepared for the night of the fourteenth. And so as they slept soundly on the night of the thirteenth, the blockade was broken. Though they sprang up at once to carry out their defense, not a single person could stand against the valiance of Dariun, and theirmand was all in a jumble, and so in the end the escape seeded. And to top it all off, a man thought to be Narses told Qaran''s men the following: So terribly sorry, but since we were holed up in the mountain with no calendar, we mistook the date
"In other words, you were allpletely yed. That woodcutter was probably paid off by them."
"Yes"
"Whether it''s Dariun or Narses, neither can be considered an ordinary man. Did I not mention as much, and tell you to keep that in mind? Useless fools!"
Qaran, revealing his displeasure, angrily upbraided those unreliable men of his. This was proof of his anxiety and unease. If Arn, apanied by Dariun and Narses, joined up with the troops of Keshvad deployed at the east and led a charge back to Ecbatana, what would they do then? In any case, the Lusitanian army would be defeated, and wouldn''t the great ambition of that honored person then remain unfulfilled?
Though it was not that Qaran did not quail at the name of Dariun, now that things hade to this he had no choice but to make his own move.
In order to request official sanction from Duke Guiscard to deploy troops, Qaran hurried down the hallways, but could not avoid overhearing the voices of the passing Lusitanians.
"Hmph, a traitor putting on such airs"
"One of the conquered, and not even a convert; but before you know it, he''s be some sorta vital participant in our ns."
"Looks like selling out your own kind as a heathen''s more of a shortcut to sess than giving your life in battle against those very same heathens. Aww, we sure got born into the wrong ce."
They spoke loudly, obviously meaning for Qaran to hear. The Marzban of Pars did not refute them. The humiliation stiffened his face.
The royal prince Duke Guiscard was in the middle of drawing up ns for future territorial divisions and security measures, both for the sake of Lusitania as well as for himself. When Qaran came calling at the former minister''s offices that were now allocated to the prince, he was not made to wait long, perhaps because the prince was just then in the mood for a diversion.
Qaran bowed deeply upon entering the room, and begged the royal prince''s permission to quash Prince Arn and his party.
"Arn is no more than an inexperienced child, but Dariun and Narses are a pair that cannot be underestimated."
"What kind of men are they?"
"Narses was formerly a royal dibir. King Andragoras prized his cleverness, but he has now retired to the wilds."
"Hm"
"As for Dariun, Your Royal Highness is probably already aware of him. He is the man who singlehandedly broke through the Lusitanian ranks, that day at Atropatene"
For the first time, Guiscard reacted. He threw his peacock quill down onto the desk.
"So he was that knight in ck!"
"Indeed"
"Thanks to that bastard, several of my friends and acquaintances perished in these heathennds. I''d like to y him alive!"
Qaran was silent.
"That said, he is undoubtably a man of great valor. In petitioning me, I assume you''re confident in your prospects for victory?"
"Somewhat, yes."
"Is that so? Then go ahead and try. But only if you Parsians can''t end this with your own hands will I be sending the regr Lusitanian troops to clean up after you."
Guiscard had made calctions of his own. If the Parsian factions were set against each other, Lusitania would not be at a disadvantage. And if the Parsian prince were exterminated by Parsian hands, then the Lusitanians would not have to dirty their own. Besides, in raising his hand against the prince, there would be no more turning back for Qaran.
However his royal brother or Archbishop Bodin might feel about it he couldn''t say, but from the start there had never been any reason to wipe everyst Parsian from the earth. Pull a tenth of the Parsians over to their side, and let them govern the remaining ny percent. Divvying up rule in this manner was to disy true wisdom as a conqueror.
A man like Qaran ought to be bled dry and worked to the bone. At the very least, he should be far more useful than Bodin and his ilk. If he wanted to establish his own merit, it was perfectly fine to give him the chance to do so.
Seize the Parsians''nd and ghm, then parcel them out to the Lusitanians. This formed the basis of Guiscard''s n, but a proactive coborator like Qaran could not be grouped with the other Parsians. Guiscard intended to recognize Qaran''s right to his own territories, but would most likely be met with opposition from among the Lusitanians.
"This is no jest. Why must the conqueror curry favor with the conquered? Should the spoils of the defeated not gopletely to the victors? For this we have paid with our own blood. Who else is there to worry about?"
Those who were greedy and shortsighted would say such things. Moreover, such sorts of people were typically in the majority, and held considerable influence all around the world. If he did not act ordingly with these circumstances, Guiscard would not be able to achieve his true ambitions.
"At any rate, the matter of Prince Arn is yours to deal with for the time being. Make a good job of it."
"I am grateful for your kindness."
"Incidentally, Qaran."
Guiscard seemed to have an unexpected question. How would the Parsian aristocracy and militarymand feel if Queen Tahmineh of Pars were to be the wife of the Lusitanian king?
Qaran''s expression nked as he replied.
"Thatdy was never Parsian to begin with, but the consort of Badakhshan. Everyone should well remember this."
" Hm, I suppose that''s another way of looking at it."
Guiscard tilted his head doubtfully, but could recall no reason to detain Qaran any further, and so dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (4)
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (4)
When the bazaar resumed after the fall of the city, there was a reasonable level of bustle and a fair amount of goods exchanging hands. If not for this, Parsian life would no longer be sustainable.
Among the crowd was a single girl.
With skin the color of wheat, hair like ck silk, and equally dark eyes, this tall maiden was quite the beauty. And so, unable to keep his eyes away from her sparkling vitality and intelligence, one of Qaran''s men, a Parsian soldier standing guard over the bazaar, called out to her. Though the girl seemed slightly annoyed, she looked at the mounted ranks passing through the bazaar beside them and inquired whose troops they were.
"Those''re troops under the direct supervision of your Marzban no, the current Eran, Lord Qaran."
"I wonder where they are going?"
The girl''s voice was so innocent that the soldier told her all he knew, even as he promised to show her something good though of course his information wasn''t of much note.
With that, the soldier nonchntly but forcefully took the girl by her wrist, pulling her away from the bazaar and into a little-used alleyway. Before, he''d been able to do nothing but bite his fingers and stand by as he watched the Lusitanians'' violent savagery. Parsian women ought to belong to Parsian men The girl struggled against him, but the overly excited soldier seized her head in attempt to pin her down.
The soldier cried out. The cloth wrapped around her head, along with the girl''s hair, had fallen clean off. It was a wig! As the soldier''s shock turned into anger, the tip of an acinaces shed out and pierced his chest. Once the soldier had fallen into the dust, his assant, like a nimble little bird, hopped into a different alley.
"Ugh, gross."
The pretty maiden or rather, the youth dressed as one spat at the ground unhappily. It was m.
At Narses''s request, he''d sneaked into the capital Ecbatana to spy on the movements of the Lusitanian army within. I implore you, do not attempt anything dangerous, Narses had insisted, the hypocrisy of which m foundughable.
At any rate, he had to report back to Narses.
m turned two or three corners before entering the backyard of someone''s home. He removed his girl''s clothes, then put on a set of male clothing that had beenundered and dried. Then he set down five mithqal coppers to cover the use of the girl''s clothing and smeared mud all over his face and clothes.
As he cut through the bazaar once more, m could hear the faint shouts of the soldiers raising a mor over the discovery of theirrade''s dead body.
.
"Qaran''s led more than a thousand riders out of the city?"
Narses tilted his head at the report of the youth m, who had just returned from the capital. Arn andpany had been moving back and forth between the ruins of various viges sacked by the Lusitanians.
Arn crossed his arms.
"Sending out this many to capture me is a bit excessive, is it not?"
"It''s only a matter of course. Your Highness, they do not know our numbers. Moreover, your cause is just. With you at the lead, it is possible to muster enough strength to resist the Lusitanians. The Lusitanian army is most inconvenienced; even Qaran cannot possibly rest easy."
That made sense, thought Arn, but he still had his doubts. They should not have any idea of where he was hiding, so how did Qaran intend to find him?
"If I were Qaran, and needed to capture Your Highness as swiftly as possible, I would first ambush a suitable vige and burn it down."
"Burn a vige?"
Arn''s eyes widened, and Narses, passing m a towel as if telling him to go wash his face, exined.
"After that, there are countless methods he can employ. One way is to burn down the vige, kill the vigers, then post a warning edict directed at Your Highness. In it he will announce that if Your Highness does not turn yourself in, he shall continue attacking viges and killing innocents. Though there are various other methods as well, in terms of order this is probably the one he shall try first."
Arn sucked in his breath.
"Qaran would go so far? No matter what, he is a warrior."
"Yes, an exemry warrior who sold out both king and country."
Narses''s sarcastic point silenced Arn. Qaran had already crossed the river to the opposite shore. Likely he no longer felt any need to adhere to such principles as the avoidance of senseless ughter. Having concluded thus, Arn broke his silence.
"Narses, do you know which vige Qaran will target?"
"I certainly do."
"How so?"
"By their guidance. All we need to do is follow them. Shall we?"
Arn nodded forcefully.
When the prince had left to saddle his personal steed, Dariun, who seemed to have been lost in thought as he listened to the previous dialogue, spoke up.
"Qaran is not such a simple man. Mustering troops to leave the capital in broad daylight and all, isn''t his intent to lure His Highness into a trap right from the start?"
"Possibly."
"If you think so, then why did you not stop him?"
"Oh, Dariun, this is the perfect chance for us to see exactly what that prince of ours is capableof. And how faithfully I look forward to it."
Dariun blinked, and Narses burst intoughter.
"We must hear directly from Qaran sooner orter anyway, or we shan''t be able to figure out what''s really going on. To capture the sher''s cub one must enter the sher''s den; sometimes there''s just no avoiding it."
Dariun raised his brow slightly.
"You had the prince failed to go save the viges, you would have considered him unworthy as a liege and abandoned him, wouldn''t you?"
No reply came from Narses''s lips. He onlyughed wickedly. But his expression was a clear affirmation of his friend''s insight.
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (5)
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (5)
The "vagabond minstrel" Giv managed to acquire a horse after escaping from the capital Ecbatana. Although he''d originally intended to purchase one from a farmer in one of the nearby viges, he''d changed his ns upon hearing that the Lusitanian soldiers had taken all the sheep and livestock along with the food, and after crossing des with a single Lusitanian soldier who seemed to be a messenger of some sort, ended up getting a horse for free. Following up on that, he''d kindly received a purse, along with a belt ornamented with gold: proper rpense for his considerable efforts or so Giv thought to himself.
For that one particr figure and Giv to cross paths afterwards could not be chalked down to mere coincidence. If one wished to avoid running into Lusitanian soldiers while traveling, one was naturally limited in both timing and possible routes.
When their horses passed, both parties kept their distance, ready to draw des at any moment a natural precaution. It was a half-moon night, and they were about seven to eight gaz away from each other, so Giv noticed nothing at first. Only when the direction of the wind changed and a feminine scent wafted to him on the night breeze did he realize that the other party was a woman disguised as a man. From atop his horse, Giv turned back to look.
Though her head was wrapped in silk, from the shadows unraveled a length of glossy jet ck hair reaching all the way to her waist. Her eyes were a dark, vivid green, reminiscent of the verdant days of early summer. That Giv could see this was because the woman had also nced over her shoulder, albeit for an entirely different reason from his. The moment her gaze met Giv''s, she urged her horse on and left him behind.
For quite some time, Giv, half-dazed, watched the woman''s retreating silhouette beneath the moonlight, but atst he pped his knees.
"Yup, rare indeed, a fine woman like that. Way younger than that lying queen too."
Giv hurriedly cycled through various calctions. He now had an objective to act toward.
"That beauty''s definitely going to be ambushed by scoundrels. If Ie to her rescue, it''ll only be natural for her to turn grateful and admiring. And then she''ll be wanting to thank me however she can, I think. That''s how it should turn out. That would be nice. That better be how it turns out."
Having thus decided things in his own favor, Giv set his horse to follow behind the woman at an appropriate distance.
Before long, his chance arrived. Ever since the fall of the capital, Lusitanian soldiers had been running rampant, naturally growing more and more aggressive, gathering together in little bands to kill and loot. Duke Guiscard had posted ordinances warning against the harm of innocent citizens, but the policy was all too often unenforced.
The shadows of seven or eight riders appeared from the line of cypress trees, blocking the woman''s path. They shouted at her in Lusitanian, utterly crude phrases, it seemed.
The woman, looking irritated, kicked lightly at her horse''s nks. The horse seemed to be very well trained. Understanding its rider''s intent, it began to dash forward before the Lusitanian soldiers could even react. In the blink of an eye, the Lusitanians were left behind by about thirty gaz; by the time they gave chase, the woman upon her horse had already drawn her bow taut, into the shape of a full moon.
In the next moment, the moonlight itself seemed to form into an arrow and pierce the knight.
From his pierced throat gushed blood and a strangled cry as the knight toppled to the road below.
Having recovered from their momentary shock, the other knights, hollering angrily and waving around their des, closed in on the woman. No, they attempted to, rather, but the twang of the bow split through the night and yet another rider fell from his saddle through the air into a cloud of dust. Already another arrow had flown forth, and a third rider was lost.
"Can''t let her go on like this."
Giv spurred his horse toward the road earlier than he had nned. If he dilly-dallied any longer, he''d lose the chance to earn that woman''s gratitude.
The first of the Lusitanian soldiers who turned upon hearing the approach of hoofbeats became his first victim.
The Lusitanian was cut open from his left shoulder to his chest with a single slice of Giv''s de. Screams and blood sprayed high toward the half moon, and the Lusitanian tumbled from his horse.
The appearance of a new enemy, and moreover one who could not be underestimated, drove the Lusitanian soldiers into a fright. They exchanged a flurry of words in a tongue Giv could not understand, then scattered left and right upon their horses with swords in hand.
Although they meant to close in on Giv from three directions, their intent was foiled by Giv''s swift action. Fresh blood spouted forth in a crescent from the neck of one; another''s head was snapped back from a blow to the nose.
The remaining two were no longer concerned with such things as honor. Without even turning back around, they spurred their horses down the road, escaping into the darkness beyond. Seeing them off with a cold smile, Giv nced over his shoulder to receive a small shock of his own. For the woman too was already leaving the scene to continue down her way. This waspletely different from what he''d predicted.
"Please wait, mydy!" he called after her. But perhaps she didn''t hear, or perhaps she nned to ignore him, for the woman did not halt her horse''s advance.
"Oh beautiful one!"
Though this time he called out in a louder voice, the woman still did not react.
"Oh matchless beauty!"
For the first time the woman paused. She nced back at Giv unhurriedly. Her graceful profile, illuminated by the moon, carried an expression of utmost serenity.
"Were you calling for me?"
Even Giv was at a loss, and in that brief moment as he tried to settle on a response, the woman continued.
"To call me beautiful is one thing, but there is no reason to call me a matchless beauty"
Curiously enough, her matter-of-fact acknowledgment of her own attractiveness was not at all off-putting. Giv, somehow or other, cheered up, as he could finally say something suitable to his personality.
"Nay, ''tis not just your pulchritude, your martial prowess as well is truly admirable. Giv I am named, a wandering minstrel with no ce to call home; and in my appreciation for beauty, which surpasses even that of kings and nobles, do I take pride. Now, summoning forth my undernourished muse, I shallpose a verse in praise of your grace."
The woman did not respond.
"Your figure grows as slender as the cypress, with ck hair cut from the night sky, eyes that glitter like the facets of an emerald, and bewitching lips like rose petals touched with morning dew"
"Youck originality as a bard, don''t you."
The woman spoke with cool indifference, and Giv scratched his head.
"Well, perhaps it is true I have yet to mature as a poet, but then again, my passion for beauty and justice would not lose even to the great poets of yore. For that very reason did Ie to your rescue just now."
"Although I did find it rather convenient, did you not simply just bide your time for the right moment?"
"How unfair of you to suspect me so. My guardian deity, goddess Ashi, conferred her protection upon you and me and wreaked well-deserved retribution upon those Lusitanian barbarians for theirck of faith. Should we not give praise to such divine justice?"
The woman''s smile seemed bitter. Giv inquired after her name, and she replied quite readily.
"My name is Farangis. I was engaged in service at a temple of Mithra in the Khuzestan region. The High Priestess dispatched me as an envoy to the capital Ecbatana."
"Oh? Mithra! After Ashi, good old Mithra''s the one I pay most respect to. Mydy Farangis and I definitely share a unique bond of destiny, no mistaking it."
Giv''s flippant words werepletely ignored by the beautiful priestess.
"However, I have heard it said that the capital has already fallen. Not wishing to return in failure, I was thinking I must at least find some ce to rest the night when those Lusitanian curs appeared."
"May I ask what business you have at the capital?"
"To locate the crown prince, His Highness Arn. I have a single query to make of you: might the respectable Sir Minstrel possibly be aware of the whereabouts of His Royal Highness?"
"No, I am not However, if mydy Farangis means to search, I can lend you my strength if you like. That said, why are you looking for His Highness Arn anyway?"
"On the asion of His Highness Arn''s birth, a donation was made to our temple under his honored name. For this reason, should His Highness ever find himself in need, from among those in service to the temple, one who has dedicated themselves to the martial arts must be sent to help him. Or so was written in the will of the previous High Priestess, who passed away this spring."
Farangis''s ck hair swayed as she shook her head.
"Those who leave such wills never consider what trouble they may cause for the people they leave behind. And so, from among those who met the requirements, it was I who was chosen; however, this was not only because my martial skill was the most excellent among theirs."
"What do you mean?"
"A woman of talent, who like me is graced with beauty and proficient in arts both schrly and martial, shall be begrudged by her peers."
" I see."
"Using the fulfillment of the deceased''s will as an excuse, they chased me away from the temple. I wonder if you understand, Sir Minstrel."
Though he did not doubt what Farangis had said, there was plenty of room left for Giv to use his imagination. Perhaps some lustful priest had approached her and received a harsh, ahem, rejection, making it awkward for her to remain at the temple. No matter how martially proficient she was, sending a lone woman on such a mission was simply far too dangerous.
"All the more reason, Lady Farangis, to just toss aside a duty you''re so reluctant to uphold, don''t you think?"
"No, no matter what, I do not approve of the ways of the Lusitanians. I may be an adherent of Mithra, but I feel no need to force my faith upon those who hate it. If they are to be chased out of Pars, I would like to join in."
Giv nodded forcefully.
"It is exactly as Lady Farangis says. Ipletely agree."
"Mere lip service, is that not?"
The raven-haired, green-eyed beauty''s tone was filled with acrimony, but Giv''s reply held no indication of such.
"No, it''s not just lip service. The way those Lusitanians impose their god on other faiths doesn''t sit well with me either. For example, that''d be like iming only women with golden hair and blue eyes and skin as pale as snow can be beautiful, while refusing to recognize other women as beauties. What somebody thinks is beautiful or what they feel is precious is up to every individual, and shouldn''t be something that can be forced"
Giv cut short his fervent monologue. This was because he''d noticed that Farangis had shut her eyes and ced a thin little crystal flute at her lips. Though he couldn''t hear anything at all, Giv gazed enchanted at her face, bathed in the light of the half moon, as white as Serican porcin. Then, Farangis opened her eyes and removed the flute from her lips, and looked upon Giv as if considering him anew.
" Is that so? Then very well."
She spoke as if responding to some unheard voice.
"ording to the jinn, it seems your loathing of the Lusitanians, at least, is no lie."
"I have no idea what you''re talking about."
"Perhaps so."
There was no civility in Farangis''s voice.
"An infant hears the voices of people, but understands not the meaning of their words. You are the same. You hear the sound of the wind, and yet cannot even hope toprehend the whispers it carries from the jinn."
"I get it, so I''m just a baby?"
"Yourprehension iscking; it seems my example was a bad one. You are far too malicious to be an infant."
The little crystal flute was caught between Farangis''s white fingers. A tool to call upon the jinn, perhaps.
"At any rate, it seems like you''ve acknowledged my sincerity. How about it, Lady Farangis? Generally speaking, every meeting between one and another is brought about by a thread of fate. Personally, I''d like to travel with you, but"
"Do as you wish. Provided, however, that like me, you pledge your loyalty to His Highness Arn"
"My loyalty is a bitcking, though for now I''ve got more than plenty for you, Lady Farangis."
"I have no need of your loyalty."
"Saying that''s kinda cold, don''t you think? Aren''t mydy Farangis and I in a rtionship now?"
"What rtionship!?"
Farangis''s raised voice swiftly silenced. Giv shut his mouth too and pricked up his ears. It was the sound of horses from somewhere unknown, beyond the por forest by the road. Surging into view upon the night road came the silhouettes of arge cavalry troop riding hard from the direction of the capital, in numbers stretchingpletely across their field of vision.
"Those''re the troops of Marzban Qaran."
Besides his, no other Parsian troops would hoist the Lusitanian g at their fore.
The beautiful priestess muttered daringly as her gaze followed the thunderous hoofbeats and the clouds of dust fading into the distance under the moonlight.
"Perhaps someone among them knows His Highness Arn''s whereabouts. For that alone, I should go try and see"
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (6)
Book 1: Chapter 4.: Beasts and Beauties (6)
That day, in broad daylight, one of Qaran''s troops burned down a vige and threw fifty vigers though only men into the fire. They left behind only a single line "If from now on you continue to harbor Prince Arn and his cohorts, even women and children shall not be spared!" along with ashes, hatred, and grief.
For Qaran, there was no longer anything he could do but drink the poison dry. Repeating this sort of massacre again and again in order to corner Arn andpany was the only way he could gain the deepest confidence of the Lusitanian army.
As the sun sank and it came time to set up camp, a single report was received. A man, clinging to the back of a horse, on the brink of death, had been discovered roaming the wilderness. That man confessed that he''d been hired as a porter for Arn andpany, but was caught stealing their belongings; whipped half to death and told that he''d be killed the next day, he had escaped in desperation.
Qaran examined the man''s wounds. He considered the possibility that the man might have faked his injuries in order to draw him into a trap. But the countless stripes upon the man''s body were genuine. Qaran chose to interrogate the man personally.
"How many travel with Prince Arn?"
"Just four of ''em."
"Don''t lie, there should be a hundred times that."
"Tis true, and two of ''em children besides it''s coz of that they hired me to haul their gear."
"Then, where are the prince and the others headed?"
"Down south, y''see."
When this brief interrogation reached an end, the man requested a reward for his information. With a nod and a "Very well!", Qaran suddenly drew his sword from its sheathe and sliced off the man''s head. Qaran spat upon the head as it rolled to the ground.
"Fool, as if I''d fall for such a scheme!"
And so he ordered his troops north, in the opposite direction as the man had indicated. Qaran judged that Narses hadmanded the man toe to him as an informant. Even his injuries were a trick made to gain Qaran''s trust.
How little Qaran knew. Stopping by a certain vige, Arn''s party had deliberately picked out a shady man and hired him to carry their luggage. Then, after the beaten man''s figure disappeared in the direction of Qaran''s troops, they changed their route to head from south to north. They then purposely exposed their northward trek for all to see
This was all ording to Narses''s plot. Qaran''s army headed north, entangling themselves in a forested, mountainous region. Moreover, night had already fallen. For such arge troop of cavalry, truly adverse conditions were stacking up one after another.
.
Past midnight. Narses, havingpleted his preparations, grinned as he peered out from the forest at Qaran''s troops advancing in single file along the mountain trail. The shrewder the mind,the more easily it danced right into the palm of his hands.
As soon as the enemy troops had passed, he turned back to where he had tethered his horse. Suddenly, his footsteps halted and he stooped low, having sensed the approach of something or someone.
Narses sprang back. The t of a de shed past, grazing his tunic, scattering several strands into the air.
As he jumped back once more, Narses drew his sword to parry the next silvery attack. Sparks flew at the ear-piercing scrape of metal against metal. The second round was over before it had even started. For both parties had realized the other was not the enemy they had expected, and drawn their des aside.
"Are you not one of the Lusitanians?"
It was a young woman''s voice, apanied by the subtle scent of perfume; even Narses was taken by surprise.
"Who are you?"
Upon being asked, Narses immediately offered up his own name: "Narses, a supporter of His Highness Arn." His swift response was entirely intuitive.
"My apologies. I am Farangis, an adherent of Mithra,e to offer my strength to His Highness Arn. I have been shadowing Lord Qaran''s troops all this time."
"Oh?"
Narses had no jinn to aid him. That he trusted in Farangis was through logic alone. If she were part of Qaran''s faction, all she had to do was shout out to reveal Narses''s location to everyone else.
"You are saying you wish to ally yourself with His Highness Arn?"
"Indeed."
Her wordscked emotion, but her voice was musical to the ear.
"Let us cooperate, then. From here, we are to capture the traitor Qaran and bring him before His Highness Arn."
"Understood. I have but a single query: how many are currently in service to His Highness Arn?"
Narses replied nonchntly to the beautiful woman''s question.
"Along with you, that''ll make a total of five."
Narses, it seemed, had noticed Giv standing behind her.
.
Someone or other raised a shout, and now Qaran''s troops were all astir. At first just one, then dozens of fingers pointed toward the cliff. Exposed in the pale light of the half moon was Arn himself, seated upon a horse, surveying the troops arrayed below.
"It''s Prince Arn! Kill him! His head''s worth 100,000dinars!"
Whether such a price was too high or not, Arn could not judge, but to the knights under Qaran''smand, it was an amount worth more than their own lives.
With shouts of greed and excitement, the riders spurred on their horses and began to gallop up the slope. Even for the virile Parsian horses, sustaining such a charge was no easy feat, and the troop formation immediately copsed. The moment the first horse struggled wheezing onto the cliff, Arn''s sword stabbed through the chest of its rider. The tip of the de thrust right through his back; there was a sound of impact as the crossguard struck against a button on his padded vest.
Arn pulled out his sword or more urately, the dead man''s body dropped back from the force of its own weight. As the corpse tumbled down the slope, the horses rearing in attempt to avoid it lost their bnce and toppled.
The darkness of night along with theck of solid foothold caused them all to fall into chaos. Arn had already yed his role as a mere decoy. Picking up his bow, he shot arrow after arrow. Clustered together as they were, Qaran''s troops were unable to evade. Of the six arrows Arn loosed, four hit their targets, and of those, two managed to wound the enemy. The remaining two were aimed at the knights mbering up the slope with fierce momentum, but a spinningnce knocked them aside. "Prince!" bellowed a voice: it was Qaran. The prince sucked in a breath, tossed aside his bow, and confronted the treacherous Marzban.
"Qaran, there is something I wishto ask you!"
Arn was all too aware that his voice betrayed his own nerves.
"As a Marzban, no, as a heretofore irreproachable warrior of Pars, why would you bend your knee to the Lusitanian invaders?"
There was no reply.
"I do not believe you were tempted by personal desire. If there is a reason for all this, do tell me, please."
"Better for you to remain ignorant, oh ursed son of Andragoras!"
The naked derision in Qaran''s voice echoed yet with some deeper gloom. So too did the pair of eyes ring at Arn seem to glow with an unearthly light.
"Better to go to your death believing that I, Qaran, am nothing but a wretched traitor. Whether in by a loyal retainer or at the hands of a traitor, death is death: either way, there is no difference."
A terrible wind blew away the vines of doubt coiling about Arn''s heart. Looking upon Qaran, it seemed as if his entire body had swelled. The power of a true warrior, their overwhelming difference in strength Arn could sense it all.
Arn''s mount snorted nervously, as if reflecting the change in its rider''s heart.
Uttering a low battle cry, Qaran spurred his horse into a charge. An enormous, well-worn spear that had seen as much battle as its master lunged straight at the prince''s heart.
Arn parried, half out of instinct. The spearhead veered away to empty space, but the prince''s sword arm was numbed to the elbow.
"Tricky little !"
Along with that roar swept forth a second blow.
If it couldn''t quite be considered a miracle to have deflected the first blow, dodging the second blow was nothing short of miraculous. But any favoritism disyed by the heavens or by fate could only go so far. The third attack was fended off weakly, and should have pierced straight through Arn''s body. What brought things to an end once and for all was Dariun''s voice.
"Qaran, your opponent is me and me alone!"
He waster than nned, for his path through the forest had been obstructed by mud left over from a fall of rain about two days before.
Qaran''s face contorted in despair. He was clearly still affected by his memory of being brought to his knees before the brunt of Dariun''s attack uponthe fields of Atropatene. Qaran gave up on the precious prey before his very eyes. He turned his horse around, and the imminent demise that had been staring Arn in the face beat a hasty retreat.
"Stay safe, Your Highness!"
With that single line, man and horse blurred into a single ck shadow, and all around Arn piled the corpses of enemy soldiers.
One knight, about to spear Dariun from behind, tumbled from the back of his horse with a scream. One of Farangis''s arrows had pierced his face from the side.
Amid the confused ranks of the knights, two dark shadows danced.
Narses and Giv each confirmed with his own eyes the quality of his newly anointedrade''s swordsmanship.
The sound of shing des was chained together with sprays of blood.
A number of horses, finding their saddles suddenly emptied, escaped into the darkness. Half of them lost their footing upon the cliffs and toppled to their deaths screaming.
To Qaran''s men, it was probably the worst night of their lives. Their enemies were not just valiant, but terrifyingly crafty. With the chaos and the darkness and the terrain on their side, they wreaked havoc among Qaran''s troops, spreading death wherever they went, then fleeing once more from the eddy of men and horses only to vanish under the cloak of night. Two or three times this repeated. The order of Qaran''s troops was dealt a fatal blow. They could no longer reform their ranks.
"Dariun, you go after Qaran!" shouted Narses as he twisted back to avoid the spray of blood from histest victim. Nodding in reply, Dariun kicked the nks of his ck horse; pebbles and dirt scattered beneath its hooves as they chased after the fleeing Qaran.
A few of Qaran''s men turned their horses around to attack him, but he speared one through and struck another aside without even bothering to duck the blood sttering into the night wind. As he closed in on Qaran, he tore into him.
"Some hero you are, facing only boys not even of age! Where is the valor for which you were so renowned before you slunk off to serve the Lusitanians? Is this shameful flight truly the way of the once-celebrated Qaran?"
The provocation produced results. Dignity wounded, Qaran boiled over with rage.
"Don''t get cocky, you little upstart!"
With that furious cry, he swung his own spear to knock aside Dariun''s. It was a violent blow. Both Dariun''s body and his spear swayed in a rush of wind; even the ck horse''s steps wavered slightly. Just barely, they managed to keep from falling down the steep slope.
Without a moment''s dy, Qaran''s spear thrust straight at Dariun''s face. Dariun reassumed a proper mount and blocked the vicious attack just in the nick of time.
Qaran''s men had intended to interrupt and separate this astonishing pair, but whatever room for interference within this sh of man against man, horse against horse, and spear against spear had already vanished. Thrust. Sweep. Strike. Attack. Parry. Sparks scattered pale blue beneath the moonlight.
Qaran was a warrior of the highest caliber, one born to be Marzban. So long as his heart did not quail and his mind remained clear, he would not lose to Dariun in terms of valor.
Qaran''s men, however, could not sustain the same fighting spirit as their master. They were cut down indiscriminately or shot down, or fled into the embrace of the night, ever the protector of the defeated. For one thing, it had not even urred to them that their enemies actually numbered only in the single digits.
Arn hurried his horse to the site of the duel and watched on, heart full of apprehension. Narses, with bloody sword still in hand, rode over to his side.
"It''ll be fine. Your Highness, Dariun''s victory is absolutely certain. Although under these circumstances, he may not have the luxury to capture him alive, that''s all."
Narses''s observation was correct. The very moment Qaran''s spear and body appeared to move just the slightest bit slower than Dariun, the first sign of blood trickled down Qaran''s left cheek.
Dariun''s spearhead had nicked off a small chunk of his opponent''s cheek. Although it was not a deep wound, the blood gushed into Qaran''s eye, blinding him.
Dariun''s spear thrustforward, lightning quick. Arn gasped, but Dariun had not forgotten his own duty. He jabbed Qaran''s side forcefully, not with the tip of his spear but the end of its shaft; Qaran, losing his bnce, was unhorsed and toppled to the ground.
Until now, all had unfolded ording to Dariun''s calctions and Narses''s expectations. What betrayed their hopes was the steep incline of the ground, and Qaran''s spear. Still clutched in Qaran''s hands, the spear snapped against the rocky slope with a sharp crack, and not cleanly in two at that, but at a peculiar angle nting right through the neck of its wielder.
By the time Dariun leaped from his horse and lifted him into his arms, Qaran was already half gone. The spear looked like it had prated all the way through from either side of him, and yet both his eyes remained open and undimmed.
"Where is the king?"
Dariun spilled this deathly urgent question to the dying man''s ear.
"Andragoras still lives"
His voice was little more than a wheeze.
"Butalready the throne is no longer his. The rightful king"
In ce of his voice, kes of dark red blood poured from his throat, and after a brief violent spasm, Marzban Qaran drew hisst breath.
"The rightful king?"
Dariun exchanged a nce with Narses, who had rushed over just in time to hear.
What they could not help but recall were the events surrounding King Andragoras''s ession. Killing his own king and brother, iming the throne for himself a usurper, in other words. Was that not so? Such criticism had been quietly murmured ever since then. However, Andragoras, with the support of his powerful army, had prevailed over and over again in conflicts with neighboring nations, and through that the country itself had benefited; the pragmatism of his rule, so to speak, had thus established the rightfulness of his authority.
Arn, whose equestrian skill paled to theirs, arrived upon his horse just then, questioning the two of them with his eyes.
"Apparently King Andragoras still lives. As for anything beyond that, I''m afraid we were unable to ask."
As Narses replied, Arn stared at Dariun lowering Qaran''s body to the ground. The young knight in ck remained silent. Although Narses had not conveyed to the prince thetter half of Qaran''s dying words, he too approved of this decision. To a boy of fourteen, such words would surely be too difficult to digest.
Dariun raised his voice atst.
"Your Highness, if he yet lives, you shall surely meet again someday. Besides, if the Lusitanian army has suffered the king to live until now, they must have their reasons; until that purpose is fulfilled, they are not likely to harm him needlessly."
Arn nodded, not so much because his heart truly understood, but because he did not wish for Dariun to worry.
At this time, Narses introduced the pair of young neers to the prince. First was the beautiful woman with waist-length hair, who bowed with utmost respect.
"Your Highness Arn, I presume? Farangis is my name; though engaged in service at the temple of Mithra in Khuzestan, by the will of thete High Priestess I havee to join you as an ally."
The young man offered his own name in turn.
"Giv is my name; in support of Your Highness, I escaped here from the capital Ecbatana."
This was aplete and utter lie, but before he could be suspected, Giv mentioned a truth calcted to earn the prince''s trust.
"Your Highness, yourdy mother, the queen consort Tahmineh, was still in good health when I escaped. I was granted the great honor of hearing from the queen herself in person."
Future matters could be dealt with in the future. He''d always loved stirring up trouble anyway. For the time being, he could remain at Farangis''s side and introduce Lusitanian soldiers to the pointy end of his sword for great justice. If he ever started feeling too constricted, then he could just run away. That was Giv''s view of things.
Dariun, who had been hovering at a slight distance, murmured to his friend with a wry smile.
"So four bes six. Well, that makes for a fifty percent increase in might, but I wonder if it''s really fine to trust them?"
"With the Lusitanian army numbering 300,000, we shall each have 50,000 apiece to take care of. What great fun it shall be, don''t you think?"
Narses was not just blithely making theparison. He was pointing out, with his typical irony, just how difficult their circumstances would be from now on, with no hope of much improvement.
At any rate, in order to determine the whereabouts of the king and queen, it seemed they would have to somehow conduct an all-out infiltration of Ecbatana.
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Successor to the Throne (1)
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Sessor to the Throne (1)
Clinging to the stone walls was a dampness so chilly that no droplets could form.
It was an underground chamber unblessed by the light of the sun. Amp thicker than the full grip of two adult hands lit a radius of about ten gaz at the center of the room.
Upon a number of shelves were arranged texts and drugs and various other goods for the use of magic. Things such as mouse fetuses, poisonous herbs ground into powder, candles made of hardened sulfur, and severed hands soaked in alcohol.
On the stone floor stood the man of the silver mask. Though he was a guest, he did not seem particrly weed. The gray-robed elder who was the master of the room remained seated by himself upon an oak chair and began to speak as if this discourtesy were quite justified. His voice was reminiscent of the screeching scrape of a rusted iron wheel.
"Do forgive me for remaining seated. You, in your ignorance, have no idea how much energy I was forced to waste on that trick. Calling forth fog upon ins that know neither valley nor mountain, just to confuse the Parsian cavalry into thinking no enemies were in the vicinity "
"But left with plenty enough energy to babble, it seems," Silver Mask remarked coldly. "Enough of that. For what purposehave you expressly summoned me here?"
"Oh, in that case." The stale voice possessed a slight rhythmic quality. "Though you may not consider it pleasant news, Qaran is dead."
For a moment, Silver Mask tensed. The light filtering from his eyes intensified. He did not question this news; perhaps he deemed it unnecessary to do so.
"If only he had kept quiet and remained loyal to King Andragoras, he could have lived on perfectly well as a Parsian general of highest honor, but because he chose to support you, he met with a pitiful end."
Paying no heed to this feigned sympathy, the man of the silver mask stifled the emotion in his own voice.
"Qaran served me well. I have an obligation to his surviving family."
Having stated this, he sucked in his breath.
"Who is it that killed Qaran? I must avenge him."
"That much I know not. I told you, didn''t I? To fully recover my strength, I shall need ''til year''s end."
"Fine, no doubt it was the work of Andragoras''s brat and his party anyway. With this, that damned brat of Andragoras only draws the noose ever tighter."
The man of the silver mask directed this warning to some unseen figure, and the scrawny elder unleashed a peculiarugh.
"My, my, how unfortunate. Though I know not who is the most unfortunate."
If the silver mask could disy an expression, the current displeasure of its owner would be beyond obvious. Still, having apparently long grown used to the unpleasantness of dealing with the elder, he kept his cool.
"Beyond that, it is you who should take care. A challenger draws near."
"A challenger?"
A dangerous light welled in the silver mask''s eyes and shot toward the elder''s wrinkled face.
"Andragoras''s brat?"
"No, not at all. However, it is someone close to him, perhaps even the very fellow who did in Qaran."
The elder gazed with smoke-darkened eyes upon the silver mask standing wordlessly before him.
"It''s fine to plot revenge, but your opponent shan''t be alone."
"It''s all the same no matter how many they number."
"A one on one duel is fine, but avoid one against two. Even with your swordsmanship, you are no match for two opponents at once."
To this Silver Mask said nothing.
"You are not the only strong one in this world. The sun of Pars does not shine for you alone. For you see, self-confidence and overconfidence are as inseparable as night and darkness."
The man of the silver mask nodded, but it seemed to be partly a formality, and partly out of reflex. Soon enough, the silver mask took his leave, and the elder opened the small leather purse the man had left on the table and counted the dinars within. Perhaps they were of no particr concern, for he dumped the dinars unceremoniously in a drawer of his desk, grumbling and muttering to himself.
"Best to just think of that fellow as coin. In order to revive Serpent King Zahhak, all the vastnds of Pars must be covered in fresh blood. All shall be prey to Lord Zahhak; I care not one whit whom shall be king of Pars"
The elder raised a hand and pulled on a cord dangling from the ceiling. A picture drawn upon aged sheepskin unfurled against the wall.
Disyed before the elder was the portrait of a crowned man with a dark face and red eyes. Assuming an entirely different persona from when he had faced the man of the silver mask, the elder bowed with utmost respect.
"My lord and master Zahhak, please wait just a little longer. Night and day your servant here strives for his master''s second advent"
Surely there were none in thisnd who did not know the name of Serpent King Zahhak. Save for newborn babes, that is. That was the name of an ancient ruler of the world, a most cruel and demonic king. By him had Sage King Jamshid been sawed alive, the pieces of his body tossed into the sea, all his wealth and power stolen.
From Zahhak''s two shoulders sprouted a pair of ck snakes. This was the origin of his "Serpent King" epithet. These two snakes feasted on human brains; during Zahhak''s reign, twosubjects were killed each day, whether noble wuzurgan or lowly ghm, and their brains were fed to the serpents. This reign of terrorsted for a thousand years unbroken; the world fell into ruin; people were born into the world fettered by fear, and went to their deaths encircled by cors of despair. Forty such generations passed before the rule of the Serpent King came to an end. Thus began the royal dynasty of Pars
With a worshipful gaze, the elder watched for some time over the two ck snakes pictured crooking their heads from Zahhak''s shoulders. Then, with greatbor, his emaciated body stirred, floundering in the cold air like a bizarre deep-sea fish. Before long, his lips cracked open like a fissured boulder.
"Gurgin."
The elder called urgently for someone.
"Gurgin!"
"Yes, Master, here do I await."
The replying voice flowed forth from a dark corner of the room, but the figure of the respondent could not be seen. However, the elder did not seem to care either, and ordered rather impatiently, "Summon thy other six men at once! Since Atropatene, the deaths of soldiers and civilians have together totaled one million, but it is not enough. The Parsian popce numbers twenty million; if the blood of at least half that is not drunk by the earth, the second advent of our lord and master Zahhak shall lie beyond our power."
"Immediately?"
"As quickly as possible."
" Certainly. Master''s wish is mymand."
The voice faded swiftly, evaporating like particles into the air. For a while the elder stood there without a word, but his eyes and mouth betrayed a sinister delight.
"A curse upon all who obstruct the glory of Serpent King Zahhak"
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Successor to the Throne (2)
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Sessor to the Throne (2)
The capital of Ecbatana, like its resumed bazaar, began to recover some semnce of order under the Lusitanian upation, and yet blood continued to flow unstemmed.
The city was a bem of rioting ghm; the ves who had cooperated with the Lusitanian invaders naturally expected their just rewards, but everything remainedpletely within the grasp of the Lusitanians.
"These spoils are to be presented entirely to His Majesty, the honored King Innocentius VII of Lusitania. How could we possibly leave them to filth such as you?"
For some time the ves had, in gleeful vengeance, been living it up in the mansions of the wuzurgan and the wealthy; the Lusitanians now put this to an end, chasing those wretched souls back to the pens where they had previously been confined and chaining them back up. Protests were countered withshes and curses.
"Fools. What reason have disciples of glorious Ialdabaoth such as we to share the fruits of sess with lowly heathens, much less ves like you? Such conceit!"
That wasn''t the deal had it not been said that when the city fell under Lusitanian upation, the ves would be emancipated?
"There is no need to keep promises made with heathens. Would you lot strike deals with the likes of pigs and cows?"
Thus was the future of the ghm snatched away much as their pasts had been.
For those blessed with prosperity it was perhaps unavoidable: this storm that hade sweeping over Pars from northwestern Lusitania, utterly fair and impartial. Those with much to lose, lost much. The aristocracy, the priests, the lords, rich merchants all the luxury they had umted for themselves through ruthlesswful authority were seized now through equally ruthless violence. For them, the night had only just begun.
"Kill! Kill! Kill the wicked infidels!"
Calling for blood as if he were parched sand was the archbishop Jean Bodin. His intoxication grew deeper by the day.
"The glory of God grows more brilliant with every drop of heathen blood. Show no mercy! For each infidel who lives on to eat his share represents a lost share for a true believer of Ialdabaoth."
But of course not all of the 300,000 Lusitanian soldiers shared the same passion for "heathen extermination" as Archbishop Bodin. The militarymand and other bureaucrats who took part in governance all knew their own goal was to shift from conquest and destruction to administration and reconstruction. The royal prince Guiscard had exhorted thus. The average soldier too was by now sick of blood and the stench of death, and some had even begun epting bribes to plead for Parsian lives.
"This person along with his family all wish to convert. I wonder if it might not be good to spare them, so that they may enter the service of God."
"A false conversion!" Bodin would leap up and shout. "Those who request conversion without undergoing interrogation cannot be trusted!"
That was what Bodin was like, and so his view of the Parsian queen Tahmineh was just as intolerant.
"That is the consort of the Parsian king Andragoras; of course she cannot receive the grace of Ialdabaoth, ursed infidel that she is. Why do you not throw her to the fires already?"
Because he pressed the king thus, Innocentius VII exhausted all his efforts dodging polemic and was unable to bring up the matter of his marriage to Tahmineh.
"Perhaps even God Himself may find offense in this, but before that, Archbishop Bodin had better be persuaded, brother mine."
What the royal prince Guiscard said was reasonable, but faced with his brother''s beseeching gaze, he feigned ignorance, having no intent of persuading Bodin himself. Guiscard had long felt bitter about his brother''s weakness and the way he immediately depended on him to take care of any difficulties he encountered. This marriage was his and his alone. Was this then not his obstacle alone to ovee?
Of course, for Guiscard to think this way was not for his brother''s sake. It was in anticipation of the arrival, before long, of the day his brother''s hatred for Bodin surpassed his devotion.
.
One of the vast courtyards of the pce was nketed in decorative tiles, with lion fountains and orange trees and gazebos of white granite arranged all around. This ce had been only recently stained with the blood of Parsian nobles and court ves alike, but at the moment all traces of blood had been wiped away, and even if the splendor of old could not be recovered, it was no longer unsightly.
This was the result of strict orders from King Innocentius VII of Lusitania apparently unbeknownst to Archbishop Bodin. This was because, in one of the blocks facing this courtyard, a singledy had been ced under house arrest. Although she was officially under confinement, even the most notable noblewomen of Lusitania could scarcely hope for the luxury afforded to this heathendy; she was, after all, Queen Tahmineh of Pars.
Innocentius VII called upon this block facing the courtyard every day without fail, all in order to seek out Tahmineh. Not a peep could be gotten from Tahmineh, who kept her face covered with a ck veil; meanwhile, this supposed conqueror of a Lusitanian king would ask only whether she was suffering any inconvenience and other such silly nonsense before hastily slinking away as if dreading Bodin''s scrutiny. However, when the twelfth month arrived, Innocentius VII arrived one day with his chest puffed out in the air of a man hoping to be praised.
"Upon the new year We shall no longer be King, but Emperor."
He would no longer be the sovereign of the former kingdoms of Lusitania, Maryam, and Pars, but Emperor Innocentius of the newly formed Lustianian Empire. No longer would he be simply "the Seventh" of a single nation.
"And ordingly, Lady Tahmineh, dost thou not agree that, as the public believes, an emperor requires an empress? We, too, believe this proper."
She did not reply.
Whatever meaning Tahmineh''s silence held, the king of Lusitania was unable to decipher. Refusal? eptance? Or was she waiting for something? Innocentius VII did not understand. He had until now been a simple man living in a simple world. Good and evil had been as clear to him as summer day and winter night. That there were some things utterly beyond hisprehension, so to speak, now dawned vaguely atst upon the no longer young king.
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Successor to the Throne (3)
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Sessor to the Throne (3)
That day, in the open space before the south gate of the capital, a grand book burning ceremony was held. A total of twelve million volumes had been designated to burn as "wicked heathen books"; the royal libraries had been entirely emptied. Standing before the texts piled mountain high and the crowd of spectators was the shouting Archbishop Bodin. One particr knight with schrly interests bravely or perhaps rashly raised a protest against the book burning.
"Even if you say they''re heathen books, is it really a good idea to toss such precious texts into the fire without even examining them? Even if they are to be set ame, shouldn''t it be after enough time has been spent determining their value?"
"sphemer!"
Bodin stamped his feet upon the ground.
"If what is recorded in these texts is in ordance with the holy scriptures of Ialdabaoth, then the scriptures alone are sufficient for earthly mortals. Should they contradict the scriptures, then they are based on the trickery of evil demons and must be destroyed. No matter what, all should be thrown to the fire!"
"But to toss even medical texts into the fire."
Receiving a severe strike to his mouth, the knight staggered back.
"One who reveres Ialdabaoth from the bottom of his heart shall not be possessed by the demons of disease. One who is diseased, carrying the seeds of evil within his heart, shall receive divine retribution! Even if he is king of a nation"
Directing a look full of poison at the king sitting upon his distant throne, Bodin raised his voice anew.
"Even if he is king of a nation, when he gives rise to such wicked designs as taking a heathen woman to wife, one so haughty shall surely be struck down by a divine staff formed from his own sickness. Repent and reform, oh sinful ones!"
Innocentius VII paled, and his bby body quivered. Not out of fear, but out of extreme displeasure. The royal prince Duke Guiscard, stationed beside him, was secretly satisfied. To him, this was an excellent sign.
Bodin raised his hand, and the mountain of texts was doused with oil before a torch was tossed in.
The mes zed high at once, swallowing twelve million volumes of texts in the congration. The recorded thoughts and feelings of humanity umted for over a millennium from before the nation''s founding were now all erased in the name of the invaders'' god.
History, poetry, geography, medicine, pharmacology, philosophy, agriculture, artisanship the effort and passion of countless people that must be poured into thepletion of a single volume were all cremated in the mes and transformed to ash.
Blocked by ranks of armored Lusitanian soldiers, the Parsians witnessing this fiery scene muffled their cries of outrage and grief.
Standing side by side within the crowd was a pair of tall men whose hoods were pulled low over their eyes. The slightly shorter man muttered in bitter fury.
"So it''s not enough to steal all our property; now they mean to incinerate our very culture. This can no longer be described as mere barbarism. This is the work of apes."
"Look at the one in charge, that so-called archbishop dancing around in glee."
"I am going to kill that man Bodin or whatever he''s called. I''ll leave the king and his brother to you. Got it, Dariun? That bastard is mine."
"Very well!"
It was Dariun and Narses.
.
Without bothering to see the book burning to the end, the two of them left the space before the gates and strolled toward the somewhat mazelike downtown area. Disregarding their anger over the book burning, they had a need to gather news on King Andragoras and Queen Tahmineh.
"Originally, it seems the word ialdabaoth meant sacred ignorance'' in ancient Lusitanian."
Narses exined this with no evident amusement as they walked along.
ording to their mythology, humanity once belonged to a paradise of eternal spring, where they dwelled in bliss, free of suffering and doubt, but were cast out of paradise for taking a bite from the forbidden fruit of wisdom. In Narses''s view, this was a rather unpleasant myth. He felt it was a way of thinking that reduced humans to pigs. People who failed to question inconsistencies, who failed to rage at injustice, were not even equal to pigs. And yet why was it that, not just the Ialdabaothan faith, but religions in general always seemed to preach against doubt and anger?
"Did you know, Dariun? You could say that these people''s destruction of Maryam, and even their invasion of Pars, was actually encouraged by what is written in their scriptures."
"You mean their god bestowed Pars upon them?"
"Pars was not specified, exactly. However, ording to their scriptures, their god promised to grant his followers the most beautiful and bountifulnds in the world. From their perspective, then, and of such beauty and wealth such as Pars is naturally theirs to im, while we are little more than uwful squatters, so to speak."
"How very convenient."
Dariun, adjusting his hood, brushed aside the hair that had fallen into his eyes.
"So, the Lusitanians believe wholeheartedly in this so-called mandate of their god?"
"Well, is it faith? Or is it just using faith to justify their own invasion?"
If it were thetter, the Lusitanians could perhaps be negotiated with diplomatically from the same standpoint. Were it the former, the Parsians would not survive without using brute force. No matter what, they had to consider different methods to defeat the Lusitanians.
"There are several ways to take the Parsians in hand."
For the sake of the prince who had promised him the position of court artist, Narses was resolutely plotting out various possibilities with all his might.
"For example, if we emancipated all the ghm of thend under the prince''s name and promised to abolish the institute of very altogether, and just one tenth of them took up arms, that would form an army of 500,000. This is operating under the premise that they shall be self-sufficient, though."
That made sense. Dariun said as much and nodded.
"But in that case, we shan''t be able to expect the support of the territorial lords and aristocrats who currently own ves. There is no one so gullible as to agree to an alliance despite knowing they shall lose out in the exchange."
"When you were lord of Dam, did you not free your ves and even give up your territories?"
"I''m an entric, after all."
Narses''s remark sounded suspiciously like a boast, but all of a sudden, he made a bitter expression.
" Besides, even if the ves are emancipated, it''s not like everything would be settled then. It''s whates after that''s difficult; we cannot expect everything to go as we''ve dreamed up before our desks."
Narses seemed to be speaking from personal experience. Dariun did not question him further. Narses gave his head a single shake, as if to recollect hisposure, and began to count off on his fingers a number of strategies for defeating the Lusitanian forces.
"One method is to use the territories of former Badakhshan as bait for hooking Sindhura. Another method is to infiltrate Maryam and incite the royalist faction to revolt with the intent of restoring the throne, thus cutting their nation''smunications with the Lusitanian army. Or perhaps we might as well work in Lusitania itself and stir up ambitions for the throne among the remaining royals and nobles. Or we can agitate for the conquest of Lusitania among the neighboring nations"
Dariun stared at his friend in admiration.
"How do you manage to throw out clever moves and schemes one after another like that? Compared to an unsophisticated military man like me, you really are something else."
"ttered as I am to earn the praise of the finest warrior of Pars, of the hundred ns one might concoct, only ten can actually be put into effect, and only one shall be sessful, and that''s about it. If all the things one considers coulde true, there would be no such thing as ruined nations and perished rulers."
The two of them were about to enter a tavern. Even in times of chaos there were some businesses that did not halt operations brothels for instance, or gambling dens, or fences dealing in victory spoils and piged loot. And along with them, establishments offering drink with conversation. Naturally, such ces were were filled with irresponsible rumors, and in fact the number of reports flying around probably exceeded the number of gathered people.
From the tavern tottered out a single Parsian soldier. He was no doubt affiliated with Qaran''s faction, one of those who had sworn loyalty to Lusitania. The soldier, about six parts drunk, collided into Dariun''s shoulder in attempt to sidestep him, and nced at the face beneath the hood while cursing under his breath. His expression transformed at once.
" Ahh! Dariun!"
With a magnificent yelp, the soldier fled, shoving the people in his way and thrusting them aside as he made his escape. Whatever alcohol content in his body had probably hurtled out to the other end of the skies; there was not even the time to reach out and seize him by the cor.
Narses, stroking his chin, said admiringly, "Running away without a fight, eh? You certainly understand your own limits well."
After that, the two of them followed after the fleeing soldier. But they did not break into a run. Instead of chasing him down, they had already made deliberations beforehand.
The two of them, purposely keeping their distance from each other, wandered deeper and deeper into thebyrinthine streets. The faint whisper of conversation trickled down from the walls of the buildings, and everyst eye was fixed in surreptitious surveince upon their figures.
Narses had not even counted to a thousand when his way was blocked by four soldiers who had expectantly tagged his head with an invisible bounty.
Dariun had already achieved the titles of Mardan and Shergir in his teens, and had also been the youngest of the Marzbans. For this was he called "marde-e mardan," a man among men. Inparison, Narses would quite understandably be seen as the easier target. However, in the end this choice brought upon them no fortune whatsoever. Four white des unsheathed, but this was the extent of their initiative.
In a single breath Narses leaped at the rightmost enemy and chopped down with his sword from the side. The enemy had no time to even parry, and his own sword was sent flying by Narses''s blow. The moment after their des shed, Narses''s sword traced short white ws through the sky, slicing cruelly across his opponent''s neck.
Adroitly evading the spray of blood shadowing his field of vision, Narses stooped lightly on one knee and swiftly flicked up the point of his de. The right arm of the enemy who had appeared before his eyes flew into the sky, trailing blood, sword still in hand. Half a cryter, a third soldier fell to the ground, his chest run through by the sh of a sword as Dariun rushed back into view.
A fourth soldier remained standing, unable to make a peep; looking over one shoulder, he witnessed Dariun''s approaching figure, and turning back around, he saw Narses''s mocking grin, and so he dropped his sword and slumped to the ground. As his mouth pped open and shutin vain, he tossed out a pouch of cowhide.
The pouch opened, spilling ten dinars and several times more drachms to the ground, but neither Dariun nor Narses paid them any heed whatsoever.
"We want one thing only: the whereabouts of King Andragoras."
"I don''t know," cried the soldier at first, in a voice close to despair. "If I knew, I''d tell you. I do value my life, but I really don''t know."
"Even mere rumors will do. Think hard for your own sake," Narses coolly pressed on.
Knowing his life depended on it, the soldier spilled out everything he knew. It seemed King Andragoras was truly still alive. He''d probably been imprisoned somewhere, but Lord Qaran had only confided in a handful of his closest men. Even the Lusitanian generals hadn''t been informed, and they seemed to be disgruntled over that. That''s right, there was one more thing, a rumor that couldn''t be ignored
"Supposedly Queen Tahmineh is to be wed to the Lusitanian king or so I''ve heard the Lusitanian soldiers gossiping. They say their king lost his soul the moment he firstid eyes on Her Majesty."
"What did you say !?"
Both the audacious Narses and the intrepid Dariun gaped mutely, unable to dredge up any further remarks.
After tying up the soldier and tossing him into a trash bin, the two of them began to walk back toward the streets. The situation with Queen Tahmineh left them despondent. When a person died, that was it, but living on, just how much trouble and suffering did one have to face?
"Badakhshan, Pars, and now Lusitania. To seduce the rulers of three nations in a row, beauty like Her Majesty''s ought to be considered a crime."
"Whatever the case may be, if the queen is to be married off, we must concern ourselves over King Andragoras. No matter which nation, not a single one recognizes bigamy. Even if he still lives, he may well fall under harm simply for being an impediment to this marriage."
"Or perhaps the Lusitanian king is forcing Queen Tahmineh into this marriage by dangling King Andragoras''s life in exchange for her hand."
They both discussed matters for some time, but were unable to reach a clear conclusion. Whatever the result, they decided once more to go ahead with the same strategy as before. They would worry about the results when they happened. They wanted more evidence to corroborate the soldier''s earlier confession; and as for Narses, he felt it would be a pain toe up with a new n at this point.
Agreeing to meet up at the previously designated tavern if they came up empty-handed, the two parted ways.
Was it coincidence? Or was it an impartial appointment of fate? None could say. After Dariun had turned a number of corners, danger came howling at his door.
Before Dariun''s very eyes appeared a sinister silver mask.
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Successor to the Throne (4)
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Sessor to the Throne (4)
If Dariun possessed the same power as Farangis to understand non-human speech, perhaps he would have sensed his Uncle Vahriz''s voice warning him from the other realm.
However, evencking such power, he could easily sniff out the danger emanating from this opponent he was encountering for the first time. Naked hostility and malice sted toward Dariun with the heat of the desert wind.
That Dariun drew his sword in response to this killing aura was perhaps what they referred to as warrior instinct.
"You certainly went to a lot of trouble with those petty tricks of yours, dunce!"
Both the lowughter from behind the mask as well as its physical appearance had an equally ominous vibe. No need to exchange useless dialogue now. There was a mutual understanding: they were enemies.
The sh of des crescendoed. Dariun, darting around,continued his offensive after the first strike, but could not so much as graze his opponent.
Dariun was unnerved. Even he whose valor was acknowledged by all could not remain unconscious of or unrmed by his opponent''s immense strength. He switched tactics. Halting his offensive, he retreated half a step and turned to defense.
The man of the silver mask nimbly stepped forward, showering him in severe attacks, but much like Dariun a moment ago, he was met with an imprable guard.
As they cut left and right, traces of gleaming des shed through the air; each party hae to realize the existence of a foe of never before seen gantry.
Pale de engaged pale de, locking forcefully midair. The two men''s faces loomed close; each could hear the other''s breathing ovepping with his own.
"Let''s hear your name!" said the man of the silver mask. Underneath his chilled voice seeped the slightest hint of awe.
ring back at the light gleaming from the eye slits of the mask, Dariun brusquely reported his name.
"Dariun!"
"Dariun, you say?"
The questioning tone as he sifted through his memories transformed an instantter into a voice filled with malicious derision. Dariun could not help but be startled at this unexpected reaction.
"This is rich. That nephew of Vahriz? No wonder"
you''re so strong, or something or other, but the silver mask swallowed his words and shot forth a baleful re, his mask quaking with peals ofughter that would have surely raised the hairs of anyone other than Dariun. When hisughter settled, an arrogant confession came flying from his lips.
"Tell you what it is I who cut off the scraggly white head of your uncle Vahriz!"
"What!?"
"For apdog of Andragoras, such retribution is only fitting. Would you like to die as your uncle did?"
The moment their crossed des sprang apart, Dariun''s sword swept singing through the air. Such ferocious speed exceeded the expectations of the man of the silver mask. The man''s de, moving into the defensive, swung uselessly into the air as Dariun''s blow struck his face.
Crack! went the silver mask as it split in half. The face that had been protected so upromisingly was exposed to the air. Violent gasps heaved from the man''s mouth.
And so Dariun saw it two faces. Beneath the cloven mask was the countenance of a young man approximately the same age as Dariun. The pale, elegant visage on the left, and the dark, grotesque patch of inmed burns on the right: both coexisted upon a single contour.
Though it was only a fleeting glimpse, this face etched itself deeply into Dariun''s vision. The man raised his left arm to conceal his face, but his eyes, welling with a bloody light, glowered at Dariun. His de shed in counterattack.
Dariun leaped back, but the keenness of the sword, fueled by rage and hatred, could not bepared to before. It danced like a striking snake, its white de stretching out in pursuit of Dariun. Sure enough, Dariun staggered, thrown off bnce.
As he was about tond the critical strike, the man who had lost his silver mask abruptly shifted direction, just barely deflectingthe de slicing toward him from the side. Before the man''s fearsome view stood Narses.
"Hey now, won''t you ask for my name? Otherwise, shan''t it be embarrassing to introduce myself?"
The gleam of murderous intent shot forth like arrows from the face shadowed by arm and cloak, but Narses did not notice at least not on the surface.
"Who are you, buffoon?"
"I don''t much care for your manner, but as you''ve asked, I suppose I mustmence introductions. Narses is my name; I am to be employed as the official court artist underthe reign of the next king of Pars."
"Court artist, you say!?"
"You wouldn''t know,cking any connection to art, but those with the sense for it all call me the seconding of the great master Mani."
"Says who!" a recovered Dariun muttered emphatically as he straightened himself. Seeing that his breathing and his pulse were bothpletely back under control, the man of the silver mask knew he must let go of this already lost chance for victory. One against two, and with his arm engaged in hiding his face besides, even as he fended off such gant foes. As well, he had perhaps recalled the forecast of the gray-robed elder in that underground chamber.
"Let''s settle this some other time. Consider today a draw."
"So you''re a fellow who spouts the conventional lines for every asion. No need to dy until tomorrow something that can be done today!"
Having lost his silver mask, the man did not rise to Narses''s challenge. Still covering his face with one arm, he deftly retreated from the dangerous pincer.
"This is farewell, you travesty of an artist. Improve your skills for the next time we meet!"
This was a baseless taunt, but it was more than enough to wound Narses''s ego. Without a word, the future court artist advanced, hurling back a strike that sliced through the wind.
The man who had lost his silver mask twisted smoothly around even as he parried the blow. It was a move even more elegant than it was skillful; whether Narses or Dariun, neither could find an opening to exploit.
The man of the silver mask dove into a narrow alley, kicking down the tubs and barrels along the walls to seal his trail. When the hem of his cloak vanished around the first corner, the pair of knights in service to Arn relinquished all thoughts of pursuit. Dariun pped his friend''s shoulder.
"I''ve no idea who that bastard is, but he''s got tremendous skill. If it weren''t for your help, he''d probably have smashed my head to pieces by now."
"Sure, whatever you say, but that fellow truly is difficult to stomach. What nerve, calling me a travesty to art. The world is rife with pompous fools whock any understanding of arts and culture. Surely this must be the end of days." When Dariun did not reply, he continued, "By the way, that man seemed to be well acquainted with your lord uncle. An old friend, perhaps?"
"I''ve been considering that as well, but can''t recall anything. Though I did wonder if that mask was just for show, that doesn''t seem to be the case. With those terrible burns, he probably has no choice but to cover up."
Despite nodding along to Dariun''s voice, Narses wore an expression indicating that he was not entirely satisfied.
Whatever the case, he felt there had to be something more to it. One reason to wear a mask was so that others would be unable to recognize his original appearance, but when amongplete strangers in apletely unfamiliarnd, such an excuse ought no longer hold. If it weren''t for those burn scars, perhaps even Narses himself would have unexpectedly recollected something with ease
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Successor to the Throne (5)
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Sessor to the Throne (5)
Gathered in a farmer''s residence at a certain vigeid to waste by Lusitanian soldiers were the modest but stalwart anti-Lusitanian forces. Arn, Dariun, Narses, Farangis, Giv, and m. Each and every one was very young like m, who was no more than thirteen. However, for they who had chosen to resist the powerful Lusitanian army like the lowly mantis before the chariot, surely no promising or fruitful future awaited.
Arn received a great blow upon being told that his mother the queen was being pressed to marry the Lusitanian king.
Both Narses as well as Dariun had intended to hide this news, but either way, once the wedding ceremony was held, the reports would reach Arn''s ears whether he liked it or not. It was not something that could be kept secret.
For some time the knights watched wordlessly over the equally taciturn prince pacing back and forth in the room.
Before long, Arn came to a halt and muttered through gritted teeth, "Mydy mother must be rescued without a moment''s dy."
That beautiful and yet somewhat aloof mother of his both the first time he rode a horse, and the first time he set off on a hunt, he had received praise from her, but something about her words had beencking in warmth.
ording to the courtdies he had overheard gossiping behind her back, "It''s because Her Majesty values only herself" It was possible, perhaps, that their criticism was justified. However, Tahmineh was nheless the woman who had given birth to him; as a child he could not fail to rescue his own mother.
"Mydy mother must be rescued. Before she is coerced to wed the Lusitanian king" Arn repeated.
Dariun and Narses exchanged a furtive nce. The prince''s feelings were only natural, but with their currently inferior might, prioritizing the queen''s rescue would significantly restrict their tactical options.
"I bet Her Lying Majesty seduced the Lusitanian king in order to preserve her own well-being. She''s the kind of woman who''d pull something like that"
Such insolent fancies had urred to Giv, but as expected, they did not leave his mouth. Though he now counted among Arn''s party, he was the least necessary of the four, so he was currently just enjoying himself on his own terms. He''d heard that Narses was to be court artist; well then in that case maybe they''d let him be court musician himself. Such things were running through his mind.
Green-eyed Farangis gazed sympathetically at the prince.
"Your Highness, be not hasty. The Lusitanian king may wish to wed yourdy mother, but in the eyes of the Lusitanian people, yourdy mother is a heathen. Those around him are not likely to grant their approval so readily. It is my belief that the state of affairs shall not grow concerning anytime soon."
Narses nodded.
"It''s as Farangis says. If he forces the marriage, he will invite the revolt of the clergymen in particr, and if any ambitious royals or noblemen stress the issue, it shall probably provoke infighting. He cannot afford to force the matter."
Following that, Dariun spoke as well.
"Unpleasant though this may be for Your Highness, if the situation is as such, there should be little chance for Her Majesty toe to harm. As for His Majesty the king, it seems he is at least still alive, so an opportunity to go to his aid shall surely arise."
Each of them knew that their presented arguments were sound, but whether or not they wereprehensible to a youth of fourteen was a different issue entirely. More so than acknowledging the difficulty of the situation, they hoped Arn would disy the forbearance of a ruler and ce his responsibilities as such above personal obligation.
In the end, Arn''s shoulders slumped.
"At any rate, our numbers are much too few. By what means shall we best gain allies, Narses?"
After a while, Narses replied, "To impose absolutejustice upon the earth is probably impossible. However, there should exist some form of governance preferable to that of Parsian rule until now as well as to Lusitanian tyranny.Even if we cannot be rid entirely of that which is unreasonable, we should at least be able to diminish such things. To gain allies, Your Highness should make your future intentions known to the Parsian popce. For royal legitimacy has naught to do with the blood one possesses, but is guaranteed solely through upright governance."
This was the essence of his views, but what Arn was hoping for was a more explicit strategy. Narses, knowing this, continued.
"Forgive my rudeness in saying so, but as a ruler, oneneeds boast neither strategic mind nor military prowess. Those are the roles yed by his retainers."
Staring straight at the red-faced Arn, Narses swallowed a mouthful of wine from his cup.
"First, Your Highness, please disclose your objectives. That way, we shall be able to concentrate all our efforts on helping you fulfill them."
Arn was quiet.
"When the conquest reaches an end, the Lusitanians shall no doubt embark upon the total eradication of Parsian culture. They shall prohibit the use of Parsian speech, style Parsian names afterthe manner of Lusitania, destroy the temples of all the gods of Pars, and erect temples to Ialdabaoth everywhere they turn."
"Will there be no alternative?"
"That is why they are called barbarians. They are unable toprehend that other people also have things they value, so to speak. When ites to the destruction of temples, at least" Narses reced his wine cup on the table. "ording to the teachings of Ialdabaoth, there exist three ways of dealing with nonbelievers. Those who convert voluntarily are allowed to preserve more or less all their wealth and be free citizens. Those forced to convert find their wealth confiscated and are enved. Those who stubbornly refuse to convert"
Giv drew a finger emphatically across his throat. Narses, nodding in response to the movement, gazed at the contemtive Arn. The prince''s cheeks were flushed.
"I cannot allow the people of Pars to meet with such an end. To that effect, how should I act? Inexperienced though I may be, please lend me your strength."
All five of them, m included, fixed their eyes upon the prince. Atst, Dariun represented them all in reply.
"Modest though our strength may be, dly shall we aid Your Highness in opposing the Lusitanians and restoring peace to Pars."
"You have my thanks. I leave myself in your hands."
Arn did not yet possess much else beyond this vague conviction. Of the long journey of self-discovery, so to speak, that he must now set out upon, he had yet to receive any insight. At fourteen he was still immature: whether to the great mardan warriors surrounding him, or to his innumerable enemies, he was a powerless existence. Among the many responsibilities he now bore, foremost among them was no doubt his own growth.
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Successor to the Throne (6)
Book 1: Chapter 5.: Sessor to the Throne (6)
Underground beneath the jail was another prison, this one with thick walls and heavy doors, and isted from the cells on the ground floor by long flights of stairs. Furthermore, armored soldiers stood guard everywhere, no doubt to intercept intruders long before they could reach their targets.
The only prisoner in this dungeon was a middle-aged man of powerful build whose hair and beard alike had grown utterly unkempt, and yet who cut a far more majestic figure than the men interrogating him.
It was King Andragoras of Pars, who had vanished without a trace in the world above.
In spite of the countless wounds oozing blood from him, Andragoras still lived. Or perhaps it was more urate to say that he had been allowed to live. Whenever his interrogators'' examination reached a stopping point, a scrawny little physician who looked to be not more than half their size would materialize and conduct treatment upon the prisoner. Bothsh marks and poker burns were washed in alcohol and smeared with salve; then herbalpresses were applied, his mouth was forced open and medicinal brandy poured down his throat, and then he was made to sleep. When the man''s robust frame looked like it had recovered enough strength to resist, the interrogators would begin their work anew.
For several days and several nights this continued. Once, the man tore off his chains with a burst of sheer physical strength; for that, they switched from then on to chains originally meant to bind a sher.
Sometime during these cruel, monotonous days, a change arose atst. To the depths of the underground prison arrived a guest. Molded diligently from hate and malice, zing with mes of vengeance such was the ambiance of the brand new silver mask worn by this visitor.
The interrogators greeted the man of the silver mask with utmost respect. Daily life at the prison, even for those conducting the interrogations, required much fortitude. Change, no matter what shape it took, must be weed.
" So? How is his condition?"
Weakened, but in no immediate danger to his life, indicated the representative.
"Good. Don''t kill him."
There was a melodic inflection to the voice of the silver mask.
"I repeat my order. You must not kill him. This bastard is not to be killed until he has been shown the severed head of his own son before his very eyes."
On receiving a dull nce from King Andragoras, the man of the silver mask let out a lowugh.
"Oh Andragoras! It''s just as you''ve heard. Your son and heir still lives. However, that shall not be for long. He lives only so that I might find him and kill him with my own hands."
The man of the silver mask drew close to the prisoner''s face.
"Do you know who I am?"
There was no response.
"You still don''t know? Then let me tell you. It is a name that should not be unfamiliar to your ears. My name is Hirmiz. My father was Osroes."
"Hirmiz?"
"That''s right. Hirmiz. Legitimate son of Osroes, the previous king. Your nephew. And the true king of Pars!"
Though Andragoras said nothing, the iron cuffs about his wrists seemed to make a slight creak. The man of the silver mask heaved a heavy sigh.
"Surprised? Or perhaps you haven''t the energy to be surprised? How unfortunate that you did not seed in killing me back when you were unable to ede to the throne. The very instant the evil god protecting you looked away, I managed to escape from that ze."
As he spoke, the man unfastened his silver mask. With the mask removed, the man''s face was exposed before Andragoras''s eyes.
"This is the face you burned. Look well upon it! Avert not your eyes. Look upon this proof of the great sin youmitted sixteen years ago."
The countenance that appeared from beneath the silver mask was the same as Dariun had witnessed. The half that preserved its original elegance and the half that had been sacrificed to the god of fire together pieced into a single face. The dull gaze of Andragoras beneath his disheveled hair seemed to direct itself over, but soon enough his chin dropped again as if from fatigue.
" It is I who am the rightful king of Pars."
Putting his silver mask back on, Hirmiz calmly reasserted his own im.
"How I have suffered and struggled these sixteen years in order to reim my rightful ce. You have absolutely no idea, do you? No need to retrieve your memories of the past; before that, better for you to consider only the future that awaits for your wife and son, as well as for yourself."
His voice broke off, reced by the sound of footsteps. Within the prisoner''s field of vision, silver-masked Hirmiz strode toward the deferential interrogators bowing deeply in a row. The first confrontation between uncle and nephew after sixteen long years was over.
As he watched Hirmiz leave, King Andragoras''s eyes zed to life. The thinnest pinprick of light expanded to fill his pupils, and when it dissipated, a smile as cold as icy poisoned wine painted itself upon Andragoras''s face.
The king burst intoughter. Chased from his throne, his kingdom stolen, and now even denied his right to rule, the man rattled the chains that bound him as heughed andughed.
For reasons unknown to anyone but himself, Andragoras''sughter continued to echo along the walls of his underground cell.
Year 320 of the Parsian calendar. With King Andragoras''s whereabouts unknown, the royal capital Ecbatana fell. The Kingdom of Pars came to ruin.
Book 1: Afterword
Book 1: Afterword
There is a book that was written during 12th century Ennd, called Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain). The writer was supposedly a teacher from Oxford, but prior toSir Thomas Malorys Le Morte d''Arthur, had already recorded the famous exploits of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.
ording to the former book, after King Arthur had united the entire ind of Britain, he shed against the tyrannical Roman emperor for the dominion of all Europe; several battles ensued, all of which he won, thus bringing about the fall of Rome and the emperor''s defeat, upon which he seized the throne and crowned himself emperor of Europe. However, faced with the betrayal of his illegitimate son Mordred, he returned to his native Ennd and was stabbed in mortalbat or so the story goes.
Of course this is not so much actual history as it is a tale of romance, but the author, a man named Monmouth, grandly professed this to be a true historical ount. In creating this fictitious "pseudo-history" of his, he no doubt expended a great deal of effort and toil.
I''m extremely fond of the tale written above. I love made-up stories, and I love the people who pour all their passion into creating such pointless fairy tales as well. Though not when politics gets involved and they''re fabricated just to curry favor with those in power.
Because I like made-up stories, I thought I''d like to be a writer of fiction. If even after blending together not only the Historia mentioned above, as well as The Three Musketeers, The Man in the Iron Mask, Nansou Satomi Hakkenden (Tale of Eight Dogs), Water Margin, and other such key ingredients, I have still been unable to concoct an interestingly vored soup, it''s probably because I haven''t yet realized the limits of my own skill. Having already written a historical in a futuristic setting (T/N: Legend of the Gctic Heroes), this time I wanted to set a story in a parallel universe of our own''s past thinking, perhaps, that this might make my life a little easier.
At any rate, though no match for the incredible passion of the great Monmouth before me, but determined to concoct a soup of my own, I set about doing my homework. Chang An in the Tang Dynasty, the Turkish Ottoman Empire, the Ilkhanate and the Byzantine Empire I went through two or three rounds before finally settling on medieval Persia as my setting. Of course, not the actual medieval Persia, but a nation just like it in a parallel universe. "Pars" is a corrupted pronunciation of Fars, the primarynds of the medieval Persian dynasties. (T/N: Apparently the other way around actually, despite modern pronunciation. Old Persian = Parsa)
Both character names and ce names were taken from the history and mythology of pre-Imic Persia. Strictly speaking, there''s a different feel between the names of ancient Persia and the names of medieval Persia, but please go easy on me with those!
What I mean by going easy is because, as you see, I''ve peppered this book with quite a lot of Persian terms, and have furthermore used them wherever appropriate, so serious schrs of Persian history and literature may perhaps be rather annoyed. To avoid that, I set this in a parallel universe, but please keep that point in mind beforehand. After all, this is just a fabricated story, so please do go easy on me.
Meanwhile, the enemy armies that invade Pars are based on both the Crusaders as well as the Spanish conquistadors in America; though I painted them in a garishly cruel light, it is only due to the demands of the story. That said, if you''ve read books like Amin Maaloufs The Crusades Through Arab Eyes, you will understand the extent of the atrocities the Crusaders didmit in the name of God. Richard I, "the Lionheart," became popr in Japan through the Robin Hood legend and Ivanhoe, but when he took 2700 hostages at the city of Akka, he demanded 20,000 gold in ransom from the Arabs, and upon being refused, massacred them all. On the other hand, the Arab general Sdin, when upying Jerusalem, allowed his captives to leave safely with all their wealth and possessions. To im the two were equally worthy rivals is perhaps a bit insulting to Sdin.
Setting aside our own world, in the world of Pars, there of course exist countless other nations; Arn, who in the first volume has already seen his own kingdom stolen from him, his capital upied, and both parents captured, will no doubt be passing through quite a few of them in the future. However, before that, he who has yet to mature as either a ruler or a warrior has quite a bit of growing to do. At the very least he''ll need to learn how tomand the four-and-a-half people who currently consider themselves his subordinates. Otherwise there will be no point to the title "Arn Senki." (T/N: literally "War Chronicles of Arn")
At the moment, Arn is nothing more than a piece of luggage to his subordinates. He must grow up in a hurry, and clear all the plots set before him by his evil creator: danger, warfare, secret plots, natural disaster, death, and so on or so I hope. And so, if my readers continue cheering on this unreliable protagonist and the various figures around him, that will be most reassuring to me, as the one cooking up this soup.
Book 2: Epigraph
Book 2: Epigraph
Upon the deste fields of Mazandaran,
Before the fluttering banners of Kai Khosrow,
The evil hosts of Zahhak could not but flee
Like sheep startled by spring thunder.
His prized sword Ruknabad cleaved even iron in twain
As if forged from a shardof the sun.
His beloved steed Rakhsh was graced with invisible wings;
A celebrated mount, most suitable for a Jahangir.
As the sun in the heavens has no rival
Upon earth there is only the Shah!
That peerless hero Kai Khosrow
Who with sword in hand shall assumehis divine mandate?
Anonymous, "The Chronicles of Kai Khosrow"
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (1)
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (1)
About all four walls of the chamber coiled a damp, heavy darkness.
This chamber was located deep underground. It was not a dimas, a crypt, but the atmosphere was just like one. Aboveground was Ecbatana, the royal capital of the Kingdom of Pars, currently upied by an army of Lusitanian invaders. However, the gray-robed elder illuminated in the feeblemplight showed not the slightest hint of concern over the vicissitudes above.
The elder, body buried in a shabby chair, had shut his eyes, but now abruptly opened them wide. His eyes swiveled around, bursting with reflectedmplight.
"Hast thoue?"
From the elder''s lips a low voice slithered out like a slug.
"Gurgin, hast thoue?"
The darkness swayed like a full sail in the wind, and subsequently, another voice replied.
"Gurgin hathe, Master."
"The other six apany thee, do they not?"
"Asmanded, all await before thee."
In the darkness materialized the silhouettes of men d in shadowy robes.
"Ghundi hathe before thee, Master."
"Pd hathe."
"Arzhang hathe."
"Beed hathe."
"Sanjeh hathe."
"Gazhdaham hathe."
With squinted eyes the elder gazed at the men''s reverently kneeling figures. Whether it was to observe those forms wrapped in the darkness, or perhaps for some other reason, the elder did not order the men to emerge before him.
"Should you sevenbine thy strength, you would triumph over even ten thousand soldiers. You shall lend me that power in service to Lord Zahhak, the Serpent King, will you not?"
Ghundi, representing the men, replied, "All this is in ordance with the revered instruction of thee, our Master, who bestowed upon us these powers to realize the second advent of our lord Zahhak the Serpent King. How could we possibly refuse our aid? Please,mand us however thou pleaseth."
"Perhaps it shall be desired for you to even offer up thy very lives."
"For the glory of the Serpent King Lord Zahhak, we cling not to these transient earthly lives of ours. To hold doubt over such things is pathetic."
"Well said!" The elder sighed as if he were spewing miasma. He looked satisfied. "Those who desire the glory of Serpent King Zahhak shall certainly have His blessed protection. For the venerable cause of the Serpent King, those high and mighty nonbelievers and evil cultists must all be destroyed."
*, the art of terrestrial movement, Master."
"Hm, the power to tunnel about in the earth, concealed?"
The elder considered this, but not for long.
"Very well, this Imand thee. Using thy art, proceed to the Lusitanian camp and dispose of one of their more renowned generals."
The Lusitanian army had seized control of everything above the room wherein the elder was nested. In other words, there was an immense army of 300,000 in their way. And yet the elder made this order as casually as if he were but asking someone to go to a forest and gather fruit from the trees.
The one at the receiving end of thismand was equallyposed.
"I hear and obey. Once I have selected the appropriate materials, I shall carry out this great order. Shall I bring back the head?"
"There is not much worth in my seeing it. Incidentally, thou shouldst understand the reason thou art to kill a general of Lusitania?"
"To weaken the strong and strengthen the weak, prolonging the chaos and increasing the bloodshed. That must be Master''s intent."
"Exactly. The more the blood that flows, the sooner the advent of Lord Zahhak the Serpent King. Well then, go now. Everyone else, await orders for some other time."
The aurora-like darkness swayed without a sound, and the men''s presence vanished.
Only Gurgin remained. Though hesitant, he opened his mouth as ifing to a decision.
"Master, presumptuous though this may be, I have a single query."
"I know."
The elder''s briefughter resembled a coughing fit.
"What you wish to ask is this: if we wish to increase the bloodshed, we need only have the Lusitanian army engage in further brutality; why do we not do so?"
"Yes, I can hide nothing from Master."
"There are two reasons. Firstly, by suffering more victims in this manner, the Lusitanian army shall grow more violent in their desire for vengeance. Aside from that, ever since Atropatene the Lusitanians have had it a little too good; they ought to suffer a bit too, or it wouldn''t be fair."
"Forgive my ignorance. By the way, where is the Parsian prince who has risen in opposition against the Lusitanian army, currently?"
"The crown prince Arn? That boy seems to be heading south from the capital at the moment."
"Is it fine to let him go?"
To this question, the elder onlyughed in response. A dryughter, lingering in the damp air.
"Never mind that; no need to go so far as to use our sorcery. Those who desire that brat Arn''s head are countless. No doubt their eyes are all alight as they chase that unripened child around in circles."
"Among them is Prince Hirmiz as well."
Gurgin''s words caused the freakish elder to break out intoughter once more.
"That fellow too is cast as the hero in a tragedy of his own. Though if you ask me, it''s more like some terrible farce. Including that Arn boy in his hatred of Andragoras, hmph if he knew the truth, that unscarred half of his face would surely turn pale indeed!"
notes.
THE CAPITAL ABLAZE | EPIGRAPH |THE TWO PRINCES |NEXT >
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (2)
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (2)
1 from east to west.
Though they were not exceptionally high peaks, these mountainspletely separated the climate and geography of Pars into two halves. To the north of Nimruz, thend was blessed with moderate rainfall, and in the winter it even snowed. Both coniferous forests and grasnds spread wide, and grains and fruits alike ripened in abundance. Meanwhile, crossing the divide to the south, the sun scorched hot, both air and earth were parched; other than the oases dotting thendscape, desert, rock formations, and savanna prevailed, and there were no forests.
Nevertheless, flowing south from the mountains and emptying into the sea was the Oxus River, its levels augmented by the umtion of melted snow and water from underground springs. The water of this river was used to run aqueducts, providing irrigation for nearby fields and pastures. As well, at the mouth of the Oxus River was the famous port city of Gn, from which one could embark upon the sea route to distant Serica.
In the mountains, yuz, or snow leopards, made their dens; south of the mountains were sher, or lions, and asionally even elephants. North of the mountains, the forms of bears and wolves could be sighted. Also, there were a number of trails leading to passes through the mountains, connecting the vastnds of Pars from north to south, but without the sound of caravan bells, those trailsy dormant, utterly nketed in silence.
.
2 away were several hundred cavalrymen in Lusitanian gear.
Among the five riders were two boys and one long-haired woman. The other two included a young man with wine-dark hair conversing loudly with the other.
"Just checking, but how many in pursuit?"
"About five hundred riders, I suppose?"
"Bit too many, huh. If it were within four hundred though, I''d take care of them myself somehow or other."
The other man did not reply; the long-haired woman interrupted.
"Sir Narses, you need not put up with Giv''s nonsense."
Then the woman called out to the boy galloping beside her.
"Your Highness, Sir Dariun should arrive with troops at any moment now. Please endure a little longer."
The boy bedecked in dazzling golden armor nodded fiercely. He was none other than Arn, the crown prince of Pars. The other youth was called m. He was Narses''s retak, his page boy.
After their loss to the Lusitanian army at the Battle of Atropatene, the prince had been separated from his father King Andragoras III, and was now protected by the ck knight Dariun, who counted among his five subordinates. Dariun had proceeded ahead by himself in the direction of Kashan, a fortress located within the Nimruz Mountains. He was to request the aid of the master of Kashan Castle, Lord Hojir.
Arn and the others, wandering through the mountain trails about half a day behind, had been discovered by a nearby troop of Lusitanians prowling about to pige and scout.
ncing over at her shoulder at their pursuers, Farangis ascertained the position of the sun upon their path down the winding trail, then suddenly raised her bow and nocked an arrow to the string. She twisted around upon the back of her horse, aimed true, and released.
Farangis''s arrow flew straight into the gaping mouth of the Lusitanian soldier at the lead. "Gah!" With that peculiar cry, the soldier tumbled from his saddle and vanished amid the dust kicked up by hisrades.
"Nice!"
Giv, praising her, pulled out his own por bow as well, nocked an arrow, and loosed it at the Lusitanian soldier newlye to the fore.
A thin silver light sped across empty space and was sucked right into the chest of the Lusitanian.
The soldier was wearing a cuirass, but the arrow pierced through the gap in the ovepping tes near the center and buried into the soldier''s flesh. The soldier swayed back in his saddle without a word; there he stayed for several dozen more gaz before he exhausted his strength and fell from his horse.
Witnessing such superb skill with the bow one after another, the Lusitanian soldiers could not help but show signs of faltering. They pulled on their reins, slowing the speed of their pursuit. Then it was the Lusitanians'' turn to loose arrows at Arn''s party.
3. Arn and m could not yet be considered expert riders, but they had nheless been raised in the equestrian culture of Pars. Their pace was not one the likes of the Lusitanians could hope to match.
Pulling themselves together, the Lusitanian troops reformed their ranks, chasing the escapees until they had them cornered at the edge of a precipice.
In that moment, there sounded a Parsian horn, its notes iprehensible to the Lusitanians as it echoed about the surrounding mountains. Some, too, must have spotted upon the cliffs then a single mounted knight in ck, his figure bathed in the light of the setting sun. No time even for surprise: a fierce wind swept forth from the ravine, and with it rained a storm of arrows.
On this mountain trail there was no room to dodge left or right. Among the Lusitanian troops, men and horses alike screamed and fell dead to the ground. Nor did thisst long. Giving up all thoughts of pursuit or resistance, they turned their horses and fled from certain death without looking back. If they were to know it was the crown prince of Pars whom they''d failed to capture, no doubt they would regret itter.
Dariun hade leading reinforcements from the fortress of Kashan. An excellentmander, Dariun had stationed archers on the cliffs overlooking either side of the trail, anticipating any possible attack by ensuring the ability to sweep away all Lusitanian pursuit at once.
Even as they rejoiced at their reunion, before their eyes there appeared soon enough the gates of the mountain fortress of Kashan. Waiting on his horse in front of the gates was a slightly obese-looking man d in silk. This was one of the shahrdaran who governed Pars, Lord Hojir.
.
Among the aristocracy, those who owned their own territories and private armies were called "shahrdaran," but in all of Pars there were no more than about a hundred of them. The other nobles received generous stipends from the Shah to serve at court as civil and military officials. Of course, however, among them were many who received wages but fooled around instead of doing work.
Narses''ste father Teos too had been one of these governors, and held dominion over the Dam region. Though Narses was technically a young master of an aristocratic family, his mother had not been Teos''s legal wife. She had been born a lowly azat, a freebornmoner, and was merely one of Teos''s concubines, ranked perhaps twentieth or thirtieth in his favor. Upon giving birth to a male infant that is to say, Narses she had been chased from the estate by Teos''s wife. However, having received just enough for living expenses, she took her young son away with her and settled down at the royal capital of Ecbatana.
Narses grew up in the neighborhood and studied alongside the desks of azat children at the local school. When he turned ten, a messenger from his father came to wee him back. Teos had about ten other children aside from Narses, but somehow or other, they were all girls. Because that dreadful wife of his had suddenly died of food poisoning after eating mutton, Teos made the decision to designate his one and only son as his sessor
And now Hojir, lord of the mountain fortress of Kashan and its surrounding territories, was also said to have no son. To which Giv remarked, rather scathingly, "So no matter how mighty the noble, even he has stuff about which he can''t just do as he pleases."
Hojir was in good humor as he weed Arn into the fortress.
"Ever since hearing of the defeat at Atropatene, I have been most anxious over the well-being of both His Majesty the Shah and Your Highness the Crown Prince. But with my strength alone I had no way to challenge the great armies of Lusitania for a rematch, and so I could only bear that pain within my heart. Chagrined as I was at my own helplessness, when Lord Dariun was sighted today at our castle, he gifted me this opportunity to demonstrate my loyalty to Your Highness."
Giv, looking suspiciously at the maudlin figure of Hojir chattering on with abandon, whispered to the kahina beside him.
"Lady Farangis, what do you think about that man?"
"Quite the talkative man he is. His tongue seems smeared with oil. Nor do I think it oil of much quality."
The beautiful priestess''s criticism was quite sharp. She, unlike Hojir, had participated in a battle against great odds for Arn, all by herself without a single soldier to her name. This splendid prattle of Hojir''s was nothing but an excuse, and was not to be listened to.
Giv nodded with a smug expression. "Truly, men who are nothing but chatter only expose their insincerity all the more by doing so, right, Lady Farangis?"
"Just like a certain someone."
Even Farangis''s insinuation did not seem to discourage Giv at all.
"Well, that said, good guy or bad guy, it won''t change the taste of his nabid."
The celebratory banquet was most extravagant. Though both meat and wine such as nabid were plentiful, the meat was one matter, but the alcohol was forbidden to Arn. He made do by wetting his tongue with sharbat fruit punch and ck tea, even as he found himself overwhelmed by the incredible variety of dishes avable.
Just as Arn lifted his silver spoon, raising to his mouth a scoop of concentrated pomegranate sharbat mixed with almond and syrup, Hojir unexpectedly whispered to him.
"Your Highness, I have a daughter. She is around thirteen years of age, and in my view as a father, I feel that she is eptably pretty, and also quite bright. If only she were allowed to serve at Your Highness''s side, my daughter would know no greater happiness"
2~100m
3~250 m
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (3)
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (3)
Once the feast had ended, Arn, Farangis, and the other four were each allocated separate lodgings. Crammed into a single room, Dariun, Narses, Giv, and m began to converse about what had happened at the banquet.
"It seems Hojir''s aim is to make his daughter the consort of the next king and thereby exercise authority as a royal inw."
Narses smiled cynically. There had been countless examples of such throughout the history of Pars.
"And, knowing his true intent, we cannot just let him be."
Dariun was a bit cross. That he''d been separated from the prince bothered him. He had nned to take nkets and sleep at the door to the prince''s chambers, but Hojir had refused him this.
Hojir was able to deploy 3000 riders and 35,000 foot soldiers. Moreover, were Hojir to raise a call to arms with Arn at hand, one could fully expect all the other shahrdaran to respond. It was for that very reason they and Arn hade calling at his castle. If it were possible, they wanted to avoid making an enemy of him.
Narses, chin cupped lightly in one hand, was lost in consideration.
" Although, should the other party think of making an enemy of us instead, well, there''ll be no helping it"
There was a low knock on the door. Giv, sword in hand, demanded who it was, and on realizing it was Arn, hurriedly opened the door. Arn, ever since the arrangements at the banquet, had been isted from his subordinates until now, unable to approach them for discussion.
"Hojir proposed two conditions to me."
The first was to make his daughter the future queen. And the other was to refrain from such radical reforms as the emancipation of the ghm and other simr breaks from Parsian tradition.
"Is talk of such things not premature? It is hardly something that should be discussed before we first muster military forces to battle against the Lusitanian army, seize back the royal capital, and rescue my lord father and mydy mother."
"And so? What was your reply, Your Highness?"
"I told him that I could not give him an immediate response, and would provide him an answer in the near future. Was that all right?"
"That should be fine."
"Honestly, just what is he thinking? I''ve never even met that supposed daughter of his!"
Seeing that the prince''s unhappy expression was in earnest, Narses''s lips twitched into slight smile.
"I too am unable to entirelyprehend Hojir''s deepest intentions. No, I daresay even he himself is wavering. Does he wish to set up Your Highness as the liberator of Pars and enjoy power under the reign of a new Shah? Or"
Or perhaps, surrender to the Lusitanian army with Arn''s head as a gift and receive some reward? No matter what, this garrulous lord of Kashan Castle was probably nning to use the prince who had flown right into hisp to his own greatest advantage. And furthermore, he must by all means prevent any interference from Dariun or Narses, and would almost certainly make an attempt to eliminate them.
"No doubt Hojir will make his move sometime tonight. Though you must be feeling tired, Your Highness, please be prepared to depart at any moment. We shall take care of everything else."
Saying thus, Narses sent Arn back to his room. Then he whispered something in m''s ear. m, nodding, opened the window and sneaked out without drawing the notice of the guards stationed on the ground floor roughly five gaz below.
After about an hour, m returned with something in hand for Narses. Narses brought it close to his nose and sniffed; then, chuckling under his breath, he dumped it into a water jar and covered it up with a lid. Resin extracted from ck lotus stems, mixed with perfumed oil and poppy sap and kneaded into a block of soporific incense that gave off a colorless and scentless smoke. m had spotted it hidden above the ceiling.
"Just the sort of petty trick a fool like Hojir would pull. Whatever the case, it seems there''s no more need for discretion on our part either. The fellow''s no doubt aware that the prince dropped by our room earlier, anyhow."
"That so? No need to hold back? Well, if that''s it, let''s get ourselves ready to rumble." Giv, apparently intending to nap until further developments arose, wrapped himself up in his nket in the corner of the room.
Seeing this, Dariun murmured to his friend.
"Narses, I''d like your opinion on something. Though it''s horrifying just to consider it, one cannot possibly im that His Highness Arn is the orphaned son of His Majesty thete Osroes V. Right?"
On the battlefield he may have been a hero who knew no such thing as fear, but at a time like this, he was unable to conceal his expression of unease. To raise such a topic now of all times was surely because he could no longer bear to keep his thoughts to himself.
Narses crossed his arms.
"It''s not that I haven''t considered it myself. However, when Osroes V passed away, it was the fifth month of the year 304. His Highness Arn was born in the ninth month of the year 306. With a gap of two years and four months, there is simply no possibility for His Highness to be the bastard son of King Osroes."
"I see"
As if heaving a great sigh, Dariun nodded. Narses, in contrast, seemed to have unsettled himself. He pulled an aged scrap of paper out from his sturdy cotton traveling bag and spread it out on the carpet.
It was a chart tracing the lineage of the royal family of Pars, starting from the founder, Kai Khosrow, all the way through the eighteenth king, Andragoras III.
"Look at this family tree, Dariun. In the history of the Parsian royals, there were three Shahs who went by the name of Andragoras. These three men share onemon point: have you noticed?"
Dariun, brows slightly knit, moved his gaze from Narses''s face to the family tree. Nosy Giv, burrowed in his nkets behind them, strained to listen with all his might. Of this Narses was well aware, but he did not bother calling him out on it.
Before long, Dariun voiced his single discovery."The rtionship between Andragoras and Osroes?"
"Yes, that''s precisely it. Andragoras I was enthroned following Osroes III. Andragoras II seeded Osroes IV. And"
Andragoras III, whose whereabouts were currently unknown, had eded to the throne upon the decease of Osroes V. The three kings named Andragoras corresponded with three kings named Osroes, each of the former seeding one of thetter. The first instance presented no questions whatsoever. The second instance was perhaps mere coincidence. However, the third could no longer be considered coincidental, could it?
This was not such a huge stretch, Narses felt, for when the King of Kings Gotarzes II, two reigns before, had named his two sons Osroes and Andragoras, it was a fact that there had been some among the courtiers and nobles who had furrowed their brows. Is he daring the brothers to contend for the throne? they asked.
Gotarzes, as might be expected of one called King of Kings, had been an illustrious ruler; however, if one were forced to point out a shoring, it was that he was superstitious, and was taken in indiscriminately by all sorts of omens. cing his confidences not just in virtuous priests, but also in oracles or sorcerers of unknown character, he was the cause of much inconvenience for his closest retainers.
"Dariun, do you believe in that so-called prophecy junk?"
Dariun was somewhat startled by Narses suddenly asking this sort of question.
"Nope, I don''t. More urately, I don''t want to believe. Just imagining that everything I do or think has already been predicted by ancient oracles makes me feel like shit," Dariun replied with a wry chuckle. "I live my life ording to my own will. Whether I seed or fail, I''d like to think it''s all my own responsibility to bear."
"Spoken like a true hero. But in this world, those who feel differentlyprise the majority by far. Even that King of Kings, Gotarzes, was ensnared by prophecy."
"Narses, just what are you trying to say?"
"My apologies, Dariun; please wait a little longer. I''ve not yet finished sorting through my thoughts, nor is there much proof. But I''ll exin soon."
Dariun nodded wordlessly.
Narses sank into his own contemtion.
Prophecies came true only under two situations. One was when humanity discovered truths ording to thews of nature. When these things becamemon knowledge, though, it also became ludicrous to refer to them as prophecies. For example, "After winteres spring" or "High tide will ur at around noon tomorrow" and that sort of thing. And as for the other, it was when those who believed in prophecies carried out actions themselves toward the realization of such. What Narses was currently pondering was this second situation.
Currently, this country had transformed into a haunted realm overrun night and day with hundreds of demons. Narses did not think King Andragoras had been an ideal sovereign. However, he did not deny that King Andragoras had been a powerful pir supporting the Kingdom of Pars.
That pir, somehow or other, had apparently been lost. Could the crown prince Arn, still only fourteen years of age, be the new pir of the kingdom?
This was not just a problem for the royal family, but one concerning the fate of all Pars.
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (4)
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (4)
The heavens were filled with stars, as if the gods themselves had spilled an enormous chest of jewels into the night sky.
Upon the starlit ground flitted the dark shadows of human figures. Approximately one hundred armored men were mustered in a stone-paved courtyard. Sticking out like a sore thumb at their fore was a man bedecked in an ostentatious set of armor. This was the lord of the castle, Hojir. Whether in terms of his speech or his dress, this was certainly a man who spared no expense when it came to himself.
Hojir was confident that Dariun and the others were fast asleep under the effect of the soporific. Before long, Hojir led a troop of soldiers before Arn''s chambers and knocked upon the oaken doors, calling for the prince.
"Is something the matter, Hojir?"
The prince who opened the door was not dressed in nightclothes. This was as Narses had directed him. For a moment, it urred to Hojir that this was unusual, but that thought was swiftly stifled.
"Dariun, Narses, and all others at Your Highness''s side who shall bring you harm should henceforth be eliminated. I humbly beg Your Highness''s knowing permission for this task."
"They have supported me well. For what reason do you speak of eliminating them?"
"Sooner orter they shall reveal their disloyalty as your retainers; that they shall someday harm Your Highness and bring the country to ruin is more than evident."
"What nonsense"
Hojir, taken to task by the prince, raised his voice.
"This is all entirely for the sake of Your Esteemed Highness. That man named Narses is blessed with intellect; wherefore, then, do you think he suffered the disfavor of King Andragoras? Why, because he advocated such radical ideas as abolishing the institute of very, confiscating the temples'' assets, or applying the samews to nobility and azat, thereby endangering the very foundations of Pars. Even if the Lusitanian army were to be chased out, if that awful Narses and his set are allowed to govern the nation as they please, twould be a far greater evil than mere ruin. I daresay that man, not knowing his own ce, has even begged Your Highness for some high-ranking position, has he not?"
On and on flowed his voice, without even a pause for breath, as if to suffocate the prince within the muddied stream of his words. Only now, atst, was an opportunity for rebuttal.
"Narses has made no requests whatsoever. It was I myself who made the offer of a most triflingposition."
Inside Arn, his displeasure was swiftly growing. Why did Hojir feel the need to belittle others to such an extent? And furthermore, on the basis of things he himself arbitrarily imed "might" happen in the future!
"Hojir, if you wish for the position of framatar, then I shall certainly make you my prime minister when I ede to the throne. Can you not therefore cooperate with Dariun and Narses in my service?"
A pity, but that he could not, Hojir dered. Once more came another muddy stream of words.
The two friends Dariun and Narses no doubt shared simr political views. The two named Farangis and Giv were plotting something of their own, and could not be trusted. In summation, they were a miserable lot who hadn''t any hope whatsoever of personal advancement under King Andragoras, and so had chosen to take advantage of the prince instead. Thus he humbly begged the prince to leave them behind and entrust himself to him, Hojir, alone
Arn raised his hand; only then did Hojir bring his spiel to a halt.
"If I were, at this very moment, to assent to all you have said, then that means I shall have to abandon Narses and Dariun, doesn''t it?"
"Indeed that is the case."
"Whatever you''re thinking is absolutely iprehensible to me." Arn was on the verge of shouting. "Were I to abandon Dariun and Narses now and choose you instead, how can you say there shall note a day when I abandon you in turn?!"
Though his mouth dropped open, Hojir had no reply.
"You insist on ndering Narses. And yet, Narses once offered me hospitality for a night, without ever resorting to such foul y!"
Hojir could no doubt sense Arn''s wrathful disdain. His expression turned grim.
"As a guest, I thank you. At any rate, you have my gratitude for providing us with tonight''s meal. However, I no longer desire you as an ally."
Tossing out those words, Arn turned his back to the overly garrulous castle lord and strode noisily down the stone corridor, hollering for his subordinates.
"Dariun! Narses! Giv! Farangis! m! Wake up, we are leaving this fortress at once!"
Hojir had probably only just realized his failure. In the next instant, the doors flung open, and the five figures who burst into the hallway were, like the prince, already fully dressed and prepared. Dariun''s ck helm and armor glittered in the light of the torches.
"We have been awaiting your honoredmand. Let us ready the horses right away. I do not believe there is any need to dwell in a ce like this for much longer."
"Ain''t any good women around anyway," Giv said merrily.
The six of them exited the building, saddled their horses, and came out to the paved courtyard, whereupon the dismayed Hojir tottered after them in his overly gaudy armor.
"Wait, Your Highness, please wait. These people, under the pretense of loyalty, shall lure you down the path of evil. They are most unforgivably wicked individuals."
The knight in ck directed a cold nce at him.
"I''m afraid you speak of yourself, Hojir. You should stop venting your frustration on others just because you failed to make a puppet of His Highness Arn."
Hojir''s face contorted in fury,pletely validating whatDariun had pointed out. However, his expression swiftly transformed. Though it was a rather strained look, Hojir nheless brought a smile upon his face as he spoke.
"It is indeed my own unworthiness to have invited such hopeless suspicions upon myself. No more shall I pursue the matter. But at least, Your Highness, allow my subordinates to take your noble mount''s lead for you."
Upon a signal from their lord, a pair of soldiers closed in on the horse Arn was riding.
Blood was spilled in the very next instant.
One of them found Giv''s de pierced through his throat; one found his ear sent flying by Farangis''s sword.
Howls burst forth toward the starry sky. One crumpled to the ground; one staggered, attempting to stem the blood gushing from the side of his face; two concealed acinaces shortswords ttered out to the horse''s hooves.
Farangis turned her sharp gaze on the lord of the castle. "Approaching His Highness the Crown Prince with hidden des what is the meaning of this? Or perhaps south of Nimruz this is considered appropriate decorum in the presence of royalty?"
She received no reply not in speech, at least.
Hojir was no longer bothering to conceal his intent to take the prince captive. All around Arn''s party rang the sound of several dozen swords unsheathing.
"You''d better let us go without a fuss, Hojir, for your own good." Dariun''s longsword shed beneath the starlight, and Hojir''s men visibly quailed.
Each and every one of them had both witnessed and heard with his own eyes and ears the truth of that renownedepithet, "marde-e mardan." Three years previously, the royal prince of Turan, extolled all along the Great Continental Road as a warrior of unparalleled valor, had been cut from his horse in a single stroke by none other than Dariun.
"Archers "
In response to Hojir''s voice arose a confused outcry. On every single archer''s bow the string had been cut, rendering it unusable.
"Well done, m."
Praised by his master, the young retak grinned happily. m had, at Narses''s request, sneaked into Hojir''s archery garrison and cut the strings on all their bows.
All Hojir could do was fume. Scowling at Narses, he screwed up his entire face and cursed, "You you sly fox!"
"Ohe now, I''m hardly a match for you." In saying this, Narses was of course not being modest, but sarcastic. "Well then, oh noble lord of Kashan, though our numbers arecking, we''ve enough bows and arrows, as well as the archers to use them. Wise as you are, I do believe you shall concur that your best option is perhaps to open the gates and let us through"
Hojir directed abloodshot gaze at Giv and Farangis. Both of them had drawn their bows from atop their horses, aiming two arrows at Hojir''s chest. Even if he were to fend these off, he knew very well that either Dariun or Narses''s sword woulde swooping down on him thereafter.
Reluctantly, Hojir began to order the gates opened, but at that very moment the torches illuminating the courtyard suddenly extinguished.
A cry was raised. "Capture the crown prince!" It seemed Hojir''s men intended to help their liege aplish his ambitions.
With a sudden explosion of yells, the crowd of soldiers pressed in around Arn and the others. But, although these were unexpected circumstances for Arn andpany, Hojir''s side was very much in the same boat. And in the end, the darkness and chaos gave the advantage to Arn''s party instead.
Dariun''s longsword sketched wheels of fresh blood in the air. The soldiers braced around Hojir toppled like dolls made of y.
Amid the curses, death cries, and shing des, Hojir fled. For good reason his allies, falling victim to that brandished sword, had be little more than a bubbling mass of confusion. Seeking a safe position, he headed to the stairs leading up the fortress walls, practically tumbling as he ran. When he nced back down at the foot of the stairs, he saw the veryst thing he wanted to see: Dariun''s sword bearing down upon him before his very eyes. Sweat and moans alike were wrung out from Hojir as he drew his sword and turned to face the knight in ck.
Refusing to plead for mercy even at this stage, he did himself credit as one of the shahrdaran after all. Of course, however, bravery and martial skill were not equivalent in concept.
Dariun did not even have to adjust his posture to counter Hojir''s desperate blow.
"Go before the angel Nakir to confess your sins. Tell the Judge of the Dead of how your own failed attempt at betrayal waspletely betrayed!"
With a roar, Dariun swung his longsword and chopped off Hojir''s head. The castle lord who had been unable to be "King Arn''s framatar" toppled soundlessly from the fortress walls.
The scent of blood mingled with the night air, but all at once a fierce wind from the mountains swept through and bore it all away.
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (5)
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (5)
"Your liege is dead. Do you mean to fight on for a dead man?"
Narses shouted this as Dariun hoisted the lord''s head high, and the soldiers ceased fighting. Already the dead numbered more than twenty, and the wounded numbered several times more. Although, many among them had in fact been in fact injured by their ownrades recklessly waving around their swords.
Having lost their liege as well as their morale, they probably preferred to drive away these harbingers of death instead. They meekly opened the fortress gates as Narses had requested.
Should they not im the fortress of Kashan to use as a base for their operations? It wasn''t that Narses hadn''t considered it, but on seeing Arn turn his horse back toward a corner of the castle grounds, his brows raised slightly.
"What, may I ask, are you nning to do, Your Highness?"
"We''ve alreadye this far, after all. I think we should free Hojir''s ves. Just now I asked where the ve huts are."
The prince advanced upon his horse; the other five followed him. However, one could not see expressions of unconditional approval on their faces.
Before the ves'' mud huts, the prince jumped down from his horse and broke the lock on the door with his sword. Then he flung open the door, startling awake the ves huddled in slumber within.
"Now then, you can go. You''re free now."
The ghm stared with evident doubt at the far too young prince. For some time, not a single person moved.
After a while, a ck zanj about as tall as Dariun hoarsely put forth a question. Was their master Lord Hojir aware of this matter?
"Hojir is dead. Therefore, you are now free."
"Master is dead!?"
Unexpectedly for Arn, shouts of panic and anger arose.
"It was you bastards who killed him, wasn''t it!"
"Master must be avenged! Don''t let those outrageous viins escape!"
The ves took up hoes and spades and swarmed forth.
Dariun, rushing over, leaned over from his horse to scoop up the prince''s body. Giv led over the prince''s horse. The prince was then passed over to his own mount. Had they moved even just a momentter, there was no doubt that Arn would have been beaten to death at the ves'' hands.
Six riders galloped out the gates as one. m, at the tail end, looked back to see a huge mass of loudly hollering ves practically pouring out the gates.
Thus did they depart the fortress, galloping down the mountain trails in the middle of the night.
Though the ves came chasing after, not only were they on foot, they were also bearing torches. There was hardly any need to be worried about being exhausted by their pursuit.
Arn, whose good intentions had been rejected outright, sat silently on his horse. Seeing this, Narses spoke.
"To the ves he owned, Hojir was a kind master. From those ves'' perspective, both we and Your Highness would certainly be viewed as objects upon which to exact vengeance for their master."
Arn returned Narses''s gaze. His eyes glimmered with the color of an unclouded night sky.
"Why did you not inform me? That such a situation might result?"
"Even if I had informed you beforehand, Your Highness may not have been able to ept it. In this world there are things that cannot possibly be understood without firsthand experience, I believe, so I purposely refrained from stopping you."
" By that, are you are referring to yourself as well, Narses?"
Arn''s question was right on target. A somewhat bittersweet expression yed about Narses''s lips.
"Your Highness is aware, I believe, of my emancipation of the ves when I seeded my father five years ago."
Of this matter Arn did in fact know, for he had heard it from Dariun, albeit not inplete detail.
Five years ago, after using an unconventional stratagem to repel the invading armies of a three-way alliance between Sindhura, Turk, and Turan, Narses had then returned to his ownnds. And there he discovered that, of the ves who should have already been freed, about eighty percent hade slinking back.
They possessed neither the ability nor the sense of purpose needed to live independently as freemen. When Narses first released them, he had granted them each a year''s worth of living expenses, but they were not used to budgeting ahead with their finances. In no time at all, they squandered all their money and so came back to serve under Narses.
"Thete Master was kind. Not a thing like the current Master, chasing us out like that."
The ves'' criticism of the young lord had given Narses a great blow. Exactly like Arn now, five yearster
"There are ves who serve under generous masters. There is no happier life than this. No need to think for oneself, receiving food and shelter just by carrying out orders. Five years ago, that was something I did not understand."
m gazed anxiously at his beloved master.
Arn asked once more, "However, did you not act righteously ording to your own convictions? Is that not so?"
Narses seemed to sigh. "Your Highness, what one calls righteousness is perhaps not so much like the sun, but rather, like the stars. The stars in the heavens are countless, each and everyst onepeting to outshine the others. There''s something Dariun''s esteemed uncle always used to say. You both only ever think of yourselves as being in the right.''"
On hearing those words, Dariun''s expression also turnedplicated.
"Then in that case, Narses, do humans truly have no need for such things as freedom?"
"No, Your Highness. Humans are by nature creatures who seek freedom. That ves would rather seek the bliss of chains over freedom is caused by a warped societal paradigm." Narses hurriedly shook his head. " No. At any rate, Your Highness, don''t be swayed by my rambling. Your Highness intends to take the high road. By all means, please continue to advance down this path."
At this point, Dariun, who had been keeping silent, spoke up for the first time.
"And so, Your Highness, in which direction shall we head now?"
Heading south across vast parchednds would take them to the port city of Gn. If they turned their horses east, waiting for them was the distant eastern border, where they should be able to link up with Keshvad and Bahman''s troops, currently squaring off against the Sindhuran and Turkish armies. If they proceeded west, there were patrols stationed at the western border, consisting primarily of infantry
Where should they head?
Arn halted his horse, and the other five stopped as well. The son of Shah Andragoras III of Pars, a boy of fourteen who should have be the 19th king of the nation, turned back to look at his party.
Suddenly, a thought arose in his heart. These five people: for just how long would they follow him like this? While they had not yet run out of patience with him, Arn must certainly be a worthy ruler.
"To the east," said the prince.
He must reim the capital and rescue both his missing father as well as his mother, held captive by the Lusitanians. For that, he required military power, and currently, the military might of Pars was concentrated primarily at the eastern border.
A few moments after that, the first rays of light broke through the night.
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (6)
Book 2: Chapter 1: Kashan Castle (6)
A single shahin falcon traversed the azure sky, flying on toward the rising sun.
This was the eastern border of Pars.
Thesends, previously part of the territories of the Principality of Badakhshan, consisted of rugged mountains, deserts, and semi-arid regions. The few scattered oases, along with the fact that the region was rich in mineral deposits and served as a primary source for rubies, justified this barrennd''s existence as part of the country.
If one advanced further east, one would cross the great Kaveri River into Sindhuran territory. And nestled amid the ovepping peaks immediately before one''s eyes could be seen the red sandstone silhouette of the fortress of Peshawar, wherein the Parsian troops were based.
The falcon sighted its master''s figure on the ground.
It circled wide through the sky and swooped down.
On the highest tform of Fort Peshawar stood a single man. d entirely in armor, he raised his left arm high as if to wee the falcon. The shahin, alighting upon its master''s arm, stopped and voiced a single chirp, in the manner of one used to being pampered.
"There, there, Azrael, you''ve done well ining so far."
The man was called Keshvad. He was one of the twelve Marzbans, famed for their valor, who served under Andragoras III. At twenty-nine years of age, he was the youngest of them after Dariun. His build, tall and well-proportioned, did not lose to Dariun''s. His facial features were shapely, his beard well-trimmed, and his eyes gentle.
He was nicknamed Tahir, the dual-wielding general, for he had mastered the elusive art of handling two swords at once. During his time as a thousand-rider captain, when he patrolled the western border, the reputation he amassed against the armies of Misr as both a tactician and a swordsman was undisputed. Along the border between Pars and Misr flowed the great river of Tigris, but even there they sung his praises:
"As long as there is Tahir Keshvad, crossing the Tigris is impossible even with wings."
Two years previously, after Pars and Misr established a temporary truce, Keshvad had been dispatched to the eastern border. This was the condition requested by Misr, but in exchange, they turned over five fortresses to the Parsians.
As Keshvad untied the sheepskin scroll attached to the shahins foot and nced over it, a soldier climbed up onto the ramparts to report to him. Keshvad''s colleague, Marzban Bahman, was asking for him.
Bahman was known as a seasoned veteran of a general. At the age of sixty-two, he was the oldest of the Marzbans.
He and Eran Vahriz, who had fallen in battle at Atropatene, had beenrades-in-arms for forty-five years. His build was short and stout, but brawnier than one might expect of one so old, and his gaze too was as sharp as a youngster''s. Both his hair and beard had grayed; disregarding that, he would have looked ten years younger.
Keshvad arrived at his quarters and entered.
"Sorry for disturbing you, sir."
"That shahin you''re so proud of just brought back some sort of report from the royal capital Ecbatana, didn''t it?"
"You''ve got ears everywhere," said Keshvad, chuckling as he epted the old man''s invitation and sat down cross-legged on the carpet. A zanj ve girl set down a jug of fuqah, beer, along with silver goblets, then withdrew.
"So, good news from the capital?"
"Not very good news at all. Looks like he was unfortunately misnamed."
Keshvad smiled wryly. Azrael was, in Parsian cosmology, a beautiful angel whose duty was to herald the death date of every human ording to the will of the gods. Truly, no matter whom one asked, it was a most inauspicious name.
Ensconced within the royal capital of Ecbatana were Keshvad''s trusted subordinates, who sent back misceneous reports regarding the capital three times a month via falcon. It was task of great importance, involving both military matters as well as Keshvad''s personal affairs.
" I see, so the current whereabouts of His Royal Majesty and His Highness the Crown Prince remain unknown?"
"All that has been confirmed is that Her Majesty Queen Tahmineh still lives. And that she is with the Lusitanian army, or so I am told, but beyond that, well, you know what they say about the unfathomable nature of the mountains and the seas"
Keshvad shook his head, evidently frustrated.
The number of Lusitanian troops stationed within the royal capital of Ecbatana had been recorded upon the sheepskin parchment at an estimated 300,000. Maintaining suchrge army was a most difficult task; the citizens of Ecbatana spent each and every day in fear of looters.
"At any rate, if theyck sufficient rations, even the Lusitanian army has no choice but to disperse their forces to a certain extent"
"Even we folks here don''t have an infinite number of troops on hand."
"Indeed, even if we were to mobilize down to thest man, we would fall short ofa hundred thousand."
Currently, their deployable forces were said to number at around 20,000 cavalry and 60,000 infantry. And this was only under the assumption that it would be fine to leave the eastern border defenseless.
"If it were just about Sindhura, we could probably rx. With their king ailing, they are caught up in a dispute over the matter of sessorship; between the two princes Rajendra and Gadhavi, it does not seem bloodshed can be avoided. They should not have the luxury to mount an invasion on our borders."
However, the two kingdoms of Turk and Turan did not seem to be embroiled in internal conflict. Were the two armies to surge forth from an undefended border, then even if the capital were retaken, there would be no way to prevent half the country from falling to enemy hands.
In the end, even if they wished to mobilize at once, they could not make a move. They had no choice but to continue monitoring the situation for the moment.
Having reached this not at all satisfactory conclusion, Keshvad left the room, leaving behind Bahman, who buried his face in his hands as if utterly exhausted.
Bahman had a secret he could not divulge to his youngerrade. No a secret that must not be known to any other person but himself.
This secret was currently stowed away inside Bahman''s personal desk. It was a single letter. One that had been sent by Eran Vahriz prior to the Battle of Atropatene. When he read it, Bahman had been able to feel his own face nching. The old veteran who had never once shied away from the frontline in battle over the span of forty-five years now refused to view that letter a second time.
"Dear me, Lord Vahriz, what an outrageous burden of a parting gift you''ve dumped on a useless fellow like me," the old man muttered to himself, his voice and his expression both equally heavy. "Aside from directing troops, I am incapable. To bear a secret concerning the very fate of the nation is beyond my abilities. Lord Vahriz, if only your nephew has survived, then this responsibility can at least be shared"
Old Bahman was not a sorcerer, nor did he have the gift of foresight, and thus he had no inkling that Vahriz''s nephew Dariun was even now escorting the crown prince Arn toward Peshawar.
" But if worsees to worst, perhaps even the royal line of Pars descended from the Hero King Kai Khosrow shall nowe to an end. Had I known I would live to witness such days, far better to have died in the golden years of Gotarzes, King of Kings!"
Meanwhile, on top of the ramparts, Keshvad spoke to his shahin.
"Somehow, it seems like that old fellow Bahman is hiding something from me. It''s like I''m still some wet behind the ears brat unworthy of his trust. I don''t think I''m quite that unreliable"
The falcon did not reply, content simply to rest in safety upon its master''s arm as it gazed up into the azure sky.
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (1)
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (1)
Ecbatana, the royal capital of Pars, had been upied by the invading Lusitanian army ever since autumn of the year 320.
Until only recently, Ecbatana had been a beautiful city. Certainly there existed hypocrisies within their social fabric and disparities between the poor and the rich, but nheless pces and temples of marble shone beneath the splendorous light of the sun; pors and waterways lined the stone-paved paths on either side; ande spring, , or tulips, bloomed in fragrant profusion.
The transformation from beautiful to grotesque transpired in a mere instant. In the immediate aftermath of the Lustianian invasion, Ecbatana had been strewn with blood and corpses and human waste; even now, not much had changed. From the Parsians'' perspective, the filthiness and ignorant vulgarity of the Lusitanians, especially of their rank and file, was truly unbelievable. They did not bathe nearly often enough, their doctors had no knowledge of anesthetic techniques, and they marveled at the sight of Serican paper. They simply rode high on their status as conquerors, taking even the slightest offense as an excuse to draw des and cut downmon citizens.
These arrogant oppressors, all of them officers and subordinates of the Lusitanian army, were thrown into a panic by an incident that urred at the start of winter.
That was the bizarre end of a certain influential man who was not only Count, Knight Commander, and General, but also an ordained bishop by the name of Pedraos.
On that night, the fifth of the twelfth month, Pedraos, drunk on Parsian white wine, was swaggering back to his self-appointed residences along with several knights. He was gloating on loudly and heedlessly about just how he''d have all those wicked heathens punished. He would boil a huge pot of oil and have some heathen spawn tossed in to fry, then threaten its parents at swordpoint into eating it so he boldly proimed. After that, the mother would go mad and the father would attack Pedraos barehanded, only to be sliced into pieces.
The knights apanying him were naturally disturbed by such extreme cruelty, some even to the point of nausea, but under the watchful gaze of such a powerful authority as Pedraos, they could only offer forcedughter in response. For it was well known that an attendant had once roused Pedraos''s temper and gotten his eyes gouged out for his trouble.
Before long, Pedraos, parting from the rest of thepany, stepped into a flowerbed to relieve himself. No Parsian noble, though likewise of privileged rank, would ever behave so. To begin with, the fact that Lusitanian dwellings often did not even havetrines was something that the Parsians, who took such things for granted wherever there was a sewage system, were unaware of.
It happened suddenly.
"Gwah!"
A confused cry spilled from Count Pedraos''s mouth. The knights and nearby sentries, ncing back in surprise, were unable toprehend in that moment what could have possibly happened.
The count, leaning backwards, staggered, and after reaching for the sword at his waist, toppled to the ground. The knights and sentries rushed over in rm, ready toe to his aid. Only then did they see that some sort of de had bored deeply into the count''s lower abdomen, from which blood and entrails were now pouring out.
Not a single person mourned the death of Pedraos, but seeing as the man had been murdered, they couldn''t afford not to locate the culprit. They surveyed their surroundings, peering through the darkness of the night. Then they discovered it. A hand grasped around a sword, sprouting from the ground about five steps away. Before their dumbfounded gazes, both sword and hand vanished swiftly into the earth.
One knight ran over, drew his broadsword from its scabbard, and stabbed it into the ground. The de met with pebbles and dirt, but nothing else.
In the next instant, a white light shed about the knight''s knees.
A more sickening scene appeared then. The knight''s body, chopped off at the knees, fell to the earth in a sliding motion. What remained of his two legs continued to stand, lined up on the ground
"It''s a monster. One of the wicked heathens'' fiendish demons is submerged beneath our feet!"
Terror and panic engulfed them. To them, anything they could not exin with the teachings of Ialdabaoth or through personal experience was considered the work of evil demons. Iprehensible foreignnguages were demonic tongues, civilizations that had developed independently from different belief systems were demonic cultures. And what they had experienced just now was surely proof of the existence of such demons and monsters.
When the direction of the night wind shifted, suddenly wafting the scent of blood to their nostrils, one man uttered a cry and ran off. With abrupt cries of their own, the others followed suit.
"Save me, oh Ialdabaoth!"
That shout was probably the most sincere prayer of their lives.
After they had all escaped, only the dark night and two corpses remained. One other, a single hand wielding a sword, glinted white as it wriggled in the darkness, but only for a moment before vanishing leisurely back into the ground
Upon receiving the report of this freakish incident, Duke Guiscard, the de factomander of the Lusitanian troops, as well as the younger brother of the king, headed to the royal pce.
The archbishop and Grand Inquisitor Bodin was waiting beside the king, and looked askance at Guiscard with a gaze overflowing with poison. Or so Guiscard felt, at least.
"So you''vee already, right on cue."
To himself, Guiscard cursed silently.
King Innocentius VII of Lusitania raised a silver goblet of sugar water to his lips, his eyes flickering back and forth in a state of agitation. Though he was not a man with the firmest grasp on reality, he was at the very least aware of the enmity between his younger brother and the archbishop.
Today, the first one topse into sarcasm had been Guiscard. He was already not in the best of moods, for he had been in bed with a Parsian woman, a freeborn azat whose looks were much to his taste, when he''d been called out.
"Your Most Reverend Eminence, this is but a trifling, worldly concern, not at all a matter pertaining to the glory of Heaven. There is no need for Your Eminence to trouble yourself."
His tone was polite, but Guiscard''s eyes were clearly saying something else: "Don''t you meddle in this, you fraud of a saint."
Bodin was not the sort of person who could be described as tactful. He was the kind of man who, from time to time, would evenmbaste the king, Innocentius VII himself. A man in whose physical existence was represented all of the exclusionary and self-righteous elements of the Ialdabaothan faith, as if all the mighty authority of the church had donned vestments to walk about in human form.
"Though you say so, Your Royal Highness, I think otherwise. Count Pedraos, who was killed by this heathen monster, was not only a valued minister of the court but also a leader of the church. In the name of God, he must be avenged upon the people of this evil-infestednd. So you see, this is in fact a matter pertaining to the glory of Heaven."
"Avenged?"
"Indeed, the life of a single disciple of Ialdabaoth is worth a thousand heathen lives. As for the life of a holy man"
Only ten thousand heathen lives would be sufficientpensation. Thus did Archbishop Bodin dere.
"This is what the Archbishop suggests, Guiscard, but what about you, my brother?" inquired Innocentius VII, cradling his goblet of sugar water in his hands.
Bodin, you bastard. You''re more than a religious zealot, you''re a regr madman, Guiscard thought with a silent cluck to himself. Any human being who possessed the slightest sense of decency, like Guiscard himself, should have been considering the necessity of tracking down and capturing the true culprit.
"If it is just a matter of burning ten thousand people at the stake, one supposes there still remains the question of what shall be done about venue and kindling," Innocentius VII continued, oblivious to his brother''s feelings and rather missing the point with his concerns. Guiscard just barely managed to suppress a sudden urge to scream at him.
Bodin spoke up once more.
"Just to rify, I mean to have them roasted bit by bit, without building up any smoke."
Once again Guiscard refrained from clucking his tongue.
It was not incorrect that death by fire was already a cruel method of execution to begin with, but the truth was, there existed plenty of other, crueler forms of punishment. Typically when one referred to execution by fire, it was when a fire was built up with kindling for some time, creating a shroud of smoke, so that the sentenced criminal would suffocate on the fumes or lose consciousness before dying. What was called execution by fire was not a literal death by burning, but referred rather to the religiously symbolic purification of the transgressor''s sins within the fire.
However, to speak of killing gradually, without building up smoke this referred to something else entirely. To put into other words, it was to have the transgressor burned to death while still conscious. The suffering of one sentenced thus is surely beyond imagination.
"Theposition of these ten thousand sinners must not be biased in any way. For they must atone for the sins of all of Pars. They shall be split half male and half female; infants, children, youths, adults, and the elderly should eachpose one fifth of the sum."
"So the honorable Archbishop means to have two thousand infants and two thousand children killed?"
What a preposterous suggestion! But Guiscard held his tongue for the third time. To kill ten thousand innocent people would no doubt increase the hatred directed at the Lusitanian army by tenfold.
It was not that Guiscard sympathized particrly with the heathens'' plight. Nor was he an especiallypassionate individual. However, Guiscard was not just considering things from a politician''s perspective, he also happened to possess something the other twocked that is,mon sense.
"I entreat you, Archbishop, to appreciate our present circumstances. We upy the royal capital of Pars and have secured lines ofmunication with Maryam, but that is all. Of our unfinished conquest of the rest of Pars one cannot even begin to speak."
"Naturally, I understand. For that very reason must we impart to the infidels the supreme glory of Ialdabaoth and absolute might of Lusitania. If for such purposes bloodshed cannot be avoided, then by the will of God it should not be avoided."
"The problem lies not just with Pars. Misr, Turan, Turk, Sindhura one cannot say when the border nations shall bare their fangs andunch an attack. If these nations'' military forces arebined, their number should not total less than one million. Our troops number 300,000, and cannot possibly hope to counter them. I would not like to see us make waves within the borders any more than we already have"
What Guiscard said may have been exaggerated, but it was no lie. For instance, taking Turan as an example, if they were to invade with the purport of providing sor to Pars in her time of need, Lusitania would be in no position to cry foul.
Yet Archbishop Bodin settled the entire matter in a handful of words.
"What need is there to fear the likes of a million heathens? Any pdin blessed with the protection of God can crush a hundred heathens or so by himself alone."
Guiscard, not in the mood for debate, remained silent, but at the archbishop''s next words, his eyes very nearly bulged out of their sockets.
"If a timees when the situation has gotten out of Duke Guiscard''s capable hands, those servants of God stationed at Maryam, the Temrs of Sion, need only be called upon to join this holy crusade"
King Innocentius VII, seemingly flustered, turned to nce at his younger brother. He set his silver goblet down on a table imported from Serica; the sugar water churned out, soaking the red sandalwood surface.
"You are saying, Archbishop, that you mean to summon the Temrs here from Maryam?"
For Guiscard to parrot the Archbishop''s words so gracelessly was an indication of just how disturbed he was by this. The military might of the Temrs under Bodin''s religious leadership formed abination that posed a serious threat to royal authority. It was because he had thought of all this that Guiscard had spent so much effort plotting to make sure the Temrs were kept behind in Maryam and not brought to Pars. Now that had alle to naught.
Bodin watched Guiscard with a faint smile ying about his lips.
"It seems they''ve already had around 1,500,000 heathens and heretics killed in Maryam. Moreover, it seems more than half of those were women, children, aged, or ailing; an impressive record, you must admit."
Guiscard''s eyes were practically spitting fire as he red sidelong at Innocentius VII. The one who had permitted such wanton carnage was none other than his brother the king.
"Only through the most severe of deaths can the infidels receive redemption for their sins. This is the will of Ialdabaoth; such is His mercy."
Bodin took the tone of one whom no slight breeze could hope to shake. A towering tree in the form of a man, with sprawling roots burrowed deep within the ground of prejudice and fanaticism. That was what Bodin was. Made aware of this all over again, Guiscard could not help but feel a chill. And this although he was hardlya man of weak will.
"But surely there is no need to go so far as killing women and children"
"Sooner orter a woman shall give birth. When her child matures, he bes a heathen warrior. The old and the sick too were once heathen warriors, at whose hands no doubt lie the deaths of Ialdabaoth''s followers." Bodin raised his voice in triumph. "All this is the desire of God, as well as His aim. Thus do we carry out His wishes. Not for mortal purposes. Thus do we realize His will. Have you any objections, Duke Guiscard?"
Guiscard kept silent. There was no way to hold any sort of discussion with someone who kept bringing up God at every turn.
Bodin''s cheap trick of dragging God into anything and everything just to justify his own behavior, and his stubbornck of self-awareness over the fact that he wasn''t ying fair: Guiscard''s loathing of it all currently knew no bounds. Suddenly, a way to strike back, however slightly, urred to him.
"Be that as it may, there remains one point of doubt regarding tonight''s incident that I cannot quite resolve. I would like to request your edification, Archbishop."
"And what point would that be, Your Royal Highness?"
"Why, just a simple matter. Why did Ialdabaoth not rescue His faithful devotees from that demonic sorcery, I wonder?"
His voice pierced into the archbishop''s ear like a poisoned arrow. Guiscard, for the first time that night, tasted victory against his foe.
"You dare speak such sphemy? You " Bodin''s tone grew rough, but as expected, he hesitated, no doubt on ount of his opponent''s rank. Or perhaps he had some other ulterior motive. His expression swiftly wiped nk, and he said, primly, "One such as myself cannot presume to make suppositions about the vast and boundless wisdom of God."
Having only now atst expressed himself as befitting a holy man, Bodin took his leave, and Guiscard spat at the marble floor. This was, again, something no Parsian aristocrat would ever do, but Guiscard, even with this, was holding back the full brunt of his feelings.
King Innocentius spoke up then to his ill-tempered brother. He drew close with a wheedling voice:
"Oh, Guiscard, I''ve something much more important than all that to tell you; won''t you hear me out?"
"Huh, and what''s that?"
The prince''s response was not enthusiastic.
"Well, the truth is, Tahmineh, in regards to King Andragoras in the underground jail"
"Begged for his release, did she?"
"No, no, she wants the man''s head, or else she cannot marry me that is what she says."
For a moment, Guiscard, quite naturally, lost his voice.
Tahmineh was the queen of Pars, who was currently being held captive in the pce. And it was that very same woman who was now begging for the head of her husband, Andragoras III!? What in the world was the meaning of this? There had to be some sort of catch.
"Now that she mentions it, ''tis only reasonable. As long as that man lives, Tahmineh would bemitting the sin of bigamy. Tis good that she has resolved herself to this."
There was no ill will in the king''s rejoicing. That Tahmineh was making the first step towards wedding him was his firm belief, one utterly free of doubt.
Of course, Guiscard''s considerations were entirely different from his brother the king''s.
"Apparently that beautiful queen is actually a formidable witch in disguise"
That this thought urred to Guiscard was because he was considering whether or not the queen had seen through the dissension that had arisen among the upper echelons of the Lusitanian army.
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (2)
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (2)
The long night passed.
The man of the silver mask Hirmiz, son of the 17th King of Pars, Osroes V was observing the various incidents that had urred among the upying Lusitanian forces with the iciness of a thousand-year blizzard. The monster who killed men with a hand stretched out from the ground. The panic the Lusitanians had gotten themselves all worked up into regarding said creature. To Hirmiz, these were all nothing more than targets for his coldughter.
The chair facing him right now was an enormous one, with a back for reclining and two armrests, along with silk upholstery. In it sat a single guest. The Lusitanian king''s younger brother and Hirmiz''s ostensible superior, Duke Guiscard. He was wiping at his face with a silken handkerchief. And not because he was sweating. Rather, it seemed, in order to conceal his expression.
"You have asked me to hand over Andragoras. Is that an order?"
Guiscard was fazed by the chilly gaze directed at him through the slits of the silver mask. Although he trusted in and took advantage of the abilities of the man of the silver mask, not once had he ever allowed him free rein.
"It is not an order; I merely asked if you might not consider it."
"The agreement, I believe, was that I would be granted full and absolute custody of Andragoras. In exchange, I asked for no other rpense."
Having made his refusal more or less apparent, Hirmiz, changing his tune, began to make inquiries into the matter. For Guiscard to go back on his previous promise, he must without a doubt have his reasons.
And the ount of events that came from Guiscard''s mouth was most incredible to Hirmiz.
"In other words, Tahmineh said that as long as she has not witnessed the severed head of Andragoras, she cannot marry King Innocentius?"
The light emanating from the eyes of the silver mask grew harsh. Hirmiz had considered Tahmineh a demonic woman from the start. What mischief was this witch who had seduced both his father and his uncle plotting now, he wondered.
"You understand too, don''t you. King Andragoras is not long for the world; in this matter, both my brother and Archbishop Bodin share the same stake. It goes without saying that my brother sees Andragoras as a hindrance to his marriage with Queen Tahmineh."
"And the archbishop?"
"That bastard''s already starved for heathen blood to begin with. No matter whom you listen to, when ites down to it, Andragoras is better off dead."
Hirmiz shook his head slightly, his silver mask moving along with him.
"If that dog Andragoras is killed, then that''s that. However, if his life is preserved, there are various ways we can use him."
Guiscard nodded, but it was a somewhat affected gesture.
"It is precisely because I felt the same that I left Andragoras in your charge. On this point, my thoughts remain unchanged."
"If that is so"
"Don''t misunderstand me; it is not I who needs convincing. It''s my brother and Bodin."
For the first time, the intensity of Guiscard''s expression rxed.
Hirmiz fell silent. Looking at him in that moment, with his silver mask and tall, armor-d figure, it was as if one gazed upon one of the temple''s statues depicting Verethragna, the god of victory. From early childhood, he had been prodigious in matters both martial and schrly, and histe father the king had often remarked the following:
"This child shall someday be a far greater king than the likes of me."
Certainly this should have been so. If only ursed Andragoras had notmitted the great sin of fratricide! How could anyone suggest that the bastard be allowed to die so easily?
"In that case, Your Royal Highness, what result do you yourself wish for?"
"The stage isn''t mine to act upon, this time. It all depends on my brother and Bodin."
"Indeed"
Beneath his mask, Hirmiz''s lips twisted into a sneer. He could not help thinking that Guiscard''s considerations were quite transparent. After having Andragoras killed, the antagonism between King Innocentius and Archbishop Bodin would surely grow all the fiercer. It could not help but be this way. King Innocentius wished to wed Queen Tahmineh. Archbishop Bodin, of course, opposed this, and would interfere.
And well, then what?
Under the temptation of Queen Tahmineh, would King Innocentius banish Bodin, or perhaps even have him executed? If that were to transpire, then what of the Temrs led by Bodin, how would they respond? Tremble in fury, unable to speak a word? Or perhaps, on the contrary, they would incite their fellow believers to seek vengeance against the king.
On the other hand, what would Archbishop Bodin do? Was he really the helpless type who would meekly sit around waiting to be exiled or executed? No doubt he would denounce King Innocentius as a vow-breaker and apostate and drag him from the throne. After that, there was no way he could possibly ede to the throne himself, so he would probably need to find a suitable puppet to act ording to his will.
In any case, the question of whether Innocentius VII''s fate was to live happily ever after or not would not be so easily settled. There was no mistaking that Guiscard was anticipating such a turn of events.
Before long, Guiscard left Hirmiz''s room. He had not expected an immediate reply to begin with. At this time, one of the knights under hismand came running up in a hurry. He whispered something in Guiscard''s ear, upon which Guiscard''s expression instantly transformed.
"What? You say the Temrs of Sion have already arrived ?"
The royal prince Guiscard reproached himself for underestimating Bodin''s guile.
When he first began to conflict against Innocentius VII with regard to the treatment of Queen Tahmineh, Bodin had already dispatched a messenger to Maryam to summon that order of crusading knights who fought on behalf of the church.
The Temrs numbered a total of 24,000 knights. Fewer than the regr Lusitanian army, but after all was said and done, their true strength was their religious authority. If the Temrs were to raise the holy banners of silver on ck at their fore, the Lusitanian army would likely sheathe their des and dismount without even putting up a fight.
The gates had been flung wide open; the sight of the arrayed Temrs riding en masse into the city brought a smileden with triumph to Bodin''s face. Guiscard gritted his teeth. The nearby knights watched on in extreme consternation, raising a mor.
Close to noon, Innocentius VII broke into a cold sweat as he faced down Bodin, who hade to negotiate apanied by Hildiger, themander of the Temrs.
"We shall wed Tahmineh. We shall name her empress of the new Empire of Lusitania. And We shall name the child she gives birth to Our sessor."
Despite his quavering voice, Innocentius VII managed to finish what he had to say. No doubt he''d had to gather up everyst speck of courage in his body. Guiscard, standing in support beside him, found himself surprised; he was impressed, if only slightly, by his brother''s dedication to Tahmineh.
"Good heavens. To think that His Majesty the King of Lusitania, Defender of the Faith, could actually lose his mind like this" Knight Commander Hildiger put on a shocked disy, but his derision was clear to see. "Do you think we journeyed all this way from Maryam just to hear such balderdash?"
He was quiteposed even as he dumped such rude words as "balderdash" upon the king of an entire nation. As one who took pride in answering directly to God and God alone, it seemed he chose to disregard such worldly concepts as etiquette.
With that, Hildiger smiled faintly, then fell silent. His dark auburn beard shook slightly with every breath he took.
"Whatever you choose, the final decision is Your Majesty''s. Shall your name be immortalized for the ages, remembered as that of a holy man, a royal saint, the earthly embodiment of the glory of Ialdabaoth Himself? Or else, shall you be a traitor to the faith, condemned for eternity, roasting forevermore in the fires of hell? Which shall you be?" Bodin red at the king, his two eyes like zing coals.
The word "hell" was something that had terrified Innocentius VII ever since he was a babe. In a sh, the blood drained from the king''s face, and he clutched the armrests of his chair as if seeking sor. He gazed at his younger brother, his lips moving soundlessly.
Guiscard ignored him. This was not due to any particr ill intent on his part. Having gained such a strong ally in the Temrs, Bodin would only grow more and more brazen. Unless he drew up countermeasures, it would be no time before Guiscard was forced into a dangerous position himself.
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (3)
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (3)
Even as Guiscard enacted his own personal battle against his royal brother, the archbishop, and the Knight Commander, Hirmiz left the Parsian nobleman''s estate that had been allocated him, his footsteps leading him to a single residential building toward the back of the grounds. He meant to call upon a certain convalescent.
This convalescent was Marzban Saam of Pars.
He was a man who had suffered near mortal wounds in valorousbat during the fall of the royal capital Ecbatana. Had it not been for hismand of the defenses, the fall of Ecbatana should have been all the more swift. Moreover, had his proposed ploy to emancipate the ves and allow them to join the defensive efforts been utilized by Queen Tahmineh, the fall of the royal capital may very well have been dyed yet further.
King Andragoras had not been without reason in entrusting the capital''s defense to him.
Tarrying at the entrance of the sickroom, Hirmiz observed Saam through his silver mask.
Saam red in return. His torso was swathed in gauze, but his spirit had not diminished in the slightest.
After the brief sh of gazes, Hirmiz cast forth his voice. "You do not kneel to greet me?"
"I am a Marzban of Pars. The Marzbans of Pars bow to none but the gods in the heavens, and upon this earth to one man alone: the Shah of Pars." Saam''s eyes zed fiercely. "Why should I, sirrah, bend my knee to one of your ilk, who associates with the barbarians of Lusitania? If you dare wish for such, then kill me! Once you''ve killed me, go ahead and force my corpse to its knees!"
Saam grimaced. Beneath the gauze, his wounds throbbed.
"That integrity of yours pleases me," Hirmiz muttered in a tone of utter sincerity, then took a single step into the room. His boots settledon the carpetupon animage of the undying huma bird.
"I am qualified tomand your obeisance."
" Qualified, you say?"
"I am indeed most qualified, oh Saam. Why? For I am the true Shah of Pars."
" Have you lost your fucking mind?"
"I am in perfect possession of my senses, as I shall prove to you now. My father was King Osroes V of Pars, and my uncle is the usurper Andragoras."
Saam, sucking in his breath, raised his eyes to the gleaming silver mask. Across his keen warrior''s face shed a hectic session of expressions.
"So? You know my name, don''t you?"
"Prince Hirmiz? It can''t be, it can''t be. The prince was supposed to have passed away in that incident sixteen years ago, that fire, was he not? For him to be alive and here should not"
Saam''s voice broke off. Hirmiz unfastened the sp of his mask with his hand, exposing his face to the Marzban''s view: both the white elegance of the left half and the dark red of the tragically burnt right.
The Marzban''s gaze focused on Hirmiz''s left. It seemed he sought there for some trace of the former king, Osroes V.
"Then, my prince, thou''rt still alive?"
Saam moaned. He who had been counted among the strongest heroes of Pars trembled uncontrobly despite his injured body. Until now, he had been determined to believe that the man of the silver mask was naught but a pawn of the Lusitanian army.
"And yet, and yet, where is the evidence?"
"Evidence? This fire-ravaged face, my hate for Andragoras. What more proof do you need?"
Hirmiz''s voice was not all that loud, but it struck the very air of the room like thunder. Thest of Saam''s resistance shattered; his shoulders slumped, and his head drooped.
By the time he lifted his face again, the man of the silver mask had already departed. Saam, staring at the shut door, mumbled, half-dazed, "Oh, Saam, which of them are you going to pledge your service to now?"
.
A mountedpany came galloping through the gates of Ecbatana.
Had they been Lusitanian troops, this would not be quite so shocking. However, those who hade riding, with their helms of Maryamian make glittering under the sunlight and their fluttering mantles of Serican silk, were quite evidently Parsians.
The Lusitanian soldiers shouted out in challenge, demanding identification. They thrust out their spears to obstruct the riders'' path.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, the young rider at thepany''s fore tossed a thin bronze token at the soldiers. By the time the soldier who hastily caught it confirmed that it was one of the travel permits issued by the royal prince Guiscard, thepany''s horses had already ttered onto the cobblestone and were now galloping on their way.
Their destination, however, did not lie with Guiscard.
Hirmiz, only just returned home from visiting Saam, stared wordlessly at thepany of riders that seemed to have flooded his doorstep. The young fellow who dismounted at this point knelt reverently before him.
"Your Highness, I am able, for the first time, to present myself at your will. I am called Zandeh. My father was Marzban Qaran of Pars. This time, so that I might serve Your Highness in ce of myte father, I have rushed here from my domains to pay my respects."
Beneath his mask, Hirmiz''s eyes widened.
"I see, you are Qaran''s son?"
The young man was perhaps neen years old, at most barely twenty. Subtracted from him was the weighty presence of his deceased father, but in exchange, his countenance possessed an additional ferocity.
Perhaps, in terms of indomitability, he even surpassed histe father Qaran. The impression he gave of virile intensity was to such an extent.
Hirmiz recalled the promise he had made to himself. I must take personal responsibility for Qaran''s bereaved family, he had thought. Hirmiz answered the youth with a gesture for him to rise. Then he weed him into his quarters. The youth''s subordinates, numbering aorund thirty, were bidden to rest in the hall. Hirmiz sat down on the carpet cross-legged and invited his young guest to follow suit.
"I shall drive the ursed usurper Andragoras from Pars, sweep away the barbarians of Lusitania, and reinstate the legitimate bloodline. Afterward, I intended to appoint your father Eran, highmander of the armies of Pars. However, now that he has passed, this office can only be offered to none other but you."
Under Hirmiz''s gaze, the youth bearing the name of Zandeh was deeply moved. His belief in Hirmiz''s legitimacy grew resolute.
"I am most grateful to eptyour request; Father, too, must be rejoicing in the other world. I must needs repay Your Highness''s favor, and moreover, as a son, take revenge for my father. Upon my word, before thest of winter''s frost melts, Your Highness shall behold before you the heads of the three traitors Arn, Dariun, and Narses!"
"I look forward to it."
Beneath his silver mask, Hirmizughed in evident delight. However, if Qaran''s son were one who had experienced the extent of hardship his father had, no doubt he would have perceived the slightest trace of cynicism within thatughter. Hirmiz was well aware that Dariun was no easy foe. The nephew of Eran Vahriz was the first man who had ever crossed swords with him in an even match.
On the other hand, when it came to Dariun''s confederate, the man named Narses, he knew nothing in detail.
"Just now you mentioned Narses, but just what sort of fellow is he?"
Thus did Hirmiz, for the first time, grasp the history behind the individual called Narses. The true colors of the self-proimed "court artist" who had cooperated with Dariun about ten days previously were established now at longst.
"Is that so? Through words alone, he forced the armies of three nations into retreat?"
His voice sounded muffleding through the silver mask.
Unfair, isn''t it? thought Hirmiz.
That detestable son of Andragoras, Arn. He, an immature child of no more than fourteen, received the services of Dariun and Narses, such talents that the sovereigns of anynd would salivate over. And yet he, Hirmiz, the rightful Shah of Pars, was able tomand only a single youthful subordinate whose experience was not even equal to his own.
Hirmiz wanted, at the very least, to obtain the services of Saam. Once he swore his allegiance, with his courage and wisdom he would surely be an excellent and most trusted retainer for Hirmiz. But for the time being, Hirmiz''s only support was the strength of the youth called Zandeh.
"I had ordered yourte father to investigate the whereabouts of the usurper''s brat. However, no matter what he attempted, in the end Qaran found nothing, and met with untimely death. So? Have you any idea, perchance, of where that insolent pup Arn has been hiding?"
"It is my pleasure to be able to report to Your Highness Hirmiz regarding this matter."
Zandeh''s eyes were shining.
Hirmiz focused on the youth. As long as he had donned the silver mask to conceal his identity, he must never be addressed by his true name, he said. Sooner orter he must inform Saam of this as well. Though there was no way to dere such a thing lightly.
"I hear and obey. As for Arn and his party, though, it seems they headedsouth."
Zandeh proceeded to detail Arn andpany''s movements with considerable uracy.
Hirmiz muttered, as if checking his memories, "Indeed, there should be a castle in those mountains held by one of the shahrdaran, Hojir. Has the man thrown in his lot with that damned Arn?"
"As for that, it seems that on the contrary, he has fallen at the hands of Arn''s party."
"And the reason things came to this?"
"The details are unknown to me, but ording to what I heard, Hojir attempted injury upon Dariun and Narsesin order to take the role of Arn''s guardian forhimself, only to be beaten at his own game"
Hirmiz nodded. His silver mask rattled slightly with the sound of coldughter.
"A fitting death for that fool. Naivety befitting a child. A man of insatiable greed, without anyprehension of his own station."
"It is indeed as you say. My own father had no high opinion of Hojir either. By the way, Your Highness"
"Desist with the Highness."
"As as you say. In what manner would it be best for me to address Your Highness?"
"Just call me Lord Silvermask. Hardly a name, but there is no form of address more fitting."
The topic of conversation changed. Rumors of the monster that had wormed its way beneath the capital, killing off the leadership of the Lusitanian army, had reached Zandeh''s ears as well. Naturally, a gag order had been issued, but it had been of no use.
"Somehow, the talk has gotten troubling. Can it possibly be sorcery, as some are iming?"
"I have heard of ghadaq, a form of earth sorcery; I daresay that is it," Hirmiz remarked casually, upon which Zandeh, with a spooked look, examined the carpet and the surrounding floor.
"Concern yourself not. We are not likely to be harmed."
Hirmiz had already figured out who was behind everything. Concealed within that subterranean chamber unknown to the Lusitanian army, creeping about in the shadows: the elder robed in gray. This was his doing.
"What mischief is he plotting, that slime of a sorcerer? There''s no ce for him out here on this earth, surely," Hirmiz muttered to himself. Within those contemptuous words echoed, if only slightly, a hint of doubt and unease. Of course, none of this was clear enough for Zandeh to recognize.
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (4)
Book 2: Chapter 2: Cabals at the Demonic Capital (4)
Hirmiz returned to his own room and removed his silver mask. He ced the mask on a walnut table and wiped his face with a towel.
The touch of fresh air upon his bare face, even in a stuffy, secluded room such as this, wasfort enough for him. Hirmiz drew in a deep, unhurried breath, clearing the air in his lungs.
Along the wall was ced a mirror that reflected all the way down to the waist. Hirmiz stood before it and began to smear murr ointment on the burn scars covering the right half of his face. Suddenly, his gaze shifted. The door to the room opened, and there appeared the face of a serving girl bearing a tray. In the mirror, Hirmiz and the girl''s gazes met.
A scream surged from the girl''s mouth. The tray fell with a great tter, and with it a jar of nabid, goblets, a teful of dried figs, and other miscenies all tumbled to the carpet.
Hirmiz reflexively covered his face with his left arm. This was a pitiable habit of his. One he''d picked up sixteen years ago, after escaping from that eddy of me and smoke. Only by offering half his face as a sacrifice to the god of fire had he been able to preserve his life in the end.
However, unexpectedly, the expression in Hirmiz''s eyes changed. He let his arm drop and slowly turned to face the girl.
"Is it so grotesque?"
From his mouth glided a voice of seeming calm.
"What''s the matter, is it so terrifying?"
Despite himself, his voice shook slightly, not just with anger at the other party, but also with self-ridicule.
The petrified girl, finallying to her senses, began to gather up the tray and tters.
"Ah, my deepest apologies, sir. I shall clean up at once, please forgive me."
"I''m about to leave. Do it after I go."
"Y-yes, as youmand."
The girl bowed, then turned on her heel. Hirmiz understood all too well that she was keeping in check a desire to run for her life.
Hirmiz wordlessly watched the girl''s retreating figure. The burnt right half of his face had already lost its ability to disy any feeling, but upon his pale and elegant left warred a number of violent emotions. Perhaps he ought to have cut the girl down with his de on the spot the moment he heard her scream, but he had lost his chance. For whatever reason, it had not even urred to him to chase after her and cut her down from behind.
He turned back around again and punched his own reflected face in the mirror. With a crack, the mirror splintered like a spider''s web, and his figure vanished.
"Andragoras! Fucking usurper!"
Seeing red, he cursed at his uncle imprisoned in the dimas.
Sixteen years ago, he had been a royal prince, the pride and joy of Shah Osroes V. One day, in early summer, at the pairi-daiza, a fenced hunting enclosure, he had gone joyfully to his father the king to report his bagging of a bear and a sher, the first he had ever shot down in his life. His father, in his sickbed, praised his bravery in a weak but gentle voice. And it was that very night that his father the king died murdered by his younger brother Andragoras. Andragoras stole the throne and even named his own son crown prince, freely exploiting the royal authority that had not even been theirs to begin with. Was this something that ought to be forgiven? Even if the gods forgive, I will not.
Hirmiz chuckled softly. He had thought of a new method of revenge.
If Arn were captured, he would not be killed at once. Before that, let half his face be burned. The terror and agony Hirmiz had tasted sixteen years ago must be experienced in full by that damned son of Andragoras. It would not be toote to kill him after that. Would beheading be best? Or should father and son be forced to take up swords and kill each other? Or perhaps
Hirmiz put his silver mask back on once more and fastened its sp. He left his room decked in full armor. Outside, Zandeh awaited him. After a single respectful bow, he called out like a baying hound.
"Come, let usmence upon the hunt for the wretched Arn and hispany!"
Hirmiz, silver mask gleaming in the light, strode toward his mount without a word.
.
" I hear that fool Hirmiz has set out to capture the son of King Andragoras."
Into the underground chamber flowed a voice reporting thus. The gray-robed elder nodded.
"Ourrade Arzhang has also departed, this time to shed the blood of innocents outside the capital. I believe he shall return to report to you, Master, after killing around ten vigers."
"Let him do as he pleases."
"By the way, regarding that man they call Bodin, the murder-loving archbishop, is it all right to let him live on, Master?"
"Let him live, shan''t we. For where our hands cannot reach, he shall shed the blood of innocents."
The gray-robed elderughed. To what extent would Bodin, using the so-called Temrs as his own personal army, run rampant with zealotry from now on? This was something to look forward to.
"Sooner orter, it shall be good to put that man to the same death as his own victims, with the cruelest of his methods. If he thinks of it as martyring himself for his god, that man shall no doubt exult, no matter how excruciating the pain!"
Before long, the sorcerer, now alone, having dismissed his disciple, removed the hood that shaded his eyes, baring his face. Under the dimmplight, he peered into a small mirror.
"Hm, so my strength begins to return atst? Just a little longer now."
As if satisfied, the face in the mirror smiled. This was not the face of an elder, but the keen, vigorous face of a man in his forties or fifties.
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (1)
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (1)
A flock of bolbol, nightingales, flew past the moon, their singing resembling the notes of a crystal flute.
Upon a moonlit mountain trail, six riders sped on at a pace not unlike the one they had traveled by day. It was Prince Arn''s party.
"Hadid! Hadid!"
These words came, in a low but piercing voice, from the exquisite lips of the kahina Farangis.
The jinn were causing a great ruckus in the night air. An ordinary person could neither see nor hear them, but for Farangis, who had been trained as a kahina, such things were easily perceived.
For this reason, she could recite a spell to quiet them, but if for instance an unbeliever like Giv were to recite it, there would be no effect whatsoever. It was meaningful only if Farangis recited it.
"The jinn are in an ill humor for some reason. They will not even respond to the raishal. I believe there must be individuals nearby whose hearts thirst for blood, and that the jinn are agitated by their wicked aura."
1. Since dealing with Hojir at Kashan Castle, they had traveled for two days and three nights beforeing this far. On the way, they had met with pursuit, and had even done battle with former henchmenofthete Hojir who''de to chase them down. Nevertheless, to such an intrepidpany as their own, none of these troubles had amounted to anything that could be considered dangerous. Still, just to be safe, they had continued riding down the long mountain trails in order to circumvent potential enemies, and for this reason the two boys among them were beginning to weary.
Despite this, they''d kept their spirits up so as to keep the adults from noticing. Upon hearing Farangis''s exnation, m volunteered himself to Narses, then galloped into the night to scout the roads.
Before long, m returned to report that the jinn had good reason to be disturbed. Pursuers were approaching.
"A considerable number of them. And also"
"Also?"
"The man of the silver mask is among them."
2 when the cries of the jinn grew to an unbearable level for Farangis. Looking back from atop her horse, she saw them. Several hundred torches lined up at their backs, pressing close upon their party. From the depths of the night resounded hoofbeats like the peal of distant thunder.
"Halt!" Narses ordered sharply.
3 ahead, the road split into three forks. At the same time, from the path before them suddenly emerged another iing flood of swords and riders. With a brisk, quiet exchange of words, their decision was made.
"See you at Peshawar!"
Thus the six of them, splitting into three groups, vowed to reunite at Peshawar, and fled down the dark paths east, south, and north.
.
When Dariun realized that the rider galloping to his left was Farangis, he found himself slightly disappointed. Of course it was not that he wished to avoid her, but he had intended not to be separated from Prince Arn. Perhaps Farangis felt much the same herself.
Dariun and Farangis, in the end, found themselves forced to break through an extremely dense blockade. This was the worst of all disasters for the soldiers surrounding them.
With a single "shing", the first of the riders obstructing Dariun found his head cleft in two from crown to jaw and went flying from his horse. With a single flourish, the next rider lost his right arm forevermore, screaming into the night as he too vanished from his horse.
Dariun''s sword raged among the enemy soldiers like a whirlwind; on the other hand, Farangis''s sword zipped through the soldiers like piercing lightning, dealing wounds with fatal precision between the gaps of their armor.
Dariun came dancing forth upon his ck horse; enemy riders and horses alike fell to the ground, drenched in blood.
Terror overcame bravery, and the enemy soldiers fell into chaos, opening a path for Dariun. A few arrows targeted him, but they were all sliced aside save one, which struck its mark but was unable to pierce through his armor. Now that things hade to this, the soldiers came to realize the futility of resistance. Casting aside their useless bows, they whipped their horses away, fleeing from Dariun''s longsword.
Dariun and Farangis paid no heed to their scattered, fleeing enemies, and resumed their efforts to proceed down the road to Peshawar. If things continued in this manner, they did not think it would be particrly difficult to break past the encirclement.
However, through the darkness pierced a furious cry, halting the footsteps of the fleeing soldiers.
"For shame! I''ll cut down any coward who runs. Turn back and fight!"
New yers had appeared. Several dozen shadows, apanied by echoing hoofbeats, came swarming in around the two of them.
"You that bastard Dariun??" came a roaring cry. Into Dariun''s view had danced a knight astride a dapple gray horse, capped in a helm of Maryam, embroidered Serican mantle fluttering in the night wind. Ferocity and vigor sted forth from his youthful face.
It was Qaran''s son Zandeh. Of course, Dariun did not know this. However, he was to find out soon enough. Zandeh, kicking at his horse''s nks, hollered and swung down a massive sword.
"I am Zandeh, son of Marzban Qaran. You killed my father. I shall finish what he left undone. Take my de of righteousness!"
The iing blow was vicious to an extreme. Even a famed equestrian of Dariun''s caliber could not evade it entirely; with a dull thump, horse collided against horse, saddle against saddle.
4, was about to circle back when a slender de came stretching smoothly straight into his eyes. Zandeh ducked his face away with an "Ah!", and the tip of the sword scraped against his helmet with a shrill noise.
"Woman!" roared Zandeh. The one wielding the sword was Farangis.
This time, Zandeh''s hefty sword stormed through space, targeting Farangis.
Farangis, countering this fierce blow, forced her valiant opponent to slice through thin air. But Zandeh''s greatsword, being both heavy and keen, fell onward, upon the neck of Farangis''s mount.
Before the beautiful kahinas very eyes unfolded the dreadful sight of her mount''s neck being chopped halfway through.
The horse let out one final neigh, then toppled into the dust as if dragged down by the weight of its partly severed head. It was dead before it even hit the ground, its neck bone having snapped.
Long ck hair floated in the wind, like a piece cut from the night sky. Farangis had not been so careless as to remain astride in her saddle until her horse copsed. Kicking free of her stirrups, she somersaulted through the air, her elegant, cypress-like form curling in a wless disy of falling technique. She sprang back to her feet upon white sands bathed in moonlight.
5 away came another attack, knocking Zandeh''s greatsword aside with an intense screech.
"Dariun!" Zandeh bellowed, his voice filled with hatred and aggression. He turned his horse back around to face his father''s foe and renewed his thrusts.
Their des struck, lighting the two men''s faces with sparks. In the second exchange, their crossguards crashed together. In the third, their horses leaped forth and they shed at each other midair. In the fourth, de engaged de, and sparks scattered once more.
A tenth exchange, a twentieth exchange, a thirtieth exchange. For the time being, amid the sh of their unyielding des, it was impossible to tell which side was the inferior.
Dariun could not but acknowledge that Zandeh''s valor surpassed that of histe father Qaran. That being said, of course, this was nothing to quail at. He himself was "marde-e mardan," a man among men. In terms of both skill and experience, he far exceeded Zandeh.
If anything, what was truly fearsome had to be Zandeh''s fighting spirit. Dariun had not received a single wound; in contrast, Zandeh''s bulk was covered in five or six shallow cuts, and yet the swings of his sword had not lessened even slightly in speed or power. On the contrary, they grew ever more ferocious, pressing Dariun harder and harder, the broad de of his greatsword grazing Dariun''s armor again and again.
While the hero in ck devoted his attention to Zandeh, the beautiful priestess crossed swords with a mounted enemy, who was easily cut down. With the agility of one who had sprouted invisible wings, she leaped onto the stolen horse. She seized the bow slung on the pommel of the saddle, then, guiding the horse with her legs alone, she shot a single arrow.
"Allow me to return the favor from just now. Take this!"
As urately as if drawn by an invisible thread, the arrow loosed from Farangis''s bow prated the right eye of Zandeh''s mount.
The dapple gray horse staggered back as if buffeted by violent winds, then keeled over.
Zandeh''s hulking form, still forcibly grasping onto his sword, was thrown to the ground. He took a badnding; the severe strike to his back forced a groan from him.
Half a minute passed in the blink of an eye as Dariun hesitated. He couldn''t count the number times he''d cut down enemy riders until now. However, he had never before in an unhorsed enemy without even offering him the opportunity to regain his feet.
That hesitation saved Zandeh''s life. Dariun''s sword struck down, but nced off Zandeh''s helm. If he hadn''t hesitated, Dariun''s sword might very well have cloven the helm in two and shattered Zandeh''s skull.
Even so, the fierce strike made Zandeh see stars and brought him howling to his knees.
Nor did any chance remain for Dariun to swing a finishing blow. Zandeh''s men had formed a wall of spears and slings to protect their youthful master.
Farangis called out; Dariun nodded, then turned his horse about and escaped the site of the battle.
As their silhouetted backs faded into the distance, washed away by the moonlight, Zandeh lifted his sandy mass atst.
"Give chase! But don''t kill him. Dariun''s head and heart are mine."
Zandeh dashed his helm on the ground and shouted, his hair ruffled like that of a sher.
"I''ll give that long-haired woman to the worthiest of you dogs. Want a beauty of your own? Its down to your own strength."
The soldiers cheered. Zandeh picked up his helm, mounted a horse that had lost its rider, and licked away the blood that had trickled down from the wound on his forehead.
.
With wonder-inducing equestrian expertise, Dariun and Farangis rode onto a mountain trail littered with gravel.
Zandeh and hispany tenaciously gave chase, but as time went on, the distance only continued to widen.
Before long, the first rays of dawn began to creep in along the edges of the peaks on the path ahead. Several of those mountains were recorded in Dariun''s memory. Back when he had headed to distant Serica, as well as the time he had done battle with the tripartite alliance, he had viewed that very panorama of mountains far to the eastern end of the Great Continental Road.
Farangis offered a leather sk to Dariun. As the knight in ck epted it and brought it to his lips, the priestess shot a question at him.
"You hesitated, didn''t you, when you swung your de at that man named Zandeh?"
"Mm"
"Ratherx of you."
Despite Farangis''s scolding tone, the barest hint of a smile had surfaced on her face as well. Dariun returned it with a wry smile of his own.
"I think so too"
By now Dariun was all too aware that the youth called Zandeh was a vicious beast d head to toe in armor, one even more dangerous than a wild sher. An opponent whom, once unhorsed, he should not have hesitated to strike down with his sword.
"Whether it''s that silver-masked man or Zandeh, His Highness Arn possesses enemies most terrible."
He felt this most profoundly. If I do not protect him Dariun had pledged as much to his deceased uncle Vahriz. And yet, what on earth could his uncle have possibly been aware of regarding Prince Arn''s background?
2~5 km
3~750 m
4~30 m
5~1 m
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (2)
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (2)
1.
"This role sure ain''t suited to me," Giv grumbled to himself. If the six of them were going to split up into three groups, he had of course counted on going along with Farangis. And yet to the contrary, riding to his right instead were Arn and m. From his perspective, rather than calling it bodyguard duty, it felt more like he''d been designated as the babysitter.
If he were on his own, he probably would''ve managed to distance himself even further from the pursuers by now, but before long, the echo of hoofbeats drew close from behind. It seemed the pursuit had also gathered the best riders among them to form a hunting party.
"If I were a bad guy"
That is, Giv was working entirely from the assumption that he was one of the good guys.
"Handing this princeling over to the Lusitanian army would me some hundredthousand dinars as reward money. S''long as I''ve lived, I''ve never had a hand in anything so sneaky or ruthless though."
The two youths hadn''t the slightest inkling that their supposedly dependable escort was deliberating over such matters.
Eventually, the road narrowed. Tall stalks of grass obstructed their path.
"This way, Your Highness Arn!" yelled m, pushing ahead through the tall grass, but he abruptly came to a stop. From the youth''s mouth slipped words of self-imprecation. For he had discovered, beyond the grass, the glint of moonlight upon a lurking metal assembly. A host of armor, swords, and spears.
"Turn back !"
As if prompted by m''s voice, the metal legion rose to their feet with a tter. Countless arrows came flying, shredding the moonlight. What''s more, those arrows did not target them, but their horses.
Arrows aimed at oneself could be lopped away. However, nothing could be done about those aimed at one''s mount.
Three horses each pitched into the grass, forcing their riders onto their feet one after another. The enemy soldiers cheered and charged forth.
"His head''s worth ahundredthousand in gold. Just an arm could be worth who knows how much!"
Giv''s de swept out from below. The enemy soldier''s leg was sted off from the knee down; blood and screams gushed forth.
"Run for it!"
As Giv shouted at the boys, a second shing strike hacked into the neck of enemy number two. The soldiers cowered at the sight of theirrade''s head flying through the air.
"I said run, the hell you waitin'' for!?"
Seeing that the boys stood petrified, Giv rushed to their side. Just as he was just about to blow up at them again, he swallowed his voice. Beyond the grass was a deep ravine. Vertical cliffs, and depths that even the moonlight could not reach. Only the faint trickle of water came slowly rising. Like this, there was nowhere to escape even if they tried.
The enemy soldiers formed a wall of swords and pressed in. Giv nced backward, then forward. Inspiration struck the "vagabond minstrel."
"Aye, let''s give it a whirl!"
Giv tucked his sword back into its scabbard and unexpectedly stretched out his arms. The boys didn''t even have time to be surprised. Arn found himself hooked under Giv''s right arm, and m under his left.
Giv jumped from the edge of the cliff.
"Ah!"
Even as the soldiers who''de chasing gasped and looked on, the figures of Arn and the other two vanished beyond the cliff.
They rushed in a scramble to the cliff''s edge and peered down, but the protruding outcrop and overgrown grasses blocked their view, and the three figures could not be seen. Even when they cast their gazes further down, there was only a deep chasm untouched by moonlight.
"Get down there and find them!" ordered their captain. Seeing the soldiers'' hesitation, he continued, "After jumping off on their own, the bastards have got to be dead or mortally wounded. They''re no threat anymore. Don''t you all want the gold?"
Even the soldiers who''d quailed before Giv''s swordsmanship drummed up their courage again upon hearing his speech. The foot soldiers continued as they were while the riders leaped from their horses, scattering left and right along the paths down the cliff to join in the search.
Having sessfully incited his men to action, the captain stood smugly at the edge of the cliff. He too was not a man without avarice. He intended to take a piece of the action himself after the soldiers had uncovered the corpses of the prince and the others. But if by some unlikely chance that dangerous swordsman still lived, and he were forced to confront him, then it wouldn''t be a matter of gold anymore.
He took another peek at the distant depths of the ravine.
It was in that very moment. A longsword thrust out, moonlight flickering off its surface, its tip piercing right through the captain''s jaw and up into his mouth.
2 or so below the cliff''s edge.
After selecting three horses from those that had been left behind at the top, the three of them ran for it. A few searching soldiers were still loitering about the trails down the cliff, but when they tried to give a shout upon realizing what had happened, the trio''s backs promptly faded into the distance.
"My gratitude for your efforts, Giv. How ought I reward you?"
They had been galloping for about an hour when the prince voiced this query from atop his horse.
"Nah, it''s not like I covet rank or position. Well, perhaps allow me to think it over, if I may."
"And you, m?"
On being asked, the youth replied to the prince somewhat curtly, "There is nothing I desire in particr. Nor have I ever considered it."
"In that case, name anything you should like to do in the future."
"That is for Lord Narses to decide. At any rate, until I reach adulthood, I n to study and learn at Lord Narses''s side."
m''s loyalty belonged first and foremost to Narses, and was only of an indirect nature when it came to Arn. He treated Arn as duty and responsibility demanded, but even this was because Narses wished it so.
It seemed Arn wanted to say something, but he ended up falling silent.
In that wordless manner, the three of them spurred their horses onward.
At some point, the moon began its sloping descent.
"It appears likely we shall be the first to arrive at Peshawar."
The trio of Arn, Giv, and m had taken a route that extended more or less directly east. The other two parties had to circle briefly north or south around the mountains before they could head east.
Even so, exactly how had the other three split up? Now that they were safe for the time being, Giv started to fret over it.
If Farangis were on her own, he''d be concerned about her going solo; and if she were with either one of Dariun or Narses, he''d still be worried. Between the two men, either one of them sure was having it good, while Giv sure as hell wasn''t.
"That being the case, guess there''s no choice but to get to Peshawar as soon as possible."
Just as Giv was considering this, m let out a small cry. To the left of their path, a troop of men and horses hade galloping alongthe gentle incline of the cliffside trails. Cries of "Capture the prince!" came drifting down, carried on the night wind.
"They just won''t quit"
Giv clucked his tongue.
The enemies numbered over a hundred. However, only around ten were mounted, while the rest were on foot. That is to say, they were basically all ghm.
Since they were enemies, it would be fine to just cut them down and cast them aside, but it wasn''t like there was no way to avoid bloodshed either. It was simply a matter of whether or not there was any value in doing so.
"Looks like they''re just not gonna let us get to the fortress at Peshawar that easily, huh."
The prince responded to Giv''s voice.
"Well, that makes the going all the more worthwhile then. That they persist in giving chase to such an extent could be considered an indication that Peshawar has yet to fall into enemy hands, after all."
"Hm, true enough."
As Giv, despite himself, found himself reassessing Arn, arrows came tearing through the chilled predawn air in a nting downpour from their rear.
For the second time that night, m lost his mount. The horse, head and nks struck by arrows, toppled sideways with m still astride.
"m!"
Even before he shouted, Arn had already pulled his horse around. In order to protect the youth whose horse had been shot down, he charged back toward the enemy frontline.
"Huh, what the?"
Giv''s deep blue eyes glinted with what seemed to be one part admiration and one part astonishment. This was because Giv, who harbored unadulterated antipathy towards that whole lot calling themselves royals and nobles, believed from the bottom of his heart in the adage, "Those on high know nothing of gratitude." From Arn''s perspective, m was nothing more than a subordinate''s extra tagalong. To go out of his way to rescue someone like that was, to Giv, an inconceivable caprice.
"Can''t just abandon them," Giv muttered, as if justifying his own actions to himself, then forcefully turned his horse back as well.
Arn leaped from his horse to help up m. The rider who was about to swing his de down upon their heads glimpsed, in the corner of his vision, the figure of Giv charging straight at him. The soldier''s right hand, still grasping onto his sword, went flying toward the moon. Emitting a dreadful shriek, the soldier fell tumbling from his horse.
Just like that, the horse galloped right past Giv. Witnessing Giv''s terrifying swordy, the pursuers visibly cringed. One mounted man who looked like the captain hollered at the foot soldiers with readied spears, apparently for them to resume their pursuit of Giv. Giv, watching the tentative but nheless steady approach of arrayed spears, took out a pouch of sheepskin.
With a single hand, Giv opened the sheepskin pouch and flung it into the air.
From the opening of the pouch streamed a cloud of stars. All the gold and silver coin Giv had been diligently amassing from scoundrels, rich men, and soldiers up until now danced glittering through the moonlit sky before falling to the earth. The soldiers cried out in greed, threw down their spears, and began to swarm across the ground, gathering gold and silver. As ghm, they could not buy such a great fortune even with their very lives.
"Good-for-nothing morons! Not going to fight? You damned moneygrubbing ves, dazzled by just a handful of gold!"
Giv urged his mount into a leap toward the bellowing, red-faced captain. Though the captain brought up his sword in a hurry, it was no good.
3 through the air by a single sweep of Giv''s de, the soldiers collecting coins let out a shrieking "Wah!", turned on their heels, and fled. Even with the bit of money they''d obtained, no bright futures awaited them as runaway ves, but the onus for that wasn''t on Giv.
Giv flicked the dripping blood from his de, sheathed his sword, took up the reins of the captain''s mount, and urged his own horse toward the two boys. Both of them had risen to their feet. The prince, on spotting Giv, again dutifully expressed his most profound gratitude. Giv responded with a half-hearted The pleasure was mine.
The three of them mounted their horses once more and headed east. Morning light was beginning to permeate the eastern skies. Before long, Arn spoke up.
"m."
" Is something the matter, Your Highness?"
"Do you hate me?"
The prince, who had drawn up beside him on his horse, was only one year his senior. m, evidently startled, considered him anew.
"Why would you?" He faltered.
"I wish to make friends with you. If there is no dislike on your part, can we not be friends?"
" I am the child of emancipated ves. The disparity between our stations is too vast for something like friendship, Your Highness."
"If we are to speak of such things as station, I should not be able to make a single friend of anyone at all."
"In any case, I have not properly expressed my gratitude for the honor of Your Highnessing personally to my aid. I shall most definitely repay the favor."
Perhaps m too, in his own way, had points upon which he refused to yield, for he did not reply on the spot to Arn''s request. Not that this seemed to put Arn in a particrly bad mood either. "Think nothing of it, I''ve been recipient to your aid as well," he said,ughing.
"What a peculiar princeling we''ve got here," thought Giv. All his preconceptions regarding royalty and nobility were getting smashed into bits one after another by this prince. All of a sudden,a certain thought urred to him.
Giv inquired, "Your Highness, were you perhaps raised outside the royal pce as a child?"
"Why do you think that?"
"Just wondering am I mistaken?"
"Right on the mark, rather. My time on the outside has always been the longer."
It was only two years ago that Arn had begun to live permanently at court. Disregarding the half a year immediately following his instation as crown prince, both before and afterwards he had been brought up in the household of his wet nurse. The nurse and her husband were of the azadan caste and resided in a corner of the capital; Arn had attended lessons at the tutor''s residence just down the road. He had yed withmoner children, or asionally with the children of ghajar, gypsies. Ever had he loved life on the streets more than life at court.
"That couple, are they still doing well?"
Arn''s brows furrowed. His expression had already given away the answer.
"They passed away two years ago. Poisoned by aged nabid gone bad. It happened around the same time I entered court, it seems."
"I see"
Giv nodded, but whether or not it had really been a case of food poisoning was a matter of suspicion. He couldn''t help but recall that talk he''d overheard from Narses back at the castle of the shahrdar Hojir. Behind the veneer of power and glory, had the royal family of Pars been nurturing some sinister, ill-omened monster in the shadows through all these long years? Had the family of Arn''s nurse, in the process of raising the prince, perhapse to know something they shouldn''t have? And then
Giv brushed his wine-dark hair aside with a wry smile. Well, shouldn''t let my imagination get too out of hand. Not nearly enough info to go on right now.
Only one thing he could be sure of. That is, the fact that things were sure to get more and more interesting from here on out. Giv scorned the kind of lifestyle dedicated to loyally serving one''s liege. However, if he stuck around with Prince Arn, it looked like he''d be in for a life filled day-to-day with far more thrilling ups and downs than he would have as a mere musician-cum-bandit. Besides, if the nation really needed a king, no matter what, a benevolent king was invariably better than a wicked one.
2~5 m
3~3 m
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (3)
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (3)
Speaking of Narses, he had, as a lone rider, galloped onward upon the trails traversing the southern ridges. Before night gave way to dawn, he had already broken through encirclements and crossed paths with pursuers a number of times, and now, somehow, he found himself apparently safe and sound.
Like Giv, albeit from apletely different standpoint, things had not gone ording to his intent. Arn should have been entrusted to the valiant Dariun, while he himself should have apanied m. And for thest group, Giv and Farangis. He had considered that to be the most natural arrangement, but darkness and confusion and chance had conspired against him, betrayed his ns. Just who was supposed to be the wise one or whatever again? It really made him want tough.
As for him, even all on his own he had confidence in his own ability to protect himself. What worried him were the two youths. They were not such powerless boys as to be considered burdens, butpared to any of the other adults, each outstanding mardan warriors in their own right, the immense gap became quite apparent
He pulled on the reins. To the left of the path before him was an expanse of rocky terrain; under the lightening sky, the silhouette of a person standing upon the expanse could be seen. When Narses stopped his horse, the figure instantly vanished.
"Tsk, an ambush here as well? Not even the slightest opening with these fellows."
Narses clucked his tongue, but just as he was about to turn his horse around, he stopped. From the direction of the rock field, afurious sh of swords and the screams of death could be heard. It seemed someone had kicked up a fuss of some sort that had nothing to do with him. A much too happy coincidence, perhaps, but curiosity suddenly welled. Taking care to suppress the sound of his horse''s hooves, he picked his way through the sand and approached the expanse.
Narses was no irvoyant. He could not know that the one he needed to avoid at all costs, the man of the silver mask Hirmiz leading around a hundred riders handpicked from his subordinates,id in wait for the party that was sure to follow down this path.
Nor did Hirmiz, for his part, expect the appearance there of unanticipated enemies. By the time he realized it, the rocky expanse had already been fully surrounded.
"It''s the Zott!"
All around Hirmiz arose shouts of dread. This urred just slightly before the ringing des Narses had heard.
The Zott were a bold and daring nomadic people who haunted the deserts and the rds, sometimes serving as mercenaries for various nations, sometimes engaging in banditry. To the Zott, Hirmiz and hispany were not so much prey as they were rivals trespassing in their territory. Both for the sake of their reputation as well as to show off their prowess, they could not turn a blind eye to any intruders.
One giant of a man cried out from his horse.
"I am Haltash, chief of the Zott!"
It was a great bellowing voice, well suited to his build.
His age was around forty, more or less. Hirmiz was tall as well, but Haltash''s stature was easilyparable, and the broadness of his shoulders and thickness of his torso were on another level.
The Zott who had appeared from the sands and the shadows of the rocks all around them numbered only half as many as Hirmiz and his men. That they had ventured forth regardless was no doubt because they believed in their own strength.
The light from the eyes of the silver mask glimmered, brimming with poison. Haltash, who did not seem to notice, alone came charging forth. As befitting his mighty brawn, he surely possessed confidence in his valor as well. Swinging the tip of his greatsword straight at Hirmiz in a careless stance, he squinted, as if weighing up the man before him. It didn''t seem the results were terribly favorable.
"You with the freakish mask! Heard of the name Haltash? Y''want mercy, then get off the horse and hand over your sword and your gold!"
Hirmiz let out a peal of coldughter from behind his silver mask.
"I was born a royal prince; within me flows not even a single drop of plebeian blood. You really think I would have heard of trash like you, with the sort of barbaric name neither men nor apes canprehend?!"
Haltash was a simple man; whether there was any significance to Hirmiz''s coldughter was not something he appeared to consider. That incredibly insulting manner of speaking made him snap. Brandishing his massive sword, he swooped in on Hirmiz.
The sword whistled through the air. It was a blow fierce enough to split a shers head in two. But Hirmiz''s reaction was swifter yet.
Haltash''s sword, raised against Hirmiz only moments before, was knocked down with a deafening crash. In the eyes of the panicked Zott chieftain reflected the light of a different de.
"You meet with death at the hands of royalty. Be honored!"
Those were thest words to ever reach Haltash''s ears. With a thick, muffled sound, the Zott chieftain''s head rolled down to the earth, swathed in blood and sand and wind, leaving its torso far behind.
As expected, the Zott nsmen, having seen their chief obliterated in a single blow, faltered. However, shortly afterwards, the stillness was shattered by a single rider galloping forth. He looked to be a mere youth, with a bright blue cloth wrapped about his head.
"How dare y''kill my Da!"
It was a girl''s voice. Were Hirmiz not wearing his silver mask, perhaps even he would not have been able to conceal an expression of surprise.
"May''ve been boozy and illiterate and lecherous, that hopeless old bastard, but still, I wouldn''t be alive without him. You''re gonna pay!"
She''d just finished talking when she turned back to shout at her father''s men.
"Get ''em, boys!"
Upon her signal, the Zott unsheathed their swords all at once and came swooping in on Hirmiz''s party. Hirmiz gave orders to meet their attack: just as the girl came bearing down on him.
"Just where do you think you''re lookin''? Your opponent''s right over here!"
Voice synchronized with sword. Hirmiz dodged the girl''s sh. It was a movement made more than half in earnest. The girl''s swordy had reached such a level that she could not be taken lightly. Of course, however, no matter what, she was still no match for Hirmiz.
She who had struck and he who had evaded both resumed their stances.
"Your name, wench?"
"Afarid, daughter of Haltash, chief of the Zott!"
She was sixteen, maybe seventeen. Her features were fine and clearly delineated.
"Afarid was originally a name used for the daughters of kings and nobles. A name undeserved by vulgar bandit wenches. Such presumptuous egotism ought to be punished ordingly."
"Let''s see you try it, silver mask freak!"
Afarid readied her de again. ck eyes spat fire against skin the color of shelled walnuts.
The girl kicked hard at her horse''s nks; the point of her sword came thrusting toward Hirmiz.
It was but a single exchange. The sword went flying from Afarid''s hand and spun shing through the sunlit sky.
Hirmiz followed up with a strike of his own, but it was dodged. Afaridunched into a somersault with a dexterity that would astonish even the nimblest of acrobats, and the second blow sliced through thin air. However, this naturally resulted in Afarid losing her mount.
Once again, the sh of a strike from horseback. This, too, Afarid dodged by a hair.
"Well evaded. But while you do naught but run away, a pitiful fate has befallen your cretinous underlings."
Shocked, Afarid swept her gaze across her surroundings and confirmed that everyst person who remained standing or moving about was an enemy. The brief but violent skirmish had reached an end. Each and every one of the Zotty fallen on the ground, having breathed theirst. At the same time, however, half of Hirmiz''s troops had also been wiped out.
"Mere bandits you may be, but you''ve killed not a few of my subordinates."
The silver mask''s eyes flickered with poisoned me.
From Hirmiz''s perspective, the meant to capture Arn''s party had been torn to shreds by "vulgar bandit cretins." His wrath knew no bounds. It would not be quelled unless this Zott girl, now left without even a single ally, was cloven in two on the spot. Hirmiz brandished his sword once more.
It was then that it happened.
Before their very eyes, one of Hirmiz''s men staggered out from among the rocks with a cry and crumpled to the sand.
Beneath the all-engulfing sunlight, silence seemed to freeze the very air itself.
A single rider revealed himself from the shadow of the rocks, with a rather nonchnt look about him. However, the sword in his hand was smeared with blood.
"Oh? How interesting. If it isn''t my dear Silver Mask."
This cheery, not to mention unexpected, and very much sarcastic greeting came from the young man who imed the title of "court artist." That he was actually Narses, the former lord of Dam, Hirmiz was now well aware.
"Been a while, you hackartist. Couldn''t make it in the capital, so came drifting all the way out to the fringes, I suppose?"
"Seems to me every one of our trysts draws closer and closer to uncivilized territory. Tis most inconvenient to make it indeed."
" You previously offended Andragoras and were exiled from court, I hear."
"You''re certainly well informed." Narses put on a smile, but was conscious of the wariness welling up within himself.
"Where''s Andragoras''s brat?"
"Oh, that. I suppose I wouldn''t mind telling you. Once you''re dead, that is."
"Would you, now?"
"Well, why not let me give it my best shot?"
Each was aware of what a formidable foe the other was. Keeping his men from interfering, Hirmiz urged his horse forward in a leap. In response, Narses too advanced his horse.
Suddenly, Narses hurriedly tugged on his reins, pulling his horse into a rear. Lithe as a yuz, a human shadow hade flying between him and the silver mask. Narses recognized the figure of a young girl, hair wrapped in a sky blue cloth.
"Don''t youy your hands on him! Killed my old man, this one did. It''s me gonna take him down!"
It was Afarid. The eyes ring up at the mounted Narses were as a naked de. As he calmed his horse, Narses stared back at the girl.
"If it''s vengeance you want, I hardly mind turning the man over to you, but are you not in need of a sword?"
"So gimme yours, then."
With a matter-of-course expression, she brazenly held her hand out to Narses up on his horse. The former lord of Dam, blinking quickly, just barely managed to restrain a peal of inappropriateughter.
"A loan is fine with me, but what of coteral?"
Putting off the matter of his dreadful foe the silver mask, while unable to keep himself from teasing the girl. A disy of Narses''s perversity, no doubt.
"You tellin'' me a brave young girl out to avenge her Da''s still gotta hand over coteral just to borrow a sword!?"
1?"
From the silver mask flowed a chilling voice.
"You hack. Do you seriously think this little wench can beat me?"
"If she can, I seriously do think I''d love to see it, sure."
In truth, Narses was being quite sincere here, but he was also aware that it was impossible under the current circumstances. Even Narses''s own chances at conclusive victory were uncertain. His only aim to begin with had been to rescue this girl, not to contest with the silver mask. That was why, from the moment he''d read the situation until the moment he revealed himself, he had already thoroughlyid out preparations.
Just as Hirmiz, having perhaps wearied of engaging with a certain wicked tongue, charged forth, his de wreathed in murderous intent, one of his men shrieked. Upon turning, Hirmiz gaped. From the nearby rock field, a number of boulders were tumbling to the sand toward them.
Countless shouts of panic and shock echoed. Narses alone remained unmoved. Using several rocks, scraps of wood, and leather thongs, he had pieced together a "lever"; as time passed and the pieces began to stir, the resulting chain reaction tossed rocks down one after another. Hirmiz andpany momentarily forgot about Narses and the girl, busily dodging the stony downpour.
By the time the rain of rocks stopped and the dust settled, Narses and Afarid had already vanished from their sight.
.
The horse bearing the two of them raced east upon the rock-littered path, leaving Hirmiz and the others far behind.
"About that masked guy"
Afarid, clinging to Narses''s back, shouted as if running purely on high spirits, "The next time we meet, I''m gonna stab him straight through that warped heart of his for sure! So you better not get in the way next time!"
"Sure, on the next asion I shall dly sit back and watch the show from a safe distance."
"Anyhow though, y''still saved my skin today. I gotta repay you somehow."
The girl seemed to chew it over for a bit, but shortly after, her voice came bouncing back.
"That''s it! Once I''ve kicked the bastard''s ass, I''ll letcha have that creepy silver mask."
"The mask, huh?"
"If y''take off the sp and hammer it t, you can get about a hundred drachms out of it. You can mess around for about half a year on that much, yeah?"
"Doesn''t sound half bad."
The future would unfold somehow or other, but as for Narses, if it were possible, he wanted to ascertain the true natureof the one behind that sinister silver mask. He inquired if the girl might not have noticed anything during their confrontation.
"Now that you mention it, he did sound pretty full of himself, somehow."
"Oh, how so?"
"Said he was born to royalty, see. Like, in what kinda world would there be a mask-wearing king anyway. Ain''t all there upstairs, that guy."
Afaridughed, as if finding itical. Narses did notugh. He could notugh. He knew far more than Afarid did, having seen the hideously scorched right half of the man''s face.
In Narses''s mind churned several memories and pieces of information, blending into foam. From there arose a single name to the surface. One of the names listed on the family tree of the royal house of Pars.
" But, could it really be?"
After muttering to himself, he realized he couldn''t afford to let this girl keep tagging along with him until who knew when.
"Hey, if there''s anywhere you wish to go, I''ll let you off at a suitable location. Just give the word."
On hearing that, Afarid stared indignantly at the back of Narses''s neck.
"Come on, no way. Once you''ve rescued someone, you gotta take responsibility ''til the end. If you abandon me here and I get offed by that silver mask guy, you''re gonna regret it for sure."
Narses had no rebuttal to the girl''s assertions. It couldn''t be helped. For just a little longer, he''d let her keep tagging along. He would just have to figure out how to deal with her when the time came. Even if it had not been their intent, it was thanks to the Zott n that Narses had evaded Hirmiz and the others'' ambush; as they had helped him out, he did now owe them ordingly as well. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn''t done any rescuing at all in the first ce, but that was not something Narses was capable of. Can''t be helped, said he, unable to do anything but steel himself for the worst with a bitter smile.
"You got a name?"
"Narses."
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (4)
Book 2: Chapter 3: En Route to Peshawar (4)
By the time Narses and Afarid entered a certain small vige, the sun had already dipped below the sweeping outline of the mountains at their backs. They had taken a considerable detour, but from this point on, Peshawar awaited practically before their eyes.
Until they managed to arrive at the citadel of Peshawar, Narses had hoped to avoid drawing notice to themselves as much as possible, but the mount bearing the two of them was quite exhausted, so they had no choice but to let it rest. If possible, he wanted an additional horse.
The two dismounted at the entrance to the vige. Even as he attended to the horse and they approached the vige, Narses felt an impression of foreboding. Twilight should have been the time for preparing evening supper, so why was there no sign of smokeing from any of the vigers'' homes? Themps ought to be lit any time now as well, so why were the windows of all the houses darkened?
"Even if you''re gonna buy a horse, you got any money for it?"
Narses, questioned by Afarid on this pragmatic matter, casually handed the girl a sheepskin pouch. When she opened the pouch, Afarid''s eyes widened.
"This could you a hundred horses or so, looks like. How''d you get your hands on so many dinars anyway?"
"What do you mean how? They''re all mine to begin with?"
Afarid put on a grave expression.
"Huh, guess you''re caught up in some shady business, aren''t ya. Though y''look like such a respectable sort."
"Why do you think so?"
"Ain''t no honest folk can get their hands on the likes of gold. If an azat had any gold or anything on them, the officials woulde and give ''em the rack, even. They''d just assume you stole it all from somewhere, yeah?"
Narses was unable to reply. He had absolutely no inclination to reveal his own pedigree as one of the shahrdaran. Good grief. He really was no respectable sort himself. Considering his very identity as one of the governing ss, a noble aristocrat
Suddenly, Afarid grabbed his arm.
Following her frozen gaze, Narses saw it. At the door to one of the houses, a single man lying prone. Traces of blood served as proof of the man''s death.
Protruding from the corpse''spel was a sheepskin pouch, from which spilled drachms and mithqals glittering in the sunset. Afarid, delicate brows furrowed, backed away.
Recalling that the Zott had originally been desert brigands, Narses inquired, "What''s the matter, not going to take his purse?"
Afarid red sternly at the former lord of Dam. She was truly furious. Narses was stunned by her expression, struck all at once in that moment by her vibrant beauty.
"The Zott would NEVER rob the dead or the ill. Don''t you talk bad about us!"
"Sorry, I shouldn''t have."
It urred to him that this was the exact opposite of Giv''s philosophy. Even as he apologized, however, Narses found it all quite strange.
No matter what, how could this tragic scene have possiblye about? Narses, checking to see that corpses were scattered throughout the entire vige, mentally folded his arms. Most bizarre of all was the fact that, regardless of age or gender, the majority of the bodies had suffered fatal injuries on their lower halves. On the other hand, not unlike the first body they had discovered, no signs of robbery could be seen.
Ultimately, the dead numbered more than fifty, so it was clear that this little vige had been annihted. That they had all been killed outdoors was perhaps because on hearing the screams outside, they hade flying out, only to join the ranks of the sacrificed.
"I can only conclude that they were butchered for no reason but to be killed."
"Betcha it''s those Lusitanian barbarians I heard about who done it. Savage beasts! Turnin'' up even all the way out here."
1 sightings in this area when night falls. Such rumors aside, it''s best we refrain from moving around too much after dark. Let''s find a house to lodge in for now."
"Sure. But, I''m a pure and virtuous Zott woman, I''ll have you know. We''re stayin'' in separate rooms, or else."
" I''ve no objections."
Aftering across an empty house without any bodies, the pair of them settled on their ce of lodging for the night. Afarid, to her credit, helpfully offered to prepare a meal; leaving her to her task, Narses went searching for horses. There was most likely a smallmunal stable somewhere in the vige. And indeed, he found one, with four horses packed miserably in a single stall. He selected the youngest and sturdiest among them, then led out the other three, removed their bridles, and set them free. Tomorrow, when dawn broke, the vigers'' remains would have to be given a proper burial too.
He led the horse back, and Afarid, fetching water at the well, waved at him. Just as they drew close, the horse abruptly stopped in its tracks, whinnying as if in fright. Narses, instantly on the alert, jumped aside in a hurry. He saw it then. Afarid saw it too. Without warning, a hand stretched out from the ground, clutching at Narses''s foot. It grasped air and came away empty-handed.
"Wha, what the? An arm sprouted from the ground!"
Afarid, though naturally terrified, found the scene that had unfolded right before her eyes somewhat surreal, and seemed to be struggling toe to terms with it.
"Ghadaq, is it?!"
All the mysteries surrounding the dead bodies were now cleared. Narses wasn''t capable of sorcery or anything of the sort himself, but he did possess some relevant knowledge. Supposedly, it allowed one to move about freely in the earth, then thrust sword or spear through the ground, killing whoever was waiting above. And yet, why would a sorcerer like thate to a ce like this to ughter all the vigers?
In the dimness, the hand dove swiftly underground again. It left behind no evidence but for a tiny sinkhole. Narses squinted slightly, raised himself to tiptoes.
The very moment he sensed something, he leapt. The white de bursting from the ground just barely grazed Narses''s soles. Had he stood there like that, it no doubt would have pierced through his thigh. As hended, Narses stepped aside, almost dancing, distancing himself from the de. The glinting de submerged without a sound, once again leaving behind a small hollow.
A sensation swept through him, akin to a nightmare seizing his heart. He drew his own sword as well, all the more alert than ever. With all his might, he strained to hold back his urge to stab down on the ground where he stood.
Afarid, standing motionless by the wall of the house, cried out for Narses.
Sheathing his de and rushing over, Narses noticed something. Under the eaves by the doorway. A huge pot. Filled with palm oil.
"What''re we gonna do, Narses?" asked Afarid, her face and voice like that of a child''s. Narses smiled at the girl in order tofort her.
"Can you climb trees?"
"A breeze, that."
"In that case, go ahead and climb up that big date palm."
"You gonna be okay?"
" Mm, I''ve not yet received that silver mask from you and exchanged it for coin. I''ll be fine ''til then, at least. Now, hurry along. And make sure to keep to the stones as you go."
Just as Narses instructed, Afarid promptly ran for the palm tree and scurried up to a thick branch without any difficulty whatsoever.
As she straddled the branch, a low voice came oozing from the space between earth and sky. The echo of mockingughter sent a tremor through the dusky gloom.
"My oh my, such a crafty one you are. But just how long shall youst"
Its sound resembled the hissing of a snake.
That voice sent a shudder through Afarid, but on the other hand gave Narses the chance topose himself. Whether man or monster, as long as it could bemunicated with, Narses had nothing to fear. Voiceless malice was by far the most terrifying of all.
Narses ced a hand on that pot of palm oil lined up against the wall and gently tipped it over. Oil spilled out, spreading across the ground, soaking through the earth. Concealed in his fist was a piece of flint. Once all the oil had flowed out, he sought for signs in the silence. The overall impression the man gave off was that of unflinching courage, and yet beads of sweat had formed on his brow.
2 zed all alight at once.
The very next instant, up on the branch of the big tree, Afarid gasped.
With a boom, the earth split open, and a mass of me sprang out. It was about the size and shape of a human being. An eerie scream gushed out from where its mouth should have been. Thanks to the oil that had soaked into the ground, it was roasting alive. As it howled, lurching forward, both of its arms stretched out, as if even now grabbing for Narses.
Narses, unsheathing his longsword, stepped forth in approach and sent a sharp sh towards its shoulder region. The head, engulfed in me, went flying into the growing shadows. Even as it tumbled to the ground, it continued to burn.
"All''s well now,e on down."
Narses nced up at the branches overhead.
Back underground beneath the royal capital of Ecbatana lurked the gray-robed elder. It was he who had summoned seven sorcerers, dispatching them to incur ever more bloodshed upon Pars. Thus it was that one of those now met his end. Of course, however, Narses hadn''t even the slightest inkling of this.
Afarid, nimbly jumping down from the tree branch, praised Narses excitedly.
"Narses, Narses, you''re amazing, aren''t ya. Strong, and smart to boot. Takin'' care of that freak with a trick like that!"
"So everyone tells me."
A shameless response, but that showed just how far Narses could afford to push it. Afarid pressed a slender finger to her shapely chin as if she were considering something, but soon enough voiced a question.
"Narses, you''re how old again?"
"Twenty-six, why do you ask?"
"Hm, over twenty-five, huh? Was thinking maybe a little younger."
" Sorry for betraying your expectations."
"Nah, it''s fine. We''re exactly ten years apart, makes it easy to remember. More dependable when there''s a bit of an age gap too."
Narses, not at all like the dauntless genius he was supposed to be, winced ever so slightly. Sensing, it seemed, a rather ominous mood of sorts, he fell silent.
The girl, in the meantime, as ifing to an agreement with herself, continued, "Gotta wait two more years though. My Ma and her Ma and her Ma''s Ma all tied the knotin the ninth month of their eighteenth year."
"I don''t particrly have any interest in your family history. More importantly, now that we can finally sup in peace"
"My cooking ain''t too shabby, y''know."
"You just what exactly have you been trying to get at!?"
The girl stared intently at Narses.
"How thick can ya get. You really still don''t get it?"
Narses was speechless.
3. If it suits your taste then great, but if not, I''ll just go ahead and remake it!"
As the girl entered the house with a lively spring to her step, Narses gazed after her in a stupor.
" What a fine mess this has be."
2~5 m
3Respectively: beer (see notes re: correction), lentil soup, hotcakes (pancakes)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (1)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (1)
In early winter of the 320th year of Pars, the kingdom fell into the greatest tumult it had ever experienced since the ession of Hero King Kai Khosrow.
There had been various such events until now throughout the history of Pars. Among the royal court unfolded bouts of intrigue and assassination. So too had there been insurrections among the shahrdaran, invasions from other nations, or conversely, instances of Pars invading other nations. Peasants had revolted when they could no longer endure bad harvests or heavy taxation. ves had marched en masse to the deserts in search of freedom. Princes resolved to defeat their royal fathers had led troops across the eternally frozen peaks
Even so, Pars remained Pars, a major power whose might and unity could not be swayed. Never had its royal capital been upied by enemy countries; never had the royal throne sat empty. Until now.
That is, currently, the purportedly unrivaled cavalry of Pars had been routed at Atropatene, and the whereabouts of Shah Andragoras III were unknown. With the royal capital of Ecbatana now upied, the Queen Consort Tahmineh had been captured by the Lusitanians, and the Crown Prince Arn was even now fleeing through the mountains as a fugitive. Furthermore, not all of this news being circted was entirely urate. Misinformation and false reports jumbled together, and things being as they were, it was impossible to judge which of them to believe.
The conquering Lusitanian army, based in the key locales of the royal capital Ecbatana and the kingdom''s northwestern border, just about upied no more than a third of the total territories of Pars. The troops, officials, and shahrdaran situated elsewhere could not even begin to guess at where their loyalties ought to be directed.
Whoever should call out for it, those various aforementioned powers would surely swarm to his support. However, if no one did so, all of them would only make preparations to deploy or wage war while adopting a wait and see approach. To make the first move without fully grasping the circumstances, only to be the first to be trounced in battle, would make for a shameful sight.
For Lusitania, the unification of these various internal factions under the banners of opposition was something that absolutely could not be allowed. While they hemmed and hawed, wavering in indecision, the Lusitanians must take advantage and crush everyst one of them.
Thereiny the political significance of the callow youth of fourteen known as Arn. There, too,y the reason the Lusitanian army and their coborators must prevent Arn''s party, who numbered not even a dozen, from entering the citadel of Peshawar at all costs.
If Arn''s party were to enter Fort Peshawar, it would result in thebination of a righteous cause and actual military power.
At this time, Hirmiz, who had been inmand of the pursuing forces, ended up riding back to Ecbatana after leaving things to Zandeh. This was immediately after Narses and Afarid pulled off their escape.
"It seems that nastylittle spawn of Andragoras has several vassals he hardly deserves," muttered Hirmiz in a tone filled with self-derision, upon reuniting with the troops led by Zandeh. Not only had he himself been escaped by Narses, Zandeh too had been escaped by Dariun andpany, and the other set of troops had failed to capture Arn; all of them had wound up gathered here in this sad state, utterly empty-handed.
"I have no excuse for my failure, Your Highness."
"No matter. What of your wound, anything serious?"
"Grateful though I am for your concern, it is but a mere flesh wound," Zandeh replied vehemently. His eyes sparked with ungging determination. "Even if I should lose an arm or a leg in the process, I promise I shall smash in Dariun''s skull for your pleasure. Please, just give me a little more time."
Hirmiz believed in those grandiose words. Rather, there was nothing he could do but believe. He had no other allies to rely on, and this youth named Zandeh, as rough and unkempt as he looked, had done well enough in providing him with detailed intelligence.
"I''ll be making a return to Ecbatana. Guiscard, that bastard of a Lusitanian prince, has some need for me, it seems. In the meantime, you takemand of the men in my ce."
Hirmiz spoke thus to Zandeh, but curiously enough, it was not all that reflective of reality. Hirmiz did not have even a single soldier to his own name to begin with; they had all been thete Qaran''s subordinates, and now served Zandeh. Telling Zandeh to takemand was, at this point, rather unnecessary.
Yet both Hirmiz and Zandeh were very much in earnest. To the two of them, the "rightful Shah of Pars and his affiliated court" were very much a real existence. And so, Zandeh had merely been entrusted temporarily with the royal army itself.
"May the Hero King Kai Khosrow watch over His Highness Hirmiz!"
As Zandeh and his men bowed reverently to his back, Hirmiz spurred his horse north toward Ecbatana.
On his horse, Hirmiz sank into contemtion. He had long tired of acting subordinate to the Lusitanians. That mad ape Bodin, the disgusting King Innocentius, who substituted sugar water for wine, and the rest of their ilk could be dealt with anytime, he thought.
The only one who could not be taken lightly was the king''s shrewd younger brother, Guiscard.
On his part, he was using Guiscard to maintain his own standing among the Lusitanian army. "The man of the silver mask" that is, Hirmiz was certainly not a figure looked kindly upon by a single Lusitanian. These sentiments simply remained unvoiced out of fear that they would reach Guiscard''s ears. And yet, at times even Guiscard''s eyes flickered with something peculiar when he looked at Hirmiz, didn''t they? Perhaps the time hade to consider severing his connections after all.
Nevertheless, that he who was the rightful Shah of the great nation of Pars must still scurry back and forth between the capital and the frontier at Guiscard''s bidding Hirmiz''s lips curled into a deeply bitter smile beneath his mask. But even that woulde to an end soon enough. Righteousness would be restored to Pars.
By righteousness, he meant the rule of the rightful Shah. Ever since that day sixteen long years ago, Hirmiz had held continually to this belief.
.
In a chamber beneath the capital, the gray-robed sorcerer was receiving a report from his disciples. The report of a death among their ranks.
"Arzhang has been killed? That was unexpectedly quick."
"Tis truly shameful. We who are hisrades have been disgraced before thee, Master. Please, we beg of thee a chance to restore our honor."
"Nay, enough. No need for further penance."
The manughed briefly. He could no longer be referred to as an elder. With every passing night and day, youth and vitality were restored to him.
"The magic art of ghadaq can be broken by pouring oil into the earth and setting it ame, or by soaking the ground with poisoned water. Either way, not a thing can be done about it. The only thing is, no crude backwater peasant could have possibly been clever enough to think of such. Arzhang could only have been felled by one far more capable than himself."
"Master, what manner of individual could that possibly be?"
"Well"
As both the man''s tone and expression alike were vague, the other sorcerers were unable toprehend their master''s true feelings.
"In any case, no one who wishes for the seconding of our lord the Serpent King Zahhak, I am sure. More importantly, following Arzhang, someone must once more dispose of a notable Lusitanian personage."
From the hem of his gray robes, the sorcerer''s finger stretched out, indicating a single point in the darkness.
"Sanjeh, this Imand thee"
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (2)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (2)
It was a beautiful garden. Trees and flower beds had been skillfully arranged alongside fountains and sculptures; amongst these flowed sleek pathsid with expensive tiles. Pictures had been painted on the tiles; one full circuit illustrated the tale of Hero King Kai Khosrow from his birth to his death.
Before, it had been even more beautiful. After its consumption by blood and fire, Innocentius had ordered its restoration. These efforts remained very much iplete, however.
Within a ss greenhouse, of various colors bloomed in profusion. That this greenhouse alone had escaped the mes of battle was certainly a miracle. The fact itself seemed to unt the different level ofndscape architecture in Parspared to Lusitania.
King Innocentius heaved a sigh.
"Before such beauty as Tahmineh''s, even those flowers are as withered branches."
He received no response.
"Do you not agree, Guiscard?"
"The very picture of beauty indeed," replied Guiscard, deliberately keeping the subject of his praise vague, and in doing so unable to helping across as a bit curt in tone.
There had been a time when Guiscard too was beguiled by Tahmineh''s beauty, but he had given up on her by now, making a clean break of it by thinking of her as a political or diplomatic tool. Well no, although such were his intentions, still there were times when he felt a slight, lingering attachment. For that alone, it made him all the more cranky to see his older brother besotted with Tahmineh''s beauty, without a care for either appearance or reputation.
That being said, what could Tahmineh be thinking about as she sat there in the greenhouse upon her wicker chair, gazing at the ? Guiscard had none of his brother''s sweet delusions. Instead, even with his heart full of suspicion and wariness, he nheless found his gaze drawn to Tahmineh, captivated despite himself by her figure.
"Dear brother!"
He purposely raised his voice, not so much for his brother''s sake, but in reproach of himself.
"W-what is it, my little brother?"
"My apologies for bringing up such a tasteless matter, but it''s about Bodin and the Temrs of Sion. Was it not to discuss them that you requested my presence?"
"Oh, right, right! Guiscard, oh Guiscard, whatever shall We do?"
Guiscard was silent.
"Oh beloved brother of mine, with the way those Temrs talk, do you not believe they are far too hasty in casting such one-sided judgment? We''ve a case to make Ourselves as well, and there is the matter of the national state of affairs besides. It''s as if they don''t understand at all. Do they not know just how much We have supported the church until now? Could it be those fools haven''t the ability to feel such a thing as gratitude?"
About time you figured it out. Though Guiscard wanted tough coldly at the thought, he disyed no such emotion with either his mouth or his expression.
"Honestly, when ites to the likes of Bodin and hisckeys, they really are just a bunch of incorrigible fools"
Suddenly, Guiscard was startled by a certain realization and broke off. Having be absorbed in his shadowy contest with Archbishop Bodin, Guiscard had forgotten something of utmost importance.
"No way. My brother, you can''t possibly have informed the queen of Andragoras''s survival and imprisonment, or have you?"
The drastic change in his younger brother''s harshened tone shocked Innocentius. After blinking, he shook his head in a panic, as if to reply, I swear, I would never speak of such a thing.
"Excellent. That was fine judgment on your part, brother mine."
For a younger brother to speak to his elder sibling thus was no doubt a breach of etiquette.
In keeping King Andragoras''s status ambiguous, Guiscard did have his purpose. Supposing the death of King Andragoras were confirmed, the as yet uncaptured Prince Arn could then dere himself the new Shah, thus uniting the various anti-Lusitanian forces within the kingdom. However dissatisfied they might have been with Parsian governance until now, if it came down to a choice between Pars and Lusitania, the people of the kingdom would naturally support Prince Arn.
Moreover, Guiscard did not wish to dispose of King Andragoras while he had not yetpletely grasped Queen Tahmineh''s true intentions. If one were to kill him off too quickly, by the time the thought "Damn, should''ve kept him alive" even urred, it would be toote for regret.
No matter what, discretion was necessary.
.
At this time, over at Archbishop Bodin''s private quarters, themander of the Temrs of Sion, Hildiger, was eagerly galvanizing the owner of the room.
"Don''t you think it''s time we depose His Majesty King Innocentius, Your Eminence?"
Bodin, to whom themander of the Temrs was murmuring, picked at his chin with a finger as if lost in thought.
"Taking such action would be overhasty. A tiresome king he may be, but one who has hitherto been of service."
"And yet the king of Lusitania is not just a mere royal responsible for governing the nation; as a saint he is an incarnation who reigns over all true believers of Ialdabaoth. To be besotted by some heathen woman is enough alone to disqualify him from rulership."
"Tis as you say, but who is there to rece King Innocentius on the throne? As he has sown no seed, that leaves none other but his closest blood rtion, Guiscard. You think that a favorable turn?"
"There is naught to criticize of Duke Guiscard''s ability. I suppose his attitude toward the heathens, however, is even morepromising than that of his royal brother."
"Precisely. That wretched prince values power and wealth more than God''s will."
Bodin spat in disgust. He was one who understood the faults in others all too well. Even if Guiscard were to hear this, he would certainly only smile wryly.
"Can we not summon another of royal blood from Lusitania?
"Hm?" Bodin tilted his head. "Is there any such individual to be summoned?"
"Whatever the case, as long as he carries the blood, even onecking in years should do."
"Hmph, I see, there was that indeed."
Bodin''s considerations had been entirely focused on adults alone, but as Hildiger said, were the king to be a puppet, then it mattered not even if it were a child or an infant. Rather, such a scenario would be in fact easier to manipte. Now that he thought about it, even Innocentius VII as a youth had trusted in the words of the clergy with simple and unaffected faith. It had been thus even when he reached adulthood. Or so it should have been, yet now, beguiled by some heathen ttern, he dared make light of God.
"And so, Your Eminence, one finds it rather undesirable for all political and religious authority to reside in a single individual like the king, no?"
On hearing the Temrmander''s words, Bodin''s eyes red with light, but not a word fell from his lips.
Hildiger deliberately lowered his voice.
"Just like this current matter, where in forgetting his ce as the supreme religious authority, the king has lost his mind over a heathen woman and doomed both country and faith to great crisis."
Bodin remained silent.
"In the event that the king is deposed, his royal authority ought to bepletely severed from his religious authority. And you, Your Eminence, should im that very same religious authority, rise to supremacy in his stead, and name yourself Pope."
"Brother Hildiger, speak not so rashly."
Bodin spoke softly, so as not to be overheard, but neither did he seem to reject Hildiger''s proposal.
Had he gone on to speak of bing the king himself, Bodin surely would not have even considered hispanion''s words. However, talk of bing Pope was different. To grow attached to earthly authority was to stray from the path of a holy man. However, were it in defense of the glory of Heaven, that would be a different story.
Before long, Hildiger took his leave. The moment he stepped out the door, he clucked his tongue. He''d been expecting some form of material reward, but Bodin hadn''t even noticed at all.
"Tch. That tactless half-wit of a priest. Go to all that effort to demonstrate my goodwill and the bastard doesn''t even have the decency to express the slightest bit of gratitude."
For Hildiger, this was a matter of carefully timed plotting.
Having invaded Pars, piged and ughtered to his content, ande out of it with his arms wrapped around both treasure and beautiful women, should he return to Lusitania? Or should he stay in Pars from now on, ruling over the years, slowly sucking dry those bountifulnds?
In any case, to the Lusitanian Hildiger, the heathens of Pars were nothing but targets for domination and plunder, but though they were both forms of misgovernment,there was a certain so-called system to it all. No matter what, it was better to choose the more fruitful, efficient methods.
In Maryam, far more blood had been shed, but there''d not been much to gain in return. It had been a country that took pride in its culture and ancient roots, but itsnds were barren, nor was there much coin to be had.
Nheless, Hildiger had managed to make a decent profit. Notably, he''d been able to sell off more than 500,000 enved men and women to various countries, which hadted him quite a bit in fees. As for the lovely odalisques of the Maryamian court, he''d imed countless for his own.
The people of Maryam were fellow believers in Ialdabaoth, but as there were many heretics who did not acknowledge the authority of the Lusitanian king, they weren''t much different from the heathen nations of Pars and Misr. It was perfectly fine to treat such countries with whatever brutality was necessary.
Compared to Maryam, Pars was a far more prosperous kingdom. Was it not an act of foolishness to starve oneself to skin and bones before feasting?
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (3)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (3)
The Temrmander Hildiger hade calling in secret upon hearing of this, the royal prince Guiscard was not especially fazed.
It was because he had observed, "If Bodin were made of frozen stone, then that Temrmander would be a cheese held to me. Firm to look at, but flimsy and pliant in substance."
Having been offered a luxurious chair that was upholstered in, it was emphasized, actual velvet, Hildiger stretched out and reclined. Then, he began to speak in a grave, confiding tone.
"Allow me to be frank, Your Royal Highness. His Eminence the Archbishop is exceedingly disappointed in King Innocentius."
In destroying the two great nations, heretic Maryam and heathen Pars, he had spread the glory of Ialdabaoth all the way to the East. That much was well done. It was from there that things went wrong. To fall in love with a heathen woman, and another''s wife besides, was most improper for a representative of the followers of Ialdabaoth
As he listened to this talk, Guiscard chuckled to himself inside with a heh. That Hildiger hade to broach the topic at this point in time made his true intent quite easy to understand. This highfalutin Temrmander had no particr reason to swear undying loyalty to Bodin. He just wanted to sell himself off to the highest bidder.
"Well, Lord Commander, have you any edifying suggestions in mind regarding my royal brother?"
"Mere disappointment is still fine, but were such to transform into despair, I am afraid even we of his flock should no longer be able to intercede with His Eminence the Archbishop."
The movement of Hildiger''s mouth forcefully jerked his auburn beard up and down in a hopping dance. It was a sight both strange and vulgar.
"My Lord Commander, if my brother were to void the goodwill of the Temrs and thus sustain the consequence of emunication, at that time, I wonder: with whom you would entrust the sovereignty of Lusitania?"
For Guiscard, this was a rather explicit manner of making the inquiry. Whether using more circuitousnguage or probing for each other''s true intentions, both actions were dependent on the other party. Hildiger''s avarice ran deep; inversely, he was capable of only the most shallow and petty of ruses, as Guiscard had seen through long ago.
Hildiger, unaware of this, made all the more effort to keep up appearances. "Essentially, Your Royal Highness, whatever we shall report to His Eminence the Archbishop should thereby open the doors to your honorable future, no?"
Guiscard concealed a cold smile and nodded. He sounded a small bell on his desk, summoning a servant.
The servant briefly took his leave before appearing once more, this time with hispany increased ten times in number; each came in bearing immense packages one by one. To Hildiger, gazing on with a mix of amazement and expectancy, Guiscard offered a nonchnt statement.
"Consider these alms my personal offering to the Temrs. A somewhat paltry amount, it pains me to say, but the goods confiscated from the Parsian heathens are almost entirely under the management of my brother and Archbishop Bodin, as you know. I shall endeavor to supplement it in the future, but for now, please ept this."
Twenty thousand Parsian dinars, two hundred scrolls of high quality silk imported from Serica, ivory craftwork from Sindhura: all that and more were arrayed before them.
Among them, truly eye-opening for the Temrmander were the perle harvested from the Parsian coast. Large pearls around the size of his thumbnail, numbering around a thousand, all nestled against a deep crimson cloth. It was a sight he could have never possibly encountered in Lusitania. Hildiger sighed lustfully and wiped the sweat from his nape with his fingertips.
"My, my Your Royal Highness is as generous as the rumors say. We of the Temrs shall be most delighted. After all, as those who have taken holy orders, the meager funds allocated to aiding the poor and needy are not ours to use as we please."
In this manner did Guiscard sessfully take the first step in bribing themander of the Temrs. No matter what, Bodin had no intention of buttering up Hildiger. On this point, Guiscard was confident he had the upper hand.
Afterwards, Guiscard sent a single beautiful Parsian dancing girl to Hildiger''s lodging under the guise of "a petitioner for conversion." This was, so to speak, the finishing blow.
That very night, the Temrmander Hildiger sank into a satisfied slumber.
As for whether or not he was still satisfied when he woke the next morning, not a soul could know. A terrible sight awaited the servant who came bearing breakfast to his master when he opened the door to the room. A bed transformed into a swamp of blood, and in it the corpses of a man and a woman who had breathed theirst.
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (4)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (4)
Hildiger''s bizarre death horrified Innocentius VII.
Guiscard, naturally, was also shocked. However, as he was the one who had to chide and pacify his brother the king, who had kicked up a great fuss in his panic, Guiscard himself ended up calming down. This was a habit he had inadvertently developed since their childhood days.
Yet another individual, Archbishop Bodin, was shocked as well. At the same time, he found himself in a fit of fury. The unnaturally deceased Hildiger had tried to have it both ways with Bodin and Guiscard, and although on bnce he leaned for the most part toward Guiscard, Bodin did not know of this. What Bodin thought was that Hildiger had been killed for siding with him and defying the king.
Face flushed with rage, Bodin barged into the king''s drawing room and thrust his finger at Innocentius VII, who turned deathly pale. You murderer, you wretched soul, damn you to hell! Curses were hurled one after another. The king, looking as if he were about to faint, begged his younger brother for help.
"Oh Guiscard, oh little brother, please, exin to the Archbishop for your poor old brother."
Guiscard directed a chilly gaze at Bodin.
"I suppose you''re unaware, Lord Archbishop. That it''s said the Temrs''mander was not alone when he was killed"
"And who was he with, pray tell?"
"Why, he was sharing his pillow with a woman, it seems."
Guiscard''s voice was filled with malicious glee. Archbishop Bodin was so ovee with wrath and humiliation, his face turned gray.
"T-to nder a man of the cloth with such talk Tis the very height of sacrilege!"
"I should think the word sacrilege far more appropriate for themander of the Temrs. As one ordained, to be found in bed with a woman!"
Guiscard offered a smile brimming with poison.
He had not ounted for Commander Hildiger''s sudden death in his calctions. He''d nned to tame the man and have him eventually stab Bodin in the back. However, there was no point in using someone who''d gotten himself killed off. If he couldn''t at least use the incident as a weapon to mock Bodin with, all that treasure he''d given Hildiger could be considered naught but a waste. One could hardly expect that anything once offered to the greedy Temrs would ever be returned, after all.
" Consequently, there have been some rumors among certain sectors. Sir Hildiger, havingmitted various sins unbing of a Temr, called down the wrath of God and was thus granted a gruesome end."
Guiscard spoke with conviction. The Temrmander''s corpse had been found alongside a woman''s body. As they had died in a naked embrace, not a single person would believe that Hildiger was some sort of pure and upright innocent.
Bodin red at Guiscard with a fierce look in his eyes, but then abruptly stood and stormed out the room.
"Serves you right," Guiscard thought to himself, but the joy of victory did notst.
It happened at around lunch. Innocentius was just beginning to eat a simple Lusitanian-style vegetable dish characterized only by its ample amount of seasoning when two or three knights came ttering over, in a hurry to report a major incident.
"Everyst one of the Temrs is gathering to Archbishop Bodin''s side, all of them fully armored. They seem quite on edge indeed. How ought we proceed?"
Once again King Innocentius fell into consternation and called for his younger brother, who always had a solution to his every trouble.
Begging tearfully, he said, "G-Guiscard, oh my dear little brother, do the archbishop and the Temrs mean to openly make an enemy of me?"
"Calm yourself, brother mine."
Even as he scolded his brother the king, Guiscard clucked his tongue. That Bodin would make such a swift and drastic move had not urred to Guiscard.
It was not for the sake of his brother, but Guiscard seemed to be considering various countermeasures when he realized something and hurriedly summoned some of the knights under hismand.
"The holy standard of Ialdabaoth! It must not be stolen by the Temrs. Go forth at once! Bring back the holy standard!"
The knights who had received Guiscard''s order hastened to climb the city walls surrounding the capital. And just as they dashed to the base of the g, they ran smack into the Temrs who hade rushing over for the same purpose.
Each side was well aware of the other''s intentions. The mere ten or so men who served Guiscard and the roughly twenty Temrs red at each other with killing intent.
"Do you mean to seize the holy standard? You damned reprobates."
One side''s cursing led to the other side also raising their voices.
"We havee on behalf of His Royal Highness. Get in the way, and you''ll suffer his wrath."
No point arguing the matter, thought one of Guiscard''s subordinates, who made as if to pull down the g, only to fall back with a scream. One of the Temrs had, without warning, unsheathed his sword and shed the other man''s shoulder.
Right on cue, a fierce boutmenced between the fellow Ialdabaothans. Sword shed against sword, sword against armor, armor against armor; the stench of blood saturated the top of the city walls.
Soon enough, Guiscard''s men found themselves pressed by their numerical inferiority. With twenty against ten, victory was impossible. They''d been driven to a corner of the city walls, so it was no longer even possible to flee.
It happened then.
The Temrs, who should have had the advantage, unexpectedly copsed.
A single man, silver mask shining in the afternoon sun, had begun to cut down the Temrs.
The difference in strength was immense. Treading a single step forward, the man of the silver mask brandished his sword, and with it, blood sprayed forth. Lusitanian heads went flying, arms flew, torsos split in half; the gstones of the city walls ran with blood.
The Temrs shuddered. Each and everyst mouth reciting the name of Ialdabaoth, they scattered and fled atst. In the end, nine dead and four severely injured were left behind.
Thus did the holy standard fall into the hands of the royal prince Guiscard.
All was well up to that point, but among those cut down by Hirmiz of the silver mask was the younger brother of General Montferrat.
The enraged Montferrat, watched over by his supporters among the knights, put Silvermask on trial.
"My good men, no doubt you all think this masked man has achieved much in the name of Lusitanian supremacy. But consider it from the opposite perspective! This knave who, for some personal grudge, sold out his own homnd to foreign enemies, can be nothing but a traitor!"
The Lusitanians murmured, yet Silvermask spoke not a word.
"This is a man who coolly sold out his country and yielded hisrades to enemy hands. The moment the winds change, it will surely be Lusitania he sells out to some other party next: is this not self-evident? Tis as clear to see as fire on a dark night!"
Montferrat thrust a finger trembling in anger at Silvermask.
"We cannot simply leave future cmity to transpire. Let us rid ourselves of him, that we may save Lusitania from her doom."
Montferrat scanned his surroundings. The Lusitanians exchanged nces, hands on swords, hesitating to draw.
The Lusitanians knew deep within their bones just how strong the man of the silver mask was. By no means did they wish to be the first to rise and meet with the assault of his sword.
Having discovered this, Montferrat no longer expected to rely on the others. He drew his own sword and faced the man of the silver mask, preparing to strike.
In response, Hirmiz was just about to draw his own de when the royal prince Duke Guiscard came rushing over, the knights under hismand clearing a path for him.
Making his way from outside the ring of men to the center where all themotion wasing from, Guiscard forcefully interposed himself between the two parties.
"Stand down, Montferrat!"
"As youmand, Your Royal Highness, but"
"Sheathe your sword. Only Ialdabaoth knows what the future holds. No matter what, at present, this man has done distinguished service in the name of our country. You have no reason to do him harm."
Montferrat stood stock still, face paling beyond the shade of the de in his hand.
Guiscard raised his voice once more. "If you should do anything to punish this man, no citizen of Pars would be willing to aid our armies in the future. It is through this man''s efforts alone that we were able to keep the Temrs from iming the holy standard. The matter of your brother is most regrettable, but can you not forgive it this once?"
"Your Royal Highness, I, Montferrat, do not act merely on such reasons as personal vengeance. Tis only that I believe this silver-masked man will someday bring our homnd harm"
"I understand. You are a man both fair and just. However, I would better appreciate an understanding man."
On being told this, there was nothing Montferrat could do but concede. Tucking away his sword, he took his leave with a bow; his fellow knights also dispersed with expressions of relief, leaving behind only Guiscard and Silvermask.
"You stopped them most admirably, Your Royal Highness. For your men''s sake, that is"
Guiscard openly furrowed his brows at this sarcastic acknowledgment.
"I wouldn''t decide that so easily. Certainly, Montferrat is no match for you in valor. In terms of poprity, however, it''s a different story. Were Montferrat to take up his sword against you, all the knights present at the scene would have probably regarded you as an enemy."
Hirmiz''s lips twisted, but there was no way for Guiscard to see under the mask.
"You are indeed an exceptional warrior, but alone against fifty I don''t think victory would be so easy to dere."
Guiscard continued to speak, but Hirmiz made no sound, retorting only in his heart. Perhaps that would be the case if my opponents were Parsian knights, but against the likes of Lusitanian knights, not just fifty, even against a hundred men there would be naught to fear.
But of course, the only thing he disyed outwardly was a respectful bow.
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (5)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (5)
The holy standard had fallen into Guiscard''s hands. However, that very night, Archbishop Bodin, apanied by the Temrs, managed to escape from the royal capital. He was headed for the Temrs'' castle near the Maryamian border.
This was contrary to Guiscard''s expectations. He had anticipated that there woulde an opportunity to assassinate Bodin, and had expressly summoned Silvermask for such purposes, but now there was no use for the man. That being the case, Hirmiz found it all the more absurd of a fool''s errand.
King Innocentius, unable to read Guiscard''s mind, seemed to be innocently rejoicing in the fact that the nagging Bodin had somehow disappeared from his view.
Did your head be riddled with cavities from drinking too much sugar water? Guiscard was tempted to ask. To begin with, absolutely none of King Innocentius''s problems had been resolved.
Could he even obtain the church''s approval regarding his marriage to Tahmineh? Would he ept Tahmineh''s request to kill Andragoras III? Was it possible to convert Tahmineh to the Ialdabaothan faith? There were difficult questions all over the ce. It was Guiscard, in his older brother''s stead, who had gone so far as to vex himself over future predicaments.
Even so, Bodin''s disappearance was nheless a pleasant turn of events. Vanished along with him was his talk of executing ten thousand Parsians. Now Guiscard could take his time cooking up a n to deal with the bastard. Or so he thought.
However, things didn''t end at that.
Even as they left the capital, the Temrs had destroyed the irrigation canals at the northern end of the city.
Vast areas of farnd had been flooded. Furthermore, even when the waters receded, it seemed that no crops would be able to grow there anymore.
Guiscard, upon rushing over the moment he received the report, gazed across the swamped fields, unable to make a sound.
"I reckon they''ll take about ten years to rebuild. In the meantime, this area can''t be used as farnd. And not just that, when spring ends and summeres, the capital might undergo a water shortage."
After hearing what the army engineers had to say, Guiscard, now returned to the capital, smashed three of the luminous wine sses that had been ced on his red sandalwood table. Every single shard shattered against the ceiling and the walls and the bed.
"Damn you, Bodin! You crazed monkey! Can''t you tell the difference between good and evil?"
He was seized with a dizzying rage.
"Compared to Prince Arn, Bodin and the Temrs are the more cmitous by far. If left to their own devices, all of Pars shall end up a barren wastnd."
Guiscard came to a decision. I''ll formally mobilize the troops here in Pars and have Bodin and all his Temr followers killed, dealing with them both in one blow.
" No, it''s not that easy."
Guiscard wanted to line up Archbishop Bodin and the leadership of the Temrs and behead them all at once. Yet they had slyly barricaded themselves in their own stronghold, along with a force of more than twenty thousand. To attack them would require arge force of his own, and above all, any among the generals and soldiers who would balk at fighting against the church''s might must also be weeded out. Worst would be if the Lusitanian army, divided thus into the royal faction and the archbishop faction, became embroiled in mutual conflict, a situation that only Prince Arn and the Parsian loyalists would celebrate.
Were things really to y out that way, then everything they hadbored for until now, starting with the campaign undertaken from Lusitania all the way to their just barely sessful conquest of Pars, would all be naught but froth. It would all slip carelessly out of their hands.
"You fucking mad ape, Bodin. It was because you''d reasoned it out this far that you had the guts to make a mess of things. Even for a religious fanatic, you truly are a detestable fellow"
All of a sudden, a single consideration shed through Guiscard''s mind.
"From now on, I''ll be able to manipte my brother however I wish. Those in my way currently number two: that damned Bodin, and the crown prince Arn. Under that assumption, can these two not be induced to conflict against each other?"
If Bodin and Arn came into strife, both sides would take losses. It urred to him that this would be a good idea. Were that the case, then if Arn did not possess enough military power, it would instead create more problems than it was worth. He certainly would notin if Arn were to show up leading a force of several thousand. If they helped settle the issue of Bodin, then he could offer thanks by dealing with them in turn.
The only thing was, the problemy in how to get the two to sh.
"That''s right, Queen Tahmineh. She''s the mother of the crown prince Arn. I can have him kill Bodin in exchange for returning his mother safely to him. I wonder if a deal like that would seed?"
But in this there were difficulties as well. If he did anything like release Tahmineh, Guiscard''s older brother Innocentius VII would surely not approve.
If all the fervor that had been previously dedicated to Ialdabaoth were now to be directed at a single woman, what would result? Until now, he had been suspended between God and woman, but the moment the scale in his heart tipped over to the woman, there would be no return.
Should that transpire, and he reced God with woman alone, there was not a single benefit in it for Guiscard. To do something so ridiculous? No thanks.
At that point, another consideration surfaced in Guiscard''s mind.
If Prince Arn were to be converted to the faith of Ialdabaoth, would it not be fine to cede the Parsian throne to him while controlling him behind the scenes for Lusitania?
Who knew how wise Arn was, but he was no more than a child of fourteen. If he could be dragged into an alliance, could it not be worked out some way or other afterward?
. One after one, good ideas for Guiscard rose to the fore.
But on the other hand, it could be said that none of this, ultimately, was for Guiscard to decide. The path to his final goal, as was all too clear to him, would be neither wide nor smooth.
Why did he have to be born second? If only he had been born the eldest. It would have been better that way for Lusitania as well.
"At the end of the day, were it not for me, there would be no kingdom of Lusitania. It is I who am the true king of Lusitania. If appearance should ever catch up to reality, how could I be expected to hold back?"
Though Guiscard thought this way, if he killed his brother the king by his own hand, not only would his reputation suffer, it wouldn''t be easy on his conscience either. If he could, he''d prefer to get someone to volunteer for the part, then assume the throne fair and square in the name of avenging his brother. If he didn''t, even if he were able to take the throne, it would be difficult to keep it.
At any rate, who could possibly be the culprit behind Count Pedraos''s murder several days ago, and the murder of Hildiger just the other night?
Guiscard hadn''t even the slightest idea. The killer had not acted in the open either time. Pedraos had been skewered in the lower abdomen by a sword from the ground. Hildiger, along with a woman, had been torn in half in the privacy of a locked room. It was undeniable: all throughout Pars some sort of outrageous devilry was afoot.
" Your Grace, a guest has arrived."
On hearing the servant''s nervous voice, Guiscard came to his senses. With a wry smile, he ordered, "Let him in." No matter what, it was probably better not to overindulge in daydreams.
The one who entered was a Parsian with a burly figure and an incongruously effeminate face. He was one of the officials charged by Hirmiz with the interrogation of Andragoras.
"Does King Andragoras still live?"
Guiscard questioned him in Parsian. It was quite peculiar for a conqueror to use thenguage of the conquered, but as the other party waspletely unable to speak Lusitanian, there was no helping it. At some point they would force the Parsians to start using only Lusitanian, but for the time being he had no choice but to converse in Parsian.
" You must not kill him.'' As that was Lord Silvermask''smand" was the torturer''s impotent reply.
That was fine. The feeble muttering of the torturer only made him creepier. What Guiscard wanted to know was what manner of deep, dark chain of fatey lurking between the man of the silver mask and King Andragoras. It was because he wished to know this that he had gone to the effort of summoning the likes of this Parsian torturer.
"With all due respect, I am afraid I cannot say."
"I''ll reward you for the trouble."
He tossed several Parsian dinars to the ground for him to see, but the interrogator obstinately refused to even look.
"What, are you that afraid of that damned silver mask?"
"This humble one''s older brother had his tongue ripped out for speaking needlessly to Lord Silvermask."
"Hm"
Guiscard shivered. The man was certainly capable of it, he thought.
"No matter how long the silver mask''s arms may be, he already left for the eastern border a while back. There''s no way he can reach out all the way here to rip out your tongue."
He tried a joke in order to ease the other man''s mind, but the interrogator, as ever, only shook his head gloomily.
"Compared to the silver mask, I''m the one closer to you right now. If you like, I can rip your tongue out for you."
Even this attempt at threatening him produced no result.
In the end, Guiscard had no choice but to let the torturer go, of course without removing his tongue. On the contrary, out of necessity he even ended up allowing the man to take the dinars he''d thrown on the ground as hush money. Truly an absurd turn of events.
"Silver masked bastard"
Guiscard was not his brother. He filled his silver cup with actual Parsian wine, drained it in a single gulp, then gasped for breath.
"He''s been of use until now, and there''s no denying the man will continue to be useful henceforth. But when using a drug more poisonous than medicinal, there''s got to be a limit after all"
Guiscard, who had a head for both politics and military affairs,pletely eclipsed his older brother King Innocentius VII. He was probably the most talented man in all of Lusitania. Not only was he a man in whom aplishment, confidence, and ambition all joined in one, he was constantly contemting how to make use of others, while by no means allowing himself to be used by others.
After downing two cups of wine, Guiscard left his room. He had to raise the morale of the troops in Pars after the various misfortunes that had rocked them. When it came down to it, the only one who could manage that was Guiscard.
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (6)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (6)
Before Hirmiz left the capital again, he went to call on Marzban Saam in his sickbed.
As for Saam, his injuries had mended well, but his spirits were low. Ever since he had learned that the hateful silver mask''s true identity was that of King Osroes V''s orphaned son, it looked as if Saam had been cursing himself for his own pathetic survival. Hirmiz, understanding this, did not persist in forcing his own will. No matter the cost, he wanted Saam as an ally.
"So? Made up your mind?"
The sunlight shining through the window reflected off his silver mask.
Staring at that very mask with mournful eyes, Saam heaved a great sigh. Atst, as if hurling himself off a cliff, he opened his mouth.
"Your Highness, these invaders of ournd, these inexhaustibly violent Lusitanians. You will definitely drive them away?"
"Without fail."
Hirmiz nodded forcefully.
"I no longer have any use for that trash. When opportunity arises, I shall cast them out entirely."
On hearing this reply, Saam raised his gauze-wrapped body and awkwardly stepped out of bed, then dropped to one knee on the carpet in a reverent bow.
" I pledge my loyalty to the rightful Shah."
In this manner, Hirmiz was, for the first time, able to obtain a worthy ally aside from the father-son pair of Qaran and Zandeh.
.
Public executions were currently being held in one of the zas of Ecbatana.
Those being killed were various types of people the Ialdabaothans viewed as criminals acting in defiance of God. Besides the priests who served the various Parsian deities, there included those such as prostitutes; their male counterparts, the mustawlid; ghajar entertainers; awwa, or street singers; craftsmen who had created idols for worship; and artists who had painted images of the myriad gods. On this day, more than three hundred such men and women were led to the tform and beheaded by axe. The sounds of weeping and screaming, of cursing, of begging for sor, all echoed through the skies, where the crows above cawed back in response.
Mixed in among the crowd at this scene was a single zanj observing the proceedings. Or no, from the way he was dressed, at least, he looked to be some miserable ve, but as his eyes were lit with intelligence and determination, it was difficult to think of him as one.
Before long, the ck man slipped away from the crowd and entered his home in the back alley. He deftly penned a letter on top of a crude table, then folded up the paper.
He opened a certainrge cage, and a single falcon appeared from within. It was when he left his dwelling with the falcon perched on his hand that it happened.
"Hey, you! Zanj!"
In response to the sharp cry directed at him, the ck man hastily nced at the falcon on his hand.
A man wearing a silver mask was watching him from atop a horse. The ck man tried to conceal the scrap of paper in his hand, but the man of the silver mask Hirmiz had already taken note.
"You''re no ve, are you, you wretch."
ves were supposed to be illiterate. Hirmiz had perceived words inscribed on that scrap of paper.
The ck man instantly stretched his arms to the sky, releasing the falcon.
"Fly, Sorush! Fly to Lord Keshvad "
With a p of its wings, the "Herald of Fate" soared toward the heavens. No, rather, the moment it tried to take flight, a silver light zipped forth from Hirmiz''s hand.
The falcon, soft belly pierced through by Hirmiz''s acinaces, loosed a piercing cry and tumbled through the air. pping in vain, it fell back to the earth. There it beat its wings on the ground, two, three times, and with that, expired.
The ck man cried out in rage and grief. He brandished his own acinaces with one hand and lunged at Hirmiz.
Hirmiz, mildly annoyed, shed his longsword.
In the very next moment, the ck man''s brawny right arm had been halved from the elbow.
First the freshly spilled blood, then the right arm, and atst the ck man''s big body fell to the ground with a nasty squelch.
Hirmiz jumped off his horse and kicked away the right arm that had rolled before his boots.
He pointed his longsword at the crouched man caked with blood and sand.
"Whose dog are you? Andragoras''s brat? Or are you a scout from a southern country of the cks?"
The ck man did not reply. He was enduring the pain with clenched teeth. Hirmiz thrust the tip of his longsword between said teeth.
"One who refuses to speak has no need for either teeth or tongue. I should cut them off for you, don''t you think?"
As it was in to see that the ck man still refused to respond, the glow of zing eyes leaked through the two narrow slits of the silver mask. There was absolutely no way Hirmiz could forgive such an attitude of defiance toward the rightful Shah.
With a powerful flick of his wrist, Hirmiz shed horizontally across the ck man''s face, sending blood and shards of teeth flying through the air. The ck man bent, clutching at his bloodstained mouth, yet even then he uttered not a single cry.
The longsword pinned the ck man through the bottom of his jaw.
Marzban Keshvad''s faithful subordinate, unable to offer even a single word of report on the enemy, toppled to the ground and breathed hisst.
.
Perched on top of "Tahir" Keshvad''s shoulder, the "Herald of Death"s entire body quivered and shook. It let forth a small, shrill cheep.
"What''s the matter, Azrael?" Keshvad asked, brows furrowing with a sense of foreboding. "Did something happen to your brother? To Sorush?"
The falcon did not reply. It only snuggled closer to Keshvad, as if to protect his master, or perhaps wishing to be protected. The falcon could sense, in a manner beyond human ability, that in the faraway royal capital of Ecbatana, his brother had met with death.
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (7)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (7)
By the time Dariun and Farangis, after running into countless rounds of enemies, found Fort Peshawar lying right before their eyes, it was already the twelfth day of the twelfth month. In the mountains, their breath came out white, and the cold air battered their faces without pity.
"You viins have no hope for rescue. So why don''t you behave yourselves and dismount. Then beg for mercy!"
The captain of the enemies who had half-surrounded the two of them announced this with utmost confidence, but it was because he opened his mouth too wide that the man lost his life. The arrow Farangis loosed flew straight into that mouth of his, thus silencing him for eternity.
"I mislike talkative men," Farangis dered with not so much as a smile.
After a moment''s hesitation, their enemies flooded forward. It would be quite natural to assume that they numbered something around a hundred to two.
However, Dariun and Farangis masterfully advanced to greet them upon a mountain path that should not have allowed for the passage of two riders abreast.
With every swing of Dariun''s longsword, an enemy horse lost its rider, and with emptied saddle fled back to itspanions.
Around ten riders'' worth of blood zed Dariun''s longsword; this naturally disconcerted their remaining enemies, but out of the blue a new troop arrived on scene.
"That bastard''s mine!"
That thundering voice was quite familiar.
It was just as Dariun and Farangis thought. As they watched the enemy soldiers part to either side to make way, the figure of Zandeh son of Qaran appeared before them for a second time. And it was that figure alone who now came howling at them like a tempest.
Farangis shook her head as if in exasperation. Her long, thick raven hair billowed in the wind.
"What remarkable persistence. Although it must be a bit tiring for the ones following him."
"I''ll take him. The Lady Kahina can remain spectator."
Dariun had just nudged his ck horse a single step forward when in a single breath Zandeh made his onught, greatsword ramming straight toward the knight in ck.
"Today, I shall take your damned head and make an offering of it to my father in heaven!"
"How filial of you. Though on my part, I''ve no particr desire to fight you."
"You''re my father''s sworn enemy, you bastard!"
"I do not deny that. But your good father and I fought and settled things fair and square." Dariun continued, "Besides, it was your father who, as a Marzban of Pars, chose to be a pawn of the Lusitanians and sell out his own country in the first ce. As his son, have you no shame for his folly?"
"My father, a pawn of those damned Lusitanians?" roared Zandeh. "Both Father and I only temporarily bent the knee to the Lustianians, on purpose, all for the sake of restoring the rightful throne of Pars. Someday, when the timees, who between you and I has served the royal family true shall be clear to all!"
"What exactly do you mean by rightful throne''?"
"You wanna know?"
Zandeh unexpectedly began tough, baring a set of strong white teeth. He knew the true identity of the silver mask, while Dariun did not. It was out of that sense of superiority that heughed.
"If you want to know, then fight me. If you manage to beat me, I''ll tell you everything you want to know!"
"In that case, I won''t hold back."
Dariun''s longsword, which had just sucked out the blood of ten riders, swept out. It glinted like frost in the sunlight.
In that very moment, Zandeh charged, flogging his mount forward.
It was but a single exchange.
After receiving a ferocious knock to his helm, the one who was blown off his horse was Zandeh. The cracked helm, half of it smashed in, went flying through the air, and his horse clip-clopped away in a panic.
Zandeh sat in the gravel dumbfounded. Just the other day he had been able to overwhelm Dariun, yet today he''d been unhorsed in a single exchange.
Dariun called out in a voice of coolposure. "It''s indeed impressive, bringing to bear the full force of your fighting spirit on a mere fraction of actual strength. But don''t think it''ll work a second time."
"Fuck you!"
Zandeh heedlessly went berserk. He swung his greatsword in a horizontal arc in attempt to chop off the ck horse''s forelegs. But as Dariun pulled his ck steed into a rear, the giant de met naught but air.
"This is unseemly of you, Zandeh! Have you forgotten all your previous talk?"
"Shut up!"
Just as Zandeh was about to swing his greatsword again, Farangis drew her bow taut.
The arrow hit right on target, sinking into Zandeh''s right wrist, and the greatsword fell to the ground with a tter.
"Now, would you be so kind as to exin your earlier deration?"
Scowling at Dariun''s face all the while, Zandeh plucked the arrow from his wrist. Abruptly, he threw that very same arrow at Dariun''s face. As the knight in ck dodged, Zandeh made a run for it.
Farangis nocked a second arrow and sent it streaking like a shooting star toward Zandeh''s back.
Though his armor blocked it, taking such a strong strike from behind his heart caused Zandeh''s breath to seize for a brief instant. He staggered, thrown off bnce, and then, dragged down by the weight of his armor,pletely lost his step.
With a great howl trailing behind him, Zandeh''s massive body vanished beyond the edge of the cliff. Tumbling down the steep slope, he fell in a tangle of shrubbery and was gone.
Farangis urged her horse forward and peered down the cliff.
"Is he dead, I wonder?"
"Who knows." Dariun shrugged his broad shoulders. "Why not ask those jinn friends of yours?"
"The jinn wake not ''til the sun has begun to set. Besides" Farangis''s green eyes glittered with irony. "The jinn also do not care for associating with that kind of boisterous man. In any case, that man is no longer a worthy foe for you. Leave him be, we should go."
"Very well."
Zandeh''s subordinates scattered until there was neither hide nor hair of them. Dariun and Farangis, deftly handling their horses'' reins, continued galloping down the mountain trail to Peshawar. However, in Dariun''s mind the unpleasant echo of Zandeh''s words lingered.
1 away as the crow flies, Arn, Giv, and m were galloping down a different mountain trail in the same direction as Dariun and Farangis.
Arn often struck up conversations with m; little by little, m also seemed to open his heart. The two of them were beginning to show signs of fostering something that could more or less be considered friendship, Giv thought. As proof of that, was it not m who had spoken up first just now?
"To the southwest of Pars" m''s ck eyes gazed out at some imaginary distant horizon. "The vast sands of the Empty Quarter, Ar-Rub al-Khali, stretch over three hundred farsangs in every direction. The legendary City of Brass, Madinah, and Graha of the Pirs are said to lie within its bounds. Lord Narses told me about them some years ago. I''d like to visit them when I grow up, I think. Then I can pass down all those forgotten legends and lost history to even more people."
"Will you teach me as well about all the history and legends you discover?"
"If Your Highness wishes."
"Then it''s a promise."
"Understood."
m had just confided his own dreams of the future. Arn was most delighted about it. To gain a good friend in the midst of such a difficult and dangerous journey was truly worth celebrating.
Giv the "chaperone", on the other hand, was having a bad time of it. While muttering "Why me?" to himself, he''de all this way figuring out sleeping arrangements and searching for provisions, all while fighting off enemies in order to protect the two boys. Looking back at it all, half of him was deeply moved and the other half marveled at how ridiculous it was.
He was just wracking his brain for what to do about their victuals for the day when he discovered a chestnut horse grazing in a certain mountain field. Giv pped his hands together. If they managed to get their hands on horsemeat, they''d be set for days. Giv informed the prince and m of this.
"Only problem is, however you look at it, it seems like somebody else''s mount."
"Is it not a wild horse?"
"That ain''t it, Your Highness." Giv shook his head. "No such thing as a wild horse with ateral gait, see. Sure, it doesn''t have a saddle or a bridle, but that is definitely one trained horse."
What he meant byteral gait was the type of running movement where a horse moved its right foreleg and right hind leg forward together, then followed with its left foreleg and left hind leg at the same time, instead of alternating legs diagonally. Compared to the regr running gait, this gait added stability to a horse''s posture and increased its speed, while greatly minimizing fatigue for both horse and rider. However, as this was not a gait that came naturally to horses, it required considerable training and quality of rider and horse alike.
"It''d sure be a pity to use it for meat," Giv thought, as one would expect of a top-notch horseman. In that case, what should they do? They could probably catch the horse and exchange it for provisions. At any rate, as Giv had generously dumped all his dinars and drachms to the ground just a few days ago, he had nothing but a handful of mithqals left. They weren''t all that far from Fort Peshawar anymore, but if they starved to death before they got there, it''d be, as they said, a damn shame.
"Probably removed the saddle and bridle to let it rest, but ain''t nothing good wille out of being that careless."
Having spoken thus, Giv began making preparations to realize what he''d referred to as "nothing good", first of all concealing himself within a patch of tall grass. He approached, circling around from downwind. In his hands he held asso he had made from a leather thong.
For a while, he bided his time amid the tall grass.
Before long, there was the sound of hooves trampling the grass, and Giv, aiming carefully, tossed out the leathersso.
His hands felt a tug. With a neigh, the horse pulled the rope taut.
"Gotcha!" thought Giv. In the very next moment, he splendidly tumbled over. Somebody had sliced through thesso midair. Giv rolled away and sprang to his feet as he drew his sword. For he had sensed the approach of a deadly de.
"You''ve sure got guts, trying to steal someone''s horse in broad daylight."
The voice was instantly recognizable.
"Dariun!"
"Giv, is it?"
Two swords came to a halt right before they shed.
Amid the grass, the figure of yet another individual and yet another de appeared. If Giv''s target had been Dariun''s ck steed, he probably would have realized it, but what he''d targeted turned out to be Farangis''s horse. Moreover, it was not the horse she had started out with. It was the horse she had stolen from another soldier when Zandeh killed her own.
"What, so it''s you. Nothing happened?"
"Lady Farangis, I see. I''m most obliged. Your concern touches me deeply."
"One hardly needs worry over the likes of you. You, after all, are a man who would find a way to survive even if you deceived everyst god in the heavens. His Highness Arn should be well, yes? Should it be the contrary, I''m afraid you are the one whose well-being is no longer assured."
Giv shrugged at the beauty threatening him and whistled for the two boys toe over.
Thus were five of the six-member party at length pieced back together. However, there was still Narses, who could be said to be their strategist, with whom they had yet to be reunited. For a while they joked around about the way Giv''s failure in stealing Farangis''s horse had led to their unconventional reunion, but Arn grew worried over their single remainingpanion.
"I suppose Narses is all right?"
"There is no need for worry. As far as his de is concerned, there are only but few who surpass Narses in its use."
Although Dariun''s assertion was indeed the truth, he grew uneasy when considering the man who wore the silver mask. That man was the strongest enemy he had encountered since the younger brother of the Turanian king and the pair of heroes he had met in Serica.
Arn, on seeing Dariun''s expression, spoke with a voice of determination.
"Are we six not meant as one? I do not wish us separated ever again. Let us go search for Narses."
"Although the sentiment is appreciated" Impressed as he was by the prince''s disy of sympathy, Dariun nheless shook his head. "However, I do not believe it was Narses''s original intent to have Your Highness take such risky action. m here and I shall search and bring him back, so you, Your Highness, should go ahead to Peshawar first."
As both Farangis and Giv approved of Dariun''s suggestion, Arn had no choice but to consent. The prince was aware that his own movements would be followed closely from behind by their pursuit.
Dariun and m bid their farewells once more, and Arn turned his horse back east with Giv and Farangis standing guard on either side of him. It was then that he noticed to his left, that is to say, to the north, a mass of jet ck hignds.
Encircled by symmetrical snowcapped peaks, those hignds were graced with impossibly steep slopes and a shroud of dark clouds, bequeathing an ominous impression for both Arn''s eyes and heart.
"What is that mountain called?"
"That is Mount Damavand, Your Highness," Farangis replied.
"So that is Mount Damavand"
Arn gulped. Damavand was the name of the mountain in which it was said Hero King Kai Khosrow had sealed Serpent King Zahhak for eternity, more than three hundred years ago. Even in broad daylight, corpse-eating ghul and half-men shiqq prowled about; miasma rose from the swamps, and from the crags seeped toxic smoke. It was enshrouded constantly by ck clouds, from which lightning struck endlessly during the summer, and blizzards stormed during the winter. Fierce winds raged, avnches battered the earth, venomous snakes and scorpions squirmed about: it was and filled with sorcery.
"Even to this day the Serpent King slumbers deep within the cavern, dreaming of the day he returns to the earth above"
That was what had been passed down in legend. It was said that the pealing thunder was the screaming of the Serpent King as he cursed Pars, and the ck clouds were the breath he spewed. Even Kai Khosrow, who had overthrown the evil dominion of the Serpent King, had been unable to kill the Serpent King for good. He had imprisoned him in a cavern deep beneath the ground, bound his entire body in bulky chains, cut the tendons of his arms and legs, and stacked twenty thick bs of rock on top of him to obstruct his path to the surface. And then, after dedicating a prayer to all the myriad gods, he buried his own precious sword to serve as a seal.
Suddenly, Giv began to sing. His beautiful voice carried a flowing melody through the air.
"His prized sword Ruknabad cleaved even iron in twain, as if forged from a shard of the sun"
What Giv had just sung was a stanza from "The Chronicles of Kai Khosrow."
After burying the invaluable Ruknabad to seal away Serpent King Zahhak, Hero King Kai Khosrow was not particrly blessed with fortune.
As a king, he was known to be both wise and just, one who governed his country well and suffered no foreign invasions, and yet was betrayed by his own son. It began as a sibling dispute; the younger brother killed his older brother, then set his sights on his father''s royal authority. And thus, upon the fields of Mazandaran, the very samend where the Serpent King Zahhak had formerly been captured in mortalbat, father and son crossed spears.
He who had raised armies to overthrow Serpent King Zahhak at the age of eighteen, and had unified the entirety of Pars and imed the throne by the age of twenty-five, Kai Khosrow, now passed away at forty-five years of age. ording to his will, his body was interred in full armor. It was said that the invaluable Ruknabad was dug out from Damavand at that time and moved to the hero-king''s coffin in his honor. When the sword was dug up, from beyond the twenty stone bs a ghastly voice echoed, proiming, "One b in fifteen years! Twenty bs in three hundred!" or so the legend went, but it was hard to say how much of it was true.
"Who with sword in hand shall assume his divine mandate? "
As Giv finished singing, he stared at the profile of the prince, whose eyes were fixed upon the mountain of legend as if he were enthralled. Giv''s own gaze seemed to be not so much one of simple curiosity, but perhaps more so one of instigation.
"Let us hence, Your Highness. The jinn mor to warn us. They say it is dangerous to linger near that mountain."
As if Farangis''s words had awoken him from a dream, Arn nodded and rode on.
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (viii)
Book 2: Chapter 4: Rupture and Reunion (viii)
1 west of Peshawar.
2. And now that very bridge had been destroyed.
Those who had stormed Adhanah, cutting down around fifty guards and felling the bridge under their protection, were Zandeh and his subordinates.
"Just you watch, with this bridge fallen, it won''t be so easy making it to Peshawar. Until the return of His Highness Hirmiz, we''ll be able to hold out for two or three days."
Zandeh, covered all over in cuts and scratches, roared withughter. It should have been just days since he lost to Dariun and took a tumble from a cliff, but already he was back to his usual bravura.
Thinking about it now, he should have felled the bridge from the start and then chased Arn''s party from the opposite direction. There wasn''t much point in only chasing them toward Peshawar. Zandeh had made this much bted realization at longst. One could not deny that Hirmiz had been remiss in this as well, but Hirmiz, who had escaped from his homnd at the age of eleven, was not familiar with the topography of the eastern border region.
If Adhanah Bridge had been constructed with stone, it would have probably been much harder to destroy. More than ten years ago, it had been proposed to rebuild the wooden bridge into a stone bridge, but as the bridge would not be usable during that time, they kept dilly-dallying and putting it off. And so, it ended up torn down at the hand of Zandeh.
The report of the fall of Adhanah Bridge quite understandably infuriated Keshvad in Fort Peshawar.
Keshvad spat out an order. "If it''s fallen, it''s fallen. Erect a pontoon bridge at once."
Rather unamusing was the fact that Bahman, ofte, had lost all his vitality, for he had suddenly developed a tendency to dump pretty much every single responsibility on Keshvad. Normally, the defense of the bridge alternated monthly, with the twelfth month being Bahman''s charge. What are you bumming around for, get a hold of yourself! Keshvad wanted to shout at him, but he could hardly speak that way to a senior general who was old enough to be his father.
Instead of speech, he turned to action. The construction of the pontoon bridge, the defense thereof, and local reconnaissance were all under his direction.
And so, the results of the reconnaissance were obtained even before the sun had set. As he had no reason to decide how to deal with the matter on his own, Keshvad brought himself over to Bahman.
"Will you not hear me out, Lord Bahman?"
"Mm"
"There seems to have been some sort of disturbance in the mountains to the west. Armored jackals have been prowling about with some frequency, preying on innocent travelers, I''ve been told. Their purpose in this is not as highwaymen or bandits: what they hunt is His Highness Arn''s life."
Bahman did not reply.
"That being the case, it imperative for us to consider some n of action"
"Sure, I guess. It''s true their aim''s most likely the Crown Prince Arn."
"Indeed naught else can be considered. Your powers of insight, Lord Bahman, are most admirable."
Despite Keshvad''s sarcasm, Bahman''s response was sluggish. He continued gazing at the fire zing in the stone hearth, evidently preupied.
"Well, Lord Bahman, may I have your permission to organize a search?"
" How do you mean?"
"From my own troop of ten thousand, half will leave the fortress to seek His Highness. Fifty parties, a hundred knights apiece, will be detached to each and every mountain trail, keeping inmunication via smoke signals. I mean to have them wee His Highness Arn safely to this fortress. Is that eptable?"
While Bahman dithered over how to respond, Keshvad promptly proceeded to arm his men and arrange their formations, but the next morning, just before they set out, there came a different urgent report.
A troop from neighboring Sindhura had unexpectedly crossed the Kaveri River at the border to initiate an invasion.
"At a time like this!"
Keshvad clucked his tongue. Just when they finally had some semnce of an idea as to the whereabouts of the crown prince, a real pain in the ass hade calling.
Even so, he was both quick to decide and quick to act. Leaving Bahman to watch over Fort Peshawar, he rode with five thousand of his men in haste to the banks of the Kaveri River.
"I daresay there''s some nuisance of a clever fellow in Sindhura. No doubt about it. Because of the internal turmoil in Pars, the time to invade is now.'' Sindhura, probably uncertain whether to believe in this or to doubt, sent a fixed fraction of their forces to test the waters. We must kick them out in one swoop, teach them a lesson."
That was how he had judged the situation.
The Sindhuran troops who had traversed the river to invade numbered around five thousand, including both cavalry and infantry. That the boasted war elephants of Sindhura were not present served as proof that Keshvad''s judgment was correct. Sindhura did not yet intend to mount a serious invasion.
With his five thousand riders arrayed in formation atop the slope of the riverbank, Keshvad hailed the enemy troops, his voice projecting far across.
"Here stands Marzban Keshvad of Pars. Ye ck dogs of Sindhura, to trespass on our borders without invitation,e you to make demands?"
They did not answer in words. From amid thence-wielding cavalrymen a pair of riders pranced forth, pressing an attack from either side of Keshvad.
Keshvad''s hands crossed behind his shoulders to draw the two des on his back. The des were just a bit shorter than that of a typical sword.
This was probably the first time the Sindhuran soldiers had ever seen such a flexible style of swordy.
Two shes of des engendered two deaths.
The pair of Sindhuranncers saw the tips of their own thrustednces sliced off and flying into the air. And then, in the next moment, their partner''s head painting a trail of blood through the sky.
"Perhaps you knew not yesterday. From today, you shan''t forget. That here be Tahir Keshvad of Pars!"
Having shot out that gant line, Keshvad immediately raised aloft his two blood-smeared des and continued his charge forward. He directed his mount with naught but two legs gripped tightly about the horse''s nks. It was a wondrous disy of equestrian technique.
"Follow the Tahir!"
Five thousand Parsian cavalrymen uttered this battle cry, each one striving with all his might to be the first to test the enemy''s strength.
Though they could not bepared to the eighty thousand riders who had been deployed upon the fields of Atropatene, the onught of the five thousand Parsian cavalrymen sent tremors through the earth, and the sunlight upon their armor was as glittering waves.
Keshvad rode ever at the fore. He swung his two swords, shing left and right, and helmeted Sindhuran heads were sent airborne while blood drenched the emptied saddles of horses pelting off in sprays of dust and water.
Keshvad turned his mount and saw that the Sindhuran soldiers in the other direction had fallen into a panic, desperate to avoid falling prey to his twin des.
A single Sindhuran general geared head to toe in gaudy primary colors, who was seated astride a sturdy horse, nted himself in Keshvad''s path. He bellowed something in Sindhuran.
"Speak Parsian!" countered Keshvad. He had picked up Misri back when defending the western border, but he was still notfortable with either speaking or listening to Sindhuran.
Parsian was the lingua franca of the Great Continental Road. To be a general of the Sindhurans, one could hardly not understand it.
"My name is Daravada. As the one in charge of the Sindhuran army here, I would challenge you to singlebat. Do you ept?"
"Fine with me, but first allow me a single query. Which of the princes do you call master? Rajendra or Gadhavi?"
The Sindhuran general''s belly and beard shook withughter.
"That Rajendra is no more than some whelp begotten from the womb of a ve woman. The legitimate one is Lord Gadhavi! It is he and no other who shall next sit the throne of our country."
"I see, that makes it clear. I shall pickle that ugly hairy head of yours and have it delivered to that scurvy Gadhavi."
"Don''t get cocky now!"
Daravada swept his broadsword from its scabbard. A strike as fierce as the famed Sindhuran cyclones shed toward Keshvad.
However, in the next moment, Daravada''s helmeted head and the right arm still grasping the broadsword were detached from his body at the same time, blood trailing behind them before spattering every which way.
More blood spurted into the air from the headless and armless body as it tumbled to the earth. The Sindhuran soldiers shouted in shock and terror.
The cavalry pulled their horses around, and the infantry turned heel in retreat, beginning to flee one after another.
Keshvad, coolly watching the enemy formations copsing, whistled sharply, and the "Herald of Death" came pping down upon the defeated soldiers'' heads, as if to tear them to shreds.
Before long, one of the Sindhuran soldiers came scrambling, herded over to Keshvad by the falcon. Calling over an officer who understood Sindhuran, Keshvad conducted a brief interrogation. Once the Sindhuran soldier coughed up everything he knew, he groveled on the ground, begging for mercy.
"There is naught to be gained from killing you. I shall spare your life. So go back and report to Gadhavi. Tell him this: Infringe on our border a second time, and you shall remain eternally uncrowned.''"
Keshvad sent one of his subordinates to fetch General Daravada''s head. A piece was cut from Daravada''s battle dress and wrapped around the head, then hung from the soldier''s neck.
With that heavy, grisly gift slung about his neck, the lurching Sindhuran soldierbored to catch up to his fleeingrades.
At this point, the purpose of the battle had been fulfilled. From atop his horse, Keshvad gazed at the straggles of enemy troops escaping across the Kaveri River.
"Azrael! Azrael!"
Heeding his master''s call, the brave and loyal falcon soared down from the sky. Sheathing his twin des on his back, Keshvad held out his arm to let the falcon perch, then spoke.
"You should know this too, Azrael. Our crown prince, His Highness Arn, is mayhap in the vicinity. You ought to search for him, and protect him if the situation warrants."
2~15 km
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (1)
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (1)
It was in thetter half of the twelfth month when Lord Silvermask, alias Hirmiz, returned from the capital to resumemand of Arn''s pursuit.
That was a day after the fall of Adhanah Bridge at Zandeh''s hands, the same day Keshvad chased the Sindhuran army back across the river.
At this time, the troops under Hirmiz''smand consisted of the Parsians led by Zandeh, former subordinates of the shahrdar Hojir, misceneous private armies aiming for the reward money for Arn''s head, as well as Lusitanian troops lent by Guiscard, totalling over five thousand in all. Of course, however, they had difficulties cooperating with each other as theypeted in their respective efforts, and theirmunications suffered as well.
Because of this, when those troops pursued Arn and the others, only to find their prey escaped, they did not report such to the otherpanies. For Arn and the others, that continued ineptitude became a blessing.
Nevertheless, with the likes of five thousand men prowling about the mountains, Arn and the others had no choice but to avoid them as much as possible. Both Giv and Farangis were running short on arrows, and so could not carelessly take up their bows, instead prioritizing escape when enemies were sighted. That being so, their horses had tired. No one could say the past few days had been at all an easy experience.
Upon returning from the capital only to learn of their present situation and that absolutely no progress had been made, Hirmiz found himself with extremely mixed feelings. Though he was in the mood to curse all his subordinates as "useless ipetents," another part of him was eager to seize and take down Arn''s men by his own hands.
"Regardless, Zandeh, you are in quite the state. One can easily imagine the hardship you''ve undergone."
Hirmiz''s words were mixed with sarcasm, but it was no exaggeration.
Zandeh''s face and hands were etched with countless small wounds, and there were traces of dried blood all over him.
"Be it for the esteemed sake of Your Highness Hirmiz, even if the skin were to be yed from my entire body it would be of no consequence. More importantly, Your Highness, that wretched strategist of Arn''spany, Narses, was discoveredst evening; we''ve been keeping an eye on him ever since, so that Your Highness might punish him personally."
Hirmiz reevaluated Zandeh in a better light, if only slightly. Not only was the intelligence gathered by this youth reliable, surprisingly, he seemed to have some talent for utilizing scouts and spies. Well, if he didn''t have at least that much in redeeming qualities, even a son of Qaran would not have been unconditionally granted such heavy responsibilities by Hirmiz.
When Saam made aplete recovery, the man would be appointed as their military strategist. He was a man both wise and possessed of good judgment. Even Zandeh, if he did not ck off but worked hard and continued to grow while umting more experience, could evene to surpass histe father as a valorous general.
"Right. Let''s finish that Narses first," spat Hirmiz.
.
Narses and Afarid, each riding their own horse, galloped down the mountain trails. For quite some time Narses had not spoken a single word, remaining unresponsive even to the voice of his travelingpanion. He seemed to be obsessively mulling over something or other.
Narses couldn''t even begin to count the number of minor details he had calcted incorrectly.
They should have made it to Peshawar long ago, yet they were still wandering around the nearby mountains. They kept running into the enemies looking for them in the most unexpected ces, and had been forced to flee in a hurry so many times he''d lost track.
There was no organization to the enemy movements; they acted without coherency, but in return it threw off all of Narses''s calctions. There was no denying that this was a truly ironic oue. If the enemy had consolidated their operations, it wouldn''t have been difficult for Narses to see through them, but
"Hey Narses, don''t you think something''s kinda weird?"
The one who spoke was arguably Narses''s greatest miscalction of all. That is, the daughter of the Zott chieftain.
"What do you find strange?"
"I noticed a while back we''ve been going around and around in circles on the same path. Look, see that ugly boulder over there? I definitely spotted it earlier too. From this angle it looks like a yawning camel."
"Well observed."
Narses nodded even as the girl''s description inadvertently brought a grin to his face. Of course, he had already realized the same thing long ago. Just because he''d noticed though, what was he going to do about it? That was why he hadn''t mentioned it.
The cliffs cast shadows all along the road, within which the silhouettes of horse and rider were mixed as well. Raising one''s eyes overhead, one could catch glimpses of riders evidently moving to surround Narses.
"Won''t be so easy getting away from this bunch."
Narses had resigned himself to it. To begin with, he wasn''t the type to consider relying on martial prowess alone to escape a dangerous scenario anyway.
1, Narses seized the initiative.
"Prince Hirmiz!"
The name flew from Narses''s lips and struck the man of the silver mask almost physically, like a rock from a sling.
" How did you know?"
To deny that he was Hirmiz was to deny his entire life, his very existence. For that reason, Hirmiz could not bring himself to feign ignorance. That was precisely what Narses had aimed for, it being necessary for him to seize any possible opening to instigate a verbal battle and y for time. Nevertheless, as Narses''s doubtful "What if?" had now been realized as truth, he was unable to remain calm beyond the surface.
As he had no way of reading Narses''s mind, Hirmiz advanced his horse two, three steps.
"Fine, in any case, this saves me time. I''ve heard that your ingenuity, Narses, is second to none in the entire country. Abandon that pathetic Arn and join me. You shall be granted a position of importance if so."
"And by important, you mean?"
"Marzban or dibir, perhaps even framatar"
On hearing this, Narses broke intoughter. Thatughter was not entirely an act.
"What''s so funny!"
Hirmiz hated beingughed at. The two eyes of the silver mask scorched hot.
"Beg pardon," Narses apologized, though he did not seem particrly sincere.
" Well, no matter. So, how about it? Willing to serve me?"
"I am honored by the most generous offer, but I''m afraid I must decline."
"Oh, and why is that?"
"The moment I forsook the life of a hermit, it became my life''s greatest wish to support a liege of the finest caliber. Now that said wish has been fulfilled, if I were to simply watch it be cast aside, I would end up with naught but regrets."
"Are you insinuating that I am of a lesser caliber than Andragoras''s brat?"
A storm brewed in Hirmiz''s voice, his pride having been dealt a severe blow.
"If you really are Prince Hirmiz, you''re of an age with Dariun. My elder by a year. And with His Highness Arn, there''s a difference of thirteen years" Narses deliberately took on a cold tone. "In spite of this, His Highness Arn has already exceeded your quality. And as His Highness will continue to grow in the future, the gap shall widen ever more!"
It was as if fury radiated from the silver mask''s entire body. His right hand jerked toward the hilt of his sword, but he did not immediately draw.
Narses pushed the argument even further. All he could do was y for even just a little more time, waiting either for support to arrive or for the enemy to let down their guard.
"In order to recover the throne, you joined hands with the Lusitanians. And just what did the Lusitanians do to Maryam? What manner of things did they get up to in Pars? I''m sure you''re not unaware. Even if you are the rightful ruler of Pars, do you not think it unforgivable, what you have done to the Parsian people?"
"What about the Parsian people? Haven''t those worms groveled before a false king for sixteen years? Have they not revered a usurper as Shah?! Is it not my due, as the rightful king, to redress their sins?"
He ended with the tremor of a wrathful volcano.
"I see, so as long as they won''t acknowledge you as Shah, the people have no right to live. Is that what you''re saying?"
Narses clucked his tongue.
Hirmiz had probably lived on for sixteen years, ever since his father''s death, sustained by his conviction that he was the rightful Shah. There was no doubt Hirmiz believed that only his ession to the throne could be considered true justice. He had carried his hatred of his uncle the king, Andragoras, with him throughout his entire life.
"There is one more thing that does not sit well with me," said Narses, resuming the verbal battle yet again. "His Highness Arn begged me to be his subordinate. In contrast, youmanded it of me without even taking my opinion into ount. For a contrary fellow like me, that really is no fun at all."
This was the truth, spoken from the bottom of his heart. Though of course, it was hardly the time to broach such a topic. Hirmiz, with a cold smile, finished drawing his sword, but by this point he had already fallen into Narses''s trap. He was in a state of mind where he could do nothing but insist upon his own legitimacy.
"I am the son of Osroes the Fifth. I stand above all the rest of you as the rightful king of Pars. Why should I notmand you?"
"My man ain''t ever gonna bend his knee to the likes of you!" shouted Afarid, who had remained silent until now. Narses reeled a bit on hearing her voice, but he left no opening for Hirmiz to cut into.
"Huh, so the former lord of Dam, highborn shahrdaran by birth, has a predilection for lowly bandit wenches."
For the first time, the cold smile filled with malice.
But there was no change in Narses''s expression. The surprised one was actually Afarid. She fixed wide eyes on Narses.
"Narses, you''re one of them milord types?!"
"My mother was azat. The same as you. Nothing to be surprised over. Just because one is wispuhran or wuzurgan doesn''t mean they''ll sprout horns and a tail"
He spoke with some bitterness, but in the meantime managed to recover himself. No matter what, he could not allow Hirmiz any leeway.
"Then again, I know naught of that good fellow there. Considering that silver mask he wears, I suppose he''s hiding that he only has one eye, or perhaps maybe three."
"I am royalty. In order to conduct myself as such, I have my reasons. Not that the likes of you would understand."
"Why, it''s cowardice, I suppose."
"What?"
"Hiding your face with a mask to be a Lusitanianckey, then removing it in the guise of a liberator to proim yourself Shah of Pars. No sovereign''s sagacity is this: it can only be called guile. Have you no shame?"
He''d been found out. Hirmiz''s face stiffened beneath the mask. The reason he had constantly worn a mask to cover his face when he led the Lusitanian army into Pars had been exposed in a single line. It shook him.
"You dare defame the rightful Shah?" Hirmiz growled, clutching at hisst straw. It was difficult to face the light gushing from his eyes.
"Rightful or illegitimate, it matters not to me," retorted Narses. It was partly just tit for tat. But he took on such a strong tone that even Afarid was surprised. "Even if a man were not of the royal bloodline, as long as he were to govern fairly and receive the support of the people, he would make a splendid Shah. What other qualification could one ask for beyond that?"
"Silence!" snapped Hirmiz. "Those who rule Pars are the descendants of Kai Khosrow, the hero-king. You would deny even that much?"
"The one who ruled Pars before King Kai Khosrow was that Serpent King Zahhak. And before him, Sage King Jamshid. Kai Khosrow inherited the blood of neither."
The winter wind wafted over a silence like drifting snowkes. I suppose that''s as far as it goes, thought Narses. There had been no expectation to reach a consensus from the start, but the more they spoke, the more estranged they grew.
"I''ve heard more than enough of your nonsense. I get it now. Narses, you miscreant, you conspire to destroy all semnce of Parsian tradition and royal majesty. I thought it a pity to waste your ingenuity, but I see now I was deluded to even think about taking you in as a retainer."
"Narses, watch out!" whispered Afarid. For she had sensed a tremendous killing intent emanating from the silver mask.
As for Narses, who had gained much precious time until now as the verbal battle unfolded, he could not help but be pleased.
All things considered, the fact that their opinions shed to such an extent was all the more refreshing. For as long as he lived, he would likely have no choice but to continue opposing Prince Hirmiz. In other words, Narses must devote himself ever more faithfully to Arn and help the boy mature into a just king. Was this not the fresh start to the most interesting of lives? At the very least, it certainly wouldn''t be a bore!
Hirmiz''s longsword let off an iridescent gleam.
"All of you, stay your hands. Let me cut off his head and tongue myself."
"As you wish, Your Highness." It was Zandeh, giant body swaying with his shout, but that name was not one Narses was familiar with. "The unworthy fool is no match for you"
Narses swept his longsword from its scabbard as well.
"Oh, by the way. You there, you overgrown lump." He was referring to Zandeh. Who red up, apparently wanting to retort, only to be blithely instructed, "One more thing in addition to His Highness''s order. You, too, are a knight of Pars, so don''t youy your hands on the woman. This is a matter of the Shah''s honor, you realize."
"Do as he says, it''s his dying wish."
Upon making that derisivemand, Hirmiz kicked at his mount''s nks, and man and horse came charging at Narses as one.
"Die, Narses!"
In that very instant, Narses reflected a chunk of sunlight off his de and directed it straight at Hirmiz''s eyes.
His vision went dark.
"Argh!"
Hirmiz''s sword cut nothing but air.
Without a moment''s dy, Narses''s extended sword sliced the other horse''s reins in two. However masterful the rider, this was not an easy situation to deal with. Hirmiz was thrown from his mount and crashed right to the dusty ground. As expected, he sprang back to his feet, resuming his stance with a swipe of his sword, only to find that his vision had yet to recover.
"Damn you, Narses! Was this not to be a normal duel?!"
"I can hardly turn my de on the rightful Shah!"
It was a scathing line that he slung out. On Narses''s part, there had been no intention from the start to engage in any sort of joust.
"Let''s run, Afarid!"
Even as he shouted, his horse had already begun to dash away. Afarid followed after him. One rider, hot on their heels, was just about to swing down his sword when Narses turned back and tossed his acinaces at his face, sending him somersaulting off his mount.
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (2)
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (2)
Some kind of strategist he was. Narses smiled wryly on his horse as he thought this to himself. If he really were a strategist, shouldn''t he have gone to a little more effort at the time to obfuscate his true feelings?
Even if his opponent were the Shah or a prince, he wasn''t about to keep mum regarding the things he wanted to say. Not saying anything was rather odious, and would only be more of a nuisanceter on. That was Narses''s fundamental nature.
In sudden realization, Narses looked over at the daughter of the Zott chieftain.
"Listen, Afarid, there are two things you must not speak of to anyone else. That the man of the silver mask is named Hirmiz in truth, and all that he had to say earlier. All right?"
Afarid, on her own horse, had been ncing over her shoulder from time to time to check that they were safe, but she gave a big nod in response to Narses''s voice.
"Got it. If you say so, Narses, I won''t tell a soul. Promise."
"Swear on the honor of the Zott?"
"I swear on the honor of the Zott!"
The girl, deeply earnest in her reply, let out a giggle. Her voice was filled with absolute faith and affection for Narses.
"It''s a secret, Narses. Just between the two of us."
What she said made Narses, for whom the situation had be quite grave, want tough, but he offered only a brief strained smile without otherwise responding.
From behind them, the rumble of hoofbeats drew close.
Narses''s expression grew stiff. Without even looking, he knew it was Hirmiz''s party in pursuit. If they caught up, he couldn''t pull off some clever ruse or fancy rhetoric anymore. One on one against Hirmiz, he didn''t think he would be outmatched, but Afarid was with him, and their enemies numbered quite a few. The two of them could only urge their horses faster.
"Over there! That''s Narses!" yelled a knight in the pursuit''s vanguard, pointing at the figures of Narses and Afarid as they attempted to round the edge of a cliff. The pursuer uttered a battle cry, and with one hand drawing his sword in a sh, made to round the edge of the cliff himself.
It was in that moment.
ck-fletched arrows whistled over in flight, piercing the trunk of the foremost knight, who was blown off his horse.
The bow had an incredibly heavy draw. The three arrows that came flying next in session instantly killed three more knights, dashing them to the ground. The force of impact was so strong that the arrows sank into their bodies all the way to the edge of the feathers.
As he watched the pursuit withdrawing in panicked fright, a certain knight in ck, with bow in hand, turned back around with a bold grin. It was Dariun, who hade searching for Narses.
"You owe me one, Narses."
"I do wish you wouldn''t put on airs, seeing as you only got here just in the nick of time," Narses retorted, but all the same, his breathing was a bit ragged.
"It''s wonderful to see you safe, Lord Narses."
m, at least, was honest in expressing his joy.
Dariun, having slung his bow back onto his saddle, directed a curious nce at Afarid.
"Who''s this woman, by the way, Narses?"
Though it was a natural question to ask, it flustered Narses somewhat. Now, how was he supposed to exin this?
"Um, basically, this is"
"Name''s Afarid. I''m Narses''s wife."
This entirely unexpected self-introduction caused shocked gazes to be turned upon Narses.
"No she''s not!" Narses shouted.
Afarid, looking at him almost mischievously, continued unfazed.
"Uh-huh, truth is, we haven''t held the official ceremony yet. So we''re really just lovers for now."
"Lovers!?"
"Lord Narses"
Dariun and m stared hard at Narses, who was, in contrast, bordering on hysterics.
"No, no! I haven''t done a thing. Wife or lover or whatnot, it''s just this girl saying whatever she wants."
"Awfully panicked, aren''t you."
"N-Not in the slightest. This girl is the Zott chieftain''s daughter, whom I rescued from that silver-masked friend of ours. That''s all there is between us, nothing more."
"Aw, Narses, ya don''t need to hide it," said Afarid, adding oil to the fire.
"Please don''t say anything unnecessary. Truly, I have done nothing! We slept in separate rooms, that''s all. I haven''t done a single thing to feel guilty over, I swear."
For the time being, Dariun, clearly trying to hold back hisughter, watched Narses getting all worked up trying to exin himself. But in the end he cleared his throat.
"Well, what''s done is done, Narses"
"And just what do you mean by that!? I''ve done nothing of the sort!"
"Yes, I know. Anyway, we can talk about itter. Are you taking the girl along to Peshawar?"
Dariun, at least, was perfectly calm. Narses was able to cool his head at least a bit.
"That''s right, I almost forgot. After all, Afarid, you''re the daughter of the Zott chieftain, right? You probably need to take over the n in ce of yourte father. You''ll be returning to your n again, won''t you?"
Both Narses''s voice and expression were filled with undisguised hope, but Afarid nonchntly waved her shapely hands in denial.
"Ah, no worries. I got a big bro, see. My Ma''s different from his, and besides, maybe he''s got a good head on his shoulders but he''s got a nasty personality to go with it. Even if I do go back, we''ll just get in a fight. I''ll probably run away or get chased out or somethin''. So you don''t got to worry."
"Like that''ll keep me from worrying," Narses moaned, but his gaze happened to shift then to something shocking.
For m, inplete silence, had quickened the pace of his horse and gone forward all by himself without even waiting.
"Hey, m"
When Narses called out, his youthful retak turned his head with a terribly cold look in his eye.
"Let us make haste, Lord Dariun. Any moment now the pursuit wille again, and I am sure His Highness Arn eagerly awaits our return."
Deliberately ignoring his master as he spoke, he promptly advanced his horse once more.
.
At dawn the next day, Dariun, Narses, and the other two reunited with Arn''s group.
"Narses, Narses, I''m so d you''re safe. Truly, it''s wonderful."
Prince Arn, reaching out from his horse, sped the former lord of Dam''s hand in his own. Narses, feeling a surge of genuine emotion himself, apologized from the bottom of his heart.
"My deepest apologies for having worried Your Highness. Why, rest assured, I shan''t die so easily ''til I have be your court artist, as was promised."
At those words, Dariun hid hisugh with a cough.
As one might expect, Afarid turned quite meek upon being introduced to the prince. Facing a king''s son seemed to make her nervous. She said something along the lines of, "I, too, shall serve Your Highness and work hard for the sake of the nation." Then again, Arn''s adversary, the man of the silver mask, was indeed her object of vengeance, and it was no lie that she despised the Lusitanians.
"Is that so? Well, given our present circumstances, I cannot yet offer you proper thanks, but feel free to do as you wish."
In saying this, Arn acknowledged Afarid as a part of their struggle.
What a kind prince, Narses thought. He hoped the boy would continue to maintain that gentle disposition.
If Arn were to turn out like Hirmiz, a ruler who ced country above people, and throne above country, there would be no salvation for the Parsian people. It was probably natural for Hirmiz to feel such fury and hatred and thirst for vengeance; sympathizing with him was fine. However, it was hardly eptable that he had made a sacrifice of everybody else to satisfy his own vengeful desires.
"All things considered, the sins of Andragoras also run deep. In order to obtain Queen Tahmineh for himself, just how much did it cost him, how much damage did he effect? One could go as far as to say he''s reaped what he''s sowed"
In truth, Narses did not haveplete confidence in his own choices either. Was it right or wrong that he had not divulged the man of the silver mask''s true identity to either Arn or Dariun?
1. However, before their eyes was a deep river valley, preventing them from advancing straight forward. As they had to search downstream for a crossing, the party advanced their horses in the direction of the current for the time being.
Then, just when they should have found a location where the currents were shallow and not as strong, they happened upon troops waiting in ambush.
Right away they prepared to do battle: Arn, m, and Afarid in the center as the other four formed a ring around them and put on a show of brandishing their swords.
With every sh, blood and destruction sprang forth, and the figures of enemy soldiers vanished from their horses.
"Capture Arn alive! Kill the others!"
On spotting the youth baying thosemands, Dariun''s eyes shed with a sharp light. For of course, it was Zandeh.
"Haven''t learned your lesson? Foolish son of Qaran!"
"You got that right. You think I''d give up before your head is mine?"
"Fine, stay right where you are. I''ll have you give up for good."
With a kick of his ck horse''s nks, Dariun charged forth; five or six riders formed a wall of des in attempt to stop him, but in just a matter of moments, they were cut down left and right.
As he watched Dariun carve through the blood spray and press in on him, Zandeh fled without even giving battle, his previous gantry disappeared who knows where. He had realized he was no match for Dariun in a joust actually, that was not the case. Zandeh had purposely disyed this shameful behavior in order to draw Dariun away from Arn.
Dariun, about to fall upon him with a vengeance, came to a realization about the intended tactic. He reversed direction to head back to the crown prince''s side, toward a single rider who hade shing at Arn, and in one stroke chopped his head open from crown to jaw. But at the same time, another rider hade swinging down his drawn de at Arn''s head.
It happened then.
From the sky, amid the roiling winds, hurtled a ck mass. Before Arn''s eyes, the shadow of a falcon ovepped the enemy''s face. A shriek ensued. The enemy bent back in his saddle as blood gushed from his face, shredded by sharp beak and keen ws. Dariun''s longsword swept out at the man''s torso, finishing the job the falcon had started.
"Azrael!"
At Arn''s call, the falcon who had saved the prince sketched through the sky in a slightly steep arc and swooped down. It perched on the prince''s extended left arm and, in a rather pampered manner, voiced a single chirp.
"Azrael! Ah, it''s been a while, hasn''t it. How is Sorush? Is your brother doing well?"
Arn had known the falcon since it was a chick. And besides, this falcon had a most reliable master.
"Everyone, Keshvad is near. Hees with reinforcements!"
That shout had the effect of agitating the enemy soldiers while encouraging his allies. It was an act of much significance. Narses, mowing down enemies right and left as blood formed a mist, found himself impressed. This prince, somehow, someway, was sensitive to what people called esprit de corps!
Wah, yelped the enemy soldiers.
The ck shadows of riders had poured over the top of the ridge. Their numbers were in the thousands.
2!"
"Yashasin!"
Five thousand riders sang out in unison, charging after Keshvad down the steep slope.
These five thousand riders were the group who had been in charge of Peshawar''s defense during the battle with the Sindhuran army the other day. As if to ke their bloodlust after having been unable to do battle days previously, they went forth, snapping at the heels of the fleeing enemies, scattering them, ying them, crushing them.
The situation flipped.
Flustered and frustrated, Zandeh galloped off on his horse with clenched teeth, this time fleeing in truth. Seeing this, Dariun took up his sword, dyed all the way to the hilt in blood, and spurred on his ck steed.
Faster than him, however, came Giv: "I''ll take that guy!"
He too raised his bloodstained sword and, nking Zandeh, thrust out.
Fresh blood spurted from Zandeh''s left cheek.
Despite swaying on his horse, Zandeh clutched his reins and managed to keep his seat. With a swing of his broadsword, he parried Giv''s second strike and ran off.
"That''s a real tough one."
Dariun smiled wryly at Giv''s sarcastic praise as he flicked the blood from his sword.
"He certainly is that. The man just won''t stay dead."
Next to Arn, a single knight approached.
"Oh! So it truly is Your Highness Arn"
Keshvad leaped from his horse in a tter of armor and knelt on the ground.
"I wee you in good health to these humble bordends, Your Highness. Fort Peshawar holds twenty thousand cavalry and sixty thousand infantry, all faithfully sworn to your service."
The surrounding fray had already reached the final stages of mop-up. Arn checked to see that his six subordinates more urately, hispanions were all safe before rxing. He dismounted and, taking Keshvad''s hands, bade him rise.
"It has been quite a while, Keshvad. Since Azrael came to my rescue, I knew you must also be near. And sure enough, here you are."
Keshvad bowed deeply, and as he nced at the subordinates standing to either side of Arn, disyed a somewhat sentimental expression. He was more or less acquainted with Dariun and Narses.
2"Sally forth!"
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (3)
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (3)
The walls of red sandstone towered tall and thick. The fortress of Peshawar was constructed in all respects to exhibit the military might of Pars. There was not a single superfluous ornament to be seen.
The gates of the fortress were even made of thick oak bs, stacked four deep and ted in iron, and moreoveryered double. The eastern walls were also surrounded by a deep moat. That direction, after all, faced the kingdom''s border.
Escorted by Kehsvad and his subordinates, Arn andpany entered the fortress. In a courtyard paved with gstones, they dismounted and were ushered to the entryway.
With a bow, Keshvad said, "Now then, my fellow Marzban would make his greetings, Your Highness."
Standing in Arn''s line of sight was the figure of Bahman.
It worried Arn to see that his appearance seemed to have aged even more than memory served.
"Why if it isn''t His Highness the crown prince."
Both the old veteran general''s expression and voice concealedplicated feelings behind his courtesy. The mardan warriors surrounding Arn secretly exchanged nces. Arn''s powers of observation, however, were not yet capable of perceiving all this. On the contrary, He must have grown clumsy in his old age, he thought in sympathy. In a gentle voice, he said, I thank you for all your trouble.
"Please, feel free to make use of this lounge, Your Highness," continued Keshvad. "This chair was used previously by His Majesty Andragoras during his eastern campaign, I wee you to sit there."
Even as he guided the prince to the lounge, Keshvad ryed several orders practically all at once, allocating rooms for the prince''s attendants and directing preparations for a celebratory banquet.
Here the seven of them were split into four rooms, divided into one for Arn, one for Dariun and Giv, one for Narses and m, and Farangis and Afarid in thest. Arn''s chamber was the room King Andragoras had previously lodged in as well; it was the most luxuriously furnished in the entire fortress, and even came with a stone terrace. The other three apartments were located left, right, and opposite of this chamber. This room assignation reflected how meticulous and considerate Keshvad was.
And then there was Bahman.
"If only I didn''t know. I shouldn''t have known any of this. If I didn''t know a thing, I could''ve pledged my eternal loyalty to that smart little prince"
As he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth in a gloomy hall, several of his subordinates stared at the Marzban''s figure in bewilderment.
.
Zandeh, who had yet to wipe away the blood from the cut on his cheek, reported their circumstances to his liege and begged pardon over and over again.
"Your Highness Hirmiz, that bunch haspletely seeded in escaping to Fort Peshawar. I cannot apologize enough for my worthless ipetence."
"No need. Saying sorry won''t chase them out of Fort Peshawar."
Hirmiz''s voice was bitter.
If he had personally takenmand, he thought, would he not have been able to get at least a little more out of it? Though he did not think Zandehcked ability, things hadn''t gone as hoped.
The blow he''d received when unhorsed by Narses hade with unexpected aftereffects. In particr, he seemed to have sprained his left wrist, and until this morning, had not been able to mount a horse again.
"That damned hack artist Narses. Not only did he have me unhorsed in such an unsightly manner, he dared im that Andragoras''s brat surpasses me in caliber. Next up, I''ll have that brat brutally killed."
With that decision made, Hirmiz gave his left hand a shake. It no longer hurt.
Ultimately, Arn and hispany had ended up in Fort Peshawar. But this was not the end. There should still be any number of opportunities to make up lost ground. Had he himself not escaped with his life even from amid those raging mes?
.
As for the self-proimed "vagabond minstrel" Giv, after taking a bath to clean off his body, he sat at a table in the room sipping nabid and snacking on walnuts and olives. Unlike the previous few nights, he should have afortable night to look forward to, but somehow or other he wasn''t in a pleasant mood.
"This so wasn''t worth it," thought Giv.
These past few days, Dariun had been constantly traveling with Farangis. Even Narses had been lucky enough to be with a pretty girl. The only who''d not had the same fortune was Giv.
"I certainly haven''t the nerve to woo Lady Farangis," said Dariun, and Narses too insisted, "There''s nothing between us, I swear, nothing happened!" Since they weren''t the kind of men who would feign ignorance over that sort of thing, the truth was, probably nothing really had happened.
But if that were the case, it was hopeless to talk about it. How could idiots like them waste such precious opportunities? thought Giv, who had no interest in any other interpretation of events. Well, then again, as Giv was the one who considered it better to put fun first, from now on he should be able to get his chances before they could too. One could say that longing for something and chasing after it was the greatest pleasure of life.
Before Narses became a hermit and secluded himself at Mount Bashur, he had been a courtier, and there''d been more or less a couple of rumors of affairs floating around. It was said that Dariun, too, when dispatched as an envoy to Serica, had fallen in love with a beautiful princess of that nation. Giv wasn''t sure about the details, but there was enough out there about either of them that he couldn''t just dismiss them as his love rivals.
.
Just like Giv, or no, even more unhappy, was m.
"Narses ain''t here?" said Afarid, who''de to visit their room.
Which m refused to allow. "Don''t you get over-familiar with Lord Narses. You''ve barely known him for days."
Afarid had absolutely no intention to put up with that.
"How long a rtionship''s been don''t got anything to do with its depth. Don''t you get that?"
"You don''t even know Lord Narses''s favorite food."
"He ate my cooking without a singleint."
"Well, that''s because Lord Narses is kind. No way the cooking of someone like you could be appetizing."
The slender brows of the Zott chieftain''s daughter bristled.
"What''s with you? Just so''s you know, I''m older than you. Didn''t your folks teach you how to respect your elders?!"
"They sure did. Told me I should choose who to observe proper decorum with. Lord Narses has great ambitions. If you get in his way, I won''t forgive you."
"As if I gotta be forgiven by you of all people!"
It was a pointless argument no matter how one looked at it. When it finished, Afarid burst out of Narses and m''s room. In her own way, she was embarrassed. It wasn''t like she''d wanted to get in a fight with Narses''s friends or anything. She''d even wanted m to tell her all sorts of things.
Afarid returned to her own room, where Farangis, dressed as if she had just finished her bath, was currently seated on the carpet polishing her sword. Suddenly, all too aware of how beautiful the other woman was, Afarid sat down beside her, and the kahina''s green eyes nced over at the girl.
"So, you fancy Sir Narses, do you?" she asked with a hint of a smile.
Afarid was awed by Farangis''s beauty. The Zott chieftain''s daughter was more than pretty herself, but it was obvious that the depth and profundity of her allure could not possibly hold up to that of Farangis.
" You sayin'' I can''t?"
At that defiant tone of stubborn refusal, Farangis smiled.
"Should you fancy Sir Narses, you must not be a hindrance. At present, more than any individual woman, that good man dreams of the revival of an entire nation. For the time being, is it not fine to simply watch over him?"
Afarid recognized that the beautiful kahina was right, but it galled her to be so obediently persuaded.
"Ain''t no point revivin'' the country or whatever. That''ll just create a new bunch of nobles and ves. Guy as smart as Narses shoulda realized this already."
Though the girl spoke with a spirit of strength and intelligence, the beautiful kahina only smiled once more.
"Perhaps that is so. However, it being your Narses, he shall perhaps discover some way to ovee this."
Afarid was quiet.
"It is precisely because you thought of him as such a man that you fell for him, is it not?"
"Yeah, I got it." As Afarid replied, she stared at her conversational partner with somewhat of a mix of annoyance and defeat. "But you sure are a real busybody. Why''d you butt in like that?"
"Do forgive me if I have offended. I understand I have indeed been meddlesome, but as I too have personal experience in such matters, you see, I could not think of it as someone else''s business."
Seeing Farangis''s expression, Afarid stopped asking intrusive questions. The beautiful kahina, long hair swaying, resumed polishing her sword.
.
The "Herald of Death" chirped cheerfully. The boy who was his old friend the crown prince Arn hade specially with meat. It was the prince''s thanks for saving him.
"Keshvad, what about the other? Ever have Azrael and Sorush been together!"
"As for that" Keshvad''s voice was a bit grave. "I sent the birds with one of my trusted men to infiltrate the capital and investigate the situation. This man of mine was originally a zanj, but as he was honest and devoted, I had him made azat. He has worked well for me, but it seems he has fallen at the hands of the enemy. He has not contacted me for some days now."
"So Sorush is also?"
"I am afraid so"
Face clouding over, Keshvad gently patted Azrael''s head. As the falcon pecked at the meat, it ruffled its feathers slightly, as if quite content.
"Between the two siblings, Sorush''s quality was not quite that of Azrael''s. Even so, seeing as how they got along so well, I cared for them both without discrimination. I can only hope that the unthinkable has not urred, as I fear."
Arn nodded. Some years ago, when Keshvad came to the capital from the western border to report his victory in battle, he had brought two chicks along with him. They''d caught Arn''s eye, and he''d even wanted to keep one for himself, but seeing how difficult it was to separate the brothers, he''d let them go
Arn changed the topic. He was not getting too far ahead of himself in speaking, but rather, if he were to be charged with the governance of the nation, he wished to abolish the institute of ghm, and meant to impart his intentions to Keshvad.
Keshvad''s eyes widened. "You say you wish to emancipate the ves?"
Arn gave him a big nod. Ever since escaping from the shahrdar Hojir''s castle and proceeding to flee through the mountains, the prince had continued to consider the matter. What Narses said was correct. If, acting only on momentary sentiment, he were to free just a few ves, there would be no effect. However, if he nned it out properly, taking his time to work out different possibilities, finding some way to benefit the country, surely he would be able to emancipate all the ves then, no?
Keshvad, his expression one of deep rumination, gazed at the figure of Azrael pecking at his meat.
"Both Sir Narses''s suggestion and Your Highness''s resolution are most admirable. I, personally, have no objections. However, should you truly bring this into fruition, I''m afraid the majority of the shahrdaran will not side with you."
"Narses said so as well."
Arnughed. An expression rather bittersweet for his age surfaced on his finely featured face.
"And yet, when the Lusitanians have been driven away, I believe that Pars cannot be allowed to return utterly to its old ways. If this country cannot be made better than it was before, then fighting for it is meaningless."
"Indeed. But what does His Majesty, your lord father, say about these considerations of yours? Until now, I have never heard that King Andragoras aspires to abolish the institute of ghm."
"If I am able to rescue my lord father, I think that alone should strengthen the influence of my voice. I am certain he will lend an ear to my suggestions then."
The way he spoke was as if he were trying to convince himself.
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (4)
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (4)
Dariun, Narses, Giv, and Farangis walked four abreast through a stone corridor. In order to work out future strategies for dealing with the Lusitanians, the four of them had been invited to Bahman''s quarters.
"I find myself rather concerned about old Bahman''s attitude." Dariun folded his arms as he walked. "My uncle included, it seems the seniors of this country enjoy keeping secrets from us younger ones. To be frank, I''m not especially happy about it."
"Maybe he''s nnin'' to turn coat."
If that''s the case, I''ll cut him down, Giv seemed to want to say, with his deep blue eyes shing. Farangis tossed her long hair with a shake of her head.
"If he were able to take such straightforward action," she said, "I doubt old Bahman would be so distressed. I am sure even he himself does not know how best to act. Even so, what could have possibly disturbed a general as experienced as Bahman at this point in time? That is what I cannot make heads or tails of."
Not just Farangis, but Dariun and Giv as well focused their gazes on Narses. Narses seemed to be contemting something on his own, and in the end did not express any opinion.
Keshvad had alsoe to Bahman''s room. Their discussion had pretty much borne no fruit. Bahman was extremely drained from countering his younger associates'' aggressive arguments.
"There''s nothing to be gained by acting in a panic. We''ve yet to even ascertain the welfare of His Majesty the Shah. At the very least, I object to deploying troops before the end of the year. Better to determine how the various other forces within the kingdom will move first."
Dariun''s brow wrinkled in the shape of a lightning bolt. His ck armor clinked as he turned his long-limbed body toward Bahman.
"It is only natural to have His Highness Arn lead us in the recovery of the royal authority of Pars. Should we not spark movement from those internal forces in order to aplish that very same task? Why is it that you hesitate, Lord Bahman? Rather than preaching caution, I wonder if you do not simplyck motivation?"
"That''s enough, Dariun."
Narses restrained his friend. This was the first time Narses had spoken up during this conference. His eyes, trained on Bahman, were not at all approving.
"Ever since the grand reign of Gotarzes, King of Kings, not even once did Lord Bahman fail to keep up with his enemies on the battlefield: but s, age is cruel. Already his chivalrous spirit has worn away, and has left him no doubt thinking only of how to idle away his final years infort. We were gravely mistaken in having such high hopes for him."
Being taken to task so harshly, the old general flushed, his face reddening as if he were drunk.
"What''re you trying to say, you uppity greenhorn?!"
Bahman''s voice, for the first time, grew heated. Looking as if he wanted to continue spouting a few lines, the old soldier abruptly mped his mouth shut. Roughly rising to his feet, he turned his back on them and left his own room. The only word he left was, I''m going out for a ride.
In this way, without any concrete discussion arising, the strategy meeting came to an end.
" Were you just trying to piss him off?"
The wryly smiling Dariun murmured this because he was well aware of the reason Narses had deliberately provoked the old warrior. He''d meant to have the man reveal his true intent in anger, but it seemed he''d fallen just short, as Bahman had managed to keep himself under control.
"Well, that old man''s craftier than expected. He feigned indignation to leave his seat and avoid getting pressed," replied Narses.
It was at this time that Keshvad informed Dariun about the letter that was causing Bahman such anxiety, the one that he had received from thete Vahriz.
"My uncle, a letter?!"
Dariun raised his brow. Keshvad nodded.
"It was delivered to Lord Bahman before the battle of Atropatene. That is as much as I know. Nor can I begin to guess at its contents, but whatever Lord Bahman is worrying over that caused his loss of acuity seems to have started from then. It must be quite some letter."
Dariun''s hardy face clouded over. Thinking about it, before the battle started, he''d also been made by his uncle to swear a peculiar oath. No matter what happened, he''d been told to serve "His Highness himself." Just what had his uncle known? And just what could he have passed on to his old brother-in-arms?
"Have you no idea either, Sir Narses?" inquired the beautiful kahina.
"If I knew, I''d not be so troubled, Lady Farangis. I''m no irvoyant."
Though Narses replied thus, he remained wrapped in his own thoughts with a bitter expression. Giv, staying silent, looked around at the others with mild amusement.
.
Having left the fortress, Bahman, alone on his horse, wandered about the rocky ridges and sparse trees. Don''t those little upstarts understand my anguish? In his heart, Bahman screamed. Those upstarts who know nothing of hardship, thinking to support the crown prince, are simply spreading whatever nonsense they please. But if they were to know the the truth of the matter, what would they think then?
Suddenly, in the shadow of a single rock, there was a hint of movement from a man on a horse. It had not escaped the experienced old Marzban''s notice.
"Who''s there?" barked Bahman.
He was an old military man who had spent nearly fifty years of his life on the battlefield. His voice was powerful, striking heavily in a listener''s gut.
There was no reply. A wind swept past the gloom, flowing through the aged Marzban''s surroundings.
Bahman unsheathed the sword at his waist. Though his movements were not particrly nimble, he was thoroughly on his guard. They were the movements of a seasoned soldier.
He was so on edge that he was even in a mood to cut down his own self, buried in worry for these past weeks. Once more, Bahman hurled out an utterly intimidating voice.
"Come on out. I, Marzban Bahman of Pars, shall grant you a fitting end for a fool."
" Bahman, you say?"
The gloom swayed, and from the shadow of a giant boulder appeared the figure of a single knight. Bahman gasped. The silver-colored mask that had emerged from the gloom gave off an eerie impression even to the valiant old soldier.
"Hmph, I do recognize it, that face."
The voice that leaked from the silver mask was haughty, but at the same time echoed with an odd nostalgia. Sensing that, Bahman found himself somewhat confused.
"As if I would be acquainted with some fiend like you."
"Such disrespectful talk. But I''ll forgive you just once considering our former acquaintance. Is it no good even if I tell you to think back sixteen years? In your dotage I suppose you''ve conveniently forgotten all about such things as the past."
At the other man''s strange words, Bahman''s gray brows knit together.
"Andragoras''s right hand, wretched Vahriz, could not be suffered to live. But you, I don''t mind granting peace in your old age. After all is said and done, you are still my one and only teacher, who tutored me in the use of de and bow."
Only an instant had passed when Bahman''s gray brows made a great jolt. From his likewise gray beard escaped abored voice.
"Th, Then perhaps, you, milord, are"
"Huh, so you remembered? Seems you''ve not turned that senile yet."
"Milord, you could it be, you"
The old warrior began to tremble.
"Lord Bahman!"
With that sharp cry, apanied by the echo of hoofbeats, the figures of Keshvad leading a troop of around a dozen riders broke through the twilight.
Hirmiz wordlessly turned his horse around. Bahman hadn''t even the chance to stop him before he galloped off with a deft handling of his reins. Only once, he looked over his shoulder at Bahman, his silver mask glinting as if he were nodding.
To Keshvad, about to pursue, Bahman raised his voice in a panic. "No, Lord Keshvad! No need to give chase. You mustn''t give chase."
"And why is that, Lord Bahman? Seeing as he spotted us and fled, there can be no mistake that he is one of those who would make an enemy of His Highness the crown prince."
Keshvad, tugging on his reins, naturally wanted to question him, but there was no way Bahman could say what he was thinking out loud just like that. He could onlye up with a forced exnation.
"No, by my reckoning, that masked man can be nothing but a decoy."
"A decoy?"
"That''s right. You and I would lead soldiers to pursue ''em. We''d leave Fort Peshawar empty. Of course it wouldn''t fall at once, but if theyid siege to the fort, we''d be in for a real mess once we returned."
" I suppose."
Keshvad nodded, but his eyes shed with dissatisfaction and doubt. Or no, perhaps it was only Bahman''s imagination, due to his guilty conscience regarding the secret he was keeping from Keshvad.
"His Highness Arn remains yet in the fort. As we weremanded by King Andragoras to defend the fortress, it would not do to carelessly leave it absent, isn''t that right, Lord Keshvad?"
Keshvad, staring through the gloom at the retreating figure of Bahman as he spurred his horse back to the fortress, clucked his tongue once and began to urge his own horse forward as well. His subordinates followed after him.
The truth was, Keshvad had followed Bahman out of the fortress in order to figure out what was going on with him. Though Keshvad had not gone as far as to think that Bahman was conspiring with the enemies of the crown prince Arn, his suspicions, like the lengthening shadows of the present hour, grew ever deeper and darker.
.
He was going to sneak into Fort Peshawar.
The only reason Hirmiz made this decision was due to the reaction of Marzban Bahman, whom he had just run into.
That old general was different from Narses. He knew how to show respect for the legitimacy of the royal bloodline and its sovereignty. If he and the ten thousand riders he led were to ally with Hirmiz, the day Hirmiz would destroy the Lusitanian army and reim thends that were his birthright would surely grow all the more soon.
Hirmiz intended to sneak into the fortress of Peshawar alone, but when he announced this, Zandeh protested.
"Forgive me for speaking up, Your Highness, but that is really much too dangerous. Arn''s faction have currently made a den of that fortress."
Although Zandeh''s protest was reasonable, it was not like this audacious youth to urge caution.
"It''s because I think the risk has its reward that I am doing this. I''ve already decided. Say no more."
"Well, then please do take this unworthy one along, Your Highness. If I do not protect you, there is no way I can face my departed father''s ghost."
"No. You wait outside the fort. It''ll be a problem if no one is there to direct the troops, and should the opportunity arise, we can cooperate from within and without to seize the entire fortress in one swoop."
Hirmiz didn''t actually believe that. It was just a means to make Zandeh stay put outside. He did not think Zandeh was the kind of person suited for such a mission. That Hirmiz did not order him around without allowing his input was more a sign of his regard for Zandeh''ste father Qaran, than for Zandeh himself.
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (5)
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (5)
Keshvad''s room was engulfed in pale orange from the light of a bronzemp. On the carpet sat six people, Arn, Dariun, Narses, Giv, Farangis, and Keshvad, who were holding a conference over a spread out map of the eastern border region. If they were going to march on the royal capital, how were they to handle the nuisance that was the Sindhuran army? That was what they were discussing. From this discussion they had excluded Bahman, who was as intractable as an old and wounded water buffalo.
Currently, the Kingdom of Sindhura had been split into the two opposing factions of the princes Gadhavi and Rajendra. The ripples of their conflict had reached even the eastern border, just like how Keshvad had shed against the Sindhuran army the other day.
In the end, between the two princes, if neither one reached a conclusive victory, Sindhura would not be able to stabilize domestically, and for Pars, the threat against the eastern border would remain. Which of the princes should they help out to have him incur a debt, so they could remove one future source of trouble? ording to Keshvad''s investigations, it seemed to be Prince Rajendra''s side who were at the disadvantage, but Arn requested Narses''s opinion.
Narses gave a clear and definite reply.
"There is no point in aiding the strong. It is only in helping the weak to overthrow the strong that we will be able to create a cause for gratitude."
"Then, Narses, you are saying we should aid Prince Rajendra."
"Basically, yes. However, if possible, I would like to know a little more about Prince Rajendra''s character."
Narses looked over at Keshvad.
If Rajendra were the kind of man to feel indebted for such favors, there was naught to be said. But if he were the kind of man who felt it burdensome to be done a favor, he might choose to invade Pars anyway, trampling upon both promises and good faith. Furthermore, if he were the type who could be considered an ambitious schemer, a crooked man of immense greed, then when the Parsian troops that hade to his aid turned their backs in a sense of security, he might very well turn on them from behind.
Regarding this point, Keshvad should have more detailed information than anyone else.
What he''d heard from the Sindhuran soldier the other day was that Prince Rajendra was a man with both ambition and greed, whose personality did not seem trustworthy. That was a testimony from someone of the faction opposing Rajendra, so they should probably more or less consider it with a grain of salt. However, Rajendra originally ranked below Gadhavi in the order of session. That he was nheless contesting for the throne could be seen as proof that he was an ambitious man after all.
"Then there is no point in aiding Prince Rajendra either."
"No, even so, I believe supporting Prince Rajendra is still better," said Narses, looking around at hispany as he exined his reasoning. "As soon as our troops withdraw, Rajendra will fall upon us. At that time, Rajendra, assuming that our troops have been lulled tocency, will believe that victory is his for the taking. In letting his guard down that way, our troops can take advantage."
"Hm"
"Regardless, even if Prince Gadhavi is the victor, he must have his own ambitions for the bordends and will likelye invading as well. That being the case, Rajendra''s victory is preferable. Even if Rajendra is victorious, he shan''t be able to unify his nation immediately. Should he ambush us from behind, only to find defeat, he''ll no doubt shift his attentions afterward to domestic unity."
"I see, during that time we''ll be able to advance our troops to the capital without worrying about our backs." Dariun assented, and the other three also approved.
Keshvad, however, was uneasy. In the worst case scenario, if Bahman continued to be as unreliable as he was, they wouldn''t be able to move with anything but Keshvad''s ownmand of ten thousand riders. With only this much military strength, could they really fend off their powerful enemies to the east and west, the armies of Sindhura and Lusitania?
Arn nced at Narses, and Narses, without even a smile, tapped his head with a finger.
"Please worry not. There are about ten thousand more soldiers right in here."
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (6)
Book 2: Chapter 5: The Two Princes (6)
After the conference came to an end for the time being, Arn did not go straight back to his bedroom, but instead walked down a corridor leading to the top of the fortress ramparts. The suggestion that either Dariun or Farangis serve as his bodyguard was declined with a shake of his head.
"I would like to be alone. There should be no danger inside the fortress, after all. I wish to take in a little night air."
Being told this, they had no choice but to back down.
Arn stretched slightly as he exited to the top of the eastern rampart. The brittle light of the stars above poured down on the prince without a sound, wrapping around him like a curtain of blue gauze.
Despite the cold, it was a pleasant night. For one thing, it was probably because he had been released from life on the run after several consecutive nights of it. He had even taken a bath, and had also finished a proper meal. When he slept, it would no longer be on grass or bare ground, but the magnificently wide bed that had been prepared for him. It was drastically different from what he had experienced until just earlier this evening.
Of course, he had not been looking forward to a life offort. From tomorrow on, the real day-to-day battle would begin. He must drive off the Lusitanian army to restore the royal capital of Ecbatana. He must rescue his father Andragoras and his mother Tahmineh and reim thends of Pars. Far too many vast undertakings weighed upon the fourteen year old boy.
However, he had such capable and loyal subordinates that he hardly deserved them. They would lend him their strength. Surely they would help Arn carry out the responsibilities of a crown prince.
Nheless, even if I say so myself, it''s a strange fate that I have, he thought. When he was little, he hadn''t even known he was a prince. The two years he had spent at court were currently as distant to him as the faraway capital, now that he was at this frontier fortress
Suddenly, fear ran through the prince''s entire body. Somewhere nearby, the ck of armor could be heard.
"Who''s there?"
His own voice sounded like that of someone else.
The night wind surged, battering the prince''s face.
Arn held his breath. From the other side of the wall emerged a human shadow.
His fine body, both tall and well-proportioned, was a match for either Dariun or Keshvad. And above all else, it was the silver-colored mask covering his head that daunted Arn.
"So you''re Andragoras''s brat"
The rumored man of the silver mask faced Arn for the very first time. Both Dariun and Narses said they had been evenly matched against him in battle, that he possessed formidable swordsmanship.
"You''re Andragoras''s brat?" he repeated, his voice echoing with bloodthirst.
An unusual shudder ran through Arn''s entire body.
" I am indeed the son of Andragoras, the crown prince of Pars, Arn. Now name yourself."
"Crown prince, you say!? A presumptuous im. You are nothing more than a wretched mongrel whelped from a filthy usurper."
The two eyes of the silver mask burst into toxic me, pluming over to Arn without a sound.
Hirmiz grew aware of the fact that fury had soaked through the entirety of his insides. If this were not proof that the gods were on his side, what else could it be? At this very moment, the son of Andragoras was right before his eyes. Moreover, no valiant subordinate apanied him: he was all alone!
The moment this became known to him, Hirmiz could no longer bring himself to remain concealed, and instead revealed his existence to his opponent himself. Unlike Bahman, Arn could not yet detect an enemy who had erased his presence.
Hirmiz rested his hand on the hilt of his longsword.
"I shall not kill you at once. Sixteen years of suffering cannot be cleared in one blow. First, you little brat, I''ll slice off your right hand."
Arn could not respond.
"Next we meet, I''ll have your left hand. If you''re still alive after that, how about I ept your right foot as well?"
The sound of his sword scraping out of its scabbard boded death. Arn drew his sword too, but the sound was no more than that of a hare squealing before the grinding teeth of a sher.
"Your sin was to be born into this world as a child of Andragoras. me your father!"
The silver mask''s shing strike fell upon Arn just as he was expecting it. Arn parried. But he was far from being able to parry perfectly. Whether in strength or in skill, even fifty Arns gathered together could not counter Hirmiz.
Arn, sword sent flying through the night sky, received a fierce impact to his body and was sted backward. His back mmed against the wall of the watchtower, and his breath seized. His field of vision hazed over with pain and terror at the approaching figure of the silver mask projected therein. His hand, desperately seeking a weapon, snagged against something. A torch was hanging on the wall in order to illuminate the top of the ramparts. That was what Arn''s right hand had touched.
The silver mask brandished his longsword.
"I''ll teach you a lesson, brat of Andragoras!"
A second strike, as announced, should have chopped through Arn''s right hand then. But it happened in the half second before that. Arn''s right hand grasped the torch on the wall and thrust it forward as if in a dream.
Sparks scattered from the impact of the torch against the silver mask. Its surface, reflecting the light from the torch, shimmered like a full moon. A scream arose. The silver mask staggered, stamping backwards on the gstones in retreat.
The one who was dumbfounded was Arn. The moment the torch was thrust before his eyes, even an enemy as mighty and intimidating as the silver mask flinched.
As he adjusted his breathing and endured the pain in his back and hips, Arn straightened up. He did so with both hands gripping the torch. In contrast, the silver mask''s shoulders heaved for breath.
"You brat"
The groaning voice was painted over with a vivid hatred. His terror from sixteen years ago, that fear of fire, was something Hirmiz had assumed he''dpletely ovee. That was not the case. How humiliating it must be, for him to disy this form before the brat.
This man fears fire!
Gripping the torch with both hands, Arn advanced forward step by step with it thrust toward the silver mask. Hirmiz moaned. As he moaned, he reluctantly retreated. He cursed his own hidden weakness as he retreated out of fear of the fire.
It was then that the sound of feet kicking against the gstones came. Amid voices shouting to ascertain Arn''s safety, human silhouettes came barging into both their views.
"This guy?!"
Of course, it was not just one voice that verified the presence of the silver mask.
To the left were Dariun and Giv. To the right were Farangis and Keshvad. The four mardan heroes swept out five swords and formed a wall of drawn des around the silver mask.
Not a single one of his enemies was weak. Inside his silver mask, Hirmiz stopped himself from grinding his teeth. Far from cutting down Arn, it was Hirmiz who had been cornered into a dangerous situation with his life on the line.
Keshvad looked around at the other three, then took half a step forward.
1 away. Hirmiz, tossing a blistering nce at his distant figure, resumed his stance with his sword. A spirit of arrogance filled his voice.
"It''s fine if all four of youe at me at once. If you don''t, how can the likes of you defeat me?"
"For all that you''re bluffing, you do prattle nicely. I shall offer due respect to your high and mighty words by serving you a painless death."
Keshvad took up his two swords, and with almost gliding steps, pressed toward Hirmiz.
The other three instead backed away. However, linking up wordlessly, they took up positions to block Hirmiz''s escape routes. At Hirmiz''s back were the parapets of the rampart. In every other direction he was obstructed by the drawn de of a gant enemy.
Keshvad''s left and right arms began to carve arcs through the air with the raised tips of his swords.
At this moment, from behind the four of them resounded the voice of Bahman.
"Don''t! You mustn''t kill that gentleman!"
More so than an attempt to forbid them, Old Bahman''s voice instead seemed closer to an entreaty.
"To kill that gentleman is to end the royal bloodline of Pars! You mustn''t kill him!"
The five leveled des of the four, for a moment, looked as if they froze in the cold air of the winter night.
Hirmiz jumped.
Keshvad''s twin des sliced toward his shadow against the moonlight. A sound rang out as Hirmiz''s sword met Keshvad''s left de. But at the same time, Keshvad''s right de sent a blow toward Hirmiz''s sternum, throwing off his stance.
The screeching of des chained together. When Hirmiz''s swordnded, this time it was to sh against Farangis''s de; with a single twist he crossed des with Giv. Dazzling sparks scattered, and the scent of burnt steel arose.
Faster than the sparks and smell could dissipate, Dariun''s powerful longsword came storming in, scything toward Hirmiz''s shoulder. No, actually, it scythed toward the space where Hirmiz''s shoulder had been just a moment ago. Hirmiz had evaded Dariun''s ferocious strike, but in doing so he had no choice but to throw his own body over the rampart.
The figure of the silver mask stood out amid the darkness, then descended. At the bottom of the darkness, water sshed. He had fallen into the moat.
"Got away, huh"
Peering into the coiling darkness beneath the rampart, Giv clucked his tongue. When he turned back around to look, he noticed the other three staring hard at Bahman. There was no way for them to pretend they had not heard Bahman''s shout.
To kill the man of the silver mask would end the royal bloodline of Pars that was what Bahman had said. Those words had stolen the usual "crispness" of their swords. Had it not been for that, there was no doubt Hirmiz would not have been able to escape the encirclement of those four.
For Bahman to utter those words, two requirements must be satisfied.
One: the silver mask was a legitimate imant of the royal bloodline of Pars.
Two: Prince Arn was not a legitimate imant of the royal bloodline of Pars.
If these two requirements were not satisfied, it would not have been possible for Bahman to shout thus.
It was of course Narses who had realized all this the moment Bahman shouted. But the others would not remain unaware for long. What could Bahman possibly know? What could he be hiding?
"Lord Bahman, what exactly is the meaning of what you said just now?"
Dariun''s voice no longer held any respect toward his senior. He hadpletely taken on a tone of interrogation.
Now the four warriors switched directions and formed a circle halfway around Bahman. m and Afarid, who had climbed up to the top of the ramparts at some point, watched the scene with wide eyes too.
"Lord Bahman!"
This time it was Keshvad who raised his voice.
At this time, Arn came forward.
"I also wish to know. What did you mean by that, Bahman?"
Arn''s voice sounded as if he were enduring both fear and unease. Even the prince had experienced an epiphany regarding what terrifying implications were involved in the old man''s words. Narses, resting his hand on the prince''s shoulder, could sense him trembling.
Narses was full of regret. Should I have cut down this troublesome old soldier beforehand? he thought. That he would go so far as blurting out something so disastrous at such a fatal moment was not something Narses could have predicted either.
"Please, forgive me. Forgive me, Your Highness. I only spoke out because the blood got to my head. Even I don''t know what to do"
Bahman prostrated himself, hands and knees on the stone paving. Arn, looking down at his gray head, was at a loss for words. As he remained speechless, the warriors did not say anything either, unable to do anything but watch over the prince and Bahman. Narses realized he had unconsciouslyid his hand on the hilt of his sword, and let go.
A single knight came dashing up the stairs.
Facing Keshvad, he reported loudly, "It''s an emergency. Just now, a Sindhuran army numbering in the tens of thousands is taking advantage of the darkness to break through the border!"
A new tension shattered the old one. Keshvad heaved a great sigh and sheathed his twin des, then strode toward the stairs. He had to give orders to intercept the attack.
Arn took a deep breath. Rather than forcefully breaking down the old soldier''s obstinacy now, better to fend off the Sindhuran invasion, he thought. Or no, perhaps deep in Arn''s heart, he was afraid of what truths he might hear from Bahman''s mouth.
"Bahman, you''ll tell me all about thister."
The prince broke into a run toward the stairs, and consequently, the warriors hurried after. For a moment, Narses nced over his shoulder at Bahman, but did not say a thing.
After they left, Bahman alone remained on the rampart, crouched over in a daze.
In less than half a month, the year 320 of Pars woulde to an end as well.
Book 2: Afterword
Book 2: Afterword
Originally, I wasnt the kind of diligent person who writes afterwords once a books beenpleted, but as I realized I screwed up in the first volume, Ill use this space to apologize for the errors and provide corrections.
First of all, regarding the ce names on the map on page 6, Turan became Duran, and Mount Bashur became Mount Basr. These mistakes were introduced during the creation of the map.
The other matter is totally the authors fault. The name of the god that the priestess Farangis serves turned into Misr when it should have been Mithra. Misr is a name for Egypt in our universe. (T/N: I fixed it when tranting.)
Due to what you can call stopgap knowledge, I ended up making such pointless mistakes. Ill pay more attention from now on, so please forgive me this time.
Now then, the title of the second volume ended up as (The Two Princes). Following the first volume, I created a pattern by using a phrase of four kanji, taken from one of the chapter titles besides, to form a title for the entire book. In order to keep doing it the same way, it shouldve been obvious that it would immediately turn into a pain, but I guess in this world it really is possible to have fun racking your brain too. (T/N: And what a pain these are to trante*!)
For the volumes after this Ive already settled on a few titles too. Like (The Road of Sweat and Blood), or (The Capital Retaken), or (The Return of the Serpent King), etc. but who knows if Ill manage to get that far or not? Bad news for our protagonist, but it doesnt seem all that fun being the one writing his life story either. We can probably look forward to future titles like (Before the Deadline), or (Out of Ideas), or (The Author Perplexed).
Setting aside the jokes (though I really wish I was joking about it), the first volume begins in the tenth month of the year 320 of Pars, and the second volume ends in the twelfth month of the same year. In two volumes, no more than two months have passed. Whether its Arn or the author recording his deeds, it seems weve progressed no more than one small step along the lengthy journey ahead.
This is not an endless tale. Without fail, there will be a proper conclusion. As I n to keep writing toward that final scene, please be patient with me if possible. For now, please look forward to the next volume.
Respectfully yours, the seriespiler
* see this blog post for more discussion on Tanakas titling scheme for this series
Book 3: Chapter 1: The River at the Border (1)
Book 3: Chapter 1: The River at the Border (1)
The wind that blew through the ravine was a cold, dry de piercing through the night.
Amid such hostile environmental conditions, the fifty thousand Sindhuran troops led by Prince Rajendra crossed the Kaveri River, flowing at their border with Pars, and proceeded west.
Even Pars, proudly majestic as the great power that they were, had been routed by the invading Lusitanian army from the northwest, and with their royal capital Ecbatana upied, it was said that their internal status was one of turmoil. Why not seize the opportunity to settle their longstanding border dispute and wrest away a vast chunk of territory? There was no mistake that doing so would be advantageous in the contention with Prince Gadhavi for the right of royal session. Such was the ambition of Prince Rajendra.
"I''ll be damned if I let that Gadhavi take the lead. He whose name shall be etched immortal in the history of Sindhura is none other than me!"
Sitting astride a golden saddle on a pure white horse that stood out even in the darkness of night, Prince Rajendra scornfully discarded all forms of address in speaking the name of his paternal half brother, with whom he shared a mutual hatred.
It was currently the year 320 of Pars, but ording to the Sindhuran calendar it was the year 321. In reality, no more than two hundred fifty years or so had passed since the founding of Sindhura, but when the calendar was established, it had been dated back by around seventy years from when the founder Kulothunga eded to the throne. Though the im was that it was supposed to match up with the birth of the founding father and king, Kulothunga, not a single person believed that kind of exnation. It was simply to put on a show toward the antagonistic neighboring kingdom of Pars, a disy of "It is our country that has the more storied history."
Pars was extremely unhappy about it, but they could hardly force another country to change its own calendar. Unless they were able to earn a lopsided victory in battle over them, such a thing was impossible. Regardless of Parsian displeasure, Sindhura continued to umte its own history with every year and every generation.
And now, Raja Karik II had fallen ill, and his two sons were quarreling over the matter of session.
Prince Rajendra was twenty-four years of age, exactly ten years older than Arn, the crown prince of Pars. He had the dark brown skin of the Sindhuran people and deeply chiseled features; his was the kind of charisma that could charm with a smile. Despite this, That very charisma is naught but a facade, was what his rival Prince Gadhavi and said prince''s faction believed.
"Putting on a phony smile while slitting one''s throat. That''s the kind of man that Rajendra is," spat his brother from a different womb, Gadhavi, in disgust. "If that bastard Rajendra had obediently acknowledged my right to seed the throne, no ruckus whatsoever would have arisen. Though it may only be by one month, I was born before him, and my mother is of high station besides. I also have the support of the great families. He should have had nothing even resembling a chance from the start."
Whenever brothers born from different women contended for the throne, it became an advantage for one''s mother to be of higher birth; it was the same in every country. In that regard, Gadhavi''s im was not unwarranted. Rajendra also had his case to make in rebuttal. And what he had to say was incredibly brash.
"When ites to either talent or ability, it is I who am more worthy of the throne. It is I who say so, so there can be no mistake. Tis not that Gadhavi is all that ipetent either, but it was his misfortune to be born in the same era as me."
It was quite a brazen way to speak, but at any rate, he seeded in gathering the anti-Gadhavi elements in Sindhura into his own faction. Compared to his half brother, he was always very generous, and was quite popr with low-ranking soldiers and the poor. Gadhavi never showed his face before the people, living only at court and the manors of powerful families. As for Rajendra, he would casually go out on the streets, enjoying the spectacle of dancing street performers, chatting with merchants about the economy, and making merry while drunk in the taverns. Because of this, in the eyes of the popce, that Gadhavi was perched somewhere high and lofty above was an impression they could not help but have.
And so, as Gadhavi had failed in sending troops to Pars in the past month, Rajendra meant to try his own hand at it and seed in the same thing.
.
On the west bank of the Kaveri River, at the eastern border of Pars, towered the grand visage of Fort Peshawar.
This fortress dominated the Great Continental Road as it extended to Serica in the east; within its ramparts of red sandstone were stationed twenty thousand cavalry and sixty thousand infantry. And now, it could no longer be simply considered the most vital military instation in Pars, but had also be the base for the restoration of the ruling dynasty of Pars. Just the other day, the crown prince of Pars, Arn, had arrived at the fortress under the protection of a few subordinates.
Ever since the Parsian army had been crushed by the invading Lusitanian army at the Battle of Atropatene, the whereabouts of both Shah Andragoras III and the crown prince Arn had been unclear, but finally, a figure whom the Parsian troops could look to as a leader had appeared.
As Arn was fourteen years of age, he was still a callow youth, and the men and women who followed him as subordinates totalled no more than six. However, seeing as how the king Andragoras''s status remained unknown, he was, as the crown prince, the only person who could serve as a symbolic figure for the liberation and unification of Pars. Besides, among his subordinates were at least Dariun, the youngest of the Parsian Marzbans, and Narses, the former lord of Dam, who could both be seen as fine representatives of the nation''s talent.
The night had been long and quite eventful. The man of the silver mask, who had been tenaciously prowling after Arn, had been toppled from the fortress ramparts, and immediately after that, there hade the report of a Sindhuran incursion.
This was no time to chase down the man of the silver mask.
Those responsible for the defense of Fort Peshawar were the two Marzbans Bahman and Keshvad, but because the aged Bahman wascking in vitality ofte, it fell entirely upon Keshvad to takemand and make directions for a defensive battle.
Narses, who yed the role of Prince Arn''s strategist, had been racking his brain over how to reim the royal capital Ecbatana from the control of the Lusitanian invaders.
For Narses''s ns, the military power of the present sixty thousand infantry could not y any role in his calctions. There were two reasons for this. One was a political matter, for when Arn eded to the throne in the future, he would probably make a promation regarding the emancipation of the ghm. Parsian infantry were all ves, so to be consistent from start to finish they must be emancipated as well. Narses had already taken their futures into ount.
The other reason was a military matter. In order to move sixty thousand infantry, provisions for sixty thousand must then be necessary. At the moment, there were sufficient supplies at Fort Peshawar, but these were for making a stand in the fortress against besieging enemies. If they were to send eighty thousand officers and soldiers on a long campaign, they could not go without supply routes, and they would require oxen and horses and carts for transportation. To amodate this all was no easy task. Even if they made these amodations, it would slow the march. Aside from that, moving swiftly with cavalry alone would lessen the logistic burden.
However, for the time being, before they proceeded on the operation to retake the capital, they must first deal with their immediate enemy, the Sindhuran army. Narses, on being consulted by Arn, remained as cool as ever.
"Please worry not, Your Highness. Rather than saying our own forces shall emerge victorious, there are three reasons the Sindhuran army shall inevitably meet with defeat."
"And these are?"
Arn''s eyes, the color of a cloudless night sky, glittered as he leaned forward. When he had been previously living at court, he had learned military strategy and tactics from his tutors, but he had not found any of it interesting. And yet, Narses''s exnations were always filled with a solid persuasiveness, piquing Arn''s curiosity.
Narses did not reply directly and turned his gaze to his friend.
"Dariun, you have the experience of sojourning in Serica. In that mighty nation, you should have learned of the three principles that ought to be heeded in waging war."
"Heavenly timing, earthly advantage, and human ord."
"Precisely. Your Highness, at present asion, the Sindhuran army vites each of these three principles."
Narses exined. First of all, regarding "heavenly timing," the current season was winter, and for the soldiers from the sultry southern nation of Sindhura, it was a tough time. In particr, the greatest military strength boasted by the Sindhuran army was their war elephant troops, but elephants were especially weak to the cold. One could say this was a failure of heavenly timing.
As for the second, "earthly advantage," the Sindhuran army had crossed the border, and moreover were moving through the night. They likely meant tounch a surprise attack before dawn, but for people unfamiliar with the terrain, this had to be considered reckless.
And as for the third, "human ord," whether it was Gadhavi or Rajendra, they had, unconcerned with their struggle for the throne, sumbed to momentary greed ande to invade Pars. If their rival in this contest were to know of this, they would no doubt swoop in on them from behind. As long as the Sindhuran army bore this risk, even if they came with a huge military force, there would be nothing to fear.
"We in your service shall break the Sindhuran army for you, Your Highness. Let us take the opportunity to secure the eastern border for around two or three years."
Utterlyposed, Narses took a single bow.
Book 3: Chapter 1: The River at the Border (2)
Book 3: Chapter 1: The River at the Border (2)
The inner and front courtyards of Fort Peshawar, enclosed by walls of red sandstone, were packed with men and horses preparing to set out.
In charge of their basic orders was themanding officer of Peshawar, Marzban Keshvad. He briskly handed down directives from atop his horse, and though the soldiers were busy in action, they did not fall into confusion.
d in armor and sitting astride their beloved steeds, Dariun and Narses observed the scene while conversing in low tones.
"Haven''t you always imed that using a small number to defeat arger force is an improper usage of troops? Did you change your mind?"
"No, nothing has changed. After all, proper usage of troops requires that one first assemble more military strength than the enemy. But this time, I think we should deliberately take the improper course. My reasons are as follows," Narses exined to his good friend.
For their purposes, the truth of His Highness Arn''s presence here must be made known to all of Pars. And in that case, it would be best if they disseminated news incorporating that truth. And to raise their reputation in one go, they should smash a great army with only a few troops. Once they established a reputation, allies would naturallye flocking in admiration.
"This time, it is we who shall cross the border and make war on Sindhuran territory. Tis far too much trouble to move such arge amount of soldiers. Besides" On Narses''s intelligent face shed an expression that was one part wicked and one part mischievous. "Besides, one way or another, isn''t it more convenient to have it believed that our military strength does not amount to so much? Regardless, Dariun, I''d like for you to capture Prince Rajendra alive."
"Mission epted. Though it''d be easier on me if it didn''t matter whether he survived or not."
The Sindhuran army that hade invading numbered around fifty thousand. That themander in charge was Prince Rajendra himself had already been established by the scouts'' reports. Keshvad thoroughly fulfilled his responsibilities as the guardian of the eastern border. He was not a man who merely waved around his twin des in battle.
Narses approached him on horse.
"Lord Keshvad, I would be most obliged if you could lend me around five hundred riders. In addition, please provide a single guide familiar with the terrain."
"dly. But is a mere five hundred all right? I would not mind lending ten times as many."
"No, five hundred is sufficient. Even so, I ask you to devote yourself to defense for now, and not deploy from the fort. If the Sindhuran army begins to retreat, I shall send a signal; if you engage in pursuit then, victory should be attained without much trouble."
Relying on Farangis and Giv to stay by Arn as his bodyguards, Narses called over the guide and swiftly made arrangements.
After hepleted all his preparations, Narses exined the situation to Arn and asked for his consent regarding what had been arranged.
The prince replied, "If it is you, Narses, who has arranged it, then I have no objections. You need not ask my permission for every little thing."
The young strategist and former lord of Dam smiled at the prince who so utterly trusted in him.
"Your Highness, although formting strategies is my duty, the responsibility for judgment and final decision lies with you. Tiresome though it may be, I shall continue to beg permission for every little thing from now on."
"Understood. However, for tonight, once you are out the gates, you and Dariun should act ording to your own convenience."
Having received this response, this time Narses called over his retak, the page boy m. As he exined the instructions he had for him, a girl about sixteen or seventeen years of age, with red-tinged hair wrapped in a blue cloth, came up to them. It was the self-proimed future wife of Narses, Afarid.
"If it''s somethin'' m can handle, I can do it too. Order me around however ya like."
"You nosy woman!"
"Why don''t you just shush. I''m talkin'' to Narses here."
"Now, now. I''ll divvy it up between both of you," said Narses with a strained smile as he pacified the girl and boy and handed over a piece of Sindhuran writing on sheepskin parchment. It had been penned in Parsian script, using ink with fluorescent substance mixed in, so that it could be read even in the darkness. Even if they could not understand the meaning of the transcribed Sindhuran, they could still shout it out loud just fine.
Narses was quite busy. After the boy and girl darted off in high spirits, he once again begged a favor of Farangis and Giv.
"Lady Farangis, please keep an eye on old Bahman''s speech and behavior whenever possible. The old man may perhaps seek his own death."
The beautiful kahina''s emerald-like eyes glittered.
"In other words, you mean to say that the secret burdening old Bahman is of such frightening import? That he must go so far as to conceal it in death?"
"Well, to the old man it is, at least."
At Narses''s words, Giv''s eyes, filled with derision, shed.
"But y''know, Sir Narses, from your point of view, wouldn''t that be the more desirable oue instead? The old guy''s carrying such a dark and heavy secret. When all''s said and done, the weight of it is gonna bury him. Might as well leave him be, let him destroy himself and rid ourselves of future hassle, is how I feel."
Farangis remained silent, but she looked like she didn''t necessarily disagree with Giv''s scathing opinion.
"All that is if the old man still refuses to say a word. Beyond just letting slip anything suggestive, if he does not reveal all the secrets he''s aware of, he shall instead end up leaving behind roots of evil."
"You can say that, all right."
"Since it shall be toote for regret if he dies, I must beg this favor of you in earnest."
While circumventing theing and going formations of men and horses, Narses rode at a walk to the za before the gates. Dariun had already mustered five hundred riders and was waiting for Narses to arrive.
"Let me ask you something, Dariun. This is purely a matter of conjecture. Supposing His Highness Arn is not a legitimate inheritor of the royal bloodline, what would you do?"
The response of the knight in ck was resolute, without even the slightest hesitation to be seen.
"Well, whatever the circumstances, whatever secrets there may be, His Highness Arn is my liege. Not to mention, His Highness bears no personal responsibility whatsoever for those very circumstances and secrets."
"So that''s how it is, huh. I suppose there was no need for me to have gone so far as inquiry when ites to you. I spoke of something nonsensical. Do forgive me."
"It''s nothing worth apologizing for. More importantly, Narses, you''ve also been serving His Highness well, but how do you truly measure his worth? If it''s all right with you, can you tell me how you feel?"
"Dariun, in my thinking, His Highness Arn does indeed possess the rare attributes of a ruler. I believe you have understood this yourself as well, but one cannot im that His Highness views his subordinates with jealousy at all."
"Hm"
"One who is thoughtlessly overconfident in his own martial prowess and cleverness will harbor jealousy toward his subordinates'' talents and achievements. In the end, out of doubt, or out of fear, he might even end up killing them. That manner of darkness is not present in His Highness Arn."
Under his ck helm, Dariun''s manly face was colored with a slight sense of confusion.
"Hearing you talk, somehow it seems like you''re saying His Highness Arn is well aware of his own ipetence, and you''re saying That''s great!'', at least from what I can tell"
"It''s not like that, Dariun."
Narses shook his head,ughing. Compared to Dariun''s hair, which was so ck it seemed like part of that ck attire of his, Narses''s hair was lighter in shade. Since days of yore, there had been constant influx of various peoples and ethnicities into Pars from both the east and the west, so hair and eye color were in truth quite diverse.
"Dariun, we are all, so to speak, horses. Allowing more or less for some conceit, we''re probably counted among the famous steeds. Then that makes His Highness Arn the rider. The rider who would handle a famous steed must be able to ride about as fast his mount would run, wouldn''t you say?"
" I see, I get it now."
Dariun nodded with a grin.
Before long, the two of them led five hundred light cavalry out the gates into the night. From a balcony overlooking the inner courtyard, Arn gazed down upon the view of their departure. His golden helm glittered from the radiating illumination of both starlight and torchlight.
"With Sir Dariun and Sir Narses inmand, five hundred riders can surely ovee five thousand. Tis better to wait for the good news here with us, Your Highness."
Marzban Keshvad spoke thus, and Arn agreed as well, but nheless still felt a little unable to rx. He had the sense that he was always having Dariun and Narses go into danger while he himself waited somewhere in safety. Was it not he, as crown prince, who should voluntarily venture into danger?
"You ought stay here, Your Highness. If you do not, to whom could Sir Narses and Sir Dariun return?"
Being told this by a smiling Farangis, Arn reddened slightly and nodded. Rather than recklessly moving around on his own, entrusting things to Dariun and Narses would produce better results without fail. Nevertheless, standing firm above all others, so to speak, was enough on its own for one not yet mature to bear as a responsibility.
When Farangis, leaving Arn behind on the balcony facing the inner courtyard, was about to head over to Keshvad to discuss arrangements for the defense, she ran into Giv walking over in the corridor.
"Where have you been? Do you not realize the trouble there shall be if you do not stay by His Highness Arn''s side?"
"I''ll be there in a sec. Truth is, y''know, the old guy''s room? I took a little look-see, but"
"For that previously mentioned letter from the Eran?"
"You got it."
Keshvad''s colleague, Marzban Bahman, had been a brother-in-arms of Eran Vahriz, who had died at the Battle of Atropatene. Before the battle, Vahriz had sent Bahman a letter, in which he seemed to have confided some grave secret regarding the royal family of Pars. Even if it weren''t Giv, the question of where Bahman could have hidden away that letter would arouse anyone''s interest.
"It don''t matter if good old Gramps kicks the bucket, but if that letter falls into the hands of some fishy guy, things''ll probably getplicated."
Giv himself was thought of as a "fishy guy" by others all the time, but he was cheerfully blind to that fact.
Walking toward the balcony where Arn was after parting with Farangis, Giv brought his feet to a stop halfway through the corridor. Heid his hand on the sword at his hip, gaze roving about the nearby walls. No living shadow caught his eyes.
" Just my imagination?"
After Giv walked off, muttering to himself, a mysterious phenomenon stirred to life in the empty corridor.
A lowughter, rich with malice, billowed slightly through the air. In a nook of the corridor covered in gstones, two small mice were nibblingpanionably at old breadcrumbs, but as if terrified, they squeaked and bristled, on guard. Thatughter leaked out from within the stone walls, and was even moving leisurely through those very same walls.
Book 3: Chapter 1: The River at the Border (3)
Book 3: Chapter 1: The River at the Border (3)
For the Sindhuran army, strange incidents very subtly began to transpire.
At any rate, since they were in enemy territory, and it was nighttime besides, it was difficult to maintain order in the march. To ensure that there wasn''t any kind of disconnection among the formations and that there weren''t any stragglers, the officers kept a watchful eye on their troops. Though they were merely the units in charge of the supply train, encircling the oxcartsden with wheat and meat was a wall of spearmen standing firmly on guard.
However, it was impossible to guard against anything overhead. Their heads ducked against the dry, cold wind as they marched on, the soldiers escorting the supply train realized that the sound of the wind had taken on an oddly piercing tone. But before they could realize the meaning of this, several dozen arrows had alreadye pouring down upon their heads.
Screams sounded. On themand of the officers, the soldiers readied their spears, preparing for the attacking from around them.
But when arrows struck the oxen pulling the carts, chaos erupted and spread.
The oxen bellowed and began to go berserk. The soldiers sent flying by the oxen knocked over other soldiers, and were trampled to death by ox and cart where they fell.
As the troop formations had crowded together in order to traverse the narrow path, men and oxen and carts jostled against each other, colliding, knocking each other over, and all at once the officers, unable to fulfill their roles, lost all semnce of control.
"Enemy attack!" arose a shout.
If one had been paying attention, perhaps one would have realized it was thebined voices of a girl and a boy.
"Enemy attack! Not Parsians, it''s Prince Gadhavi''s troops, an assault from behind!"
The moment the voices spread through the Sindhuran army, the Sindhuran soldiers themselves, of their own ord, ended up following suit in magnifying the rumors. Amid the eddy of night and arrows and rumors, the disorder and panic of the Sindhuran army swiftly swelled.
.
"What exactly is going on. What''s all the fuss?"
Prince Rajendra furrowed his brows on top of his white horse. Given the fact that, with the fortress of Peshawar right before their eyes, mayhem from the back of the army hade to his attention, he could hardly not feel unease and displeasure. Heading toward him, a single officer with a disturbed expression came riding hard from behind to report.
"Your Highness Rajendra, it''s an emergency."
"What do you mean by emergency?"
"They say that the prince, Gadhavi, hase leading a huge army to ambush our rear."
"What!? Gadhavi did?"
Rajendra gasped, but immediately recovered from his shock and yelled, "What ridiculous talk. How the hell could Gadhavi know I''m here? You must be mistaken somehow. Go verify it once more."
"But Your Highness, perhaps it is possible that wretched Gadhavi and his faction have been monitoring all our movements until now in secret."
This suggestion, in truth, was formed in reverse. As they hade to believe in Prince Gadhavi''s surprise attack as the "truth," whatever theories seemed particrly likely ended up assembling in their minds in order to reinforce that belief. Having seen through the Sindhuran army''sck of "human ord," Narses splendidly used disinformation tactics to take them for a ride.
Themotion among Rajendra''s aides came to an end, and in one voice they began to counsel their young liege.
"Your Highness, if we are cut off from behind in a narrow pass like this, it will be to our disadvantage in battle. If the Parsian army were toe pushing from the front, we would be caught in a pincer. For now, let us retreat to the banks of the Kaveri."
"Retreat, when we haven''t gained a thing?"
He clucked his tongue, but Rajendra could tell that his supporters'' agitation would probably only continue to grow from here on. There was no point in forcing an advance anymore, so why not withdraw as far as the Kaveri River. Having decided thus, Rajendra ordered a retreat.
Regardless, whether or notmand was given, that same order would be no more than fertilizer spread over the seed of chaos. Themanding officer might make a judgment call, but how quickly could it be transmitted in full uracy to the end? The decisive factor for this was the quality of the troops, but on this night, the Sindhuran army, already restless and unsettled, could probably no longer achieve unified action. Some troops wanted to retreat, other troops wanted to advance, and still others stayed in ce to wait and see; from front to back they were swallowed in chaos.
"Something needs be told Prince Rajendra, His Highness, posthaste. Where be His Highness!?"
When this line of questioning came forth from the darkness, it probably should have immediately aroused suspicion, but Rajendra, with an army of fifty thousand standing guard for him, was confident in his own security. If one were to put it like Narses would, there was a little problem of how to utilize big numbers after they had been amassed that, so to speak, was what things hade to.
"Rajendra here. Has something happened?"
"There has been an emergency."
"I''m sick of hearing the word emergency. What the hell is it?"
"Prince Rajendra of Sindhura has most unfortunately fallen into Parsian hands and been taken captive, ''tis said."
"What?"
It was at that time when, in the darkness before him, something loudly resounded.
The same moment a thin sliver of fire was spotted stretching up into the night sky, thundering hoofbeats surged forth from the depths of the night. Keshvad''s troops hade bursting out of Fort Peshawar.
First, by the gates, Keshvad''s troops poured forth a rain of arrows aimed at the darkness before them; then, couching theirnces, they charged. After fiercely tearing apart the mass that was the Sindhuran army, they avoided going in too deep and retreated. The Sindhuran vanguard was lured forward, pulled within range of the arrows; more arrows were loosed, and as they flinched they were once again crushed.
"Your Highness Rajendra, as yours truly intended, please be our captive."
Along with the voice came a sweeping sh, which Rajendra just barely managed to parry. The sparks scattering before his eyes, for just one moment, illuminated his opponent''s countenance. A young and fearless face. No Sindhuran face was this.
Sessive swings came striking from Narses, well fended off by Rajendra, but after around ten exchanges, he was all of a sudden at the disadvantage, driven into a corner.
It was then, from his opposite side: "Narses, how long are you nning to take your sweet time!?"
Another sword came swinging down.
Rajendra panicked. One on one he was already uncertain of victory, and now that it was one against two, there was no way he could face them. Rajendra had no intention of doing something like dying before he sat the throne of Sindhura.
Drawing back his sword and turning his horse around, Rajendra ran. And even then, he did not just run. Even at this final moment, he looked over his shoulder and flung out a parting shot, a rather impressive act.
"I''ll let you off for today. Next we meet, I shan''t leave you alive!"
"Enough with your nonsense!"
Dariun''s sword sliced through both the night wind as well as the peacock feather adorning Rajendra''s helm in a sh.
As Rajendra hurriedly shrank back his head, this time it was Narses''s sword that swung down upon him. He meant to raise his own sword to intercept the blow, but with a flick of Narses''s wrist, Rajendra''s sword was caught by his opponent''s and sent flying out into the night.
Rajendra fled.
A swift steed, that white horse, nor was Rajendra a poor rider. However, the golden saddle, excessivelyden with jewels and ivory craftwork, weighed down the white horse as it began to tire. Bing aware of this, Rajendra undid the leather straps and tossed the saddle away while he galloped on, then continued to escape riding bareback.
However, his insistence on riding a white horse, easily noticeable in the darkness, was a mistake from the start. A bowstring twanged, an arrow struck the white horse''s neck, and with a terrible neigh it staggered and toppled to the ground.
Rajendra was thrown from the white horse. His breath seized as his back took a heavy hit against the earth. When he finally tried to get up, without warning, someone stamped down on his armored chest. The tip of a sword, shing white, pointed at his nose.
"Move and ya snuff it, Sindhuran pretty boy."
This line in Parsian came hurled out in a young woman''s voice, and at the same time, Dariun and Narses also came spurring their horses over to the scene.
Book 3: Chapter 1 (4)
Book 3: Chapter 1 (4)
The night was now turning to dawn, and light filled the atrium of the fortress of Peshawar.
Prince Rajendra of Sindhura was brought before Arn, still wearing his armor over luxurious silken clothes, and arms bound with a thick rope. The one who dragged the rope was Alfreed, proud of the great merit she had just established for herself.
Rajendra sat cross-legged in front of Arn, remaining calm.
"Alright, you got me, you got me! I''ve been soundly outwitted."
He spoke loudly in the Parsiannguage, andughed vigorously. Regardless of what he was thinking on the inside, his expression and voice did not show any malice, as he appearedpletely at ease.
"Alfreed, you did a great job."
Arn praised Alfreed, and the daughter of the Zott n chief gently bowed.
"Not at all! It was all due to Lord Narsus'' excellent strategy."
Since Alfreed had refrained from calling him "my" Narsus this time, Narsus was slightly relieved.
"Prince Rajendra, I am Prince Arn of Pars. Although the method was a little rough, I brought you here in this manner because I have something to discuss with you.
"I am a prince of Sindhura, and the next king. If you have something to say to me, you can first untie this rope and treat me with the courtesy of a royal, and then Ill hear what you have to say."
"Of course. Ill untie you at once."
Arn had intended to untie Rajendra himself, but Narsus gave a wink to Daryun. The ck-d knight nodded, saluted Arn and took a step forward, drawing the longsword from his waist.
Rajendra was taken aback and his body tensed, only to see the de as a sh of white lighting towards his body.
The sword had achieved its goal, with added dramatic effect. Looking at the ropes that were cut down around him, Rajendra licked his dry lips with his tongue. Daryun''s sword had not hurt Rajendra one bit.
"My apologies. We should be able to speak as equals now."
"Well, alright then. What is it that you have to say?"
"We want to propose a mutually beneficial alliance with you. First, we will help you ascend the throne of Sindhura."
Arn''s speech had been prepared for him by Narsus beforehand.
"The situation in our country also seems to be a little chaotic at the moment."
Arn used an unfairly polite expression.
"What is meant by chaotic?"
"The Lusitanians who follow the god Yaldabaoth are invading from the west. Our army has fought bravely, but unfortunately, the situation is still not ideal."
Gieve gave a malicious smile behind Arn''s back. Arn was valiantly trying to learn Narsuss style of negotiation, which everyone found a bit off-putting.
"Well then, aren''t you all in a worse position than me? Saying that you want to assist me doesn''t strike me as being beneficial, inparison."
"True, but at least I''m not being held captive by a foreign country''s army. That''s what I have in my favor, isn''t it?"
" That is true."
Rajendra replied sharply as he swept his eyes towards the people around him. He looked briefly over the faces of Narsus and Daryun, and lingered for a while on the fair and beautiful Farangis.
"Still, youve not convinced me to ally with you. You said it yourself, don''t you just want to use my troops? Don''t try to talk your way around it, what fool would agree to this?"
After a nce from Arn, Narsus unsped his hands and spoke up.
"What was that? If you don''t wish to agree, its fine with us. We will just put a shackle around your neck and hand you over to Prince Gadhevi. Gieve, bring the chain!"
"Wait, hold on a minute! Don''t be so quick to jump to conclusions!"
Rajendra was frightened by these words, as Gieve had quickly thrown a set of ve shackles heavily on the ground in front of him. Rajendra tried to rise apprehensively, but then sat back down again. It seemed that although Rajendra liked to think of himself as a strategist, his own scheming had not measured up. Perhaps it was because of his good nature.
"Even if you give me to Gadhevi, he will not thank you. He is a ruthless man, and might attack you on the pretext of killing his half-brother."
Narsus could not help butugh coldly at Rajendra''s argument.
"It doesn''t matter what Gadhevi thinks. If you refuse to make an alliance with us, we will have no choice but to retaliate. Its actually quite simple, don''t you think?"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute! Even if we want to make an alliance, it''s not something that I can decide alone. I must have time to exin things to the people of Sindhura!"
"You don''t need to worry about that."
"Why do you say that?"
"We have already sent word to the people of Sindhura. We said that Prince Rajendra and Prince Arn of Pars have formed an alliance built on friendship and justice, and have already begun marching to attack the capital, Uraiyur, in order to bring peace to Sindhra."
""
Rajendra''s eyes widened, and for a moment there was no sound.
"Within two or three days, this news will reach Uraiyur, right? And of course, this news will convince the people of your resolve.
Sweat dripped from Rajendra''s dark skin. Everything was going as Narsus had nned. Rajendra himself now had to admit this. Most importantly, whether he lived or died was nowpletely in the hands of the damned Parsians.
"Okay, I understand."
Rajendras voice was more pretentious than angry.
"Let''s make an alliance! No, I should say, O Crown Prince of Pars, I really envy you. You are still so young, and yet you have such excellent subordinates. You will be a reliable ally. Let''s do our best for each other in the future!"
Because of the establishment of the alliance, Rajendra now became an energetic guest.
"Say, let''s drink! Your Highness Arn, you don''t have to be so polite just because you are still a child. Since we are men, we should drink heavily, embrace women, hunt elephants, and seize the country. Should we fail, we will die as traitors!"
Rajendra opened his mouth wide andughed so loudly that even his teeth were exposed. He drank from a big bowl, ate a big piece of meat, talked,ughed, and sang a bad of Sindhura.
Gieve watched on in disdain. "That''s not singing. It''s more like a water buffalo snoring." Yet the prince of Sindhura kept moving his mouth.
Soon after, Rajendra left his seat and sat next to Farangis. From the very beginning, he was attracted by her dazzling beauty. He spoke to Farangis in both Parsian and Sindhuran, pouring more wine into her silver cup with each word. At Farangis''s other side sat Gieve. As if he was intent on keeping Rajendra in check, Gieve also began to pour the wine from the bottle he was holding into Farangis''s silver cup.
After Daryun had taken Arn, who had withdrawn in the middle of the dinner, back to his bedchamber, he returned to the dining hall. The beautiful priestess warrior was just stepping out of the hall with an elegant pace.
"Lady Farangis."
"Ah, Lord Daryun. Is His Highness Arn already asleep?"
Farangiss cheeks looked a bit red, but other than that, there was no sign of drunkenness at all.
"Already asleep. How is Prince Rajendra?"
"He had been drinking heavily, but at some point he fell asleep. Sindhurans don''t seem to be very good drinkers."
She spoke clearly and distinctly, and her expression was also extremely sober.
After she left, Daryun, who felt a little puzzled, took a step into the hall.
The room was still filled with the smell of wine. At least dozens of bottles of wine. Bottles of ale and mead were also scattered everywhere, covering the whole carpet. The prince of Sindhura sat in a daze among the bottles, muttering something.
"Well, that woman has an amazing tolerance for wine! She easily outdrank the two of us!
"Two?"
"That musician called Gieve should be around here somewhere Is he still alive?"
Hearing this, Daryun couldn''t help but look around the room. He spotted the good-looking younger man with fuchsia hair leaning against the wall, drinking water to sober up.
"Damn, it feels like herds of buffalo are singing and dancing around in my head! How did it get like this? For each ss I had, Lady Farangis had already drunk three sses "
It seemed like Farangis had knocked down these two inferior drinkers by her own strength.
Book 3: Chapter 1 (5)
Book 3: Chapter 1 (5)
And so, the covenant had been formed via one side forcing the other.
However, at this time, Narsus felt a bit conflicted. He debated whether he should bring the veteran Bahman along to the battle in Sindhura.
Among the two generals Kishward and Bahman, one had to stay behind to guard the fortress of Peshawar, which would not have been a problem. The young and tough Kishward could be allowed to apany him, and then the veteran Bahman could defend the rear. ording tomon sense, everything should have been settled.
However, Bahman''s attitude cast an unstable variable into Narsus'' n. To what extent could the old man''s loyalty and ability be trusted?
Originally, Narsus did not think that after arriving at Peshawar, all affairs had been stabilized. In fact, most things were about to begin from here.
After putting Rajendra on the throne of Sindhura and assuaging his worries, he would then set his sights on the royal capital, Ecbatana, and advance westward to start the battle to recapture it. Its easy to say, but it is only through Narsus of Pars that the n is made, put into practice, and the operation sessful.
Of course, Narsus was not alone. He required the help of various talentedpanions to do so. For example, the one who had shot Rajendra''s mount and caught Rajendra was Alfreed, who had decided to marry Narsus when she turns 18. Her achievement was certainly remarkable, however, when thinking about the future, Narsus could not help but feel like he had a hangover.
Farangis, who had no idea what hangovers were, had the opportunity to talk to Bahman, who was standing in the cloister on this particr night. At first, Bahman''s reaction was extremely unfriendly.
"I see its true that His Highness Arn does not trust me. Has he sent you to spy on me?"
He even had this thought.
"Truly speaking, Lord Bahman, His Highness Arn trusts you a lot. That''s why he took a great risk to reach Peshawar citadel. It was you who did not respond appropriately to His Highness Arn''s trust, was it not?" Farangis''s voice was extremely harsh. Bahman looked at this young and beautiful warrior priestess, who was forty years younger than himself, with a dissatisfied and suspicious look.
Bahman did not have much affection for Prince Arns retainers. Daryun was the nephew of Vaphreze, Bahman''srade of forty-five years, yet he often looked at Bahman''s indecisive attitude with a reproachful expression, and he was a close friend of Narsus. And Narsus was a figure who openly spoke against the politics of King Andragoras and was driven out from the court. In spite of all this, at least the origins of these two people are transparent, yet it is not known what exactly Gieve and Farangis are. Faced with this woman of unknown origin, why did he, as a Marzban, have to bear the other side''s harsh usations?
Bahman took a breath and asked.
"You are a warrior priestess who believes in the god Mithra, right?"
"Yes, general."
"Then, you''d better go back to the temple and carry out the will of your God! Why should a woman like youe to this mundane world with weapons and intend to stir up trouble?"
"It is because I serve the god Mithra. Mithra is a god of justice, so I must do what I can to rid the world of injustice."
Bahman quickly rolled his eyes.
"Is it also the will of Mithra to follow His Highness Arn?"
"I should say it is the will of Mithra, as well as my own thoughts!"
Bahman originally wanted to say something, but closed his mouth again. Farangisbed her fair fingers through her hair, which contrasted like ck silk, and gazed at the expression of the aged general.
"His Highness Arn bravely took up his responsibility and met the challenge of fate. In contrast, the battle-hardened old general appears to have too many worries, making one wonder what its like to have long horse teeth?"
(TN: She uses the phrase , horse teeth are long, which Google says is a Chinese idiom that means youve wasted your life without aplishing anything meaningful (?) Ouch. )
"Are you done? A strong personality on this woman."
Bahman stroked his gray beard as he asked, but didn''t seem to be genuinely hostile.
Bahman''s life was originally simple and straightforward. Given the opportunity, he should be able to recover from his hesitations and find his strength.
"If I am being scandalous, I would be ashamed to face Vaphreze when we meet in the afterlife. I will show you the temperament that I should show as a general of Pars."
After finishing his speech, Bahman turned his back on Farangis, and walked out of the corridor with his regained strength.
After parting with the old general, Farangis exined to Narsus what had transpired, and added her own opinion as well.
"It seems to me that Bahman still has the intention of seeking death. What we have to worry about seems to be whatever it is hes avoiding."
"So Lady Farangis think so too?"
Narsus frowned slightly. It was a good thing that Bahman could be ignored, however, as Farangis said, there was another thing to worry about now. Regardless of the veteran Bahman''s personal virtues, Pars could not easily lose a talent that would be of great help to Arn. Moreover, the most important thing is to ignore the existence of the enigmatic letter written by thete Vaphreze to Bahman.
"Even more brain power is still not enough."
Narsus kept thinking as he scratched his hair.
At present, he still had to deal with the trouble that he had taken on since the young lord had arrived at Peshawar. That was the issue of freeing the ves in the citadel.
"First, we have to make an agreement with the ves that we will free them after the battle with Sindhura is over and make them free people."
"Is that possible?"
Arns eyes shone like a clear night sky. He was still intent onpletely freeing the ves within Pars.
"Of course its possible. That is the reason why Your Highness should be the king!"
"But, Narsus, what should be done after the ves are freed? Can they live by their own power?"
"Don''t worry about that, Your Highness."
Narsus'' proposal was the so-called Tuntian system. Since ancient times, the west bank of the Kaveri River had been left vacant because it was a national border area, but with the strengthening of water conservation projects, the area was no longer barren. Thend could be distributed to the freed ves for them to explore. Let them develop waterways together, and the state will lend them seeds and seedlings. For the first five years, no rent or tax will be collected, and then tax will be collected after the agricultural production is settled, so that the revenue of the state treasury can be increased in the future.
"If Sindhura''s armyes, they will surely also actively take up arms to defend themselves against foreign invasion, because they want to keep theirnd. And with the city of Peshawar behind them, they will not feel uneasy as long as Kishward is there."
As a result, Narsus decided to let Bahman participate in the expedition against the country of Sindhura, leaving the guarding of Peshawar to Kishward. For the old hero Bahman, there seemed to be no other choice but to give him the best asion to die. After his death, Daryun would take over his army. Isn''t that the only way things can go?
Book 3: Chapter 1 (6)
Book 3: Chapter 1 (6)
Peshawar citadel was now an allied base for Arn and Rajendra. This is something that no one would have imagined a few days ago.
On the hill overlooking the red sandstone walls of the fortress, a group of people were standing in the distance. At the center was a knight wearing a silver mask.
"It''s amazing how things have evolved!"
So said Zandeh. Hilmes, Arn''s cousin, remained silent under the silver mask and seemed to be thinking about something.
Just the night before, he had invaded Peshawar with the intention of harming Arn, but failed and was himself driven down to the moat. After that, Sindhura''s army crossed the border with ten thousand horses, but what about the change in the situation before them? Even the sharp-minded Hilmes looked dumbfounded, and for a moment did not know what to do.
After a short time, he said to Zandeh.
"It''s decided, let''s go back to Ecbatana."
"Yes, sir. But is it okay to leave Arn''s group alone?"
"Indeed, it''s not ideal, but we can''t go to Sindhura with them, can we? See, I''m not as godless as Arn''s group thinks!"
Zandeh did not know if it was good to see these words as a joke, so he did notugh.
"If that damned Arn is killed by Sindhura''s army, itll be disappointing!"
"What words! With Daryun and Narsus and the others with him, they will not let the Sindhuran soldiers kill Arn."
Hilmes smiled faintly, half with appreciation, half with malice.
"Come back to Ecbatana, Arn! Come back so that I can be the one to kill you.
Once he remembered the weak power of the Lusitanians, Hilmes couldn''t ignore the status of the royal capital, Ecbatana, after all. If he stayed away for too long, queen Tahamine might have some cunning plot to arise again. Who knew what was going on in her head?
On the other hand, he was also very concerned about King Andragoras, who was locked up in the dungeon. What about the Lusitanian army, which had split into the King''s faction and the Archbishop Bodin''s faction? It seemed he could not devote his full attention to defeating Arn at all times.
Looking out under the winter night sky at the red rock walls of Peshawar, which was loudly in preparation for the army''s departure, Hilmes leapt on his horse and galloped toward the capital, Ecbatana, which he hadnt seen for a while.
Zandeh and his men followed him and left one after another.
Unbeknownst to Arn, the greatest enemy that threatened his life was moving away from him. But, as Hilmes himself said, it was only temporary.
Sindhura''s capital, Uraiyur, is located at the center of the ind waterwaywork that connects to the Kaveri River. The pce with its white walls is surrounded by subtropical flowers and trees, the steps leading directly to the canal are made of light red marble, and the beauty of the ce is hard to describe when the sun sets over thend.
The summers in Uraiyur are long and the heat is unbearable everywhere; because of this, the winters are exceptionally cool andfortable. Rather than being cold, the cool climate revived the flowers and trees that had been driven to the brink of death by the summer heat and filled them with life. However, on the day when the report of the alliance between Rajendra and Pars came in, the rare and icy north wind prated the heart.
Most of the me for the division of the country into two by its princes vying for the throne should be borne by King Karika II. If he had clearly named a sessor to the throne, the situation would not have deteriorated so much.
Karika II was still alive. In the beginning of the year, he was only fifty-two years old, and not particrly ill. He himself had no intention of retiring from the throne, so the appointment of the crown prince was dyed.
The reason why the state of affairs suddenly turned into "the king is critically ill" is ultimately because Karika II was too confident in his own health. When the Queen died ten years ago, the originally extremely kind and gentle King Karika openly began to fool around with beautiful women. Deer antler, snake blood, deep-sea fish eggs and other strange enhancement medicine collected from the forest resulted in him suddenly copsing and bing paraplegic half a year ago.
He was in no state to deal with political affairs as the king.
In Sindhura, not only the king but also the chancellorship was passed down from generation to generation, from father to son, continuously. This was the "hereditary vizier", and the hereditary vizier at that time was Mahendra, whose daughter became the consort of Prince Gadhevi.
Of course, Mahendra wanted his son-inw, Gadhevi, to be the next king. And Gadhevi also had this intention, he wanted to take charge of the country as soon as possible. However, both he himself and Mahendra had made many enemies. And his biggest enemy, Rajendra, not only threatened Gadhevis session to the throne, but also had now allied with the enemy, Pars, to attack the capital this time.
"Damn it, that Rajendra even colluded with the Parsian army to steal the throne. He will do anything to achieve his goal, that man has no shame. I swear to never let him sit on the throne!"
Gadhevi was certainly furious about this matter, but at the same time, he also felt uneasy. The Sindhuran army knew how strong Pars'' army was. This is not something they had to research, as it wasmon knowledge as an indisputable fact. When they heard the name of King Andragoras III, who was known as a fierce general since his youth, crying children were immediately silenced. For what reason did the army of Pars be allies with Rajendra?
"In any case, the army should be ready to move out at any time. Your Highness."
Hearing this from his father-inw Mahendra, Gadhevi hastily summoned the army. Of course, he also called for their strongest offence, the "war elephant force," to move out. These demands were so time-consuming and costly that the general objected.
"The elephants do not want to leave their stables because of the cold and wind today. What should we do?"
"Drive them out with whips! What do you think whips are for?"
Gadhevi himself, of course, did not notice that it was because of suchck of consideration for others that he had made so many enemies. Just as Rajendra mocked him for his "ignorance of the world," Gadhevi sometimes even forgot that there was a world outside the royal pce and the nobleman''s court. Because of this, Gadhevi also had a cowardly side, and he approached his father-inw, Mahendra, for advice.
"Preparations are made, but is it possible to win, or not? Mahendra?"
"What are you worried about? Your Highness is far greater in terms of talent and number of troops! Although the opponent is the Parsian army, it is not the entire army, there is no need to fear them."
Mahendra desperately tried to motivate his son-inw.
In case Gadhevi lost to Rajendra, Mahendra himself would have no choice but to sit and wait for death. So he had to do his best for his son-inw, who was not ipetent, but slightly less reliable.
For Arn, who was on his first foreign expedition in his life, there was no greater joy than when Kishward lent him his falcon, the Angel of Death, Azrael.
"I hope he will be a good friend to Your Highness. He likes to fly in the vast sky more than huddle inside the city, and bringing him with you might be of some help to Your Highness."
"Thank you, Ill treat him well."
Arn stretched out his arm and told Azrael to perch, then he said to the winged confidant.
"Azrael, say goodbye to Kishward for now! For I am going to take you to Sindhura."
As Arn, with Azrael resting on his arm, came out onto the terrace to parade, the Parsian army in the atrium burst into a roar of cheers.
And as the city gates opened wide to reveal Prince Rajendra, riding on a white horse, the Sindhuran army waiting outside the city joined in the cheers.
"Rajendra! Our king! The chosen one of the Gods! Lead us on the road to victory "
"That frivolous prince seems to be quite beloved by the soldiers!"
Daryun stood behind Arn and whispered to Narsus.
The "frivolous prince rode his white horse under the terrace, raised a hand high, and said loudly, "Prince Arn, as I have said before, I hope to be your friend. With the Kaveri River as the boundary, I, as the King of Sindhura in the east, and you, as the King of Pars in the west, will each conquer our own territories and dominate the whole continent, and let us join hands to build a world of eternal peace!"
Arn smiled ordingly, at this time, but Daryun showed a rather unimpressed expression.
"Narsus, I can''t trust that man named Rajendra from the bottom of my heart. Am I being unjustly paranoid?"
"No, youre not being paranoid, I feel the same way. However, it doesn''t matter. Betraying His Highness Arn now would not do Rajendra himself any good. If he were to betray us, it would only be after trampling Gadhevi''s head under his feet."
Narsus looked askance at Rajendra who was receiving cheers from Sindhura''s army with a mocking expression.
Azrael pped his wings faintly on Arn''s arm.
Thus, Arn weed the New Year in an unexpected foreign country in the year 321 of the Parsian calendar.
Book 3: Chapter 2 (1)
Book 3: Chapter 2 (1)
The 50,000 Sindhuran troops led by Prince Rajendra as well as the 10,000 Parsian troops led by Arn headed southwest on the road towards Uraiyur.
The Kaveri River was in its winter dry period, and the water was only as deep as the belly of a horse. Although there were several cases of horses nearly drowning, and men nearly swept away by the deep water, there were no fatalities. The armypleted the crossing safely.
For Arn, it was his first time crossing the river. He was not only surprised, but Narsuss words also kept haunting his mind.
"Prince Rajendra is definitely not an ipetent man. He has also already led his army to cross the river sessfully."
Did he? It was not enough to simply be surprised, one must also take the opportunity to learn from the strengths of others. While Arn was thinking this, Sindhura''s cavalry, who were scouting ahead, rushed back to the river bank in a panic.
"Gadhevis army is up ahead!"
When this news came, gusts of dust and smoke had already been raised in the southwest. Gadhevi seemed to be trying to stop Rajendras troops from further advancing. Although it was toote to stop the army crossing the river, Rajendras army, having only just finished crossing, had not yet returned to formation as the 15,000 cavalrymen of Gadhevis army rushed towards them.
Rajendra did not even have time to apply the tactics that had been cleverly arranged by Narsus before they were attacked. Prince Gadhevi''s general Pradta was one of the bravest warriors in the country. He wielded a thick-ded crescent sword, and each time he shed, columns of blood spurted up from the left and right of his mount, and the bodies of men and horses piled up. Rajendras army cowered and fell back, driven down from the river bank, back to the water.
Before the formation waspletely straightened out, Rajendra, who had been forced to run from the amazing strength of General Pradta, tried to throw this hot potato to the Parsian army.
"Your Highness Arn, isn''t it possible to use this opportunity to show that world-ignorant Gadhevi the valor of the ck Knight, famous in all countries near and far?"
"Very well. Daryun, if you would."
"Of course, Your Highness."
After giving a salute, Daryun held his longsword in one hand and kicked the horse''s belly. Although he knew that this was a brazen plot by Rajendra, he could not disobey Arn''s orders. Plus, it was not a bad thing to show everyone the loyalty and bravery of Parsian soldiers.
Pradta, wielding his crescent sword and turning the sand on the river bank red with blood, saw a knight, all inky ck, galloping towards him without fear or hesitation. He shook the blood from his sword and shouted in broken Parsian.
"Dogs of Pars, have you deliberatelye to thend of Sindhura to have your heads chopped off? I will leave your heads on the banks of this river, so that at least you can look out over thendscape of your homnd as you die!"
"Go ahead and try!"
After the short reply, Daryun blocked the oing blow.
Again and again, their swords fiercely intertwined. After five or ten rounds, the winner had still not yet been determined.
The white des of both sides bit into each other as the two men fought their way from the riverbank into the river.
"Come on, Daryun!"
As Arn watched from his horse and shouted, the ck-d knight responded to the Prince''s trust in him with renewed strength. His longsword shed under the winter sun, and a column of blood and water shot up from the river, and Pradta''s huge body was buried under the water, the supine sword still in his hand.
The enemy, whose main general had just been killed, instantly copsed, and Rajendra''s army took the opportunity to counterattack. Gadhevis army left behind three thousand corpses to rot away, and the victory of the first battle in Sindhura went to Arn.
"Lord Daryun''s bravery really is admirable! There is none as brave as you in our country."
Rajendra was full of praise for Daryun, however, his intention was to motivate the Parsian army to intervene in future battles as well. Words of praise don''t have to be paid for.
"What an uninteresting battle."
The battle was just like what Daryun said. Since the two sides were fighting head-on in a t desert, there was no talk of tactics, but simply force against force. The moment Daryun knocked down Pradta, the victory of the whole battle was already decided. In this instance, Arn did not even have a chance to learn any tactics.
Narsus chuckled and said,
"Oh yeah? Its about to get a lot more interesting. The enemy hasnt even sent out their war elephant troops yet.
Daryun shrugged his broad shoulders and his ck armor rattled heavily.
"Perhaps! Because that cunning Prince Rajendra has decided to use us to win his toughest battles for him."
"Yes! Not only that, but he mighte and sneak in some heroism during the fighting when both sides are already exhausted!"
Instead, Narsus looked like he was happy.
"Is there a way to get rid of him, Narsus? Oh, no, it is too rude to ask you such a question. A little schemer like Rajendra is just a clown dancing in the hands of a great wise man like you."
Narsus waved his hand gently.
"Dont tter me just yet. For now, it is still necessary to be cautious, as we do not know which side Prince Rajendra will align himself with when the timees."
"So, we have to keep a close eye on him?"
Daryun deliberately rattled his swords sheath, but a malicious smile appeared on Narsus'' face.
"No, perhaps it would be better to allow him some room to try his little tricks. I''ll be waiting to see what he pulls this time around."
This is where the conversation was interrupted, as the teenager m arrived with food.
The New Year of 321 of the Parsian calendar began in the wilderness of the northern part of Sindhura.
In September of this year, Arn will be fifteen years old, if he is still alive by then.
The Parsian people held a New Year''s festival ording to traditional rituals. Before the first sunrise of the New Year, the king was to go to the spring in full armor, by himself, take off his helmet and fill it with water. Upon returning to the camp, a representative of the generals and soldiers was to offer a ss of wine. This ss of wine would symbolize the blood of the king. The wine would then be poured into the helmet as well. The people called this liquid the "water of life" and poured one-third of the water of life to the sky to offer it to the gods. One third was poured on the earth to thank it for the previous years harvest and to pray for a good harvest in the new year. Thest third was to be drunk by the king to show his loyalty to the gods and the earth.
The generals and soldiers were represented by Bahman. Arn went with only Azrael, and made his way to the spring alone. Daryun and Farangis, who were worried about Arn''s safety, followed behind at a proper distance to escort him, but thankfully no one appeared to harm the prince, and Arnpleted his task of representing the king safely.
Arn drank the water of life in one gulp, and as his mouth left his golden armor, the Parsian army let out an earth-shaking cheer.
"Arn! Arn! O shining star in the sky and darling of the gods! May your wisdom and strength bring peace to your country and people "
As Arn responded to the chants and raised his golden helmet high in both hands, the sun shone brightly on the first day of the year 321 of the Parsian calendar, making the helmet shine like a golden ingot. The cheers were raised again, and the sun reflected off the soldiers armor like waves of the sea.
After the ceremony, the New Year''s celebration party started immediately, and the previously empty wilderness was filled with loud noise.
As the sun rose to the middle of the sky, Prince Rajendra came from half a farsang (about 1.5 kilometers) away from Sindhuras army camp to visit. He brought only about fifty horsemen with him.
Perhaps he was quite fond of white horses? Rajendra was still riding a pure white horse at this time, and when he saw the ck-d knight guarding Arn''s tent, he immediately greeted him intimately.
"Yah! O brave man of Pars! How is your young lord?"
Daryun just gave a wordless salute. If it were up to him, he would have liked to kill this dangerous and untrustworthy figure with a single blow, in order to prevent any future trouble. However, Narsus thought that he could be useful to them.
"Even if it is a poisonous snake, having it guard the treasure will be of great help. Just think of it that way."
That''s true, but there''s no reason to show favor to a viper! Therefore, Daryun showed only minimal courtesy to Rajendra.
The motive of a Sindhuran who deliberately spoke a lot of polite words in the Parsiannguage made people suspicious. Rajendra shook Arns hand when he came out to greet him, and patted his shoulder, as if they had been friends for many years.
The tent was carpeted, the table was covered with wine and fine cuisine, and Arn warmly entertained Prince Rajendra. Gieve yed the oud, Farangis yed the harp, and there was a burst ofughter between the two sides.
"By the way, my friend, Your Highness Arn, whom I love like a brother, I havee here this time to discuss an important matter with you"
"Please speak, by all means."
After saying this, Arn noticed Rajendra''s expression of desire to speak in private, so he ordered the others present to leave.
When only the two of them remained, Rajendra ced the chair cushion that Farangis had just leaned on under his own hip and began to speak.
Rajendra''s proposal is the so-called "split and attack" method. He pointed out that, ording to the current situation, there seems to be little point for both sides to attack at the same time. It was time to give Gadhevi both psychological and military intimidation, so that his tactics would be disrupted. And to do this, Rajendra and Arn should act individually.
"How about it, Your Highness Arn? We might as well have a contest to see whether you or I will attack Uraiyur first."
"That sounds like fun. So, what''s in it for me if I''m the one to attack first?"
Seeing Arn''s interested expression, Rajendra couldn''t help but snicker inwardly. He deliberately paused for a moment, drank a ss of wine, and asked,
"It seems you are in favor of my proposal?"
"No, it''s not final yet, I was just asking a question."
Looking at Arn''s serious reply, Rajendra put on a wronged expression.
"You said it''s just your personal opinion, isn''t His Highness Arn the crown prince of Pars?"
"I am the Crown Prince, yes, but there is no way I can give you a definite answer without discussing with my retainers first."
Rajendra couldn''t help but make a staggering sound. He put down the silver cup and deliberately lowered his voice and said,
"Your Highness Arn, I give you a piece of advice as a friend and a brother of the heart, it is better not to let those retainers of yours get too carried away. You are a sovereign, the sovereign gives orders, and subordinates have to obey the orders. Only in this way can order be maintained in the world of men. If you rely too much on your subordinates, they will despise you!"
Rajendra put on a kind expression and murmured in Arn''s ear, however, the teenager was unmoved.
"Thank you for your advice. However, when I don''t know what to do myself, I always get my retainers toe together to discuss. Every one of them has more wisdom and strength than me. Without their help, I would have lost my life several times."
"That is true."
"Technically they are my subordinates, but in fact, they are all my loyal supporters. They could have left me alone, but each of them did their best to help me. Let me hear their opinions before I give you an answer!"
"Well "
Rajendra was silent in his heart. Arn left him inside the tent and walked out himself. Daryun and the others were sitting in the shadow of a rock fifty gaz (about fifty meters) away, talking, and all stood up when they saw the Crown Prince appear. Arn told his men what Rajendra had said, including his ulterior advice.
"How should I answer Rajendra? I want to hear Daryun''s opinion first."
The ck knight''s reply was quite sinct.
"I think it is logical to refuse."
"And the reason?"
"Perhaps I have a personal prejudice against Prince Rajendra. However, I think we should all be able to see the man''s plot. Perhaps Prince Rajendra wants the Parsian army to act individually and then use us as a front."
Arn frowned faintly. Without speaking, he turned his eyes, which were the color of a clear night sky, toward Gieve. The future court musician nodded vigorously.
"I thought so too. That prince on the white horse is a sharp man with a sharp mind. If we proceed by another route, perhaps that Rajendra fellow will immediately send a secret envoy to Gadhevis troops and have one of their mene out and kindly show us the way!"
After finishing his sentence with a firm voice, Gieve turned his eyes to the beautiful dark-haired warrior priestess.
"How about that? Lady Farangis has the same idea, right?"
"What an unpleasant thing to say!"
Although Farangis''s response was indifferent, she did not dismiss Gieve''s opinion.
"My opinion is the same as Lord Daryun and Gieves. If Prince Gadhevi aimed his main force at the Parsian army, the force defending the Sindhuran capital would appear much weaker, and the actions of Gadhevis main troops would be easier to predict. Whether it is a direct attack on the capital or a sneak attack on the nk, they can do whatever they want. Prince Rajendra must beughing his ass off!"
Arn crossed his arms in deep thought, and soon he turned his eyes to the former lord of Dam.
"I would like to hear Narsus'' thoughts."
"Then, I would like to begin by congratting Your Highness."
Arn was taken aback by Narsus'' sudden words, and Narsus replied with a smile.
"It seems there is not a fool among His Highness''s men. The opinions of Daryun, Gieve, and Lady Farangis were all right on the mark. Prince Rajendra''s true intention was to make thorough use of the Parsian army. I have long known that he would make such a request sooner orter."
Arn tilted his head slightly.
"Then, should I reject Rajendra''s proposal?"
"No, please ept it."
Not only Arn, but the eyes of the others were focused on Narsus.
"I will exin. Prince Rajendra''s heart is made of steel, and when you travel with such a person, you don''t know when he will stab you in the back with it. In my opinion, that the other side put forward this proposal at this time is actually beneficial to us, it is safer for us to keep a little distance from each other now.
"I understand, let''s do that!"
"However, we have to attach a condition to it. Your Highness, please ask the other side to provide sufficient food, cattle and horses to carry the food, detailed maps and guides that can be trusted."
Arn couldn''t help but grin openly.
"Isn''t that a little too greedy?"
"No, it''s better to make such a request. Rajendra is a greedy person himself, so Your Highness should also show a high level of desire, for it will be more reassuring to him."
People with high ambition are afraid of people who have little ambition. Therefore, the best way is to make the opponent think that you are the same kind of person as him, so that the opponent will not be on-edge. In addition to that, food and maps are indispensable things. In case he tries to provide a fictitious map, it is best to copy the map that Rajendra carries on his person on the spot.
"At the same time, we also ask Your Highness to inquire in detail about Prince Rajendra''s route of advance. Then we will send a secret envoy to inform Prince Gadhevi of Rajendra''s route of advance."
"But, isn''t this slightly too much?"
Arn hesitated a little. Gieve could not help but murmur under his breath: What a kind man!
"Please don''t worry. Prince Rajendra will not answer honestly anyway. By doing this, it will confuse Gadhevi''s army."
Gadhevi must have struggled with where to direct his main army, right? If he divides his forces into two, we can attack them separately. If Gadhevi is afraid and hides in the city, we can march into Uraiyuru without damage. No matter how things go, there will be no loss for Arn and the Parsian army. If the two sides did attack, they could simply change their tactics at that time. Narsus made this rification. Arn then decided to listen to his men''s opinions.
Book 3: Chapter 2 (2)
Book 3: Chapter 2 (2)
On January 3, Arn and Rajendra parted ways and headed north towards the mountains. Rajendra had agreed to all of Arn''s requests, with some reluctance.
During the march, Arn and Narsus rode side by side. Arn used this time to ask Narsus for some advice on the ways of kings.
"There was once a brave king."
Narsus began with these words.
That king had once led a campaign with 50,000 soldiers. After crossing the country''s snowy mountains, with constant warfare, the food ran out and the soldiers began to starve. The king wept as he watched the soldiers suffer, so he distributed his own food to the soldiers.
"Your Highness, what do you think of this king''s behavior?"
Arn did not know how to answer for a moment, because judging from Narsuss expression and tone of voice, he had a negative opinion of this king. However, Arn was not sure what the reason was. He answered honestly anyway.
"I think he is a great king. Isn''t it a rare act to see soldiers suffer and share one''s own food with them? Narsus''s opinion doesn''t seem to be the same, though."
Narsus smiled and nodded.
"Your Highness answered honestly even though he saw what I was thinking. So, I''ll be honest and say what I think too! I think this king is not qualified to be a king, even though he is a humble man."
"Why ?"
"This king has two major ws. The first is that he left his soldiers to starve by not nning ahead the need for enough food for 50,000 soldiers. The second was that he was only able to give his own food to a small number of the men to eat, and most of the other soldiers were still starving just the same."
""
"That is to say, this king was, first, a foolish man, and second, acted unfairly. Moreover, he wanted to give food to a small number of people in order to deny his own fault, and to avoid the responsibility of starving many soldiers. This is his cowardice. Does Your Highness understand?"
"I think I do."
Arn replied as he thought.
"That is to say, someone who is a king cannot let the soldiers starve. If the soldiers are allowed to starve, there is no way to fight at all."
"That''s right. Only the person who can acquire enough food for 50,000 soldiers is qualified tomand 50,000 soldiers. As for the use of soldiers and martial valor in battle, that is a lesson forter"
Their steady marchsted for about two days. When the men would stop to rest on the mountain path, Narsus took out paper and brushes to paint thendscape, however, he did not let any see his work except m.
"Narsus''s talent for painting is certainly unquestionable. I would like Narsus to paint my portrait!"
Hearing these words, Daryun could not help but look down at Alfreed''s face.
"You really dont know any fear!"
However, m, who was the most frequent witness of Narsuss paintings, had this to say.
"If Lord Narsuss genius extended to painting as well, hed be unbearable. Its best that he remains mediocre at something."
" That doesn''t sound like apliment!"
Farangismented seriously.
Arn also felt that since Narsus was to be the future court painter, he also wanted to know of his painting skills. On the other hand, he felt that as long as Narsus could paint, it was enough, and it was not a question of whether he could paint well or not. Although Arn admired the wisdom of Narsus, he did not have any illusions about his talent.
Prince Gadhevi, who was in the capital of Sindhura, was in a very favorable position. In fact, few were so fortunate as to have his opponents send him the n of future actions, two at a time. Both Rajendra and Prince Arn of Pars had each sent secret envoys to send the other side''s n.
"What do they want?"
Gadhevi felt confused. Any normal person must have been puzzled. First of all, he sent his own men out to investigate and confirmed that the enemy''s forces had split into two units, but it was hard to say what was toe, and he really didn''t know how much credibility the information sent by the enemy itself had. The generals were also divided in their opinions.
"We should crush Parsian army first. Their strength is only about 10,000, and without reinforcements, Rajendra''s sharpness will surely take a great hit. Despite how elite the Parsian army is, as long as we use our troops to overwhelm them "
"No, it is better to pour our army''s full strength to crush Prince Rajendra''s main force first. In this way, the Parsian army will be like a tree with severed roots, and it will naturally wither without felling it. We should fight Rajendra first!"
"But what if the Parsian army suddenly attacks the capital while we are fighting Rajendra''s army? The cavalry of the Parsian army is unmatched by the neighboring countries in terms of speed. It would be better to deal with them first."
"Why don''t we just stay put and observe the other side''s movement first? They areing for the capital anyway."
"But, if we do that, won''t all the areas outside the national capital be ravaged by Rajendra''s cavalry? The total number of our army is 180,000, while Rajendra''s army and Pars''s army together is only 60,000, so it''s not right to hide in the city for fear of an enemy that is much less in number than us. No, perhaps this will be the enemy''s way."
The discussion was not conclusive. Every opinion was reasonable, and Prince Gadhevi did not know which one to listen to.
"Mahendra, why don''t we divide our army into three groups? One group to defend the capital, one group to attack Rajendra''s own group, and another group to crush the Parsian army. What do you think?"
"Your Highness, please don''t joke around!"
Mahendra, the object of the prince''s negotiation, looked at his son-inw with an unpleasant gaze, his white turban and ck triangr beard extremely impressive, a middle-aged man with a robust physique, more style and vigor than either Gadhevi or Rajendra. He had been in charge of the country''s government as hereditary chancellor for twenty years. The wars with the country of Pars were often reactive, but he had an extraordinary track record in all sectors, including domestic affairs, diplomacy, and the military, for which he had made a name for himself.
"If the troops are divided three ways, the advantage we have in terms of strength will not be effective. Absolutely no troops should be scattered. Strength is only called strength when it is concentrated."
Mahendra said with certainty in his tone, and Gadhevi agreed with him that he was right, yet the question was where should this force be concentrated? He was well aware that his half-brother Rajendra was a cautious and meticulous man.
"A minimum number of troops must be ced in the national capital at all times. The rest of the forces will be concentrated and deployed in one ce, so that the forces will be directed toward the necessary ces when called upon. Food and weapons should also be concentrated at that location."
"I see. Mahendra, you are a man who can be called a wise man! It it is really a blessing for me to call you a vizier and a father-inw. As long as you are there, will that guy Rajendra be able to hold Sindhura''s fate in the palm of his hand so easily?"
Gadhevi heartily praised his father-inw.
Mahendra''s daughter Salima was a beautiful woman who was known as the "illegitimate child of the goddess of beauty, Lakshmi" and had numerous suitors, including Rajendra. Gadhevi was chosen as her fianc, not only by Salima''s own choice, but also by Mahendra''s decision. Mahendra was also his benefactor in terms of affection.
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your praise, I am deeply grateful."
Mahendra put on a heart-stoppingly ttering attitude, his face in a trusting smile. If his son-inw became king, as the father of the princess, his position and power would be reinforced.
"In addition to that, I have already had a man infiltrate Rajendras army camp. He is an extremely intelligent person, and I believe that good news wille back soon. Just please wait for this auspicious news with peace of mind, Your Highness!"
The calm voice of the hereditary chancellor reassured Gadhevi.
While the Parsian army marched along the mountain path, Arn again asked Narsus for advice regarding the current situation.
" In that case, Prince Rajendra is intentionally using the Parsian army. That''s what Narsus thinks, right?"
"Yes. However, we will never let him get what he wants."
"Why?"
"If our army fights with Gadhevis army, it is the Parsian army that will make a name for itself, not Rajendra. And from his standpoint, in order to be king of Sindhura, he must make a name for himself to do so."
Gieve, who was riding beside them, gave a malicious smile.
"That is to say, as soon as we win one battle, Rajendra will begin to act because he must obtain his own merit. Isn''t that so, Lord Tactician?"
"Yes, and not only that, but Prince Gadhevi in the capital must not be able to sink his teeth into it either."
Originally, both princes showed extreme opposition in desire and antipathy. The military sess of Pars'' army must have angered them. Pars'' victory in the recent battle was not just a mere partial victory, but also affected the fate of Sindhura as a whole.
The man Rajendra sent as a guide to the Parsian army was named Jaswant. He had tan skin and dark eyes, was about the same age as Gieve, and gave a sense of panther-like sharpness. He also had knowledge of the Parsiannguage. So far, he has done his job as a guide, but Arn''s men have yet to fully trust him.
"That man must be quitepetent with a sword!"
At one point, just watching Jaswant''s movements, Daryun murmured, and Narsus rubbed his chin as if nothing had happened.
"If you feel that way, then it must be true."
"Perhaps he is an assassin sent by the other side!"
Daryun lowered his voice. He was afraid that Jaswant could be an assassin whom Rajendra had ordered to sneak in disguised as a guide to assassinate Arn. Narsus agreed with his close friend.
"It is very possible. But another possibility urs to me."
"Which is?"
"The possibility that Rajendra threw a danger to him onto us."
Having said that, Narsus fell into silence and seemed to be carefully organizing his thoughts.
Book 3: Chapter 2 (3)
Book 3: Chapter 2 (3)
"The 10,000 Parsian troops allied with Prince Rajendra are advancing eastward in the mountain pass and should reach this fortress in a day or two."
This report reached the fortress of Gujarat at the end of January.
The fortress was one of the military strongholds, as it guarded the only passage extending from the northern mountainous region to the capital of the country, Uraiyur.
The fortress''s lord, General Govind, had two vice-lords under him, General Pkeshin and General Tara. The troops assigned to the fortress were 4,000 cavalry and 8,000 infantry. The fortress itself was protected by high walls, a deep moat, and trebuchets.
"Hiding inside the fortress is easy, but shouldn''t we see the strength of the Parsian army for ourselves?"
Under the instruction of Govind, General Pkeshin, who led 1,500 cavalry and 3,000 infantry, then took the initiative to attack.
The first encounter between the two armies began west of the fortress of Gujarat, across a road that is one farsang (about five kilometers) by Pars'' standards.
General Pkeshin sat on the back of his frighteninglyrge horse, drew his sword, and charged into the Parsian troops. He knocked away the swords and spears thrust by the Parsian cavalry like twigs. Maybe they were scared by his strength? The elite Parsian cavalry naturally cleared a path in front of him.
Wielding arge sword, Pkeshin charged toward Arn, and as he pressed closer, a knight with a ck horse blocked his way. The inside of his cloak was bright red, and resembled human blood.
"Get out of the way, get out of the way!"
Pkeshin roared in what little he knew of the Parsiannguage. The knight in ck answered ndly.
"How could the Crown Prince of Pars waste his time on someckey like you? Be good and fight me instead! His Highness will still get to see your face as your head rolls."
"What nonsense!"
Pkeshin''s great sword reflected the sunlight and shed down towards the head of the ck-d knight Daryun. However, at that very moment, another sh pierced the eyes of both the enemy and the horse.
Daryun''s longsword shed Pkeshins wrist, still holding the greatsword, then flew in mid-air with lightning speed and stabbed deep into Prakenjin''s right ear.
Pkeshin, who was known as a fierce general, became a corpse in an instant, and the Sindhuran army was shocked at the sight.
The Sindhuran army fled back into the fortress and closed the gates tightly. Seeing the bravery of the Parsian army led by Daryun, even Govind and Tara could not help but tremble with fear. They decided to change their method of warfare and stay inside the fortress to buy time and wait for reinforcements to be sent from the capital. The method had no merit, but it was no less practical.
The future court painter of Pars stated his opinion to the young sovereign.
"There are several ways to win the fortress, but we shouldnt spend too much time on it."
"What should we do?"
"What do you think we should do?"
On February 1, a messenger from Pars'' army rode up to the gates of Gujarat and called for Sindhura''s army to open the gates. This messenger was an elegant young man with reddish-purple hair and blue eyes. He brought with him a young Sindhuran who acted as interpreter and guide, armed only with a sword. The messenger was Gieve, and the man apanying him was Jaswant.
With an innocent face and an oud in one hand, Gieve appeared in the middle of the fortress''s hall. The women in the fortress forgot that their actions might attract the displeasure of the men, and gazed at this exotic young man with rapt attention.
Surrounded by the adoring eyes of the women, Gieve came to General Govind and urged the sorrowful-looking military general to surrender the fortress without blood.
"Of course, it will not go unrewarded. Once Prince Rajendra wears the crown of Sindhura, he will definitely treat the two generals with extra courtesy. Whether it is status or territory, the two generals will get what they want. In your position, this is a very generous offer."
Because the matter was not really up to him, Gieve seemed extremely generous.
Govind and Tara did not reply immediately. Although they belonged to Prince Gadhevi''s party, they had just seen the strength of the Parsian army that sided with Prince Rajendra, and they too had personal desires. Govind prepared a feast for Gieve, and summoned ten beautiful women from the fortress to persuade them to drink. Taking advantage of this time, they hid in another room to discuss what to do. At this time, there was a person who appeared in front of them secretly.
This man was Jaswant, the Sindhuran interpreter who apanied Gieve. Jaswant put his index finger in front of his mouth, asking the two generals, who were looking suspiciously, to keep quiet.
"Perhaps you two still will not believe me. However, he is a Parsian, and I am a son of Sindhura, so please believe my word over his."
" Okay, tell us. We''ll hear you out."
Jaswant lowered his voice and told the two generals the following.
Prince Rajendra''s supposed desire to berades with the two generals was a pure lie. If they were to get close to Prince Rajendra because of their personal desires, they would be immediately arrested and beheaded. Regardless of this matter, the reason why the Parsian army proposed such a condition was to make the two generals let their guard down. They intended to sneak through the fortress of Gujarat in the middle of the night and advance towards the capital of Sindhura. The main cavalry force would go in the front, and the grain convoy would follow behind. The defenders of the Gujarat fortress should deliberately spare the cavalry unit at this time and attack their grain convoy. Despite how strong the Parsian army is, if they have no food they can no longer fight and will only end up dying in a foreignnd. In this way, the two generals'' merits would surely bemended by Prince Gadhevi.
"To be honest, I work under the hereditary chancellor Lord Mahendra. I have been ordered by Lord Mahendra to wait for an opportunity to approach Rajendra and gain his trust. I trust that the two generals will help me with this n."
After making this exnation, Jaswant produced from his turban an identity card with Mahendra''s signature, whereupon Govind and Tara believed him. The three men then made ns. Tara proposed to kill the emissary of Pars, Gieve, on the spot. However, they finally decided to let Gieve return alive in order not to make Pars'' army suspicious.
Surrounded by beautiful women and wine, Gieve yed the oud, fully revealing his prodigal nature. After Govind exined their clever reply, he immediately stood up, politely and thoughtfully shook hands with the fortress lord, and hugged every beautiful woman goodbye. Afterwards everyone learned that most of the beautiful women had given their rings, bracelets and earrings to Gieve. Tara and the others couldn''t help but feel remorse and regret, thinking it was a big mistake to let him go back. However, their regret dissipated overnight.
That night, the Parsian army secretly drew up camp and began to advance eastward along the road. The soldiers all had cotton in their mouths and towels stuffed in their horses'' mouths, careful not to make any noise.
Jaswant, who was supposed to lead the way, made his way to the back of the cavalcade. He watched in the darkness with a wry smile.
He squatted under the shadow of a big tree, took out the slender re rocket from his clothes, and was about to light it when suddenly a voice came from behind.
"Still working in the middle of the night? How admirable, Jaswant."
The young Sindhuran almost jumped out of his skin. He looked at the figure standing in front of him and couldn''t help but gulp.
"Gi Lord Gieve"
"Yes, it''s Lord Gieve, the natural enemy of Sindhura''s men. What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean ?"
"nning to send a signal to Sindhura''s army and tell them tounch a surprise attack, right? O cunning ck cat, are you trying to light your own tail on fire?"
"Wait, please listen to me!"
Jaswant shouted and jumped back. The night wind gave a subtle whisper and thin lines of blood ran down Jaswants forehead.
"Hmph, a decent fighter!"
Reasserting his stance, Gieve smiled pleasantly. His strong surprise attack only skimmed Jaswant''s forehead and didn''t do much damage to him.
Jaswant dropped his re and drew his sword. He learned that there was little point in arguing now. The Parsian army seemed to have discovered his true nature. Now there was no other way to escape the danger but by his own strength.
Gieve glided forward and swung his second sword. The re reflected in Jaswant''s eyes, and sparks flew out in a sh that brought the faces of the two men to life. The two swordsmen locked eyes. There was tension and dismay in Jaswant''s dark eyes, and a brave smile in Gieve''s blue eyes.
Neither spoke a word. In the moonlight, only the sound of interlocking white des echoed in the silence. The two men were equal in skill and speed. The two figures flitted back and forth, as if dancing, shing and dodging each other. The fight seemed to drag on. Eventually Jaswant, who had stepped forward to attack his opponent, was knocked off bnce by the hilt of Gieve''s sword striking Jaswant hard in the neck.
While the young Sindhuran swordsman fell to the ground, the Sindhuran army conspiring with him was hiding in the forest outside the fortress, holding its breath while awaiting the main force of the Parsian army to pass through the night streets.
The golden armor of Prince Arn was clearly visible in the faint moonlight. The ck-d knight apanying him should be the brave man who killed Pkeshin with a single sh the day before, right?
"Well, Prince Arn and that knight in ck are up ahead. It seems that all is going ording to n."
In fact, the teenager wearing Arn''s golden armor was m, while the one wearing Daryun''s ck clothes was a well-built cavalryman. However, there was no way to see that clearly in the moonlight.
The 10,000 cavalrymen that Pars boasted werepletely separated from the grain convoy. Sindhura''s army slowly approached from the rear without waiting for Jaswant''s signal, extending their fangs towards the cattle carts and wagons. At themanding officer''s signal, the Sindhuran army attacked fiercely.
"Go on! Take all their grain!"
The Sindhuran army raised their weapons and attacked Pars'' grain convoy. As the sound of horses'' hooves swarmed out of the darkness, the convoy seemed to stop in fear.
However, the victory that Sindhura''s army was sure of faded in an instant. The covers of the cattle carts carrying grain were lifted up, and the soldiers hiding insideunched a rain of arrows at the raiding Sindhuran army.
"Damn it, weve been tricked!"
Despite the anger, however, the most abominable thing was to fall for the enemy''s scheme. Once they suffered this crushing defeat of intellect, the difference in strength was clear. Watching hisrades as they were helplessly killed, Govind, who had already broken into the enemy''s line, found the figure of a teenager on a horsemanding the soldiers. Wasn''t that the Crown Prince of Pars?
"Parsian boy, stay there and don''t move!"
Govind raised hisnce and rushed towards Arn. At this time, one of the soldiers beside Arn''s horse threw his ownnce first. It flew far and fast, and pierced Govind''s throat.
Govind died soundlessly, but his body made a loud nging sound as he rolled off his horse.
The only one who possessed such skill was, of course, Daryun. It turned out that he had also disguised himself as a faceless soldier and hid among the grain convoy.
Down the road, General Tara''s men were also killed one after another, and finally only he and Farangis remained to confront each other.
Tara let out a roar like a buffalo and waved his great sword toward Farangis. It was a blow of great pressure and force, however, the beautiful warrior priestess seemed to turn into the night wind, dodged silently andunched a counterattack without a moment''s notice. The moonlight reflected off her sword as she effortlessly cut off the head of the Sindhuran general. The blood that sprayed upwards took on an unusual hue in the moonlight.
After Govind and Tara were killed one after another, Sindhura, who had lost itsmander, instantly copsed. At this time, the cavalry of Pars, who had timed their return, rushed into the fortress of the fleeing Sindhuran army, which left behind more than 2,000 bodies as they ran away. Some tried to flee back to the fortress, but by this time, a group of men under themand of Narsus and Gieve had already upied the walls. The Sindhuran soldiers who were besieged by arge number of arrows from the walls had to leave their weapons and armor behind, just to get out of the fortress alive. The remaining Sindhurans all fled in any direction where there was no enemy.
Thus, the fortress of Gujarat fell into the hands of the Parsian army.
Book 3: Chapter 2 (4)
Book 3: Chapter 2 (4)
"What? Only three days and the fortress of Gujarat has already fallen?"
Gadhevi, who received this bad news at the capital, Uraiyur, dropped therge ivory cup he was holding, spilling his coconut wine onto the floor.
"Whats going on, Mahendra?!"
"Nothing. Gujarat is the key to the defense of the northern part of the capital, and now that it has been taken away by the Parsian army, we must reim it quickly. If Prince Rajendra''s army merges with Pars'' army there, it will be very difficult to retake. Please move quickly while the enemy''s forces are still scattered."
"Is that so? I see."
Now that the target had been set, Gadhevi no longer looked concerned. He immediately returned to his room, washed away his intoxication with a cold bath, put on his armor, and ordered his army to move out.
Under themand of Mahendra, the army''s formation waspleted. On February 5, 150,000 of Gadhevis men left the capital with the prince sitting in hismand seat on the back of a white elephant, wearing white-gold armor decorated with 300 precious stones. In addition to this, there were five hundred war elephants in the army, and a huge procession of troops formed a band in the wilderness of Sindhra, heading north.
On the other hand, in the city of Gujarat, upied by Pars, the captured Jaswant was brought before Arn. He had no intention of begging for his life.
"I am a Sindhuran. I will not sell my country to the Parsians. I am not betraying Pars, but only doing my duty to Sindhura. Feel free to end my life if you wish."
"Then, as you wish!"
Gieve drew his longsword and slowly made his way around to Jaswant''s back.
"After cutting off your head, I will offer you a sad and absolutely beautiful rubai. You can boast it to the gods of Sindhura in the other world."
Just as the white de was raised high in the air, a voice rang out. It was Arn''s shout.
"Wait a moment, Gieve."
As if anticipating this voice, Gieve stopped the sword in his hand. He looked at the prince and spoke with faint sarcasm.
"Oops, I knew you would say that. Since Your Highness ordered so, I will put the sword away, but I hope you won''t regret itter."
Hearing Gieve say that, Arn looked confused from the bottom of his heart. Arn forgave Jaswant purely out of pity, and he did not dare to think that Jaswant would return the favor in the future. Not just Arns safety, but the safety of his subordinates might also bepromised. As a prince, this responsibility is on him.
In the end, Arn released Jaswant.
Narsus advised, In my opinion, this wont result in anything that your retainers cannot handle. This time the decision is entirely up to you, Your Highness."
Jaswant, who was untied, did not even look at Arn, and proudly walked ahead towards the mountains. Watching his back, Arn looked at Narsus skeptically.
"Thank you, Narsus. But is this really a good idea?"
"Honestly, it may be naive, but it doesn''t matter. The question is whether or not Gadhevi will ept him."
Arn cocked his head in disbelief, so Narsus continued for rification.
"Now, the responsibility for the fall of the fortress of Gujarat falls on Jaswant. What will Gadhevi think of it?"
Narsus did not think that Gadhevi would be kinder than Arn, however, he did not put this thought into words. Nevertheless, for some reason, he felt that the man was too eager. To surprise Narsus, the entire city of Gujarat would have to be sacrificed.
Arn admired Narsuss wisdom, and felt that it was really incredible. If Jaswant had not betrayed and told Sindhura''s army their initial n, the scheme would not have seeded. And how did Narsus know that Jaswant would betray them?
"I wasn''t confident that he would betray us. All in all, I had nned several schemes in advance, and this time I merely applied one of them."
Narsus had indeede up with several ns for if Jaswant had betrayed them or not. He set up three situations, such as Jaswant being Sindhura''s assassin, a mere guide, or a spy sent by Gadhevi''s camp to infiltrate Rajendra''s camp. In addition, he wondered if Rajendra knew that Jaswant was Gadhevis spy, or was unaware. In all, Narsus came up with more than 20 scenarios and nned corresponding methods to deal with each, so hed just needed to use one of them.
"Indecisiveness is not the way of Narsus. This is the n for if it goes to the right, this is the n for if it goes to the left. It is my usual practice to conceive of every scenario."
So said the former Lord of Dam.
After Jaswant was released, he found his way back to Prince Gadhevis army after three days of arduous trekking. He was overjoyed when he identified himself, but the soldiers, without showing any respect or kindness, suddenly beat him with the hilt of their swords and then tied him up. Jaswant was thus dragged before Gadhevi, and protested with a dusty face and bloodshot eyes.
"Your Highness Gadhevi, why do you treat me like this? I have served Your Highness with all my heart and soul!"
"Shut up! Betrayer! How dare you show your face before me?"
Gadhevi pierced Jaswant''s chest with a voice as harsh as a white de.
"Didn''t you collude with the Parsian army and sacrifice the fortress of Gujarat to them? Several witnesses confirmed that you feigned loyalty to lure my generals out of the fortress."
"No, no such thing. I fell for the Parsian army''s scheme too! I definitely did not conspire with them. If I had conspired with them, why would I havee back to Your Highness? I should have been celebrating with them in their camp by now!"
Hearing Jaswant say so, Gadhevi could not raise a word of rebuttal for a moment.
"Your Highness, it is right for you to be angry. However, this man is a sworn member of our family. He has proven himself many times. Just please pardon him, Your Highness, and let him have the opportunity to atone for his sins. "
Mahendra deeply bowed his head as he spoke.
The uncontrobly angry Gadhevi could not help but look at his father-inw''s face. He breathed heavily while ring at Jaswant.
"Okay, for the sake of my chancellor, this time you will be spared. But in the future, if there is even the slightest thing that makes me suspicious"
As Jaswant suppressed his surging feelings and bowed his head in thanks, the cavalryman in charge of reconnaissance ran pale-faced into Gadhevi''s camp.
The report pointed out that Prince Rajendra''s 50,000 troops, who had suddenly advanced towards the east, had entered the zone between Gadhevi''s army and the capital of the country, Uraiyur, and had blocked the road by setting up a formation.
The situation became extremely urgent.
The Parsian army led by Arn was inside the fortress of Gujarat. To the south, there were the armies of Gadhevi and Mahendra. Further on, there was Rajendras army. Then further south is where the capital of the country, Uraiyur, is located.
The two opposing camps each divided their forces into two parts. On the surface, Gadhevi seemed to be pinned down by the enemy to the north and south, however, his forces were muchrger than all the enemy''s forces. Therefore, it was also possible for him to break the north-south division of the enemy. Gadhevi could attack the capital to the south, but then his back would be vulnerable, and he would still have 30,000 soldiers in the capital. The northern-most Parsian army and the southern-most capital of the country, Uraiyur, were each isted by severing the link with the main force. It was not the most favorable situation for either camp.
"Things seem to have evolved into the most troublesome of all the situations I''ve ever thought of."
After listening to the scouting team''s report, Narsus patted his cheek while looking at the map. He had expected Gadhevi and Rajendra to meet on the passage north of the capital and then start a battle.
"We pushed our luck a little too far, didnt we?"
Bahman mocked in a very heavy tone. Narsus did not argue with it.
"The old general is right."
After admitting frankly, Narsus smiled slightly.
"But, it will soon change. They originally sent out their army for the purpose of fighting. I think that Gadhevi will make his move within three days."
He said with certainty. The Parsian army was prepared to leave the fortress and fight at any time. Themand was in the hands of Bahman.
That night, after the formal meeting, Daryun and Narsus prepared for the uing battle in their own room.
Narsus had two tes of dishes in front of him. They were m''smb fried rice and Alfreed''s thin roasted bread with bird meat. Although m and Alfreed often fought, at least they didn''t make the same dishes to make things difficult for Narsus, which was a real relief for him. It was just another dilemma as to which dish should be eaten first.
"You probably want the enemy to attack quickly, don''t you, Narsus?"
Daryun taunted Narsus. He was absolutely right, and Narsus was silent without retort. Although his eyes fell on Sindhura''s map, his expression was extremely warm. In the past, while serving at court, hed had scandals with several courtesans, but this time he could not treat life as a game. Narsus was responsible for m''s future, and he could not hurt Alfreeds feelings. From the point of view of the traditional social system of Pars, Arn and m were too different, but, on the other hand, they were friends in life and death, and at the same time, like brothers. Together, they studied politics and warfare tactics with Narsus, and swordy and archery with Daryun. To their teachers, they were both excellent students.
"In the future, when His Highness Arn bes king, if m is allowed to assist him, they will be able to manage the government affairs well."
Daryun predicted this future, and Narsus sniffed and still gazed at Sinduhra''s map while replying.
"Yes! It will take ten years at least. By that time, you and I will be able to pull back from the moral responsibilities of the worried world, right?"
After taking a break, what should they do? Narsus could take up the brush to be the next Master Painter Mani. Daryun, on the other hand, might go to thend of silk again to pursue his lost attachment? Although they would keep track of each other''s whereabouts, they would not stop each other from doing what they wanted to do, and ept their decision.
The immature teenagers, who are more than ten years younger than them, also seriously thought about their own past, present and future. Arn leaned against the rock wall of the ancient fortress of Gujarat, which had temporarily be his home, bathed in the foreign starlight, and was alone in his contemtion. Not entirely alone, as Azrael kept himpany. The hawk rested on the prince''s shoulder, as if guarding its wingless friends shining crystal eyes.
It had been less than four months since the tragic defeat of the Battle of Atropatene, yet he felt as if ten years had passed. During this period, so many things have happened, one should say too many things have happened. Among these things, the one that hung on Arn the most was the secret regarding himself, the one known only to Bahman.
"Your Highness the Crown Prince, after this battle is over and we return to Peshawar Citadel, I, an old fool, will tell you everything I know. Until then, just please let this subordinate rest a bit!"
Before leaving for Sindhura, Bahman said this.
Arn could not figure out what he meant, and the conflicting feelings of wanting but not wanting to know were pulling at the teenager''s heart. Deep inside him, an abyss was opening up. It was the end ofst year, just fifty days ago. Arn remembered Bahman shouting from the walls of Peshawar under the starry winter sky.
"Kill that man, and the rightful bloodline of the King will be broken! You mustn''t kill him. "
The man he was referring to was not Arn, but the man in the silver mask who had wanted to kill Arn. Bahman screamed that he must not be killed.
Who is that Silver Mask?
That man has the bloodline of the royal family, that must be it. That man must know something that Arn didn''t know.
For a fourteen-year-old boy, Arn was really gued with difficulties.
He had to drive the invaders out of the country, recover lostnds, and rescue his two imprisoned parents. So, on a normal day he would not think about it. However, on an evening like this, with a bit of free time, he will think of it again.
And at this time, the most fundamental and frightening questions began to ferment in the depths of Arn''s heart.
What exactly is he ?
Arn shivered, not because of the winter night breeze that swept by in a sh, but what he thought of made the teenager feel anxious. Arn should be the Prince of Pars, born to King Andragoras and Queen Tahamine. There should be little reason to doubt this fact, at least until now. However, Bahman''s words were like a thorn in Arn''s side, but for now, he could only do his best to trust him in silence. Nevertheless, the others words struck Arn so hard that he felt bitter.
Arn was startled by the sound of footsteps on the city wall. Azrael gave a sharp chirping sound on the teenager''s shoulder. However, it was not an enemy that appeared, but a reliablepanion. The ck-d knight took off his helmet and gave a solemn salute.
"Your Highness, the Crown Prince, even in the south, the winter winds can still hurt your body. Please go inside and rest!"
"Daryun."
"Yes?
"Who am I, really?"
The softly murmured voice rode the night wind into Daryun''s ears. The knight in ck faintly showed a faltering that he would never show on the battlefield. He was originally a person who was not good at coquettish words, and in this instant, he did not know what to do to react properly. And just because he did understand the implication of Arn''s words, it was even more difficult for him to reply.
"Don''t think too much about this matter. Narsus said that there is still no way to get the certain truth no matter how much you dwell on it.."
Daryun advised Arn to wait quietly for Bahman to exin the original reason for everything. Arn stayed silent, and the ck knight suddenly seemed as if he knew what to say.
"Daryun knows your true identity, Your Highness."
"You do, Daryun?"
"Yes, to Daryun, Your Highness is the most important person. Isnt that enough, Your Highness?"
Azrael made a small chirping sound on Arn''s shoulder. Arn reached out the other side of his hand and stroked the head of his close friend. Silvery waves of water flowed over his cheeks from his clear night sky-like eyes.
Why were these tears flowing? Arn himself was not very sure. He only knew that it was not a shameful thing to cry now. The prince stroked Azraels head, who was looking at him worriedly, and murmured.
"Thank you, Daryun."
That night, Prince Gadhevi finally began to send out his 150,000-strong army. On the surface, it appeared to attack the Parsian army in the north, but in fact it was to lure Rajendras army in the south into action. If Rajendra''s army attacked the back of Gadhevi''s army, he would immediately turn back to attack Rajendra''s army from the front. If Rajendra wanted to attack the capital while Gadhevi was away, he could still turn back and attack Rajendra''s army from behind. With the overwhelming superiority of Gadhevi''s army''s strength, any manner of fighting is likely to be sessful.
"Our main enemy is Rajendra. It doesn''t matter how much damage it will cause, in any case, we must crush his army and take his head, and then, there will be no reason to fear the Parsian army."
Gadhevi made his decision.
Book 3: Chapter 3 (1)
Book 3: Chapter 3 (1)
The news of Prince Gadhevi''s army moving out immediately reached the Parsian army. Twenty thousand of the 150,000 troops led by Gadhevi confronted the Parsian army at the fortress of Gujarat, while the remaining 130,000 started to battle with Rajendras army.
The Parsian army held a strategy meeting in the fortresss great hall, and at the table, Narsus spoke.
"We know very well what Gadhevi is thinking. And he made the right decision. Because since we have an overwhelminglyrge army, attacking the enemy from the front is the best way to utilize the army "
The one who deeply agreed was the general Bahman. He agreed with Narsus'' insight, and that he was worthy of serving as a militarymander.
"However, Gadhevi does not know the real value of our Parsian army. Now let us teach this unfortunate man a little lesson! Perhaps he will no longer be alive to appreciate the lesson he is about to receive, but it is necessary for us to show Rajendra."
Arn, who nodded in agreement, immediately ordered the whole army to march.
The Parsian army had more than 10,000 men, most of which were Bahmans troops. In addition to these were Prince Arn and his sixpanions, as well as the five hundred cavalrymen led by Kishward. Gieve had always doubted whether Bahman was trustworthy, however, for that, Narsus was no longer worried. What he was worried about was what Farangis had said, was it possible that Bahman was tempted by death?
Bahman had extreme loyalty to the royal family. And was this loyalty enough to bear the load of the secret hidden in his heart? Perhaps he had privately decided to bury that terrible secret with him by dying.
Narsus decided not to let Bahman do that. But the trouble was that only in this case, Narsus was not sure that he had done the right thing.
The two Sindhuran princes, who were absolutely confident of their own actions, shed head-on in the Jamnagar wilderness on February 5.
Gadhevi sat on the back of a white elephant, while Rajendra rode on a white horse. Both wore jeweled armor and had white silk turbans wrapped around their heads, and both hadrge jewels on their turbans. They were in a stubborn confrontation. Gadhevi''s jewel was a blue jade, while Rajendra''s was a red jade.
"This is a magnificent battle between a prince on a white horse and a prince on a white elephant!"
Seeing the appearance of the two princes, Gieve couldnt help butugh at this.
In ordance with Sindhura''s warfare traditions, when two armies fight head-to-head like this, themanders of both sides have to loudly assert their message. The battles can be said to begin with a battle of words.
The two princes looked at each other from a distance of a hundred paces. The first to start the war of words was Gadhevi.
"Rajendra, you are just a bastard born from a ve, and you still want to covet the throne of the king. If you are willing to climb down from the back of that unfitting white horse and kneel to beg for mercy, perhaps I will still spare your life."
Hearing these words of the other party, Rajendra curled his mouth and scoffed.
"If I am a dog, then you, who cannot even beat a dog, are worse than a dog. Why do you think our father dyed in formally installing the crown prince? Although you have the advantage in terms of your mother''s lineage, the reason why our father did not make you the crown prince is that you are far inferior to me in terms of personality!"
In terms of eloquence, Gadhevi had not even a tenth of Rajendras skill. After falling into silence forck of an answer, Gadhevi decided to resort to force at once.
"Down with that dog Rajendra!"
Thus began the war between the half-brothers.
At first, the two sides appeared to be evenly matched.
Gadhevi had 130,000 troops and Rajendra had 50,000. If they were to fight seriously, Rajendra had no chance of winning. However, this time Rajendra chose the battlefield first. The Jamnagar wilderness was separated by several rivers, and in this thin basin, Gadhevi could not put all his armies into battle at once. However, because they could not expand horizontally, Gadhevis army formation was so thick that it was impossible to break through the center.
After a fierce battle between the cavalry, the infantry battle ensued. Smoke and dust filled the sky, swords and spears and shields shed and rattled, and blood shot out from the severed flesh, staining the sand ck and red.
Each instant produced a mass of death. Men on horses crossed swords, and even the horses hissed madly and bit each other.
Before noon, the wave of attacksunched by Gadhevi''s cavalry caused over a thousand casualties and ultimately failed. Rajendra seemed to have the advantage. However, at that moment, a part of Gadhevis army started to move like a small mountain. The sound of distant thunder pierced the atmosphere, and the ground underfoot began to shake unpleasantly. After noticing this, a nervous look swept over the faces of the generals and soldiers of Rajendra''s army.
"Your Highness Rajendra, the war elephant troops are moving out!"
"Already..?"
Was Gadhevi really that anxious? For Rajendra, it was also a tight spot right now. His army was made up of cavalry, infantry, and warriors. And Sindhura''s strongest war elephant troops were in the hands of Gadhevi. Even the ever-confident Rajendra had to feel self-conscious of the disadvantage of this.
"Archery team, advance! Aim at the elephants!"
The archery team that received the order to move out bravely put it into action. However, their mere arrows could not change the situation.
The 500 war elephants that roared as they advanced were not at all affected by the arrows, and quickly closed in on Rajendras army, kicking aside the archery team and rushing forward unhindered. The elephants swung their heavy trunks, hitting the heads of the infantry heavily, while the tips of their tusks picked up the horses.
The power of the war elephant troops was truly amazing. Huge carcasses full of destruction and malice passed through Rajendras army, sand and blood and screams faded into the smoke.
The advance guard of Rajendras army panicked. They barely held their formation, retreating back a hundred, two hundred paces. The mere roar of the war elephants made them retreat in fear. The Rajendra army was already far inferior to the other side in numbers, and if they were also at a disadvantage in terms of momentum, there was no chance of winning.
"If we also had war elephant troops "
Rajendra could not help but gnash his teeth, but now no amount of remorse would help. Rajendra''s men let out a sad cry.
"It will be miserable if we continue like this, Your Highness!"
"I know!"
Rajendra growled. He was furious with his men who made such unhelpful reports, but he differed from Gadhevi in that he did not whip his men.
"If Pars'' cavalry was around, at least it would have spread the troops a bit Humph! I''m really confused too. Maybe they only had verbal bravado, after all."
While Rajendra was self-deprecating, an orderly came running to his side.
"Pars'' cavalry troops are here!"
This was such an unexpected auspicious report that Rajendra thought he had heard wrong. However, it was an unmistakable fact. The battle situation immediately changed before his eyes.
Gadhevis army was nked by cavalry without any defense and was instantly thrown into chaos. The Parsian army rushed into the enemy''s formation, causing the enemy''s array to disintegrate. Gadhevis troops, who had taken advantage of the situation to pursue the enemy, were forced back to the ce where the battle started in a disorganized formation.
Rajendra could not help but be relieved. He hurriedly drove his white horse toward the Parsian army, looking for Prince Arn''s figure, and called out loudly.
"Prince Arn. How the hell did you get here?"
"We flew in a hurry. I had hoped that we would arrive a little earlier."
Arn smiled, and it looked bright under the reflection of his golden armor. Suddenly, he raised his right hand, and the famous Parsian cavalry raised their swords high as if to attack the sun of Sindhura, and with themand "Yashasuiin!", they charged into the enemy''s line again.
The reason why the Parsian army moved so quickly was that the whole army wasposed of cavalry. Narsus'' handling was extremely clever. He first spread rumors of the retreat of the Parsian army among Gadhevis army that was guarding the fortress of Gujarat, and he actually let a considerable number of troops leave the fortress. Gadhevis army stormed into the city in order to upy the fortress, which had be empty. At that time, the Parsians who were still hiding in the fortress fired arrows like rain, causing Gadhevis troops to suffer great damage. Having suffered from this strategy of a strong attack, Gadhevis men then repositioned themselves to the south of the fortress and began a defensive battle. However, the Parsian army used a feint strategy, nting Parsian gs all over the fortress, but actually sneaked out through the northern gate, taking a more easterly detour and appearing on the battlefield in the southeast. In response to a possible attack by Pars, Gadhevis troops reinforced their western and northern formations, and the surprise attack by the Parsians was as easy as drawing a pattern on a nk sheet of paper.
The Parsian army was so strong that even Gadhevi himself saw this fact with his own eyes.
The 10,000 cavalrymen acted as a perfect team under Bahman''s experiencedmand.
Gadhevi''s army waspletely exposed at this time. They were unable to organize a strong counterattack, and the rift was getting bigger and bigger under the sporadic resistance.
Since Bahman''smand was so reassuring, Arn''s immediate subordinates were able to stay by the Crown Prince''s side and enjoy watching things from above for a while. Even Gieve, who was always prone to sneering, couldn''t help but admire.
"That old grandpa is surprisinglypetent!"
Rajendra''s gain was equivalent to Gadhevi''s loss. Gadhevi, who received the news of the Parsian army''s sharp attack, loudly scolded the ipetence of his men who were unable to defend against the enemy''s attack, and he gave a desperate order.
"Let the war elephant troops trample the Parsian army!"
Gadhevi was convinced that if he used war elephant troops, the battle would definitely turn around, which was too optimistic of an idea, but it was not unreasonable for him to think so.
The unharmed and invincible war elephant troops stampeded with a booming footstep and rushed towards the Parsian army.
Book 3: Chapter 3 (2)
Book 3: Chapter 3 (2)
"It''s Sindhura''s war elephant troops!"
Even the Parsian army, which was known for its bravery, could not help but gasp.
Before this, the Parsian army had fought dozens of battles with Sindhura''s army and had an overwhelming advantage in both cavalry and infantry troops. When encountering tough battles, the Sindhuran army would use war elephant troops at strategic times. Even the invincible King Andragoras avoided head-on shes with the war elephant troops.
Moreover, before the battle had started, Gadhevi ordered his men to mix drugs into the food of the elephants. Under the effect of the drugs, the elephants became extremely violent, like a living murder weapon.
The people who were responsible for keeping the elephants were fiercely opposed to putting drugs in the elephants'' food. They have always loved the elephants like family. The fact that the elephants were poisoned by the drugs and became nothing but a killing tool was too much for them to bear.
However, the cold of the season made the elephants cower and not move at all. From Gadhevi''s standpoint, the elephants that could not be used because of the cold were simply useless. Gadhevi himself had drawn his sword and killed an elephant handler that had objected to the drugging. This was a warning to the others. Thus, the most violent war elephant force in the history of Sindhura was born.
The wildly running elephants shook the air and the earth.
The Parsian army began to run away.
They fled as if they had no more desire to fight. This was entirely the result of Narsus'' n and Bahmans skillfulmand.
The war elephant troops chased the fleeing Parsians.
This was the effect of the drug. The sight of the fleeing men made the herd red with rage, and they had to chase them down and trample them before they would stop. The fierceness was beyond the control of the handlers.
"Stop! Slow down!"
The soldiers shouted from the backs of the elephants, but the herd did not hear them. Rather, the herd, which had previously been gentle and docile, had gonepletely mad. They were thirsty for blood, and just ran like mad.
Thus, the Parsian army cleverly let the war elephant troops stand out from the other troops and seeded in disrupting the enemys formation.
"Bahman is really an experienced veteran of the battlefield."
Daryun murmured at Arn''s side. Narsus gave a signal to the soldiers and had ten stone-throwing carts advance to the front of the line.
Instead of huge stones, those ten carts firednces dipped in venom, and fired thirty of them at a time. With ordinary arrows it was impossible to prate the elephant''s skin, so it was necessary to use the strong force generated by the stone-throwers tounch their weapons. From the day hed decided to fight with Sindhura''s army, Narsus had been sketching designs for the manufacturing of this weapon.
When the war elephant troops were approaching with disorderly rolls of smoke, Narsus raised his hand abruptly.
Three hundrednces flew straight out from the ten stone throwing carts. A moment after thesences disappeared in the sand and dust, the sound of harsh roars suddenly echoed through the clouds.
The herd''s advance was halted. Their huge bodies were pierced by thences, blood flowing, struggling, and roaring madly. The more violently the elephants moved, the more toxins flowed throughout their bodies. The roars turned into wails. A second wave of three hundrednces wasunched at them, and the elephants began to fall.
The giant elephants shook the earth as they fell down. Bang Bang Bang Bang it sounded as if drums were being beaten. The elephants handlers were thrown to the ground, crushed by the elephant''s body and legs, and let out miserable screams. Several small mountains of flesh were instantly piled up on the ground, and the smell of blood filled the air.
"Daryun!"
Arn turned his head back, and the ck knight who stayed by his side nodded as if he understood everything. He kicked his horse''s belly hard and leaped into the middle of the battlefield.
Daryun''s horsemanship could be said to be divine. The ck horse matched the rider''s skill, wandering through the herd of elephants still tumbling with pain. Passing between the trunk, tusks and legs, it plunged straight ahead towards the white elephant of the enemy''smander, Prince Gadhevi.
The throne was ced on the back of the white elephant, and Gadhevi, who was sitting steadily on it, could not help but tremble all over when he saw the figure of Daryun, who was charging majestically towards him.
"Kill the ck knight!"
Gadhevi shouted from the back of the white elephant.
The cavalrymen at Gadhevi''s side drew their longswords at the sound of the voice, and went towards the single fearless Parsian soldier.
The weapon in Daryun''s hand was a halberd brought from thend of silk, Serica. At the end of the long handle were three des, which had three functions: thrusting, cutting and sweeping, suitable for use in chaotic battles.
Daryun swung the halberd quickly from side to side on his horse. Only the screams of men and horses could be heard all around him as severed heads and arms danced about in mid-air. The warriors of Sindhura''s army seemed to be tossed away from Daryun''s body one by one.
"Get out of the way! Don''t get killed for nothing!"
The inside of Daryun''s cloak was bright red, so red that it shone as if it was not part of this world. The handle of the halberd was immediately moistened with blood, and Daryun broke through the encircling defence. He looked up at the huge body of the white elephant and asked pointedly.
"Prince Gadhevi?"
The white elephant prince did not answer. He suddenly could not make a sound and could only draw the sword at his waist in the midst of a dazed consciousness. The scabbard and hilt were studded with precious stones, obviously overly decorated, yet the de was still made of steel.
"Crush that guy with the elephant!"
Gadhevished the back of the ve soldier controlling the elephant with his whip. He let out a groan of pain while still having no choice but to do as the prince ordered. Daryun watched this scene from his horse.
"His Highness Arn would never do such a thing."
Daryun thought as he steered his horse around the back of the white elephant. Suddenly, there was a thunderous roar in the air.
"Ah"
The huge trunk of the white elephant bending in mid-air suddenly knocked away Daryun''s halberd and threw it high into the air. Suddenly, Daryun''s hands were empty, and there was no way topete with the elephant.
After rebncing his startled ck horse, Daryun took the longsword from his waist. At this time, the white elephant let out a violent scream and aimed its trunk for Daryun''s head.
"Daryun!"
Arn called out, sounding rather frightened.
Farangis and Gieve simultaneously raised their bows from their horses and set up their arrows. For a moment, both reflected each other in their sight. Oneughed pleasantly, the other pursed his lips, and both shot their arrows at the same time.
The two arrows flew out and pierced into the left and right eyes of the white elephant.
The blinded white elephant let out a roar of anger and pain. It waved its huge trunk and stamped at the ground with all four feet, trampling the soldier by its side. The unfortunate soldier''s flesh was split open and his bones werepletely shattered. The white elephant, which had lost its sight and bnce, made a sound like hundreds of drums and fell down.
Daryun leapt lightly from his ck horse, drew his longsword, andnded on the huge body of the still shaking white elephant.
For Daryun, it was his first time attempting anything like this. However, he did not lose his original bravery. He stepped onto the back of the elephant and swung his sword at the terrified Prince Gadhevi.
After only one round, the jewel-encrusted sword of Gadhevi was out of the owner''s hand and flew into the air. Gadhevi himself fell off his jeweled throne and prostrated himself on the elephant''s body, struggling to escape from the sword of his too-powerful enemy.
Daryun''s sword forced its way up.
Just then, a soldier leaped onto the back of the white elephant. He swung his sword in a sh and struck at the head of the dragon.
Only Daryun could instantly turn his head back, blocking the other''s fierce sword. However, even Daryun could not keep his bnce on the back of the elephant that was swaying left and right. He tried to counterattack, but his body swung around and fell backwards, rolling off the elephant''s back to the ground. He turned and immediately jumped up again.
The rider who forced Daryun to roll off the back of the elephant was not as stubborn as he was. Rather, it was a lucky thing that his right hand was left free because of the loss of his sword. He watched as the rider reached out his right hand, grabbed Gadhevis hand, and pulled him onto the horse. He let Gadhevi sit on the back of the saddle, kicked hard with both feet, and once again rushed into dust-filled clouds.
It was only a matter of seconds. The change of events was so unexpected and so swift that even several of Arn''s immediate subordinates simply watched in amazement as it happened without taking any action. However, when she remembered what was happening, Farangis immediately drew her bow. The sharp tip of the arrow aimed straight at the back of the fugitive. Just at this time
"Don''t shoot! That''s Jaswant!"
Arn''s voice stopped Farangis'' movement, and Jaswant''s figure immediately disappeared into the whirlwind of sand, dust and fighting. Farangis shook her head gently and put down her bow. Her green pupils kindly looked at the young prince, and she smiled.
"This is the second time Your Highness has helped that man. I hope he is grateful to you.
Arn did not deny it and smiled faintly. At this time, Daryun returned on his ck horse. Arn rejoiced that he had returned safely, and Prince Rajendra galloped over in high spirits, just at that moment. As the war elephant force had been routed and themander had fled, the entirety of Gadhevis army copsed and the battle was won.
"Prince Arn, thanks to you, we have won a great victory, I can''t thank you enough. All that is left is to chase after the fugitive Gadhevi and take the capital of the country, Uraiyur."
"Victory seems to be close."
"Ah, my brother in arms! The day when justice will be restored to the country of Sindhura is not far away. I will never forget your kind assistance, and I will still ask for your help more often in the future."
This man really knows how to turn the tide. Gieve, who was riding behind Arn, couldn''t help butugh.
"Gieve does not seem happy to be looking at himself in the mirror!"
Farangis said a rare joke, and Gieve also showed a rare startled expression and spat out a sentence.
"I think I am at least more decent than that guy."
Hearing these words, Narsus, who had been keeping silent,ughed patiently.
"Yes! Im sure Prince Rajendra must be thinking the same of you!"
Book 3: Chapter 3 (3)
Book 3: Chapter 3 (3)
It was the ultimate humiliation for Gadhevi, a defeat that he could not have ever imagined. Having been saved by Jaswant and having managed to escape back to the capital of the country, Uraiyur, Gadhevi cursed coldly at Mahendra, who was congratting him on his safe return.
"Mahendra! I did things just as you said, and yet, this was the result. It seems that decades of sitting on the throne of power have rusted your wisdom. Didnt you have a better strategy?"
Mahendra looked extremely ashamed, yet he did not want to argue.
"The subordinate''s strategy may not have worked, however, there are still unharmed soldiers in the fortress, and if we reorganize the defeated army again, we should be able to confront Rajendra. The walls of the capital are not that easy to break."
"Hm, is that really the case?"
Gadhevis expression was filled with doubt and mockery. At this time, the magnificent gems adorning the prince''s face and body looked like relics to Mahendra''s eyes.
"War elephant troops are supposed to be undefeated and invincible. And now, look! Not a single one is left on the battlefield, and every elephant has be food for hungry wolves. As for the walls of the nation''s capital, are they really that reliable?"
"Your Highness "
"In short, it''s all your fault. Do something about it! I''m tired, I''m going to rest now."
It was as if Gadhevi hadpletely forgotten that only a few days before, he had praised Mahendra for his resourcefulness, and now he was scolding Mahendra angrily without asking any questions. Gadhevi dragged his feet roughly toward his room. Mahendra, who had watched his back, slowly turned his eyes. A young man waited beside him on one knee.
Jaswant! I heard that in the midst of the defeat, you fought bravely against the enemy''s sword to save His Highness Gadhevi?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Well done! Did His Highness even say a word of thanks to you?"
"No, not a single word."
Hearing Jaswant''s answer, Mahendra could not help but gasp. The important minister who had been supporting the Sindhuran Kingdom for so many years felt so old at this time.
"Perhaps I have chosen the wrong son-inw. My wisdom seems to have truly rusted."
""
Jaswant did not answer. He dropped his eyes from Mahendra''s face to the ground and seemed to be biting his lip as if he was holding something back.
While stroking his beard with one hand, Mahendra fell into deep thought, and then said in a slightly hesitant tone.
"Jaswant, if that time "
Mahendra said only half of the words, Jaswant raised his head as if he felt ashamed.
"No, Chancellor, please don''t say that."
Although the tone was strong, there was a slight tremor in his voice.
Mahendra dropped the hand that was stroking his beard. His expression slowly returned to how a calm politician should look. He was, after all, an important figure and had dealt with all sorts of difficult issues.
"Yes! It''s useless to talk about it, Jaswant. Now we only have to protect the walls of the capital and repel Rajendras forces. We are counting on you."
"You are too kind. Although I have little power, I will do my best for Your Excellency."
After letting Jaswant retire for the day, Mahendra summoned a general and a scribe to give orders and listen to advice on matters such as policing the city and joining with allies in various ces. At that moment, a valet who was serving in King Karik''s ward appeared and whispered in Mahendra''s ear for a moment.
A look of surprise that could not be concealed swept over the chancellor''s face.
"What? His Majesty the King has regained consciousness?"
If this was true, it would be a matter of great joy. However, to be honest, Mahendra could not help but feel skeptical.
During the time when King Karik lost consciousness, the country of Sindhura had already split into two factions, no, in fact, most of the people had nothing to do with this matter, only the royal family had split into two factions, the army and officials appeared to be in a state of hostility, and because the Parsian army also took part this time, the situation was like adding fuel to the fire. If there was no Parsian army, perhaps Prince Gadhevi would have alreadypletely defeated Prince Rajendra, and settled the domestic strife. In this way, whether King Karik wakes up or not would not be a problem.
"I will immediately go to His Majesty''s ward."
Mahendra was about to walk away when he suddenly thought of something and stopped in his tracks. The king''s return to consciousness should be kept secret for the time being. Exclusive possession of secrets is an important condition for power.
"Without my permission, this matter can not be told to anyone. If anyone finds out, you yourself will face the consequences!"
"Yes, yes, Your Excellency, I will do as you ordered, however, I have already informed His Highness Gadhevi. Because His Majesty himself also wants this "
The subordinate could not be med for this matter, and after giving another order not to leak the information, Mahendra went towards the king''s ward.
King Karik, though lying on his sickbed, was looking at his old friend Mahendra, his eyes now open. The king looked predictably frail, yet, after talking to him for a little while, Mahendra knew that the king was surprisingly conscious. After drinking two sses of milk with eggs, as instructed by the doctor, the king asked the hereditary chancellor.
"Mahendra, during mya, has the country remained at peace?"
When you think about it, this was actually a vague question. However, Mahendra could not lie, and he made a respectful salute. The inside of his head was spinning rapidly. If the king was alive, all things would change from now on, right?
"The thing is, some problems have arisen between His Majesty''s royal sons. It''s not something that serious, but "
As Mahendra carefully chose his words and began to exin, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside the ward. Mahendra couldn''t help but frown.
As he expected, it was Gadhevi who ran inside after roughly banging open the door.
The prince pushed Mahendra and the doctor away and leaned over his fathers sickbed.
"Father, Father, it is so good that you are awake. There could be nothing better than this."
"Ah, Gadhevi, it makes me happy that you are safe, too!"
King Karik''s thin face was overflowing with the affectionate love of a father. He weakly shook Gadhevi''s outstretched hand and asked.
"By the way, how is Rajendra? Is he still fooling around with women all day long? Or gone to hunt wild elephants again? Hes a real pain in the ass!"
"That''s the thing. In fact, Father "
Taking advantage of this moment, Gadhevished out at his half-brother to his father. The doctor, who was worried about the king''s health, tried several times to stop him, however, he himself was stopped by the king raising one hand. After sowing the seeds of bad words, Gadhevi fell silent. King Karik, on the other hand, stroked his beard, which was alreadypletely white.
"I see what you mean."
"Then, I ask Father to punish that insolent boy Rajendra!
Gadhevis eyes shined, however, the king''s reply was not so pleasing to him.
"First I must also hear what Rajendra has to say. For he must also have a right to speak. Even if he is to be punished, there must be a just cause, otherwise it would not be fair."
"But, but, Father "
The king stared at the panicked Gadhevi.
"What''s wrong? If you''re right, there''s no need to panic. Or is there something else you''re hiding from me?"
Karik was worthy of being the king of a country. Seeing that Gadhevi did not want to make any further retort, the king began to write to Rajendra from his sickbed. Reluctantly leaving the ward, Gadhevi and Mahendra walked down the corridor side by side, groaning.
"Mahendra, Father has managed to wake up, but Im still upset. If he listens to that guy Rajendra and makes him the crown prince, it will not be good."
Seeing a glint of genuine fear pass through the prince''s eyes, Mahendra could not help but reply.
"Your Highness, please do not worry. Justice may not be on the side of Rajendra and the others. As His Majesty the King said, there is really no need for Your Highness Gadhevi to worry too much."
All in all, Gadhevi and Mahendra were currently in an unfavorable situation. If Rajendra were to take advantage and attack the capital now, the situation would be more and more dire. It seemed ideal to use the revived authority of King Karik at this time.
Book 3: Chapter 3 (4)
Book 3: Chapter 3 (4)
King Karik''s messenger appeared at Rajendra''s camp two dayster. This messenger was a retainer whom Rajendra had met before, and he delivered the kings letter.
"What? Father has regained consciousness?"
It was too much of a surprise for Rajendra. He had been convinced that his father was as good as dead, just short of being in the grave.
Could this be a trap? Could it be that Gadhevi, who understood that his position was already extremely unfavorable, used the name of his father, Karik, to lure Rajendra into his own trap? This was not a matter to take lightly.
Although Rajendra had suspicions, the letter was indeed the handwriting of King Karik.
Over the course of two days, the messenger hurried to and fro between the two ces. Rajendra decided to go to his father to defend himself, and he took only a few of his men with him towards the capital of the kingdom, Uraiyur.
The situation took a sharp turn. There are so many things in this world that even Narsus could not have foreseen.
From Narsus'' standpoint, a long war was to be avoided at all costs.
They could not be away from Pars for much longer. If possible, it would be best to settle this matter while it was still spring, and return to Peshawar and start preparing for the war with Lusitania. The problem lies in the fact that the attack on Sindhuras capital may be dyed for some time, but, depending on Rajendra''s talent, perhaps some other changes may ur in the meantime.
Entering the capital of the country, Rajendra met with his father in the royal pce. After an exchange of pleasantries congratting his father on his return to health, he too began toment violently on his brother.
"Father, please do not trust the nderous words of Gadhevi. He took advantage of Father''s bedridden condition to collude with Mahendra and manipte the country''s politics as he wished. I believe it was also Gadhevi''s plot to make Father drink the strange secret medicine."
Although Rajendra said a lot of things, the content was almost the same as what Gadhevi had said, only the names of the people were different. Soon after, Gadhevi was also called in, and the two of them started a war of words, only to argue for half a day without a conclusion. King Karik looked at the two frothing-at-the-mouth princes with slight displeasure, then opened his mouth and said:
"I am a man of wisdom. ording to this situation, I have no way to tell which of the two sons who denounce each other is innocent. So, I must leave it to the gods to decide."
Gadhevi and Rajendra forgot for a moment that they hated each other and could not help but exchange nces.
"Let''s decide the sessor by dueling before the gods!"
The people on the left and right of the king''s throne could not help holding their breath.
The so-called duel before the gods is a special trial in which two people duel with weapons, and the victor receives the verdict of justice in the name of the gods.
"It is too cruel for blood brothers to kill each other face to face with swords. I believe the gods will allow a proxy, right? Gadhevi and Rajendra, choose among your men or friends a brave man to whom you can entrust your fate! The victorious party will be the king of Sindhura."
King Karik''s expression and voice had a majesty that could not be refuted by others. Both Gadhevi and Rajendra had a feeling that they had discovered the true side of their father.
However, when news of the incident reached the camp of Pars'' army afterwards, Gieve issued a harsh criticism.
"The king of Sindhura seems to dislike the idea of taking responsibility himself, and thus foists his decision onto the gods."
Farangiss green eyes also shone with mockery, as she served the gods of Pars.
"Which person will the gods of Sindhura promote? Will the defeated side really follow the will of the gods? Either way, we''ll get to watch a good show."
Although Arn was not as blunt as they were, he was nevertheless skeptical about such a form of duel. In short, he did not think that justice would really be served, if only the stronger party won. When Arn consulted Narsus on this matter, Narses replied.
"Your Highness is right. However, the duel before the gods also has its merits. If the two armies continue to sh, no matter which side wins, there will be many casualties. But in the form of a duel before the gods, only the one loser will die. Even if both sides lose, only two people will die at most. This is probably a better decision from King Karik, right?"
Arn nodded, but now he had a new question. If it was really a duel before the gods, who would Rajendra get as a proxy?
Being asked this by the young prince, Narsus pointed the thumb of his left hand to his friend who was silently polishing his longsword.
"If I were to say the strongest warrior that Rajendra knows, would it not be our ck-d war god of Pars?"
Narsus'' prophecy hit the mark. Soon after, Prince Rajendra came to Arn''s camp to ask Daryun to be his proxy in the duel before the gods.
"I have decided to leave the fate of the Kingdom of Sindhura and myself in the hands of Lord Daryun. I would be grateful if you would assist me."
Daron''s reply was extremely brief.
"What a pain in the ass!"
In an instant, Rajendra, who had originally shown a timid expression, now had a provocative gleam in his eyes.
"Oh? Could it be that Lord Daryun isnt confident he would win the duel?"
"Feel free to justify it however you want. Since I am His Highness Arn''s vassal, I can''t agree to anything without His Highness''s order, no matter what it is. That''s how things are."
The implication was for Rajendra to bow down to Arn and ask for his help. When things came to this point, Rajendra no longer had a choice. He had to bow his head to Arn, who was ten years younger than himself, and ask for help. Arn''s heart had some slight hesitation, but, now that things hade to this point, he couldn''t refuse.
Daryun officially became Rajendras proxy for the duel.
"What? That ck-d knight is Rajendras proxy? That man is a Parsian! Are we going to let the Parsians decide Sindhuras fate?"
Although Gadhevi was angry, there was no rule that foreigners could not be the proxies in the duel before the gods.
Now he had to find a man strong enough to beat Daryun to be his proxy. Gadhevi tried his best to think east and west, and with great difficulty he came up with one man''s name.
"That''s right! Release that guy! Unlock Bahadur''s chains. No one but him can beat Daryun. He must be my proxy!"
When he heard Bahadur''s name, the chancellor Mahendra seemed to want to protest against it.
However, from Mahendra''s personal standpoint, he also had to make Gadhevi the next King of Sindhura. As he ordered Bahadur''s chains to be undone, he muttered inwardly.
"That Bahadur is not a human being at all, but a beast! Forget honor, at this time, we must entrust him with the fate of the country and people. Although this is shameful, it is truly a necessity!"
Book 3: Chapter 3 (5)
Book 3: Chapter 3 (5)
The duel was to be held in front of the main gate of the capital.
The boundary was a circle with a radius of seven gaz (about seven meters), if measured by Parsian standards. A trench was dug around the circle, filled with firewood and doused with oil. Once the duel started, the firewood would be ignited and the circle of fire would block any escape attempt of the duelists. Moreover, tenrge stakes were driven on the inner side of the circle, and hungry wolves were chained to each of these stakes. They had been deliberately starved for two days and were ravenous.
The fire barrier and the hungry wolves made it impossible for either of the duelists to escape.
Daryun, dressed in ck, stood in the middle of the circle of death. Armed with his longsword, he waited for his opponent to appear.
The nearby city walls were set up with spectator seats. On the left of King Karik were Gadhevi and his men, while on the right sat Rajendra and hispanions. Arn, Narsus, Gieve, Farangis, m, Alfreed, and Bahman, along with fifty other soldiers, were seated there. Originally, Gadhevi was against letting the Parsians enter the city, but, after Rajendra''s plea, King Karik finally agreed. However, there was really no excuse for the gathering of some Sindhuran soldiers so closely around the Parsians.
Bahadur, who finally appeared, far surpassed Daryun in height and weight, and was simply a giant. His height was more than two gaz (about two meters), and he was heavily muscled. He wore Sindhuran armor, but it gave the impression of a beast wearing human clothes. He had long dark hair, and a pair of small shining eyes.
After one nce at Bahadur, Arn could not help but feel a cold chill down his spine. He had absolute confidence in Daryun''s bravery, but now after seeing Bahadur, he felt that he might be forcing a task that was too dangerous onto Daryun. He peeked out from the audience and called to the brave man who couldn''t be more important to him.
"Daryun "
Somehow the voice reached Daryun''s ears over the noise of the crowd. Daryun looked back up towards the spectator seats. He looked at Arn and thepanions guarding him, smiled very stoically, and gave a salute. Then he turned back to face Bahadur, using his sword as a staff, and waited for the signal to begin the duel.
The great drums of Sindhura sounded from a corner of the city walls.
The lower half of the setting sun was already touching the western horizon.
The duel was about to begin.
Daryun took up the rectangr shield thaty at his feet and regained his grip on therge sword. Bahadur, the giant of Sindhura, did not carry a shield, but only a huge battle axe held with both hands. His face waspletely expressionless.
Though he didnt know why, Arn could not help but shiver. He turned his head to ask Rajendra.
"Prince Rajendra, that man named Bahadur is quite strong, isnt he?"
"No need to worry. No matter what, he can''t defeat Lord Daryun."
Although he answered Arn with confidence, an unsure expression surfaced on Rajendra''s face. Arn cast his eyes a little farther away, and saw the light smile that graced Gadhevis face. Gadhevi''s eyes then shifted to meet Arns gaze. A mocking look of superiority slowly spread across Gadhevi''s face.
Feelings of unease and regret began to seep into Arn''s mind. Azrael on his shoulder seemed to sense the change in his mood and let out a small chirp.
Daryun had called Arn his most important person. He felt that he was still undeserving of such a title. To Arn, Daryun is truly important and an indispensable retainer. Was he wrong to let Daryun participate in such a duel?
m whispered to encourage Arn.
"Please don''t worry. Lord Daryun will not lose, Your Highness, because he is the strongest and bravest man in the world."
The left half of m''s face suddenly glowed with a red copper color. The firewood had finally been ignited.
The mes made a violent bursting sound as they spread around the entire ring-shaped trench, forming a red-copper and golden circle of fire.
Mahendra stood up from his seat.
"The duel before the gods to determine the next king of Sindhura will now begin. The oue of the duel is sacred and invible, and neither side may disagree."
Since King Karik did not stand up, Mahendra acted in his ce. Rajendra cast a mocking and distrustful look at the vizier; however, he said nothing out loud. He became disgusted even with his father.
Suddenly, Bahadur opened his huge mouth. An appalling roar burst from his throat.
His voice overpowered the howls of the wolves and reached the audience, causing almost everyone, as well as the wolves, to fall into silence in a moment.
When the echoes hadpletely faded, the duel began. The huge body of Bahadur advanced forward. Although it was a duel for the fate of his country and his own life, his direct advance gave the impression that he had not even given a thought to that significance.
The huge battle axe reflected the mes as it came towards Daryun.
Daryun backed up while raising his shield to take the blow. He felt a numbness in his left wrist, yet still struck with the longsword. It was a strong chopping blow, however, it was blocked by the opponent''s battle axe.
Bahadur''s brute strength was truly unimaginable. The moment it was blocked, Daryun lost his center of gravity and swayed, and his boots made a violent grinding sound. After stabilizing his feet, Daryun''s eyes again reflected the opponent''s swinging battle axe. This time the opponent attacked from the right, and Daryun tried to block again.
A strange metallic sound resounded all around.
Daryun''s longsword had broken. The silvery shards flew into the air, and only the broken hilt remained in Daryun''s hand. Arn, who was holding his breath in the audience, saw the third strike of the battle axe swing again.
Daryun''s ck helmet flew loose. The cracked helmet flew into the air and fell back down into the ring of fire. Daryun''s ck hair also fell down, and his head and feet were nowpletely exposed.
The battle axe swung once more towards Daryun who stumbled on his feet.
Shouts rang out from among the Sindhuran people.
In the audience of the Parsians, Alfreed let out a small scream of agony. Arn could not make a sound, he just watched the deadly fight with wide eyes the color of a clear night sky.
Daryun swung his shield.
The battle axe shattered the shield and struck Daryun''s shoulder. However, the blow wasnt serious. Daryun dodged, then turned away and mmed the shield into the side of the unbnced Bahadurs face.
The blow should have shattered a normal man''s cheekbone. However, Bahadur stood firm and shed down toward Daryun again.
Daryun jumped back, making the opponent''s blow miss. At the same time, Daryun thrust out his broken sword. The shortened de swept across Bahadur''s wrist and blood sshed out. If the sword had not been broken, it would have cut off one of Bahadur''s hands.
Bahadur shouted, raised his battle axe high above his head and shed down towards Daryuns neck.
The defensive shield made a loud bang and cracked in half. Daryun beat Bahadur on the nose with the narrow side of the remaining half of the shield, and Bahadur only took a half step back. A hungry wolf, dragging its chains, bit him on the foot. Bahadur lifted the foot bitten by the hungry wolf, grabbed its upper jaw with his left hand, and lifted it into the air.
In the next instant, the hungry wolf''s head was torn apart.
Blood and slime flew everywhere, leaving the bloody wolf carcass dangling in Bahadur''s left hand. Screams of fear came from the audience. Bahadurughed maniacally and dropped the corpse, which fell right in front of the other hungry wolves. Immediately, they swarmed over the corpse of theirpanion, all the while making bone-crunching, hair-raising sounds.
"That thing isnt even human. Although it stands on two feet, it is not at all like a human being.
Gieve muttered, and Farangis couldn''t help but wipe the sweat from her pale forehead with her hand.
"There are beasts in human skin everywhere, but he''s simply an outright beast! If this was a duel with a human, there is no way that Lord Daryun would lose, but "
The words stop here, as she did not want to make Arn more upset. Arn found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Farangis caressed Arn''s shaking back.
"Bahadur, fight! Tear the Parsian into eight pieces, just like that wolf!"
Gadhevi encouraged the giant, a fervent and cruel gleam in both his eyes. Rajendra staggered and looked at Narsus as if to ask: Is there nothing that can be done?
There was nothing that Narsus could do either. Not only that, but this wise man, who was known as a hero of his country, could also only watch with a pale face as both sides continued to fight to the death.
Alfreed held his hand as if to give him strength, but he didn''t seem to notice it either. Rather, m saw it, and he frowned and deliberately cleared his throat.
"Wow!" There was another sound of horror from the people watching the battle. Daryun bravely jumped to Bahadur''s side and swung his broken sword once again. The de, shorter than a short sword, pierced into the side of Bahadur''s face, reaching deep into the bone and causing it to crack. Blood spurted out. Cheers rang out from the seats of the Parsians, however, this excited tone immediately changed to a shocked groan.
"Damn it! Why hasn''t it fallen down yet?"
Farangis and Gieve couldn''t help but shout in unison. Even if the beast didn''t fall, its movements should have been slowed down by the severe pain. However, Bahadur only slightly swayed his huge body. Even a brave man like Daryun had to be surprised by such an unusual situation. Originally, he also predicted that Bahadur would fall down like a giant tree that had been struck by lightning. However, his prediction was wrong. Bahadur fiercely struck back at Daryun''s body with a violent grinding sound, and a crack appeared in Daryun''s chest armor. He barely dodged the second blow and stepped back. At that very moment, a wolf bit into the warrior''s boots. Daryun twisted halfway around and shed at the wolf''s face with his broken sword. The wolf''s eyes protruded and it fell down, rolling on the ground in pain. The other hungry wolves then began to swarm its body as well.
Bahadur did not even look at the wolves fighting for food, he raised his battle axe and swung it down. The fierce weapon carried a strong blow to attack Daryun. At that very moment, Daryun flipped his body over and fled to the center of the dueling arena. Sweat dripped down the face of the brave knight in ck.
In the audience, Rajendra saw Arn''s intense gaze, and knew that he could no longer hide it. Only then did he reluctantly open his mouth and confess.
"Bahadur is not a normal person. That man is like a shark, no sensation of pain. So no matter what kind of injury he receives, he will continue to fight until hes dead. His only goal is to kill whatever is in front of him."
Eyes the color of a clear night sky burned in Arn''s face. He suddenly stood up from his seat and scowled at Rajendra.
"You You deliberately chose Daryun to be your proxy in the duel before the gods even though you knew this? You let Daryun duel such a monster?"
"Please don''t get worked up, Prince Arn."
"Dont get worked up?!"
Arn shouted, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword and gazing into Rajendra''s eyes.
"If Daryun is killed by that monster, I swear to the gods of Pars that I will hang your head along with that monster''s on the gates of the city here. I swear that I will do it!"
This was the first time in Arn''s life that he had threatened someone like this. Rajendra could not help but feel scared, and for a moment could not offer a defense. He remained sitting to avoid starting an outright fight.
"Please be calm, Parsian guest."
King Karik stopped the teenager with a stern and powerful voice, unlike that of a sick person.
"Gadhevi''s choice of agent in the duel before the gods came after Rajendra. Perhaps the guest''s warrior possesses unparalleled bravery and no one in the world can beat him, and that''s why Gadhevi went to such drastic lengths for this. As a sovereign, you should trust your retainer who is so feared by his enemies."
Arn was silent, and with a red face he saluted and sat down again. With a smug smile, Gadhevi, who watched the scene, whispered to his father.
"Father, it is surprising that the crown prince of Pars would show such panicked and rash behavior!"
"Gadhevi!"
King Kariks voice and expression held a faint sorrow in the dusk.
"If you were even half as concerned about your men as he is, I would have made you the crown prince long ago. A king cannot be a king by himself. It is only due to the assistance of retainers that a king can exist!"
"Understood, Father."
" Good."
King Karik seemed to shut his mouth wearily, and he cast his eyes to the ring of fire.
If it had been an ordinary duel, Bahadur would have been defeated long ago, and Daryun would have won triumphantly. However, without his longsword and shield, Daryun could only keep dodging Bahadur''s never-ending shing attacks.
Narsus exhaled heavily and sat down again. The conversation between Arn and King Karik seemed to have restored him to his old-knowing nature. He stretched out both arms and crossed them over his chest.
A low voice flowed from his lips.
"It''s almost over."
In his eyes, Daryun had prevailed. Perhaps it was only in his eyes? In the eyes of the others, Daryun seemed helpless before Bahadur''s beastly strength and life force. Gadhevi even had an expression ofcency. Rajendra turned his face to the side as if he was vomiting.
Daryun used one hand to unbutton his cloak. He swung the cloak in his left hand to the rear and swept it through the ring of fire. The cloak caught fire and immediately burst into mes.
Daryun struck the cloak, which had turned into a thin sheet of fire, at the upper part of Bahadur''s body. The cape curled around the giant and the burning mes enveloped him. The giant made a roaring sound and grabbed the cloak to throw it away, however, his turban and clothes were already on fire. As the upper half of his body burst into mes, Bahadur still swung his battle axe in his hand and shed towards Daryun.
At this time, the light of the short sword shone on Daryun''s right hand for the first time.
Everyone had forgotten that Daryun had a shortsword in addition to the longsword, perhaps because Daryun seemed reluctant to give up the broken sword. Of course, it was Daryuns intent to make people feel that way.
Daryun calcted the timing and situation perfectly and shed the short sword in his hand, and in that instant, the winner was decided.
Bahadur''s head was cut off. Red and ck blood shot out like a fountain and began to form a small pool at his feet. The huge, expressionless head was enveloped in a sea of fire, shaking violently from side to side. It looked as if he didn''t know which way to fall.
When his head fell forward, the huge body seemed to be pulled by its weight and fell forward with it. After a loud bang, Bahadur was lying in the center of the ring of fire.
For a few seconds, silence fell over the area and no one made a sound.
Breathing heavily with his upper body, Daryun turned his eyes to the audience and gave a deep salute to Arn. The silence was broken in that instant as wild pping and cheering erupted from the audience.
Arn was no exception. He stood up and pped his hands until they hurt, while calling out Daryun''s name as if he were in a dream.
"Daryun wins. That means Rajendra wins. With the testimony of the gods Shiva, Indra, Agni, and Varuna , the next king of Sindhura is Rajendra!"
Over the audiences cheers, King Karik announced thus, his voice spreading like a wave all around. "Rajendra! The new king!" The cheers rang out once more.
Just at this time,
"I don''t ept it! I''m not epting it!"
Gadhevi stood up. His two eyes were full of hot light likeva, and his voice, though loud, had a tremor. His whole body seemed to sway with the wind like a tree in the wind.
"Who would listen to such an improper trial? Lets do it again! I deny it!"
Rajendra also stood up, but his voice trembled with a different kind of excitement.
"Gadhevi, you of little faith! How dare you disagree with the judgment of the gods?"
"Its the gods who are wrong!"
Hearing Gadhevis words, amotion arose among the Sindhuran people, who feared the wrath of the gods. Gieve sneered and whispered.
"That prince seems to have finally realized that the gods are always wrong, always ming humans for undesirable results."
Some of the Sindhuran people stood up, while others sat and looked up at the sky. Chancellor Mahendra scolded his daughter''s husband sternly.
"Your Highness Gadhevi, there can be no disagreement about the result of the duel before the gods. What''s more, this is an order given by the king."
"Shut up!"
Gadhevi yelled.
"Bastard! How dare you betray me! You must be colluding with that Rajendra guy in private, arent you? Are you so reluctant to give up your position as chancellor?"
"Your Highness, what are you talking about?"
"Shut up! I don''t trust you anymore! The throne of Sindhura is mine!"
Gadhevi''s gaze was so intense, yet it had also lost its rationality, as if it was going to spurt blood from his eyes, and he looked up at his father.
"Father, please give the throne to me! In the name of this sword!"
"Gadhevi, you are mad!"
Rajendra shouted. There was a faint but obvious joy of victory in his voice. Gadhevi had made himself a conspirator of rebellion by tantly disobeying the will of the king in front of the citizens.
"All generals and soldiers, kill Rajendra!"
"Protect the King! Kill Gadhevi!"
The audience surrounding the dueling arena was immediately engulfed in a chaotic roar of rage.
Swords shed around King Karik, bursting into sparks. The two princes fiercely fought for their father, not out of the love of children, but to legitimize their throne.
"Your Highness, we must not be drawn into the affair, pleasee this way!"
Narsus walked in front, with Farangis and Gieve nking the right and left, taking Arn away from the whirlwind of chaos. Bahman stood guard behind, while Azrael spread his wings and flew into the air. The Prince of Pars and his party tried to avoid the chaos and leave the audience.
A group of Sindhuran soldiers blocked their way. Of course, these men were all Gadhevi''s men.
More soldiers arrived one after another, and the des crisscrossed around Arn. Narsus, Gieve, and Farangis spewed a foam of blood with each sh, opening up a path.
More Sindhuran soldiers also appeared behind them.
"Your Highness Arn! Please hurry up and go!"
Before he could finish his words, Bahman unsheathed his sword and cut down the attacking Sindhuran soldiers in a cloud of blood and smoke.
Although he was already over sixty years old, his skillful swordsmanship showed no signs of decline. However, just as he cut down two more enemy soldiers, Gadhevi picked up a spear, aimed it at the old general, and threw it.
The spear made a whistling sound as it flew towards him, stabbing hard into the area between Bahmans left shoulder and chest. Bahman let out a short groan and fell down.
"Bahman!"
Arn shouted wildly and tried to run over to help Bahman, however, Gadhevi once again picked up another spear and tried to throw it at Arn. At this time, the group of Sindhuran soldiers instantly retreated. After fighting the fire and crossing the fire circle, Daryun, who had taken a sword from one of the Sindhuran soldiers, had run to the audience.
Daryun''s sword roared and cut down the enemy soldiers around him one by one.
Smoke and screams of blood spurted into the darkening sky as the Sindhuran soldiers fell, trying to escape from the power of Daryun''s sword. Now that they knew of Daryuns strength, no one dared to stand in his way.
"Fierce Tiger General!"
Cries of fear and awe erupted from among the Sindhuran soldiers. Daryun, who was known as the "Warrior of Warriors" in Pars, was given a new title by the foreign soldiers.
Blinded by disappointment and anger, Gadhevi picked up his spear again. Mahendra held both hands in front of him to stop him; however, Gadhevi could no longer distinguish between friend and enemy. He thrust the spear down, and in the next instant, pierced Mahendra''s body.
Farangis''s bowstring made a high-pitched, crisp sound, and the arrow sliced through the gloomy sky. Gadhevi''s right hand was pierced by the arrow. The spear fell from his hand, and he removed the arrow with his left hand. Farangis nocked a second arrow, and by now, Gadhevi''s figure had disappeared into the tangled mass of people.
"Gadhevi has defied the divine will. Those who follow him will beplicit in the crime of high treason! Lay down your arms and follow thew of justice!"
Rajendra shouted after making sure his father was safe. As a result of this change, the chaos subsided. Gadhevis men dropped their swords, knelt down, and hung their heads to King Karik.
Mahendra was left with hisst breath. It was incredible that he was stabbed all the way through with a spear and did not die instantly. In the midst of his agonized gasping for breath, he whispered to Jaswant who was desperately tending to him.
" Don''t be sad, Jaswant. I deserve my fate. I have followed the wrong sovereign and chosen the wrong son-inw. Such a downfall is but the most fitting end for a foolish man. Oh, Jaswant, I have nothing to give you "
The conversation was cut short here, and Mahendra died.
Jaswant was ultimately unable to ask the one thing he most wanted to know. He had not known his father. He had wondered if Mahendra was his real father. However, because of Mahendra''s death, he now would never have the answer.
Bahman was also on the verge of death. The spear had reached deep into his gut. All other aspects aside, Gadhevi seemed to be quite talented at spear throwing.
" Your Highness Arn, please make sure you be a good king!"
With only these words, Bahman spurted out blood and lost consciousness. His lungs were simply too injured.
Narsus was also quite knowledgeable in the art of healing, and soon dered that Bahman had regained consciousness. Arn looked a little panicked. He grabbed the old generals shoulders with both hands and shook them hard.
"Bahman, tell me! You must tell me before you die! What kind of man am I? What am I?"
Arn''s retainers exchanged wordless nces. Bahman looked back into the prince''s eyes and did not say a word.
Arn''s armor flickered for a moment, reflecting thest glow of the setting sun. Bahman''s pupils also lost their focus forever at this time.
Book 3: Chapter 4 (1)
Book 3: Chapter 4 (1)
The chaos had not yet fully subsided, but the fate of the Sindhuran Kingdom seemed to be decided.
The next king would be Prince Rajendra. Gadhevi, who waspeting with him for the throne, was now being hunted for betraying the verdict of the duel before the gods and killing his father-inw, Mahendra.
The nobles and officials in Sindhura''s capital, Uraiyur, had all pledged their allegiance to Rajendra one after another. As for those who still followed Gadhevi, they left the capital and fled to the border. In the future, these people might bebeled as a "rebel army". But for now, in Sindhura, Rajendra was the embodiment of justice.
King Karik II was once again bedridden and rapidly weakened by the shock to his heart. One day, he called Rajendra to his ward.
"Could you let Gadhevi go, Rajendra?"
"I understand your feelings. Father. However, he disregarded the result of the duel and disobeyed the judgment of the gods and the will of the king. Moreover, he killed the chancellor, Mahendra, who was also his father-inw. Even if I let him go, thew and justice will not forgive him."
Rajendra''s attitude was resolute, and he had no choice but to reject the pleading eyes of his aging father. Rajendra had a difficult expression and was in deep thought, until finally, he and his father agreed on a few things.
He would tell Gadhevi to give himself up. If he was willing to surrender, Rajendra would not take his life and instead confine him in the monastery. As for the local gentry who followed Gadhevi, if they were willing to submit, they would be forgiven for their sins. Focus on the work of reunification within Sindhura, and do not be bent on revenge
Rajendra''s promise seemed to put King Karik at ease. It was no longer possible to fully recover from the bodily damage caused by drug abuse, but he still tried to do his duty as a king until he died. He wrote an official certificate giving the throne to Rajendra, a letter in his own hand urging Gadhevi to surrender himself, and a memorial to the important minister Mahendra.
When these matters were finished, Karik fell into a drowsy state, as if he had used up all his remaining strength at once.
As the night came to an end, King Karik II took hisst breath.
Although he was a foreign king, the death of Karik II was a blow to Arn.
Although King Karik had abused drugs, he had still tried to do his duty as a king and a father. Especially as a father, his attitude towards Gadhevi and Rajendra was really remarkable. Arn had to think of his own rtionship with his father Andragoras.
At the loss of his father, Rajendra let out a cry of grief. He leaned close to his father''s body, tears moistened his chest and clothes, rambling and sobbing about who he would rely on in the future.
"What convincing fake crying!"
Daryun was surprised by Rajendras reaction, but Narsus corrected him.
"No, it wasn''t fake crying."
"Do you mean to say that Prince Charming is truly sad?"
"Not entirely so. Rajendra had convinced himself that he should feel sad for the death of his father. That''s why he was able to shed so many tears."
Narsuspletely saw through the peculiarities of Rajendra''s character. Rajendra was a person who was so skillful in acting that he was fooled even by himself.
The Parsian army also held a funeral for the general Bahman. For Arn, the only two Marzban to survive were Daryun and Kishward. How many of them had survived after the battle of Atropatene? Arn had no way of knowing.
Although Bahman was dead, the 10,000 cavalry under his leadership were still there. How strong was the army of Pars on the expedition to Sindhra? How good were they at fighting? After the many battles,rge and small, the Parsian army had a total of less than two hundred battle deaths.
"Lord Bahman''s sleight of hand was really ingenious. He was really worthy of being called the wisest general among the marzban."
Even Narsus, who didn''t like Bahman very much, admitted this bluntly.
However, although Bahman died, those who survived were confronted with a different matter. The 10,000 mounted Parsian cavalry led by Bahman needed amander, and Arn thought that Daryun was best suited for the position.
"If it is Lord Daryun, he certainly deserves our respect as amander. Thete general Bahman would not object, not to mention that His Highness the Crown Prince also wishes it so, there should not be any problem in this matter."
The troops under Bahman said so, epting Daryun to stand above their post.
Arn requested Rajendra to allow them a mountainous area quite close to the capital of the country, Uraiyur. He used that ce as a cemetery for the Parsian generals and soldiers who died in battle, including Bahman. Their remains were buried on the western slope of the hill. To the west was a view of Pars, the homnd of the dead.
As they were in a foreign country, the funeral was extremely simple, but the Crown Prince Arn was there in person. The one who took care of all the funeral matters was Farangis, who was a priestess.
After the funeral, Daryun was officially appointed from the Crown Prince''s side to be themander of the 10,000 cavalry led by Bahman.
"Fierce Tiger General, please take care of me in the future as you always do."
"Don''t mock me, Narsus."
The bitterly smiling Daryun immediately changed his expression.
"But, Lord Bahman still didn''t say anything about the secret letter given to him by my uncle in the end. Did His Highness Arn''s troubles just disappear?"
"Hopefully, but I doubt it. Daryun "
There are some questions that even Narsus did not have a clear answer to. The secret of Arn''s birth is one such question.
Although Narsus predicted Bahman''s intention to seek death, he still could not get his confession before. This was a regrettable failure for Narsus, and also because deep in his heart he still had some hesitation about revealing the secret.
During his march within Sindhura, Narsus had the opportunity to consult Gieve about Arn''s origin.
"For me, it''s the same either way."
As he plucked the strings of his oud with slender fingers, Gieve, who called himself a "traveling musician," sang out with a dazzling glint in his deep blue eyes.
"No, it would be more interesting to say that the prince is not of proper royal blood. I am willing to dedicate myself to His Highness Arn, but I have no intention of swearing allegiance to the royal family of Pars. What exactly can the royal family offer me?"
Personally, Arn did have something to offer Gieve. Staying with Arn''s side was indeed a lot of fun and led to some interesting new experiences.
"That''s right, I know how Gieve feels."
Narsus thought, because he himself felt the same way. Even if Arn did not have royal blood, what was wrong with that? It was still a fact that Andragoras III had officially installed Arn as crown prince.
Suddenly, Narsus remembered Andragoras, whose whereabouts were still unknown.
Although Andragoras had many ws that a king should not have, he was definitely not an ipetent man or a coward. Narsus agreed that his strengthy in hisck of superstition.
Shortly after the beginning of Andragoras'' reign, an astrologer came to Andragoras while he was reorganizing the pce personnelle. This astrologer had often ttered King Gotarzes and King Osroes and begged for rewards. He ttered Andragoras in the same way.
"ording to the astrology, it seems that Your Majesty is really the picture of longevity. He will live to be at least ny years old. This is really the best thing for the people of Pars."
"Well, then, how many years will you yourself live?"
"I have the protection of the gods, and I can live to be one hundred and twenty years old."
"Oh? But you seem to be quite young. Is it possible that you are already one hundred and twenty years old? People really can''t live forever!"
After he finished mocking, Andragoras suddenly drew his sword and cut off the astrologer''s head.
"What a magnificent king. How can a bizarre astrologer be a match for that?"
The people appreciated this. The two generations of kings of Pars, the King Gotarzes II, and the King Osroes II, were very superstitious people. At that time, magicians, astrologers, and prophets were frequenting the court, and people who had a heart could not help but frown at this situation. The brave Andragoras, on the other hand, had all these bad habits eradicated in one fell swoop.
During the reign of Andragoras, these people had been driven out of the pce. Thus, there were many magicians and prophets who hated Andragoras, but Andragoras continued to ignore them.
Does Arn have such a strong will? A series of future trials will be able to tell.
"This guy, Gadhevi, did he fly to the sky? Or has he lurked into the ground? No matter what, he must be found, I can''t feel at ease until this matter is settled."
While making preparations for histe father''s funeral, Rajendra intensified his pursuit of Gadhevi.
Although there was the agreement with his father, Rajendra had no intention of keeping his promise. He had gotten the support of most of the capital of the country, Uraiyur, however, there were still many local nobles who followed Gadhevi. If Gadhevi fled to them, perhaps the situation would be reversed. The pursuit should never be stopped.
Only bypletely destroying Gadhevi, could Rajendra himself be crowned king. Conquering the powerful nobles who rebelled against him, settling the four sides of the kingdom, holding a grand crowning ceremony, marrying, etc., were all matters forter. No matter how fast, it would take two or three years.
In the meantime, he also could not let the reinforcements of the Parsian army wander around.
He had all sorts of worries. Even a man as cunning as Rajendra could not just assume that the future was set in stone.
On the other hand, there was also a man who had no future outlook at all.
Jaswant, formerly of Mahendras family, was arrested as an aplice to Gadhevi, but was released at Arn''s request. He gave a formal thanks to his rescuer, and the crown prince of Pars looked at him worriedly.
"Jaswant, what are your ns for the future?"
"Well "
Jaswant had originally followed Gadhevi to his own destruction, and his suspected biological father Mahendra was also killed by Gadhevi, and King Karik had died as well. He did not want to serve Rajendra, the victor who had survived on his own. Rajendra also did not want Jaswant to be his subordinate because he had infiltrated his own army camp as Mahendra''s spy. There was no longer room for Jaswant within Sindhura.
"So, Jaswant, would you like toe with us?"
Jaswant was taken aback by the words, and in this instant, he was not able to respond immediately. Looking at Jaswant, whose face was uncertain, Arn continued.
"I also do not know whose child I really am. I thought I was the child of my father Andragoras, but it seems that this is not the case. Maybe I don''t even deserve the status of Prince of Pars or something like that."
Jaswant listened to Arn dully.
"So, after I recover Pars with the help of Daryun, Narsus and the others, I have to go and determine who I really am. If you want, I would like you toe with me. But it will be very hard, so I can''t force you, but I hope you will think about it "
Arn said with a serious expression.
"I have no way to answer you right now. Perhaps it seems a bit indecisive to say this, but there is really no way for me to get my thoughts in order at this time "
"Well, you can take your time to think about it."
Arn stood up and left, however, the smile on his face as he left was deeply imprinted in Jaswant''s mind.
Arn''s usual practice was never to order others to follow him when recruiting someone to be his subordinate. He always remains in a reciprocal position to persuade others. He always does this naturally without being aware of it, and it is obvious that this is Arn''s strength. Just like what Narsus had said to Hilmes before.
The Parsian army quickly began to make preparations to return home.
They had no intention to stay in a foreign country for a long time. Rajendra did not need to worry much about it. The purpose of the Parsian army had been generally achieved, of course, the focus would now be on the Parsian domestic affairs.
"Since the situation has been settled, even if we return to Pars without seeing the death of Gadhevi, there should not be any problem. As long as His Highness gives the order, we can leave anytime."
That was true, but from Narsus'' standpoint, he wanted to pacify the eastern kingdom first. He said to his close friend Daryun.
"If Gadhevi ispletely destroyed, Rajendra will show his fangs to us. In fact, that is the day I am waiting for, but how exactly will things evolve "
The daughter of the chancellor Mahendra, Salima, was the wife of Gadhevi, and if her husband had be king, she would of course have been the queen. However, luck jumped over his head. Now, she was under house arrest in a room inside the pce. Rajendra had asked her to marry him before, and he had no intention of letting his reputation suffer by mistreating women. Therefore, although on the surface Salima was under house arrest, she was free to live in any way.
On the other hand, Rajendra thought that if Salima contacted Gadhevi secretly, he could follow the clues to find the ce where Gadhevi was hiding.
Therefore, Rajendra secretly sent people to monitor Salima''s movements, however, in five days, she did not go anywhere and stayed in her room. There was only one exception.
There was a small tower near her room, where she worshiped the spirits of her ancestors. So, she went to that ce once a day to pay her respects. She did not let anyone approach and spent this time of worship alone.
Rajendra had sent people to search the interior of the tower and above the roof, but nothing was found, so there was not even a guard inside.
However, Gadhevi was hiding in arge cage hanging inside the tower. The upper beams of the tower were so intricately constructed that it could not be seen from below. Samima brought food for him, however, on one asion, she mixed sleeping pills with the sugar cane wine she gave her husband to drink.
After making sure that Gadhevi was asleep, Salima gave the order to the maid. The maid went out and brought one of Rajendra''s generals.
When Gadhevi opened his eyes, he had been grabbed down from the cage and both hands were tied behind his back and bound tightly. Despite how adept he was at marksmanship, there was nothing he could do in such a situation. He could only growl at his wife.
"Salima, what the hell is going on here?"
"It''s exactly what it looks like. You are a poor person who was abandoned by the gods in heaven and despised by the people of earth. Therefore, I originally thought you were very suitable to be hung in a cage, but as a result, you still fell to the earth to be a body waiting for sin."
Salima''s voice was extremely cold. Gadhevi writhed on the floor and angrily scolded his wife.
"As a wife, you betrayed your own husband. Shameless bitch!"
"I''m not betraying my husband, I''m just avenging my father''s death."
Gadhevi opened his mouth wide, unable to make any more sound. He bit his lip and his face was ashen.
Arn was present when the prisoner was brought before Rajendra. It was Rajendra who had invited him here on purpose.
Gadhevi put on a smile for his half-brother, who should have been filled with hatred. Arn had never seen such a stiff, miserable smile. Gadhevi was a nobleman of status, and he had the looks to match. Because of this, when he begged for mercy in an extremely humble manner, it seemed particrly disgraceful.
"Rajendra! Are you and I not brothers by blood? By a trick of fate, we killed each other for the throne, but the victory has been decided, and you have won."
"Oh? You admit it?"
Rajendra crooked the corners of his mouth with utmost mockery, however, Gadhevi pretended not to see it and continued.
"Let me be your subordinate! I swear to be loyal to you. So, you should be able to let me live, right?"
Rajendra heaved a deliberate sigh. After a quick nce at Arn, he opened his mouth with difficulty.
"Gadhevi! We brothers had staked our lives and our country for the throne. If you lose, we all know what happens. I will let you die a dignified death, so don''t beg for mercy so pitifully."
"Ra Rajendra "
"What an unfortunate pair of brothers we are! If we were unrted, perhaps we could have had a better friendship."
A shadow very sparingly clouded Rajendra''s eyes. But that was only for a moment, and he then put on an expression that could almost be described as uncaring, and said.
"For you, this is thest night of your life. You can enjoy yourself! I will prepare wine and food for you."
Arge amount of wine was poured down the throat, knocking people unconscious and killing them without pain. This was Sindhura''s method of executing royalty.
Gadhevis ropes were untied, and the wine and dishes and fruits were ced side by side in front of him. A human wall of soldiers and executioners surrounded him, and four courtesans poured wine from the left and right of Gadhevi.
Looking around with bloodshot eyes, Gadhevi suddenly nced at Arn and snatched a bottle from one of the courtesan''s hands.
"Parsian brat! This is all your fault! I hope you know that!"
An angry cry and the sh of the murder weapon rang out almost at the same time.
Gadhevi threw the sk to the ground, grabbed a sharp porcin piece, and threw it toward Arn''s throat.
The courtesans let out a terrible scream.
Arn saved his own life in this instant. He grabbed a bone from the table and held it in front of his throat, and the shard pierced into it instead.
Azrael pped his wings, and his beak pecked at Gadhevis right eye.
Gadhevi screamed in dismay and pressed his hand against his bloodied face. Azrael, who had avenged his friend, arced in mid-air and returned to Arn''s shoulder.
"I''ve never seen such an immortal guy. Gadhevi! You are far more unqualified to be king than what Iined to Father about. Go to the underworld and let Father deal with you again!"
At Rajendra''s signal, three executioners slowly leaned toward Gadhevi. One of them held an axe for beheading. The other two men pinned Gadhevi to the ground, still struggling with severe pain and anger.
Arn did not want to see this tragic scene. However, he had already intervened in Sindhura''s history and could not help but watch the oue.
The axe was raised high and swung down heavily.
The scream was brief.
Book 3: Chapter 4 (2)
Book 3: Chapter 4 (2)
After Gadhevis execution, his head, which was missing both an eye and its body, was hung by the city gate. Although he was a prince of this country, he still ended up in such a miserable state.
"Ahhh! It''s finally over. But, after struggling so desperately, this ending is rather more sad than I anticipated. For the sake of his own reputation, he should have died bravely!"
Rajendra felt this way, and Arn also had an uneasy feeling. He didn''t disagree, but there was still a feeling of deep displeasure, which he had no control over. He could still not forget seeing Gadhevis blood-covered face.
"By the way, Prince Arn, thanks to you, the country of Sindhura seems to have calmed down for the time being. What are your ns for the future?"
"To go back to Pars, of course."
Gadhevi was dead, and Rajendra seemed to have gotten the means to rule Sindhura. If they could get Rajendra to agree to a non-aggression pact, then the situation would go ording to Narsus'' n, and their defences would be stabilized. With this done, the work of retaking the capital could be slowly begun.
"Go back to Pars to drive out the Lusitanians?"
"Yes."
Rajendra narrowed both eyes and looked at Arn''s face.
"Honestly, what is the situation in Pars? What are the chances of winning the battle to drive out the invaders?"
"Narsus knows better than I do. Shall I call him in to exin?"
"Ah, no, there''s no need for that."
Rajendra shook his head in a panic. He felt that Narsus was a tricky person, and Daryun was just not an easy man to deal with. In his heart, Rajendra always thought that both of them were mere subordinates of Arn.
Rajendra was convinced that without them, it would be much easier to deal with Arn alone. In their next conversation, Rajendra even took advantage of the situation to make this observation.
"If I were the military advisor of Lusitania, I would send emissaries to the two countries of Turk and Turan, instigate them to invade the eastern borders of Pars, and then attack your troops from behind."
"Narsus also said this."
"Oh! Then, perhaps I can be your military advisor as well."
"But, Narsus has seven ways to counter such an invasion. So, he also asked me not to worry."
"Seven ways? Which seven?"
Rajendra couldn''t help but be curious enough to ask, however, Arn only smiled slightly.
"It''s top secret, so he didn''t tell me either."
This was the truth. Because if Rajendra asked, it was still unsure if Arn could talk around the question.
Rajendra originally wanted to inquire some more information, but he was getting nowhere, so he had to change the subject, and the topic of conversation was the gift to the Parsian army. All in all, without Arn and his men, it would have been impossible for Rajendra to eliminate Gadhevi in such a short time. In addition to that, he did not want the Parsian army to stay in Sindhura much longer. It would be best for them to take their gifts and go back to their country immediately.
"The only thing that cannot be ceded is the territory, anything else will be yours. Treasures or food are fine. Even if you want some of Sindhura''s beautiful women."
"Then, I''ll be bold enough to make a request. Prince Rajendra, can you lend me five hundred cavalry? This is all I ask."
"What? Five hundred cavalry?"
For a moment, an inexplicable ominous light seemed to sh in Rajendra''s pupils. However, he quickly forced a smile to cover up this weird light.
"Prince Arn, you are too kind. Although we are not blood brothers, we are allies in life and death! I can''t justify lending you only five hundred cavalry to help you retake your lostnd. How about this, I''ll give you three thousand cavalry."
"Thank you for your kindness, but Prince Rajendra will have to devote himself to the unification of the country in the future, right? You should treasure every single soldier."
Arn politely excused himself, however, Rajendra ordered that three thousand cavalry be lent to Arn.
After Arn led his army on the way back to Pars, Rajendra hummed happily, however, an old minister came to him as if he had something important to say.
"Your Highness Rajendra, I have something to report."
"Ah ah, is it an admonition?"
Rajendra rubbed his chin and looked at his subordinate with contempt.
"Forget it, just tell me!"
"Prince Arn''s help to our country has indeed been kind to us. However, in the future, we need to devote ourselves to protecting the country of Sindhura. Lending them three thousand cavalry is tantamount to weakening ourselves. Since Prince Arn said that only five hundred cavalry would be enough, don''t we just need to give him that number?"
"I know."
"Then "
Rajendra grasped the papaya in his hand andughed.
"Ah, don''t you understand my intentions? I am concealing fire in the army of Pars!"
"Ah, in that case "
"Yes. Three thousand cavalry will suddenly set fire in Parsian camp in the middle of the night. At the same time, I myself will personally lead the troops to besiege from the outside. No matter how strong Pars'' army is, it cannot be stronger than this kind of attack."
The old minister stared dumbly at his young lord.
"Your Highness Rajendra, isn''t this too much? They helped Your Highness defeat Prince Gadhevi!"
"Do you really think they did it for me? They did it to help themselves!"
Rajendra wiped his lips, which were sticky from the papaya. He got up from his chair and asked his close attendant to bring his armor. He smiled faintly at the dumbfounded old minister.
"Now, I will lead the whole army to sneak close behind the Parsians. At least I will get thend of the old Batavia duchy."
" So you are nning to kill Prince Arn?"
"Don''t be ridiculous! I''m not a person who is entirely devoid ofpassion."
Rajendra said in a serious tone.
"I''m going to take Arn as a hostage, and after I get the territory of the old Batavia duchy, I''ll set him free. To say the least, I quite like that boy. I am also using this ploy to let that child finally grow up, which is beneficial for him to be the king of a country in the future."
This was a flimsy excuse, but Rajendra himself believed in his own words from the bottom of his heart. While putting on his armor and putting the jeweled saddle on his white horse, Rajendra thought about how tofort the poor Arn.
Book 3: Chapter 4 (3)
Book 3: Chapter 4 (3)
The army of Pars left Sindhura and triumphantly returned to their homnd. Arn agreed with his generals to give the soldiers a big reward when they returned to Peshawar. Even without this benefit, they felt lucky enough to return home alive, so the whole army looked relieved.
"Yikes! What a blessing to be spared from that spicy Sindhuran food! Ten days of eating that kind of stuff will burn your tongue off."
Gieve spoke venomously, and Narsus couldn''t help but nod bitterly. Sindhura''s usual spicy cuisine was hard for the Parsians to swallow. After unknowingly eating boiledmb brains with chili peppers, Arn and m had no appetite for a while, and even the fearless Daryun did not want to eat it a second time. Only Farangis looked as if nothing had happened.
"Although I don''t particrly like it, their cuisine has a unique vor. It''s not bad."
This was how Farangis felt.
This night was the first time that 10,000 Parsian troops and 3,000 Sindhuran troops led by Rajendras General Kendava camped together. Suddenly, mes sprang up in the middle of the night and caused an rm.
Rajendra, who was leading 20,000 soldiers and secretly following behind the Parsian army, knew that General Kendava had caused amotion ording to his order, and could not help but rejoice, giving orders to the 20,000 soldiers.
"Charge into the Parsian camp and capture Arn alive!"
Rajendra on his white horse led the way, and Sindhura''s army loudly rushed into the Parsian army camp.
It was an attack from both the inside and outside. There should have been pandemonium throughout the camp. However, when they rushed in, they found it empty, with only piles of burning firewood.
"What, what''s going on here "
Suddenly, there was a heavy sound of somethingnding in Rajendrasp. Rajendra frowned and stretched out a hand to touch it, and felt human hair against his palm. General Kendava''s head was looking regretfully at his young lord.
Even Rajendra, who was by no means squeamish, was startled. He tried to push the general''s head away out of reflex, and the night air beside him shifted slightly. He suddenly felt the oppressive aura of ck armor.
"Cunning Sindhuran! Your treacherous n has been seen through. By the mercy of His Highness Arn, I wont yet part you from your meager life."
Night itself stood before Rajendra in the form of a brave warrior. His ck cloak was fluttering in the wind, and the longsword in his right hand was covered in blood.
Rajendra couldnt help but feel scared. He already knew that his ploy hadpletely failed.
"Hold them back, hold them back!"
Rajendra gave a halfheartedmand to his men, and galloped himself to a desperate run. His men put up a defence of swords and spears in front of Daryun to guard their lord. However, it was only a matter of moments before Daryuns ck shadow darted after him over the bodies on the blood-stained earth.
"Do you still want to fight like a trapped beast? Dont you recall what you said about Gadhevi?"
Rajendra had no time to respond to Daryun''s shout as he continued to flee without a second thought. At this time, he regretted riding the white horse that stood out in the dark, but it was toote now. As he was running away, dozens of Parsian horsemen suddenly rushed out and blocked his path.
"The Lord Tactician has everything in his control. You, little pest, are still so eager to y such petty games. You should have some self-awareness and leave suchme schemes to be used in Sindhura!"
Gieveughed coldly and the cavalryman guarding Rajendra''s right side was cut down with a single sh.
Taking advantage of this gap, Rajendra turned his horse around again and fled. After running a few hundred paces away, his exit was again blocked by the Parsians. With the tter of horse''s hooves came the sound of a lovely voice.
"Your Highness Rajendra, where are you going?"
"Lady Farangis? Please don''t get in the way! I don''t want to hurt such a beautiful woman as you."
"I really can''t thank you enough, but as a vassal of Prince Arn, I can''t let Your Highness escape from here."
"Pleasee with me!"
"So thats how it is? Then, forgive me for being rude."
Rajendra seemed to have decided that Farangis was far better to deal with than Daryun or Gieve. He should have known quite well about Farangis''s skill with a sword as well, but he still didnt really want to attack a woman.
Rajendra galloped towards the beautiful Parsian priestess.
Rajendra''s sword swung with a force that seemed to be lighthearted. Normally, his sword would not be so easy to bear. Farangis did not take the blow head-on, but dodged. She stabbed her sword at a perfect angle, and Rajendra''s sh was like a small waterfall of sparks that swept past her.
When Rajendra, who had lost his bnce, managed to sit firmly in the saddle again, two powerful enemies were guarding him to his left and right. He was now a prisoner.
"Prince Rajendra, we really should not keep meeting like this."
"I feel the same way, Prince Arn."
Rajendra seemed to heartily agree with Arn, although what hed wanted to see was the opposite situation. Sindhura''s next king was brought to Arn by Gieve, fists tied together.
Narsus stood by Arn''s side.
When the report of Rajendras capture was received, Arn had discussed with the tactician what to do with him.
"Narsus, I really don''t hate that man much, and I have no intention to kill him. Am I being too naive?"
When Arn finished, Narsusughed pleasantly and said.
"No, Your Highness, naive is a word used only when one does not kill one who should be killed. For the moment, let Your Highness decide for himself!"
"Then, is it okay to let him go back?"
"Of course it is. However, since he is a person who does not know how to behave well, I think we should make him understand his position. Ive prepared a bit of a malicious act, so I will ask Your Highness to keep silent and observe."
Thus, Narsus and Rajendra had a conversation, while Arn observed.
"It seems that you were notfortable staying in your capital. Very well, Ive noticed that Your Highness Rajendra seems to be interested in thends of Pars. How about if you get to travel our country as a guest of the Parsian army? Spend a couple of years seeing everything of interest, then you can go back to your country at your leisure."
"I''m afraid that doesnt work for me!"
Rajendra looked woefully out of sorts.
"The country of Sindhura has only just lost its king, and there are still many loyal to Gadhevi. If I am not there, Ill lose my country! Ill pay you a ransom, just please let me go back!"
"Ah, please don''t worry about that. We will send an emissary to the country of Turk and ask for reinforcements."
"Turk?"
"Yes! The Parsian army will need all the help we can get to drive the Lusitanians from ournds, so we may not have time to deal with Sindhura. Ive heard that the king of Turk is a very righteous man, so he will be happy to send arge army to protect Sindhura for us."
Narsus''s voice and expression implied a high degree of malice, waiting for the other party''s reaction.
Rajendra struggled and said,
"Wont, won''t Sindhura be taken over by Turk?! Ive never heard that the king of Turk is a righteous man!"
"Is that so? One shouldnt judge others for actions they themselves would take. O virtuous king of Sindhura."
A few streaks of cold sweat dripped down Rajendras face.
"Prince Arn, I apologize! I overstepped my bounds! Please have mercy"
Rajendra bowed his head to the teenager, ten years his junior.
"Then, this time you will keep our covenant, right?"
"Yes, yes yes, of course!
"Then, please sign this treaty and I will let you go back unharmed."
The paper held before Rajendra''s eyes listed three imperatives. For the next three years, there would be no vition of each other''s borders; Sindhura would pay 50,000 gold coins to the Parsian army as a token of gratitude; and that the Sindhuran calendar would be shortened by two years. Rajendra nched the moment he saw the third item. Arnughed and murmured, "Ah, let''s get rid of this one!" The third item was crossed out by the pen.
(TN: If you''re wondering about the calendar thing, it''s briefly mentioned near the beginning of this chapter. Apparently Narsus is miffed about thispletely arbitrary thing lol.)
After being untied, Rajendra hastily signed the document, declined the banquet, and returned to the capital, Uraiyur. Perhaps he was afraid that Narsus had already sent an emissary to Turk. He wanted to regroup his scattered army.
As he watched Rajendra''s hurried departure, Arn asked the tactician,
"Narsus, may I ask you a question?"
"No need to be so polite, Your Highness. Whats the matter?"
"Why did the non-aggression pact with Rajendra have to be written for only three years? Wouldn''t it be better to sign it for fifty, or even a hundred years?"
The tactician smiled and rified.
"I just considered the kind of person Prince Rajendra is. Although hes not entirely despicable, he is, however, a man whose desires are too great to be treated lightly. It is foolish to expect such a man to maintain friendship and peace forever."
Daryun nodded vigorously,pletely agreeing with this statement.
"However, if the treaty is only required to be observed for two or three years, even a man like him should be able toply. So, three years should be the maximum."
"Once three years have passed, you expect him to no longer maintain peace, is that so?
"Yes. Prince Rajendra is now calcting anxiously. Hes likely already thinking of a n to stabilize Sindhura, and then return to meddling in Parss affairs in three years. Between two and two and a half years, even."
"Before that happens, we must drive out the Lusitanians and retake the royal capital."
Thats correct."
As Narsus gave a gentle salute to his lord, m rode in to report that a figure was spotted hiding and following the Parsian army.
Farangis galloped off with twenty horsemen. Shortly afterwards, she returned, and m''s keen eye noticed that there was one more cavalryman following her. Farangis looked back and said something over her shoulder, and a young Sindhuran with dark skin dismounted and approached. Arn called out excitedly.
"Jaswant, you came back?"
The young Sindhuran, with his hands on the ground, looked up at Arn on his horse and said aloud, as if practicing speaking Parsian.
"I am a Sindhuran. I cannot serve His Royal Highness the Prince of Pars. If Pars and Sindhura fight in the future, I will still have to go back to my homnd to fight against Pars."
He made this confession in one breath.
"However, I am indebted to His Highness Arn for saving my life three times. Until I finish repaying these favors, I ask Your Highness to allow me to follow you."
Gieve, who was on his horse to Arn''s left, showed a bitter smile.
"What convoluted reasoning. If he would just follow obediently, it would save himself the embarrassment."
"It''s better than someone who has no loyalty, right?"
Farangis spoke out sarcastically. At that moment, Arn dismounted his horse, took Jaswant''s hand, and pulled him up.
"Jaswant, Im d that you''re here. Dont worry, we have concluded a non-aggression pact with Sindhura. The one we are fighting against now is Lusitania."
"Then I will also fight for His Highness Arn against the Lusitanians, without hesitation."
Since both of them were showing an extremely serious attitude, they made the two retainers who were at the sideugh. Daryun winked one eye at Narsus.
"It''s possible that His Highness Arn will be able to obtain a Turk retainer by fighting with Turk, and a Turanian retainer by fighting with Turan."
"Then in that case, it should be a Lusitanian retainer next."
"Well, we are about to make the King of Lusitania kneel on the ground and swear allegiance to Pars."
Narsus saw Daryun''s ck eyes sh for a moment, only half-joking.
So, Arn once again crossed the Kaveri river and set foot back on Parsiannd. It was the middle of March in the year 321 of the Parsian calendar. Three months had passed since they had left the city of Peshawar.
Book 3: Chapter 4 (4)
Book 3: Chapter 4 (4)
As soon as the news of the Crown Prince''s return had reached Peshawar, the Marzban Kishward, who was in charge of its troops, led 500 horsemen to meet Arn outside the fortress.
Azrael jumped from Arn''s shoulder to Kishward''s arm, and after a warm greeting, returned to Arn''s shoulder. It was as if he had an unbreakable affection for both his owners.
"Ah, Azrael! I see youve chosen His Highness over me. It''s really breaking my heart!"
Kishward joked with a smile, however, when he learned of the Marzban Bahmans death, he immediately collected his expression and prayed for the blessing of the gods for Bahman.
"However, dying in the service of His Highness the Crown Prince is a fulfillment of his life''s wish. Please forgive me for being so bold as to ask Your Highness not to grieve, and to cherish the life that Marzban Bahman gave his life to protect."
"Kishward is right. To repay Bahman, I must take back the royal capital and save my father and mother."
"That''s more like the Crown Prince of Pars! Although I am not talented, I am willing to do my best to serve Your Highness."
"I''m counting on you."
Smiling slightly, Arn left Kishward''s side.
Later that day, Arn had scheduled an archery lesson from Farangis. Arn''s arm strength was not enough to use such a powerful bow as Daryun''s, so it was better to learn from Farangis first. This was themon opinion of the group.
After seeing Arn with Azrael resting on his shoulder, Kishward made his way towards Narsuss office.
Narsus could now safely leave the overseeing of troops to Kishward and Daryun, but he was still very busy taking care of political and strategic matters.
First, he had to implement the policy of emancipating the ves, which had been drafted before the expedition to Sindhura, and move them to the west bank of the Kaveri River. The next step was then to start preparing for the pursuit of the Lusitanian army by issuing a call in Arns name on the lords of thend to join them. In addition, in order to make Arn''s position on political reform clear, a manifesto for the abolition of very had to be written.
Although he kept repeating that he was very busy, Narsus was happy. For he could conceive and implement good government and goodws for a good king.
When Kishward came to his office, Narsus had taken a break and was drinking some tea. Kishward epted Narsus'' hospitality and sat down to share tea as well, and after the two of them had chatted for a while, Kishward brought up an important topic.
"Lord Narsus, there is one thing I want to make clear. Even if His Highness Arn does not have the bloodline of the Parsian royal family, our loyalty to him will not change at all."
On this topic, Narsus hadplete trust in Kishward. However, there were still some things that made him uneasy. He tapped his fingertips on the earthenware cup from which he had finished his green tea and said,
"Of course, His Highness Arn is in need of your loyalty. However, after rescuing King Andragoras, I am afraid that there will be some friction between him and His Highness Arn. What will happen then, Lord Kishward?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don''t think King Andragoras will agree to the abolition of very. What would Lord Kishward do when the king and the crown prince be at odds over political matters?"
Kishward was a Marzban of Pars and came from a family line that had served the king''s family for generations. Compared to people like Gieve and Jaswant, he carried a very different responsibility, and was not in the same position as Daryun and Narsus, and could not incur the displeasure of King Andragoras. Even if he wanted to support Arn, if he was in a hostile situation with King Andragoras, it would be a difficult decision.
"Lord Narsus is right to worry, but we should let this matter rest until after retaking the royal capital Ecbatana, and rescuing His Majesty Andragoras."
"Perhaps!"
Narsus also nodded in agreement.
"Next time, forgive me for having trouble epting the responsibility of staying behind in the fortress. I want to stand at the front line and lead the attack on the king''s capital."
"Does Lord Kishward, the hero of the battlefield, find it aggravating to stay in the city?"
"Well "
For some reason, Kishward seemed a little hesitant.
"Staying in the fortress for three months is a bit boring, that''s true. But something strange has happened recently."
"Strange?
"Well, in fact, it was really quite creepy "
"Oh? Even a man like Lord Kishward gets scared?"
The Marzban, also known as the twin de general, smiled bitterly and stroked his beard.
"I fear no human, but ording to the soldiers'' rumors, the enemy here is something else. I heard that he can freely pass through walls or ceilings. Hes also stolen food, drank water from the well, and even hurt the soldiers."
"Were there any killed?"
"Yes, three people died. There''s no evidence that it was the shadow who did it, I think it was purely idental, but the soldiers don''t think so. It''s really a little hard to handle."
"Well, now "
Narsus was deep in thought, and his cautious attitude even made Kishwardh feel suspicious.
A little while after Kishward had left Narsus'' office in order to discuss with Daryun about the cavalry troops, m was called to Narsus'' room.
"m, this is the secret letter that Lord Vaphreze gave to Lord Bahman. I have been trying to hide it somewhere, but as I have been too busytely, could you hide it in Lord Vaphreze''s room for me?"
Narsussplete trust lifted m''s spirit. He wrapped the letter tightly in waterproof oil paper, tied it with a string, and took it to Bahman''s room. After many considerations, he finally found a secluded spot. There was a tropical fish bowl by the window with a thickyer of mud at the bottom. m hid the letter in the mud.
That night, Gieve came to visit Narsus. Hearing rumors of the shadow that haunted the fortress, Gieve remembered the strange feeling he had experienced there three months earlier. The two men then went to that same corridor and searched the walls and floors for a while, but they did not find anything.
When Narsus and Gieve returned to the room together, Alfred seemed to be extremely excited and shouted. m was also there.
"Narsus, where have you been? I''ve been looking for you!"
"What is it?"
A piece of paper was handed to Narsus. A few lines of Parsian writing caught Narsus'' eye. The content was a great surprise.
"To the fools who follow Prince Arn, the secret letter of General Vaphreze, which you have failed to conceal, has fallen into my hands. Remember this lesson and do not be so careless in the future "
"So, what do we do?"
Looking at Narsus'' extremely harsh expression, m tried to quickly calm him down.
"I went to investigate first. The secret letter from Eran Vaphreze is still well hidden in the "
m''s voice disappeared like a candle blown out by the wind. Narsus had silently rushed out of the room as if he was chasing prey, and Gieve ran out after him without knowing why.
Across the corridor, Narsus kicked open the door to Bahman''s room with little grace. The door made a grinding sound and opened with a loud bang.
An incredible sight appeared before him.
Hanging upside down from the ceiling was a pair of human hands. One hand was clutching the secret letter, and the other hand was grasping a short sword. The hand holding the letter disappeared silently towards the ceiling, while the other hand waved the short sword in a threatening manner.
Narsus'' sword flew out of its scabbard and made a sh toward the ceiling.
The hand holding the short sword was sliced off from the elbow and fell to the floor with a burst of blood. At the same time, leaping upward, Gieve thrust his longsword vertically upward, piercing the thick ceiling.
There was a slight reverberation from the tip of the sword. Gieve staggered and pulled the sword back. The de was stained with blood, but it didn''t seem to have caused much damage.
"He was even willing to sacrifice an arm. It seems that the other party really is no ordinary person."
Gieve muttered while waving off the drops of blood that clung to his de.
m stood in the doorway, still stunned.
"Lord Narsus, what the hell is going on? I really don''t have any "
Gieve sheathed his sword and looked at Narsus.
"I think I understand what happened. That is, the boy was the bait."
"The musician is absolutely right."
Narsus gathered up the hair that fell on his forehead and looked unpleasantly at the arm that had fallen to the ground.
"That''s it, m. That man originally did not know where Eran Vaphreze'' secret letter was. So, he wrote such a letter for you to find. Of course, you ran to check if the letter was still safe when you read it. Then he followed you in secret"
"Ah!"
m cried out. He realized that it was actually himself who had brought the thief right to his destination. What an unforgivable blunder. It turned out that he had been acting exactly as the enemy wanted.
m looked downcast. When Narsus was about to say something else, he didn''t expect Alfreed toe to m''s defense.
"Its not m''s fault, I am also responsible. Don''t me m, Lord Narsus."
Being supported by his usually quarrelsome friend, m didn''t seem to know what kind of expression to have for a moment. Narsus smiled bitterly and gently raised a hand to the red-haired maiden.
"No, Alfreed, can you listen to me for a moment "
"m can definitely make up for his mistake! It was a big one, but its not fair to judge him just for one mistake."
"I said please listen to me! Actually, the responsibility should be mine. Please don''t worry, m, the secret letter that was snatched away was actually a fake."
"Huh?"
Alfreed eximed loudly, and m''s eyes widened. Narsus scratched his head.
"I''m sorry, m. Actually, Lord Vaphreze'' secret letter still hasn''t been found at all. It was a trap on my part."
Gieve, who had sheathed his sword, shifted his eyes from the ceiling.
"That''s true, but Lord Narsus, who do you think he was? He escaped without a trace.
"I don''t know."
Narsus answered dryly, he did not like to make any spection without investigation. He was a wise man, but he was not a irvoyant.
Originally, he had forged the letter and set up the trap to catch the shadow because he suspected that it had been infiltrating the city in order to find the secret letter. However, the other party is not an ordinary person. He not only got the secret letter, but also managed to escape. If he had been caught, Narsus might have been able to get some information out of him, but now it was toote.
Although the stolen letter was fake and would not cause any harm, the ominous feelings of being set up by the other side could not be waved away. At present, this matter will be reported to Arn, and they will carry out a strict search of the fortress.
At this time, the man who had sacrificed one arm to get the secret letter had already escaped from Peshawar. He wrapped a cloth around the wound on his right arm and murmured lowly in the depths of darkness.
"Master, Master Sanjeh has fulfilled yourmand. I have the secret letter, and I will send it to Ecbatana at once"
Book 3: Chapter 5 (1)
Book 3: Chapter 5 (1)
While Arn and his men fought within Sindhura, Hilmes, who had sworn to be the rightful king of Pars, stayed in the royal capital, Ecbatana.
However, he was not sitting back and rxing. Before that, he took advantage of the Lusitanian invasion of Pars to carry out his own ns. Meanwhile, Arn, the object of his revenge, led an army to attack Sindhura and left from the borders of Pars. After a confrontation within the Lusitanian army, Archbishop Jon Bodin and the Temple Knights left the royal capital to crush the local remnants of the Parsian army.
At this time, Hilmes was faced with the need to carefully consider how he should go forward.
On the other hand, Guiscard, the brother of the Lusitanian king, was also facing eventful days.
His brother, Innocentis VII, was infatuated with Tahamine, the queen of Pars. He kept Tahamine under house arrest in the royal pce, desperately sending her gifts, while trying to persuade her to convert to Yaldabaothism. This state of affairs remained unchanged throughout the winter while they upied the royal capital. If Tahamine had converted to Yaldabaothism, there would have been no obstacle to their marriage. Perhaps it was because she knew of this situation, that Tahamine only smiled a sultry smile and evaded his words, never agreeing to the king''s requests.
If the king and Tahamine''s rtionship had progressed, Guiscard would have had to think twice. If they had a child, the session to the throne would be even more tricky. Therefore, during the period when King Innocentis and Tahamine were still ying their games, it was probably best to leave them alone for the time being; however, because of this, the political and military problems were solely concentrated on Guiscard.
Although Guiscard had the opportunity to show off his talent and power, sometimes he still felt dissatisfied with the king.
A while ago, because Archbishop Bodin and the Temple Knights fled the capital and encamped in the fortress of Zabul, the capitals contact was cut off from the west. He was tempted to ask his elder brother how he could still be so absorbed in a game of love in this situation?
The fortress of Zabul is located 50 farsang (about 250 km) northwest of the capital, and has guarded Parss border with Maryam since ancient times, so it is a crucial location. If an army is deployed from this fortress, it can not only block the maind road, but also control the contact between the two countries.
Currently, there are more than 30,000 troops in Zabul. Most of them are the Temple Knights, the fanatical believers who have sworn allegiance to Archbishop Bodin. Religious beliefs never eptpromise, so it is not so simple to deal with these people.
From the fortress of Zabul, Bodin issued an ultimatum to King Innocentis VII of Lusitania.
The king of Pars, Andragoras III, and his consort, Tahamine, were to be executed; the people of Pars were to be converted to Yaldabaothism, and those who did not convert were to be killed; he was to repent to the god Yaldabaoth for having his heart stolen by a pagan woman, to renew his vows never to break the precepts of Yaldabaothism; the veto power of the church over the government was to be made explicit
This, of course, also contained a strategy, but the whole thing seemed to be a mandatory requirement. Innocentis VII, rmed, brought his brother to discuss it with him.
"That Bodin is simply pretending to be the will of God and is bent on expanding the power of the Church. Since the King wants to listen to my opinion, I think that since the King is the monarch of a country, he should think about the strategy going forward by himself."
Although Guiscard ground his teeth, he did not dare to neglect the 30,000 soldiers in Zabul fortress.
If you want to attack, you must also haverge military strength, and if it turns into a long-term war, the consequences will be dire. For one thing, Ecbatana can''t be abandoned, and for another, if we let the troops spread out too far, that leaves us vulnerable to attacks from all sides.
Therefore, Guiscard even considered preparing a special army to besiege Zabul fortress, and these troops could be left to themand of that Silver Mask. If he could take Zabul, that would be best. Still, it was not advisable tounch any resistance against Bodin until the Lusitanian army hadpletely cleared the remnants of the Parsian army.
Innocentis VII epted Guiscards advice. Since his ascension to the throne, he rarely rejected his brother''s proposals. And every time he listened to his brother''s advice, he felt much relief that the matter had been settled.
Although he had not yet fully recovered from his injuries, Sam, who was formerly amander of the Parsian army, had been following at Hilmes'' side since he returned to the capital, Ecbatana, offering advice and suggestions on various matters. Hilmes also valued his presence and often sought him out to discuss matters. Although Zandeh treated Sam with courtesy, Zandeh was still slightly dissatisfied.
One day, Hilmes was talking with Sam in the atrium of his house. Hilmes asked Sam to go and crush the Temple Knights in Zabul. Sam immediately replied,
"I am willing to ept this mission, Your Highness."
"However, I know of Guiscard''s intention. He wants us and the Temple Knights to sh with each other and reduce both of our numbers. My idea is that since I know his intention, we can''t fall for his n "
Hilmess silver mask shone in the afternoon sun, and he was deep in thought.
"If Sam has such an idea, then he must have some countermeasure. Tell me about it!"
"First of all, in the righteous name of crusading against the Temple Knights, His Highness can openly gather troops. Can''t we take this opportunity to refurbish our soldiers and weapons at the expense of the Lusitanians?"
" Well."
"Plus, although the Temple Knights are in opposition to their king, they are still Lusitanians after all. If we can wipe them out, I''m sure we would be greatly thanked by the people of Pars. One day when Your Highness is ruling the country, they will remember."
"That''s true "
"In the meantime, if we win, we can credit this as a favor to Guiscard, and then we can ask for a reward. ording to my subordinates, we can ask for the fortress where the Temple Knights are entrenched."
As soon as Sam finished speaking, Hilmes uncrossed his arms.
"This is indeed a good n, Sam. But what if we lose?"
After Hilmes asked this rhetorical question, Sam immediately changed his face. He leaned his upper body onto the marbled table and gazed at Silver Mask with a powerful look.
"Can you, as a descendant of the heroic King Kai Khosrow, think of defeat in battle? If you cannot even win against a small order of Temple Knights, then how can you recover the country of Pars?"
The silver mask that Hilmes wore didn''t show any change in expression, but the face hidden underneath might have turned red long ago. The words "descendants of Kai Khosrow" shook even Hilmess mind.
"Sam is right. Thank you for your advice. I will ept Guiscards request!"
"Oh? You agree?"
When he heard that Hilmes had agreed to raid Zabul fortress, Guiscard felt ted on one hand, but on the other, he couldn''t hide his surprise. He did not believe that this man, Silver Mask, would fall for his ploy so easily. Although he originally intended to put the other party in his ce even by means of coercion .
"Of course, I must have enough food and weapons. Since I can''t ask to use the whole strength of the Lusitanian army, I wonder if I would be allowed to conscript soldiers from Pars?"
"Alright, Ill leave everything to you!"
Although Guiscard was a calcting man, he was by no means petty. After agreeing on sufficient preparation and payment, he let Silver Mask leave.
At this time, someone told Guiscard with a tone of advice,
"Your Highness the King''s Brother, it is certainly detrimental to the national prestige of Lusitania to let the Temple Knights do whatever they want, but is it proper to let the pagan Parsians go on a crusade? We don''t know when the points of their swords will turn towards us!"
These words came from the mouth of Orgaz, the court clerk. He worked under Guiscard in administrative matters. With a bitter smile, Guiscard replied to his subordinate.
"Your concerns are justified, but for now we must conserve every single one of our soldiers. ording to the reportsing from all over, it seems that the Parsians will soon attempt to retake Ecbatana.
"That''s a big thing!"
"Anyway, we know that Silver Mask has his own agenda. For now, let them fight to the death with those fools entrenched in Zabul, for as long as they go to war, they will definitely cause each other damage. At least they are happy to go to war, aren''t they?"
Orgaz listened and nodded, then deliberately lowered his voice and raised another query.
"Who exactly is that Silver Mask?"
"Hes a member of the Parsian royal family."
Guiscards reply caused Orgaz to gasp.
"Is, is that true?"
"Maybe! It''s just a wild guess, but it might also be true. The royal family of Pars also has many things that are not for outsiders to know."
At this point in the conversation, Guiscard''s anger at Archbishop Bodin was aroused again. After the upation of Ecbatana, Bodin burned libraries of books, which also included the ancient texts collected in the royal pce library. If one consulted these ancient books, one could surely learn many secret things about the state politics and court history of Pars. Since Bodin even burned the books on geography, it created a big obstacle in the work of ruling Pars. For example, how much taxes could a vige afford to pay? How many people were working and how muchnd was cultivated? All this information now had to be re-investigated.
"What a pain in the ass, Guiscard."
Innocentis VII said. At this point, he had put all the me on his brother. And he himself did not notice this.
Brother to brother, Bodin to Bodin, there was yet another person for Guiscard to keep in mind. That was Tahamine, the queen of Pars.
"What the hell is that woman Tahamine thinking? Brother and Bodin together are not as difficult as that woman."
For Guiscard, this was the most unpleasant matter for him.
The king''s brother, Innocentis, was a man with both body and spirit like a sponge, and if Tahamine intended to inject venom, he might have already absorbed itpletely.
For example, if Tahamine had harbored hatred for Guiscard and whispered in the king''s ear, how would things have changed?
"Your Majesty, please kill Guiscard. That man not only despises Your Majesty, but also tries to put himself on your throne of supremacy. Letting him live will be detrimental to you, Your Majesty."
"Is that so? If you think so, you must not be wrong. I will have him executed immediately." Guiscard was chilled by the thought of this. Although he was His Highness the King''s Brother of Lusitania and the highest authority, his position was not really that secure. It was hard enough to drive the fanatic Bodin away from Ecbatana, and now Tahamine had appeared as well.
Guiscard could not help but feel bored. Since he was a child, he had always helped his elder brother, and never epted his brother''s help. For a long time, he really felt bored .
-
On the other hand, Hilmes, who had received Guiscards permission, openly recruited soldiers from Pars, and also prepared horses, weapons, and food from the Lusitanian army.
"In any case, we don''t need the Lusitanians soldiers to fight. Just spend some more time on the provisions.
Hilmes took Sams advice and proceeded with the preparations carefully. Wouldn''t it make him aughing stock to take the chance of attacking the fortress of Zabul without adequate preparation and to get bitten in return? He could not die before driving the Lusitanians out of the kingdom, taking the throne as king in Ecbatana, and cing the heads of Andragoras and Arn side by side before the city gates. He was to be the bringer of a new golden age, and would carve an indelible name in the history of Pars. Therefore, he must first capture Zabul fortress and make that it his base. Only then would he choose a time to reveal the name of Hilmes and raise the banner of Pars.
"That fortress seems to be easy to defend, but in fact it has several weaknesses. The Lusitanians probably don''t know that, do they? I have been to that fortress three times and investigated the interior to the letter."
Among the twelve fearsome Marzban of Pars, the one who was most skilled in attacking and defense of a fortress was Sam. That''s why he was appointed by King Andragoras as the defender of the royal capital, Ecbatana.
And now, for Hilmes, he must raid the fortress of Zabul. Sam still had feelings of self-deprecation, but he did not say anything, and just did his work silently.
So, at the beginning of the year 321 of the calendar of Pars, Hilmes was working intensively to prepare his personal regiment and prepare weapons and food. When Guiscard began to ask anxiously when he would be able to depart from the royal capital, the preparations were finallypleted.
This was at the end of February.
Book 3: Chapter 5 (2)
Book 3: Chapter 5 (2)
The air inside the underground cell was stagnant. The cold dampness clung to the skin of the person inside the cell. Where the light from the few torches and candlesticks did not shine, there was an eerie darkness, and the moans of those who had died in these cells seemed to echo off the moldy, wet ground.
As of the end of February, it had now been four months since the 18th king of Pars, Andragoras III, had been imprisoned here.
The interrogations were frequent. Not to question him, but simply to beat him and nder his dignity as a king. They hit him with whips, scalded him with red-hot iron skewers, poured salt water on his wounds, and pricked him with needles.
Andragorass appearance had be like that of a monster. His beard and hair grew unchecked, not to mention theck of a bath, of course.
An unexpected visitor had nowe to see the king. The man who entered quietly from the darkness bowed his head respectfully to the prisoner.
"It''s been a long time, Your Majesty."
The voice was low and painful. Andragoras opened his eyes. Despite the long days of imprisonment and torture, his gaze was still strong.
"Sam?"
"Yes, it is Sam. His Majesty himself had awarded me the status of Marzban."
"Sam. What are you doing here?
Andragoras was not foolish enough to assume that this man was here to save him. Sam was not a timid person, nor a coward, but he felt a strange sense of oppression from Andragoras.
He really had note to rescue Andragoras. He did not even take out his weapon. In fact, he had bribed the guard in exchange for a very short meeting time. With Sam''s martial valor, it was not an impossible task for him to cut down the guard and escape from the underground cell. However, it would be very difficult for him to leave the capital with the king, who was seriously injured.
Plus, Sam knew that the guard was already aiming his bow and arrow at his back.
"I havee to ask Your Majesty something."
"What do you want to ask?"
"Does Your Majesty not already know what I want to ask?"
"What exactly do you want to ask?"
Andragroas repeated, feigning ignorance.
"It is about the incident seventeen years ago."
In May of the year 304, the seventeenth king, Osroes, died suddenly for unknown reasons. After his younger brother Andragoras took the throne, Osroess son Hilmes was thought to have burned to death in a mysterious fire. Hilmes, now grown up, had appeared before Sam, iming that Andragoras III had murdered his brother, King Osroes, so that he could be king himself. He also asserted that the fire that burned half of his face had not been idental, but was intentionally set by Andragoras.
"Your Majesty, please forgive me for my audacity, but I must ask. Is it true that seventeen years ago, Your Majesty killed King Osroes?"
"Did you kill your brother to usurp the throne? And did you also try to burn Prince Hilmes to death?"
"Why do you ask that?"
There was not the slightest wavering in Andragoras''s voice, and there was even somewhat of a sneer to it.
"I am a warrior at heart. The king''s family has given me the grace to gain the reputation and status of a Marzban, the king''s family has been kind to me. And I will say it loudly that I deeply love the country of Pars. I only hope that Your Majesty will clear up some of the confusion in my mind. That is the purpose of my visit today."
Sam paused several times in his exnation, and the sneer disappeared from Andragorass eyes.
"Oh Sam! Our father, the Great King Gotarzes, was a man worthy of being called wise. However, he had one shoring that displeased the courtiers. You are probably aware of it, yes?"
"Well "
Sam understood it well. The great king of Gotarzes was a man of justice and courage, fair to the nobles and merciful to the ves. However, he had the disadvantage of being too superstitious. In hister years, this situation had gotten a lot worse. Osroes V, whoter seeded the throne, was not as serious as his father, but he also believed in prophecies and astrology.
"The Great King Gotarzes had received a prophecy when he was young."
" And that was?"
"The prophecy was that the royal bloodline of Pars would be cut off by the son of Gotarzes II."
Sam held his breath for a moment as Andragoras gazed at him with a look that bordered on pity, and continued in a low voice.
"The royal bloodline of Pars would be cut off by the son of Gotarzes II "
Gotarzes, who was convinced of this terrible prophecy, was extremely frightened and confused. He had to think of a countermeasure. He thought desperately with an already irrational mind.
Thus, the first thing he did was to name the two sons he had with the queen as Osroes V and Andragoras III. Before that, the king named Andragoras II had reigned after the king named Osroes IV. So, even if Osroes died early, his younger brother Andragoras could take over the throne. This was his n. As a result, things were just as he had predicted.
Andragoras did not have a younger brother. So, was the throne of Pars going to be cut off by Andragoras? Gotarzes still did not give up. Just at this time, another prophecy was brought to him. If the wife of his eldest son, Osroes, gave birth to a son, he could seed Andragoras as the king of Pars. But it would have to be the son of Gotarzes
"Then, then, His Highness Hilmes is "
Sam couldn''t speak. Could it be that Hilmes was not the son of Osroes V, but his younger brother? And his real father was Gotarzes II? Could it be that in order to increase the number of his sons who could inherit the throne, King Gotarzes really had a son with his daughter-inw?
Due to his excessive shock and disgust, Sam did not notice for a while that cold sweat was dripping from his nose.
"Its nothing to be shocked about. There is no pure royal family left in the world. All royal bloodlines are nothing more than a filthy puddle of blood and dirt like ours."
There seemed to be a sense of resignation in Andragoras''s voice, as if he was talking about something that did not concern him. Sam wiped the cold sweat with the back of his hand and tried to gain control of his breathing. He no longer wished to hear any more, but he still wanted to know one more thing.
"So, what about His Highness Arn?"
"Arn? "
Andragoras'' expression changed slightly amidst a bearded face full of scars. He remained silent, and Sam continued.
"His Highness Arn is the prince born to His Majesty and Queen Tahamine. What fate does he carry in this prophecy?"
Andragoras remained silent. Sam was also silent, and he himself felt tired of asking questions. Reluctantly, Andragoras opened his mouth.
"It is true that Tahamine and I had a child, but "
"But?"
Sam asked this right as someone knocked hurriedly on the wall, signaling that the warden was returning. Andragoras remained silent once again. Sam stood up, seeing that nothing more could be asked. He saluted the king.
"Your Majesty, I will certainly get you out of here. But, for now, I beg your pardon."
Andragoras said to Sam as he left, in a bitter voice like cold chilling the bones,
"Sam! You''d better not believe what I just said. Perhaps I am lying to you. Or maybe I was trying to tell the truth, but I myself was also deceived. The history of the royal family of Pars has always been tainted with blood and false promises.
Sam was tempted to cover his ears as he made his way up the steps of the underground cell. After turning several corners, passing through a doorway, and climbing up to the ground level with great difficulty, Sam felt thete winter sunlight was blinding. At the same time, he also realized that the path he should take seemed to be shrouded by an even deeperyer of fog.
Book 3: Chapter 5 (3)
Book 3: Chapter 5 (3)
The army, led by Hilmes andposed entirely of Parsians, left the royal capital on March 1.
His force consisted of 9,200 cavalry and 25,400 infantry. In addition, there was a team carrying grain. The cavalry wasposed mostly of those who had followed Zandeh''ste father, Khan, and also of Sams original troops.
Even Guiscard was surprised that Silver Mask was able to raise more than 30,000 soldiers, and despite his slight uneasiness, he watched Silver Mask set off.
Five days after leaving the royal capital, just halfway to Zabul fortress, they heard a rumor from the civilians along the way.
Some of the more troublesome troops of the Temple Knights had been driven out of Zabul fortress already. They had attacked a group of merchants who had converted to the religion of Yaldabaoth, killing them and plundering their goods. The fifteen men who had been driven out had assembled not far from the maind highway and beplete thieves, and from then on they made their living by burning, killing and plundering.
Zandeh argued that since they were halfway to Zabul, they should just kill the thieves. Hilmes also nodded in agreement.
However, two days after they continued their march, the rumors changed. The group of fifteen Lusitanian thieves had all been killed by a traveler who had appeared just recently.
The peasant who spoke to Sam looked extremely excited.
"Ah, I''ve never seen a man that strong before!"
"That strong, huh?"
"I never would have imagined that there could be such a strong man in this world! He killed fifteen people by himself, and didn''t even have a scratch on him."
Hearing such a sensational description from the other party, even Sam became interested.
"What did he look like?"
It was a man who was about thirty years old, sinewy and tall, but blind in his left eye. Although he was not wearing armor, he was riding a brown horse and arge sword in a green sheath was strapped to his waist. This was the peasant''s description of the man.
Sam already had an idea in mind. He asked the citizens to collect more correct information about the one-eyed man.
ording to the peasants, the one-eyed man always appeared in a leisurely manner in nearby viges in these troubled times. Although he told everyone that he had a remarkable secret identity, and had killed hundreds of powerful men in a vige in the north, and then came out to travel alone, everyone thought that these words were just posturing.
Once he heard that the nearby viges were being repeatedly harassed by the Lusitanian thieves, the man volunteered to go to clean them up single-handedly, as long as the vigers were willing to give him wine and women as a thank-you gift. So he went alone to the thieves hideout.
The next day, the one-eyed man rode back to the vige on a horse, holding the reins of another horse. On the horse''s back were three sacks, each containing the heads of five thieves.
The peasants swarmed back to the hideout and took back everything that had been taken from them, and gave the one-eyed man wine and women as promised. After three days, the man found it too much trouble to socialize with people in the tiny vige, so he left.
That happened to be yesterday. There was a cave nearby, where he left his horse, so he may still be inside the cave today. Or maybe, god forbid, he had already left.
"Your Highness, I think I know who that man is, so I will go and meet him. If I can get him to serve Your Highness, he will be a reliable person."
Sam said this to Hilmes, and went forward with only twenty horsemen toward the cave where the man was staying.
The opening of the cave was at the foot of a mountain with a view of the maind highway, near which grew dense goldfinch branches and wild olive trees. The closer they got to the cave, the clearer the sound of a song came from inside the cave. The singing was not pleasant to the ear, but the volume was sincerely admirable.
As Sam approached the cave, a cacophony of squeaks rang out from the goldfinch bushes. It was a family of wild rats. There were pieces of dried meat and cheese scattered in the grass. This family of wild rats seemed to be eating the bait, while simultaneously acting as guards to the cave. The singing stopped abruptly, and there came a human voice.
"Who is so rude as to eavesdrop on other people''s singing?"
"Kubard, half a year has passed, and your singing skills still have not improved! But I am d to know that you''re alive, more than anything else."
" Oh, is that Sam?"
The one-eyed man who appeared at the entrance of the cave showed his white teeth as he smiled, and his normally shrewd face showed a youthful expression.
He is the Parsian Marzban Kubard, whose whereabouts have been unknown since the defeat of the Battle of Atropatene.
Sam told the cavalry to wait outside and went inside the cave alone. The horse was already saddled, and Kubard seemed to be about to depart. Kubard spread out the nket rolled up in a corner of the cave and took out a jug of ale.
"Please sit down! To be honest, I thought you were dead. In that case, there are probably many more alive! How is Garshasp, who was guarding Ecbatana with you?"
"Garshasp died bravely in battle. It is very different from me, a man who is living on the run."
Sam said this with a self-deprecating tone. Kubard smiled, the jug of ale still in his hand.
"If you want to despise yourself, that is your freedom. But I do not think surviving is deserving of shame. Because I survived the Battle of Atropatene is why today I can drink wine, embrace women, and sometimes kill those damn Lusitanians."
Kubard ced the bronze cup in front of Sam and poured some ale, while he himself started drinking directly from the spout. Hed always had a reputation for being a heavy drinker, and to him, ale was pretty much the same as water. Sam only brought the ss to his mouth and sipped.
"How about it, Kubard? Now that I am following a lord, would you like to join me?"
"I appreciate the offer, but "
"You dont want to?"
"Honestly, I''m tired of serving others."
Sam was not able to understand Kubards feelings. He had been known as the "Braggart Kubard", and he was ruthless on the battlefield, but at court, he was always out of ce.
Once during a banquet, a young nobleman had asked him "what it was like to be covered in blood and sweat and sand and dust, running around on the battlefield", and Kubard suddenly grabbed the nobleman''s body and threw him into an ale barrel in the corner of the hall, saying "Well, its probably something like that. I bet you cant wait to take a nice,fortable bath "
"So, it''s a shame that a brave man like you spends his days wandering around in the wilderness with nothing to do, right?"
"It''s a great way to live! By the way, Sam, who even is it that youre following? I heard that after the fall of Ecbatana, the king and queen are nowhere to be found."
Asked by the other party, Sam replied with a bitter tone.
"I am now following His Highness Hilmes."
"Hilmes ?"
Kubard, who cocked his head in thought, remembered that name and frowned slightly.
"Is the Hilmes you''re talking about that Hilmes?"
"Yes. It is the very same Prince Hilmes that I am following now."
"He''s still alive, huh? I would never have expected this! You''ve be a subordinate of Prince Hilmes"
Kubard did not want to ask why it had be like this, perhaps because he knew it must be aplicated matter. Sam exined the current status of Pars to Kubard and told him that Prince Arn might be somewhere along the eastern border.
"In that case, the royal family of Pars is torn apart and fighting against each other? It would be foolish to get involved in this fight again! Forget about me!"
Sam raised a hand to stop Kubard who was about to stand up.
"Wait a minute, Kubard, no matter which one bes the ruler of Pars in the end, we can''t let the Lusitanians continue to dominate so tyrannically, right? Can''t you just lend us your strength to drive them out of Pars?"
Kubard frowned and sat back down. He threw the empty ale jug to the corner of the cave, and then fell into deep thought. His temperament was bold, sometimes even a little rough, but although he was young for a Marzban, he wasnt foolish.
"Sam, Prince Hilmes has you, so who is supporting Prince Arn?"
"Daryun and Narsus."
"Oh ?"
Kubards one eye widened.
"Is that true?"
"It was His Highness Hilmes himself who told me."
"Leaving aside Daryun, I thought Narsus hated serving at court even more than I. How did his state of mind change? Does he think that the future of Pars lies with Prince Arn?"
"Im sure that''s what Narsus thought.
Sam did not have much of an impression of Prince Arn, who was only fourteen years old when he participated in the Battle of Atropatene. His temperament was not bad, but after all, he was still an immature teenager.
Could it be that Arn had enough qualifications to recruit people like Daryun and Narsus? And is it true that Arn is the son of King Andragoras? Did the boy not have the "impure blood" that King Andragoras said?
With his one eye, Kubard gazed at Sam, who was deep in thought, with great interest.
"Sam! What are you thinking about?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you truly loyal to Prince Hilmes from the bottom of your heart?"
"Can''t you see that?"
"Hmph "
Kubard stroked the beard on his chin. Even if he would leave behind his life of leisure, he would not return to serve at the court.
"Fine! Sam, I have nothing to do now anyway, so I''ll help you out! But, I''ll say it up front, if it doesn''t look good, I''ll turn around and leave immediately, how about that?"
Book 3: Chapter 5 (4)
Book 3: Chapter 5 (4)
On March 10th, the Parsian army led by Hilmes fought the Temple Knights for the first time.
Zabul fortress was located half a farsang (about 2.5 km) away from the maind road. On top of a rocky mountain and nked by cliffs that rose up almost from the t ground, it was impossible to climb up. Built into the interior of the rocky mountain, there was a long section of stairs and a sloping path that spiraled out to connect the entrance to the t ground. There were two heavy iron gates that guarded the entrance.
Therefore, any attackers would have topletely surround the fortress if the troops were barricaded inside. However, Hilmes had no intention to fight a long battle from the beginning. He intended to use a ploy to lure the Temple Knights out.
When the Temple Knights saw the Parsian army waiting outside the fortress, they also noticed a banner at the front of the troops. This was the sacred banner of Yaldabaoth, a silver emblem on a ck background. It was set aze in front of the Temple Knights, who could only watch from inside the fortress as the banner burst into mes. This was a great shock to the Lusitanians.
"Damn it! Those damn g-burning heathens! Lets cut them to pieces!"
Once the fanatics got angry, the use of any tactics or strategy was forgotten. Beat the sphemous heretics to hell! After Archbishop Bodin gave this order, the generals immediately put on their armor, the knights jumped on their horses, and hurried towards the exit, while the infantry quickly rushed down the steps. The two iron gates were opened, and the troops took their ce on level ground.
Of course, Hilmes had been waiting for this moment.
He had divided the army into three groups, giving the left nk to Sam, the central unit to Zandeh, and himself leading the right nk. The one-eyed Kubard was to be with the left nk. Given his rtionship with Sam, this was quite natural.
"You will have your moment soon. For now, simply observe."
"I''m not nearly drunk enough for this!"
The one-eyed man replied. His armor was borrowed, but nheless, his appearance greatly intimidated the ordinary cavalrymen.
The trumpet sounded and the battle began.
The Temple Knights raised theirnces and surged forward. Their heavy cavalry''s assault was more brute force than calcted movements.
The Parsian army countered this with an archery unit. However, the advance guard of the Temple Knights had even their horses d in armor. The flying arrows did not do much damage to them, and the Temple Knights broke into the Parsian nks.
Their defence was wide open.
A great sound dominated the whole battlefield. Both sides arrows intertwined in mid-air, while the ground was littered with blood and corpses. The armies continued to sh and stab at each other until the whole battlefield reeked of blood.
The Parsian infantry could not withstand the force of the Temple Knights, and after retreating ten or twenty paces, they half seemed to copse and scattered to the rear. The Temple Knights pursued them. They chanted the name of Yaldabaoth and rode after them. Sand and dust flew into the sky.
At this time, the right nk, led by Hilmes,broke into the nk of the advancing Temple Knights, seemingly like a river colliding with another river.
When one of the Temrs looked up, Hilmes''s silver mask andnce shed at the same time. The Pdin''s body waspletely prated by Hilmes''snce, and he died before he could make a sound. The tip of thence that took his life continued forward and pierced the abdomen of another knight.
At this point, Hilmes dropped hisnce, drew his sword, and shed into the side of the oing Temr. The knight rolled out of his saddle, and his bloodied face buried into the sand.
"Now, Kubard! It''s up to you!"
Sam bellowed, and the one-eyed knight, in his unfamiliar armor, nodded wordlessly.
The Lusitanian knights had broken through the central position of the Parsian army. Their horses'' hooves kicked up red and grey sand as they raced toward the slope of the mountain. The two horsemen at the front leaped up to the crest of the hill, and shouted "Glory to Yaldabaoth!"
At that very moment, Kubard''s great sword swung into the air.
The high-pitched sound was tinged with blood, and the heads of the two Temrs flew away from their bodies. The two heads sshed on the ground and rolled down the sandy slope. The Lusitanians let out a cry of fear and anger.
Kubard kicked his horse''s belly and charged into the enemy line, shing at the Lusitanians left and right. The heavy sword in his hand swung with incredible speed, and Kubard looked like the reincarnation of a god.
After opening up a bloody path on the battlefield, Kubard turned back on his horse and jumped into the enemy lines again. With each swing of his sword, a new path of blood was cleared. Kubards strength shattered the Lusitanians shields and cut through their armor. The blood spilled on the sand was immediately absorbed into the earth.
The troops under Sam''smand thenunched an assault on the faltering Lusitanians.
The horses neighed and metal shed with a sharp ng. The roar of the victors and the wails of the defeated continued to ring out as the Lusitanians were finally defeated.
The Temple Knights left behind more than two thousand bodies, and the rest fled back into the fortress. The two iron gates were firmly closed.
"It looks like they won''t strike again for a while. We didn''t intend for a drawn-out battle, but we have our ploy. Well done, Kubard."
Sam, whose whole body was stained red by the sttered blood of enemies, praised Kubard. Kubard put his sword back into its scabbard and was about to reply when Hilmes rode up with Zandeh and leaned over. Sharp eyes shot from within the silver mask to Kubard''s face.
"You are Kubard?"
"Yeah?"
Hearing Kubard''s casual reply, Zandeh red angrily at him.
"Where are your manners? This is His Highness Hilmes, the rightful king of Pars!"
"If he is the king, then shouldn''t you be addressing him as Your Majesty?
After this mockery, Zandeh shut his mouth. Kubard gazed at Hilmes'' silver mask and suspicion surfaced in his right eye.
"Your Highness Hilmes, if you are truly Your Highness Hilmes, why are you hiding your face behind that mask?"
It was an extremely rude question, and the person who asked it realized his rudeness. Seeing through the anger burning on the surface of the silver mask, he smiled faintly and continued,
"I have only one eye, but I am not ashamed of it. Your Highness should be like me, right? The qualifications of a good king do not lie in the beauty of his face!"
"Kubard !"
Sam whispered. He knew that Kubard was intentionally provoking. He had always been this kind of person. No matter the status of who he spoke to, he had no manners. He had incurred the displeasure of King Andragoras on several asions, but each time he had returned to serve at court because of the merits he had established.
"You are a friend of Sam''s but you do not know how to behave. Do you mean to displease the king?"
Kubard sighed deliberately. He turned to his old friend and said in a tone that could not have been clearer,
"Oh Sam! I''m really sorry for you. However, it seems that I can''t get along with this man''s temperament. I have only just been set free by the Battle of Atropatene, and would like to keep that freedom. Now, this is goodbye."
"Kubard, don''t be so impatient!"
Sam''s voice, however, was drowned out by Hilmes''s angry shout.
"Let him go, Sam. Insolence to the king should be punishable by death. But for your sake, I''ll let him go this time. Just don''t let me see his unpleasant face again!"
"Thank you for your magnanimity, Your Highness Hilmes. It''s really a rare and valuable thing to shed blood and sweat with your fellow Parsians."
With that, Kubard dismounted and began to take off his armor. He dropped the pieces one by one on the ground as if no one was watching. He then lowered his voice and asked Sam who leaned closer,
"What are you going to do? Do you truly intend to stay with His Highness Hilmes?"
"His Highness Arn has Daryun and Narsus by his side. If I''m not with His Highness Hilmes, doesnt that seem unfair? Rather, my power is too meager "
After his armor was removed, Kubard hung his sword at his waist and jumped on his horse once again.
"You have also worked hard. Leaving aside His Highness Hilmes, I will pray for your luck in battle. However, I am not a devout religious person, so perhaps my prayers will backfire instead."
With a faint smile and a nod to Hilmes on his horse, Kubard turned his horse around. He knew there was no use in staying here any longer.
After walking about a farsang (about five kilometers), Kubard looked back. There was no pursuer behind him, perhaps Sam had stopped them?
" Was I too impatient? That said, theres no guarantee that I will get along with Prince Arn either!"
He took out a leather sk, lifted it to his mouth, and smiled faintly at the wind.
"Never mind that. If it doesn''t work out, I''ll just leave. With such a short life, there is nothing more boring than to condemn yourself to serve a monarch you don''t like."
The one-eyed man, holding a sk in one hand, began to sing loudly as he rode his horse forward. The loud singing and the sound of the horse''s hooves slowly floated through the untouched wilderness toward the east.
Book 3: Chapter 5 (5)
Book 3: Chapter 5 (5)
Thergest earthquake in twenty years urred in the eastern part of the country of Pars at midnight on March 28th.
The tremor crossed the waters of the Kaveri River and spread to the western part of the Sindhura. Many cliffs copsed, cracks appeared in the ground, and houses tilted.
Peshawar citadel also shook.
The shaking was so violent that Arn jumped out of bed, the frightened horses in the stables rioted, and the soldiers who were kicked by the horses'' hooves broke their ribs. A few candlesticks fell down and caused a small fire, but it was quickly brought under control. There was little damage to the walls and pavilions of the city. One man was seriously wounded, and in addition to that, several others were hit on the head by bottles falling from the shelves, or were slightly injured by rolling down the steps because of unsteady footing. That was all the damage in the city, however, the cavalrymen who went out to inspect the damage brought back heart-wrenching reports.
"It seems Mount Damavand suffered a lot of damage during the earthquake. The entire face of the mountain has changed. I tried to go up to see what was going on, but the road was blocked by fallen rocks and crumbling cliffs, and with the strong wind and rain, it was impossible to approach."
"Mount Damavand? Is that so "
Arn had an indescribable sense of unease.
It was said that Mount Damavand was the ce where the hero Kai Khosrow sealed the Serpent King Zahhak in the ground three hundred years ago. Halfway back towards Peshawar, Arn, who was looking at Mount Damavand from afar, was at once enveloped by an inexplicable demonic aura. Arn remembered this incident, and he could no longer keep calm.
"Your Highness, we are about to march to the west anyway. If you are worried, we can do a more detailed investigation on our way."
Arn agreed with Daryun''s statement.
There was no way for Arn to know, but just at this time, in the underground of the capital, Ecbatana, far away from the city of Peshawar, a man dressed in dark gray was pleasantly saying to his disciples, " Arn, that feeble boy, might have lived longer if he had stayed huddled inside the fortress of Peshawar. The regeneration of the Snake King Zahhak is happening faster than we thought! Everyone, don''t bezy, hurry up and get ready to meet the Great King "
However, even if Arn heard these words, he would not just let it go.
Now, he was surrounded by Daryun, Narsus, Gieve, Farangis, Kishward, m, Alfreed, Jaswant, and twenty thousand horsemen. With their support and assistance, Arn was about to embark on a journey to liberate the country and people of Pars.
The end of March, 321 A.D of the Parsian calendar.
Two historic promations were made in the name of Crown Prince Arn from the fortress of Peshawar. Both of these promations came from the hand of Narsus, the former lord of Dam.
The first promation that was distributed throughout Pars was that all the shardaran (nobles and gentry) should rally under Prince Arn in order to drive out the Lusitanians who had invaded their homnd.
The second promation was the "Decree of the Full Abolition of very". In the promation, it was explicitly agreed that all ves in Pars would be freed as of Arn''s reign as king, and the trade of human beings would be prohibited.
All in all, because of these two promations, Arn made his position clear, politically, militarily and historically. He would be the first ruler in Parsian history, since the founding of the kingdom by the heroic King Kai Khosrow, to liberate the people and thend from the aggressive domination of foreign countries and the old system of his own country.
Arn was only fourteen years and six months old, and before his eyes existed several riddles he knew and dozens he did not know. When he solves these mysteries, perhaps he will be able to pass on the name of "Arn the Liberator" to future generations.
Book 4: Chapter 1 (1)
Book 4: Chapter 1 (1)
Many of the roads running through the eastern border of the Kingdom of Pars were filled with armed soldiers and military horses.
It was the season of flowers and bees, in April of the year 321. Both sides of the avenue were covered with orange wood, pomegranates, peonies, poppies, purple-flowered groundnut, chrysanthemums, peach blossoms, marigolds, and other kinds of flower bushes, whose petals fluttered on the armor of the knights on horseback, making for an unusually beautiful sight.
Their destination was the fortress of Peshawar, built of red sandstone. The fortress was currently upied by Crown Prince Arn, who was preparing to wage war against the Lusitanians who had invaded the country. The promation was distributed everywhere, and all the nobles who hated the tyranny of the Lusitanian army but did not know what to do, gathered their troops and ran to Arn''s side in a steady stream.
They met in the west of Peshawar, built a pontoon bridge over the river, and gathered one after another under the crown prince.
The gates of Peshawar were wide open from dawn to dusk, as if hungrily devouring the glittering masses of armor. Their leaders paid homage to Arn, who sat on his horse under the terrace facing the square. They removed their helmets, and proudly gave their names.
"I am Lucian, the Lord of Ray, who hase today to repel the invaders, the Lusitanians, in response to High Highness Arns request. I ask Your Highness to grant me permission to follow you."
"I am Zaravant, son of Mundhir, Lord of Oxus. I have been ordered by my ailing father to follow Your Highness Arn. It would be a great blessing for me if I could obtain Your Highness''s permission."
"I am Isfan, the younger brother of Shapur, who had been awarded the status of Marzban by His Majesty Andragoras. I hope to serve Your Highness in the ce of myte brother, and must not let any of my brother''s killers, the Lusitanians, remain alive."
"I am Tus, who originally served as a garrisonmander at Zara in the south, and havee with my men to serve Your Highness, so I ask Your Highness to allow us to apany you."
The knights came to Arn''s camp to volunteer themselves one after another.
Lucian was over fifty years old, with a robust physique and tumultuous manners, with dark gray hair and a beard. Zaravant and Isfan, on the other hand, were both about twenty years old. Zaravants physique could bepared to Daryun and Kishward, and he had a beard on his cheeks, perhaps because of his slightly boyish face. Isfan had a medium build, like reeds growing next to a swamp, and amber eyes. Tus was probably in his twenties or thirties, with a pair of eyes like silver coins. He truly looked like a warrior. On his left shoulder hung an iron chain.
Isfan, the younger brother of Shapur, was known as the "man raised by wolves". It was amon urrence in the homes of noblemen or knights that the master of the house would have a child with a female ve. The wife was so jealous that she threw the ve girl out of the house, along with the child. In the winter, when Isfan was two years old, he and his mother were abandoned in the mountains. Although his father knew about the situation, he feigned ignorance in order to avoid any turmoil within his family.
Shapur was so upset by his father''s callousness and his mother''s cruelty that he spurred his horse toward the mountains. At only sixteen years old, he was already an expert horseman. He put food, a skein of water, and a nket in his pack and set off for his destination. The toddler was still alive, as the mother had wrapped all of her clothes around her child. Only d in a thin coat, the mother had frozen to death. When Shapur jumped down from his horse, two wolves immediately fled from the bodies. Shapur thought that the toddler had been eaten by the wolves, but he did not expect that the two wolves were putting the rabbits they had hunted by the toddler''s body.
Thus, Isfan was saved by his brother and grew up safely and healthily. While his brother served as a military general in the royal capital, Isfan became an agent of the royal capital and stayed in his hometown to guard it. The death of his brother struck Isfan with grief and fury, but until then, he had no opportunity to seek revenge on the Lusitanians.
The soldiers were waiting in line at the front of the square, when the inner doors of the terrace opened.
Dressed in gold armor, with Azrael resting on his left shoulder, the Crown Prince Arn appeared on the terrace. He was only fifteen years old. His pupils, the color of a clear night sky, gave a very strong impression to the onlookers.
On Arn''s left was Kishward, and on his right was Daryun, two Marzban of Pars. Since the defeat of Atropatene, the fall of the capital Ecbatana, and the expedition to Sindhura, many people died in battle or their whereabouts were still unknown. Of the 12 Marzban, only Daryun and Kishward could be confirmed to be alive. However, the valor of these two men alone was enough to overwhelm an army.
"Long live Pars! His Royal Highness the Crown Prince is glorious!"
Zaravant was the first to give a booming cheer. The other lords and knights followed with chants, and the square of Peshawar was filled with shouts that were loud enough to shake the earth. Countless spears and swords were raised to the sky, the sun reflecting off these weapons. This situation was even more spectacr than when the expedition to Sindhura began at the end of thest year.
Two women watched the sight from a corner of the square.
"It''s amazing!"
So eximed the young girl with reddish hair, Alfreed. The other beautiful woman, with ck silky hair down to her waist, smiled and replied.
"It''s indeed amazing. That boy may turn Pars into a brand new world! But to do that, he will need the gods on his side."
Farangiss smile was like an overflowing cup of silver moonlight. For kahina serving the god Mithra, as well as a warrior, Farangis was a beauty that people couldnt help but stare at.
"Perhaps were living in an important moment in history. Maybe well appear in the poetry of bards in the future!"
"Alfreed, the most important thing to you right now is your rtionship with Lord Narsus, no?"
Farangis teased Alfreed without any malice, and the Zott n maiden thought deeply with a serious look on her face.
"Well, thats certainly true. However, when I think of all the things that have happened since spring, my life has changed so much from what it was before! Though I still want to do more for His Highness."
"That''s very good to hear. If you have such thoughts, it will be a good thing not only for the Crown Prince, but also for Lord Narsus!"
Once the number of people in their army increased, there would also be more work. Narsus and Daryun, who were always so busy with various things, were finally able to sit down to rest and drink the green tea m made for them.
"To be honest, Narsus, I did not originally expect so many lords to gather for His Highness."
Daryun started the conversation like this, and Narsusughed softly.
"I know what youre thinking. Youre worried that the ve emancipation order will cause the shardaran to resent him and not respond to the call, right?"
"Yes! Because no matter what they say, it wont be of any benefit to them. Although I know of His Highness''s kindness and justice, I honestly didn''t expect you to make that abolition order so explicit."
From Daryun''s point of view, the abolition of very was a measure that Arn had to implement to be king and hold invible power, but there was no need to make such a deration right at the start.
Narsusughed again at his words.
"If they are of such a mind, they will naturally have their own ns as well. There is a subtlety in the very abolition order."
What Narsus was referring to was the precondition recorded in the very abolition decree. Theplete emancipation of ves within Pars and the prohibition of the trade in human beings was to take ce "after Arn''s reign as king," not at the present time. Of course, this had been carefully thought out by Narsus. If it was implemented now, it would have no real effect, and if it was not done properly, the vassals who wanted to keep the very system might even take it as a threat and side with Lusitania.
From the standpoint of the shardaran (lords and nobles), except for Prince Arn, there was no one who could be their ally in the battle against Lusitania. When Arn regained the lostnd of Pars and became the king, all the property owned by the lords, that is, the ves, would be freed. For them, this was a great contradiction.
Although it was a righteous battle to restore thend and throne of Pars, the shardaran could not be so enthusiastic if the result was a great loss to themselves. To gain allies, it was necessary to y some tricks. That is, to give them the following illusion.
"Prince Arn will abolish very after his reign, but the Prince also needs the power of the lords to help him. Therefore, if the lords establish merit for the prince and then unite to demand the continuation of very, even the prince has no way to refuse. The very abolition order will disappear like a water bubble without a trace "
Hearing Narsus'' exnation, Daryun couldn''t help but look at his friend in surprise.
"So, in that case, arent we deceiving them? Narsus, you were not going to ept their request from the beginning anyway!
"You could say that."
Narsus smiled maliciously and sipped his green tea.
"But what they want to believe is their own business, His Highness is not responsible for anything. The only path for His Highness is to recover the country by his own strength and virtue, and to implement a more just rule than the old times."
The so-called reform would not make everyone happy, and those who gained in the previous unjust social system may suffer from the reform. If the ves were free, the vassals would lose their freedom to own ves. In other words, the problem is which side should have freedom.
"Daryun, I think that His Highness Arn has an incredible power of persuasion."
"That I do agree with."
"So, I imagine that while recovering thends of Pars, the thoughts of the shardaran will also be influenced by His Highness. If that''s the case, that''s for the best. If things don''t go so well, with your bravery and my strategy, we don''t need to panic too much."
Book 4: Chapter 1 (2)
Book 4: Chapter 1 (2)
The strength of their army was growing rapidly. So many people were pouring into the fortress of Peshawar, they eventually had to start camping outside the walls in tents.
However, having more soldiers also had its drawbacks. If you had 100,000 soldiers, nine million servings of food would be needed for a month. In addition, the soldiers and horses also needed armor. The army could not help much with production and only consumed goods, so the resources would be stretched thin.
"If only they could have brought as much grain as they did soldiers"
Narsus was formally appointed as the Satryup by Crown Prince Arn. This was a position given to a lieutenant of the Crown Prince while he was acting in the kings stead. This position was basically that of a vizier, with authority over other courtiers, and was responsible for the royal council. This was a very important position, and official documents were drafted by the Satryup. The diatribe issued by Arn earlier was also drafted by Narsus.
Narsus quickly and efficiently organized the Crown Prince''s office, which was, for now, the provisional government of the kingdom of Pars. He first divided the affairs into civil and military departments, and then divided the civil department into eight more departments, such as ounting and civil engineering, and set up a head in each department. The most important of them was the person who was in charge of the ounting department.
The ountant chosen by Narsus was a man named Patias, a man of about thirty years of age who served as a vice-captain of arge merchant fleet and had previously served as a clerk in charge of ounting in the city of Zara. When Narsus served as court clerk in the past, the documents sent from Zara had suddenly be very high quality, and Narsus found it strange and ordered an investigation into who had produced them. Patias had now escaped from the royal capital and took two months to reach the city of Peshawar, whereupon Narsus immediately entrusted him with such an important task. Patias was not only good at math, but also good at writing, and he was knowledgeable of the current affairs in each ce and business well, so he was a rare talent.
One day, m, who was helping Narsus with his papers, asked,
"Lord Narses, what will future generations say about what His Highness Arn has done?"
"That will depend on the oue."
Narses replied extremely calmly.
"If His Highness Arn seeds as a king, perhaps he will be remembered as a generous and trustworthy person. However, if he fails, perhaps he will be criticized as someone who did not listen to the advice of others and insisted on reform, being emotional to the point of misjudgement. No one can tell the future at this time."
"Does it all depend on the future?"
"Being a king is difficult. He will not be remembered by what he wanted to do, but by what he did. In other words, people wont judge him based on what kind of ideals he has, but on what he manages to bring to the real world."
"That''s rather harsh"
m murmured, and Narsus gathered his hair with one hand.
"Yet, it is only fair, m."
If this were not the case, we would have kings who would sacrifice the lives of their people for the sake of their ideals. They would care too much for their ideals and not for the consequences. If you sacrifice too much for the sake of the people, there will still be trouble. And of course, we wont even consider people who only want the throne for their own power and greed.
"This is why I wouldnt want to be a king! I still prefer a happier, more rxed lifestyle. Leave the hard work to His Majesty Arn!"
Narsus said with a joking tone and dropped his gaze on the paper again. m did not want to disturb Narsus'' work, so he quietly left.
Narsus was not the only one who was kept busy. Jaswant, who was serving as a guard,id a nket at the door of Arn''s room and slept with his sword. The strength of Arn''s camp had increased rapidly, so there were many unfamiliar faces moving around in Peshawar. Lusitanian assassins could have easily slipped in with the rest.
During the daytime, Farangis often kept watch over Arn to prevent suspicious people from approaching. However, she still had to return to her room at night. For a while, it was the brave general Daryun who slept with his sword at the door of Arn''s room, but after he became busy managing the influx of new troops, the guard duty was given to Jaswant.
Zaravant, who was not familiar with theyout of Peshawar, went the wrong way when he was going back to his room one night, and almost stepped on Jaswant, who quickly reprimanded him.
To Jaswant, guarding the door was a sign of his loyalty to the Crown Prince and he had no other ill intentions. However, in Zaravant''s view, the foreigner was simply taking advantage of his position of authority with the Crown Prince to belittle him as a neer. Jaswant''s harsh Parsian speech and tone of voice also contributed to the misunderstanding. Zaravant could not help but be angry, stomping his boots on the ground and yelling.
"As a foreigner, you are overstepping your bounds by staying at the side of the Crown Prince. Go back to your own country and raise your cattle!"
In the face of such harsh insults, Jaswant''s expression was stiff. Blood shot to his face as he took a step forward.
"Try saying that again! Insolent fellow!"
"How ridiculous! The ck dog has actually turned red."
When Parsians insulted Sindhurans, they often called them ck dogs.
For Jaswant, Parsian was not his nativenguage. Although he wanted to curse back, he could not remember enough swear words in his rage. He exhaled heavily and snapped back in Sindhuran.
"Loud fool! If I am a ck dog, then what are you? That stupid face of yours looks like a donkey that choked to death on its own food!"
Zaravant could not understand Sindhuran, but it was obvious that the other man was notplimenting him, so his anger rose, and was no less than Jaswants. He red at the young Sindhuran and put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"ck dog of Sindhura! I will teach you what it means to be a civilized nation. Draw your sword!"
Just as he finished speaking, his great sword was half drawn from its sheath. Jaswant was not the kind of man who would cower in the face of a challenge. He also drew his sword, and the two men, not caring where they were, were about to fight each other in front of the Crown Prince''s chambers.
At this time, Arn and m were in Narsus'' room studying the book The Art of War from the Kingdom of Serica, and were not in their chambers, so Arn had no knowledge of this.
Just as the swords were about to sh, a swoosh sounded through the tense air. This startled Jaswant, and Zaravant jumped back abruptly, and a spear plunged into the ground between the two of them, its long hilt still shaking.
The man who threw the spear silently appeared. The two men, who were about to start arguing again, were immediately silenced.
"Lord Kishward"
Zaravant corrected his posture with restraint. The "Twin de General", Kishward, was as much a martial god to Zaravant as he was to Jaswant. Kishward stood before the bloodthirsty duo, and quietly opened his mouth.
"What His Highness the Crown Prince values most is the cooperation and integration of hisrades, and you should both know this. Isnt it what the Lusitanians want for those who follow His Highness to shed blood over meaningless trifles?"
"But, this guy is just too rude!"
Kishward''s sharp eyes fell on the faces of the two who condemned each other in the same breath.
"If you have grievances, feel free to take me, Kishward, as your opponent! I can fight one of you with each hand. How about that? Want to try to see if you can take the head of the Twin de General?"
Kishward''s words were really self-contradictory, and he himself knew it, but he absolutely did not allow Jaswant and Zaravant to retort, whether it be for pride or reputation. Both men reluctantly put away their swords, apologized for their rudeness and withdrew. Of course, this action was not sincere, and from now on, whenever they crossed paths, they would still turn their heads away from each other, but bloodshed was avoided.
Book 4: Chapter 1 (3)
Book 4: Chapter 1 (3)
"We seem to have a need for strange and ingenious schemes quite often."
Spreading more than ten maps on the floor, Narsus, who was sitting cross-legged, murmured to himself. Daryun sat opposite him, looking at the maps just the same.
Has the invasion of the Lusitanians turned the page for the history of Pars? Or will it just be a mere sentence? Perhaps they would know within the year. The defeat at the Battle of Atropatene and the fall of the royal capital, Ecbatana, was certainly a tragedy, but there were several ways to make up for this loss. Narsus was already considering what kind of state to build on thend of Pars after driving the Lusitanians out.
During the expedition to Sindhura, he had left a hundred or so men inside the borders of Pars with the task of drawing detailed maps. Several men were assigned to survey each road, and then each of the reports were summarized. That was how thoughtful Narsus'' thinking was.
"No matter how big the country is, you can see everything with a map."
Narsus had said this to Arn. Narsus'' strategy and warfare methods seemed miraculous, but in fact it was still based on urate perception and judgment of the situation. To do this, it was necessary to know the situation at home and abroad and to continuously collect intelligence. With a map, Narsus'' mind could paint a distinct picture of thendscape.
"But it must be illegible if he drew it himself, right? His hands are not as nimble as his mind!"
Daryun had said. Nevertheless, he quickly made use of the map in determining how to maneuver his troops. Ambush these troops here, follow this road around behind the enemy, etc.
"Cracks cannot be created in a rock. As soon as cracks are created, it will all begin to crumble."
Narsus advised the crown prince in this way. In short, those who had been with Arn since the beginning, and those who had recently joined the camp, could not fight against the Lusitanian army if they began to quarrel with each other. This problem had be more obvious since the incident of Jaswant and Zaravant.
"Narsus has a point. The other day, Jaswant and Zaravant almost drew their swords on each other. What should be done to keep the new arrivals from bing disgruntled?"
"How about appointing a new Satryup? The current one is far too young and isnt taken seriously."
Arn''s eyes widened, and then heughed out loud. Wasn''t the current Satryup Narsus himself?
"Then, who does Narsus think would be a suitable recement? Let me hear your opinion!"
"Please forgive me. I think that Lucian is qualified for this position. He is older, and he is extremely thoughtful and considerate, not to mention very well-liked among the shardaran."
"Does Narsus think this is good?"
"I think it is the best way."
"Then, Ill do as Narsus said!"
So, Narsus "stepped down" from his position as the Satryup after only half a month. His new position was that of Fossat. The Fossat was the head of military orders and administration directly under Crown Prince Arn, in other words, the work of the military advisor. In terms of status, of course, he was not as important as the Satryup, but there was no other position on the battlefield that was more important than that of a military advisor.
For Narsus, status was not important at all. However, because of the need for authority to mobilize troops, formte strategies, and exercise tactics, he assumed the post of Fossat. However, even so, he was always ready to give up his position if someone else asked for it. For Narsuss most desired position was that of court painter.
The position of the court painter required not just skill, but prestige. A certain degree of age, status, experience and poprity. Narsus had a reputation within Pars as a man of wisdom and strategy, but because he had seen the court of Andragoras, there was no shortage of people who were jealous of him among the old nobles.
It would not be good if the Satryup who integrated the two camps inspired jealousy in hisrades. It would be best if Narsus had not been in the position from the very beginning, but sometimes it is necessary to make a show of giving something up.
When the military troops began to organize, men like Gieve, who rode around on "horses of wind" and "saddles of clouds", didnt really fit in. The expedition to Sindhura proved that he was a man of great talent, but given his temperament, giving or taking orders was something he could not stand. If it was Prince Arn or the tactician Narsus himself who gave the order, he would have been more inclined to listen.
"I am of much more use to His Highness the Crown Prince than you are. Those who show upte should not act so high and mighty!"
Gieve had such thoughts. However, he could not help but be surprised at himself when he realized that he was in such a mood. He felt a slight sense of wonder that he, who was ustomed to freedom and did not follow any ruler, and considered the wind and sky as his friends, was now spending his life as someone''s subordinate.
With a shrug of one shoulder, Gieve went to the terrace outside his room and yed the oud. When the beautiful melody flowed out like a dream, even the impetuous soldiers could not help but listen.
The first person to say the name "Arn the Liberator" was Gieve. This young man, who had both a beautiful appearance and difficult personality, had a strong personal affection and interest in Arn. However, if he was expected to stay, he did not want to be entangled in annoying interpersonal troubles.
Farangis, who showed more concern for Arn than Gieve, showed her rxed attitude by saying "I can ept any kind of change in circumstances". Alfreed pestered Narsus, fought with m, and sometimes practiced archery with Farangis. Everyone had their own ideas in mind, while preparing for the approaching day of recapturing the capital. The neers, Isfan and Zaravant, also practiced their swordy and trained their horses, waiting for the day when they would ride into battle.
Although Lucian, who had just obtained the position of Satryup, did not join Arn only for the position, he was very happy to be so highly praised. Of course, he had a high opinion of both Arn and Narsus. Therefore, he was also actively involved in the integration of Arn''s camp. No one would have any objection if Lucian was to mediate between the shardaran.
Narsus'' personnel management proved to be very sessful. Since Lucian had solidly integrated the soldiers, Narsus was able to focus all his wisdom on the battle n against Lusitania. On one asion, he invited Gieve to his room to discuss some matters together. And when the discussion came to an end, Gieve was walking down the corridor with a cheerful expression on his face.
While the formation of Prince Arns army in the fortress of Peshawar was under way, some changes began to take ce in other areas of Pars as well.
Book 4: Chapter 1 (4)
Book 4: Chapter 1 (4)
Ecbatana. It had been the royal capital of Pars for more than three hundred years, since the reign of the heroic King Kai Khosrow. Now, sincest October, it has been under the upation of the Lusitanian army.
King Innocentis VII of Lusitania, who was known as "a man with his right foot in the pool of dreams and his left foot in the swamp of delusions", had neither the strength nor talent necessary to be the ruler of a country. The reason why the kingdom of Lusitania, which was not a particrly strong country, was able to destroy Maryam and suppress the kingdom of Pars, was the king''s brother Guiscard.
Without him, the government and the army would not have been sessful. The political organization and legal system of Lusitania were not yet fully developed, so there were many areas where one had to rely on one''s own strength and skill. If Guiscard had been ipetent and sickly, perhaps Lusitania would have been destroyed already.
Guiscard was summoned by the king after having breakfast. Seeing his brother as he walked into the chamber, Innocentis VII opened his hands.
"Ah! Oh my dear brother!"
Guiscard was tired of such sweet lines. These words were always followed by never-ending puzzles. Since he had been born as the king''s brother, he was exactly thirty-six years old, and in that not-so-short period of time, hed had the experience of being questioned at least a thousand times by his brother. To King Innocentis, Guiscard was a reliable and special person in charge of handling difficult matters. He could not possibly rely more on his brother. For Guiscard, this was very troublesome.
The king was unaware of his brother''s inner thoughts, and he continued.
"The Parsian soldiers seem to carry out some acts that suggest they are not afraid of the wrath of God. What exactly do you think we should do?"
"That depends entirely on my brother, no, on what His Majesty the King will do."
"Me?"
"Yes. Should we fight them? Or shall we make peace with them?"
Guiscard questioned back wistfully. It was certainly not a good hobby to enjoy watching his brother try to use his head, but there was really no way he could continue to hold the thankless position of the king''s brother if he didn''t asionally allow himself such augh. Besides, during the time when his brother was floundering, Guiscard himself could consolidate his thoughts.
"Ah, I have a good idea! Don''t we have a very important hostage?"
"A hostage?"
"Yes! Think about it, brother! Isn''t the king of Pars in the dungeon? That man is a hostage. We can tell them that if they still value this man''s life, they should withdraw their troops immediately. This way, they will not be able to act against us."
Innocentis VII kept opening and sping his hands as if amazed by his own good strategy. Guiscard on the other hand, was deep in thought in front of him. Although the king''s eyes reflected his brother''s expression, he did not fully understand.
So his brother was notpletely stupid, after all! Guiscard thought this, and was surprised. What Innocentis VII had thought of was something that Guiscard had thought of a long time ago. However, Guiscard had further thoughts. The existence of Andragoras III, who was locked in the dungeon, was a double-edged sword. If Andragoras was killed, it might cause the Parsian army to flock to Prince Arns side, the only heir to the throne, and it would mean more trouble for Lusitania instead.
"How about that? Isnt it a good idea? Oh, brother!"
This time, King Innocentis did not use the adjective "dear".
"It''s something to consider."
Guiscard replied. The life of King Andragoras was thest trump card of Lusitania, and should not be used lightly. In addition to that, there was another element thatplicated the situation even more, and that was the existence of the infamous Queen of Pars, Tahamine.
Tahamine was a prisoner of the Lusitanian army, and her value as a hostage should have been enough to rival Andragoras. However, at present, Tahamine could not be considered a hostage because King Innocentis VII of Lusitania himself had an obsessive attachment to her.
From Guiscard''s point of view, he understood that it was impossible that Tahamine would agree to Innocentis VII''s advances. No matter what intentions that woman had behind her enigmatic smile, she could never love Innocentis VII with all her heart. That''s what Guiscard thought. However, the person in question, Innocentis VII, did not think so. That was the problem.
"It''s been six months since we caught that woman. Shouldn''t he have realized that by now?"
Guiscard thought, but Innocentis VII had another thought.
"The conversion of Lusitania to the faith of Yaldabaoth came five hundred years after its founding. I will gain the heart of Tahamine, and I will not give up, no matter how many years it takes."
Guiscard smiled and could not help but want to tell him to enjoy good things only in moderation. The king could choose to ignore reality and live in a dream, but Guiscard could not let things go on like this. The fate of the country rested on Guiscard''s shoulders.
"I''m counting on you, brother. Now, I must go pray."
Guiscard left his brother behind him as he exited the king''s room. The spring sunlight poured into the corridor, but Guiscard had no time to enjoy it.
A man came up to Guiscard, who was the court clerk Orgaz, who handled administrative matters. The expression on his face was as gloomy as a cloudy winter sky.
"Your Highness, I have an urgent matter to report to you."
"What is it now?"
"It''s about the aqueducts."
"Oh, the aqueducts that Bodin destroyed? Has there been any progress on the repair work?"
Orgaz''s report was unpleasant. Archbishop Bodin had damaged the aqueducts in the northern part of the capital when they besieged it. During the winter, the water needed in the capital was not much, but when the season changed from spring to summer, the amount of water needed for farming increased significantly. The shortage of water was getting worse and worse. This news made Guiscard''s mood even heavier.
"We will soon be entering the dry season. The manpower for the project needs to be increased, but "
Guiscard sighed.
At this time, Guiscard had another idea brewing. That was to simply give up the royal capital Ecbatana and offer it to the army of Crown Prince Arn.
Originally, Guiscard had no particr interest in thend of Pars, or the city of Ecbatana. Since the aqueducts had been destroyed by Bodin, and seeing that the summer was approaching, Ecbatana was going to be without water, there was no need to stay there at all.
They could take all the gold and treasure in Ecbatana, and set fire to it. Take the citizens as ves of Lusitania. When Arn came back to Ecbatana, he would find nothing but the burnt remains of the city. Arn would surely be disappointed.
"Perhaps there is value in this approach that deserves careful consideration. We can leave thend of Pars for the time being, and then take advantage of the situation when Arn and his men are alone in a city of worries, can''t we?"
In any case, this matter could not be decided immediately. Right now, Guiscard only promised to add two thousand men to aid the repair project, and let Orgaz retreat.
"There are really too many things to do. Since conquering Pars, our troubles have increased more than ournd. It really shouldn''t be like this."
At this moment, Guiscard spat hard. There was no way to deal with Arn''s army without calling back the soldiers who had been assigned to repairing the aqueducts. Which of these things should be prioritized?
Yaldabaoth seemed to have no intention to let the faithful rest in peace. That day, when the reddish-yellow sun was sinking from the middle of the sky toward the west, a messenger from the west entered the gates of Ecbatana. At that time, Guiscard was still working.
"Your Highness the King''s Brother. A few days ago, Lord Silver Mask captured the fortress of Zabul, where the traitors were secluded. I was ordered to return immediately to report the news."
"Oh? It was captured, huh?"
Guiscard''s eyes widened and he nodded gently. It was rare to see a problem get solved.
Book 4: Chapter 1 (5)
Book 4: Chapter 1 (5)
Hilmes, better known as Silver Mask, weed theing of spring while surrounding Zabul fortress.
TheTemple Knights, who had lost more than two thousand soldiers in the first attack, had since then taken refuge in the fortress again, which was known to be difficult to attack due to its geography. Although Hilmes tried to lure them out through various methods, the Temple Knights just wouldnt move. In any case, the Temple Knights were isted, and as long as they were patient, they would eventually have toe out. But Hilmes did not have time to wait. The report of Arn''s impending counterattack had already reached him. Hilmes summoned Sam, the former Marzban, to consult with him.
"Sam, have you heard about Andragoras'' son?"
"My subordinates have heard of the army being raised by His Highness Arn."
"The title of Your Highness should only be used to address the rightful royal family."
After saying these words, Hilmes crossed his arms and pondered. While he was swept up in squabbling among the Lusitanians and besieging fortresses in the wilderness, Arn had already gathered an army and established his goal to retake the kingdom. Hilmes still had to quickly capture the fortress of Zabul and establish his base in order to do so. He gazed up at the cliff face, which looked hazy under the bright sun, and asked the former Marzban.
"Sam! What can be done to make those cowardly desert rats show their faces? Do you have a n?"
The surface of the silver mask shone with a rainbow under the sunlight. Sam looked towards the emptyndscape. The figure of a young king who had taken over the throne from histe father, Osroes V, and defended the royal pce on the battlefield tangibly appeared before him, and then disappeared.
"To say the least, this man certainly has an unfortunate fate. Whether it is through courage or wisdom, if he is carefully nurtured, perhaps he could also be an excellent king."
Sam felt this way, and was even a little sentimental, but he did not say this out loud. He knew that Hilmes wanted reverence and obedience, not sympathy. Hilmes had no way of knowing what Sam was thinking, and after a short silence, he put his hand to the silver mask. Sam looked at him in amazement.
"Your Highness Hilmes "
"No outsiders are present now. Without asional exposure to the air, even the intact half of my face might yet rot away."
After murmuring this, Hilmes loosened the sps of the silver mask, exposing his face to the wind. Sam had been mentally prepared, but he still could not help but stare. The contrast was stark between the handsome left half of his face and the scarred right half.
Looking only at the left half of Hilmes'' face, Sam renewed his resolve. He would help this man to drive the Lusitanians out of Pars and bring peace back to thend again. If possible, he must also avoid unnecessary bloodshed between Hilmes and King Andragoras, as well as Prince Arn. Although he had been given the position of Marzban by King Andragoras and appointed to guard the royal capital of Ecbatana, he had failed to do his duty and was stillnguishing. As long as he still lives, his suffering will not end.
"Because there are no wells in Zabul fortress, it relies on three underground aqueducts to obtain water. I already know the location of these aqueducts, let us tell the soldiers to dig them out immediately!"
"Will we poison the water?"
"No, if we do that, the water will not be usableter. After capturing the fortress, there is no point in using it if it is not immediately habitable."
"That''s true. Then, what is to be done?"
Sam faintly spoke his thoughts to Hilmes. After hearing them, Hilmes nodded vigorously.
"Okay, that''s good. Let''s do it ording to your n!"
After taking Sam as his retainer, Hilmes trusted Sam even more resolutely. Perhaps he thought that as a king, he should have at least one trustworthy retainer, right? However, at the same time, he absolutely would not allow others to betray him.
In the fortress of Zabul, the Archbishop Bodin was preaching to the cavalry and soldiers. He was standing on the altar waving his hands, frothing at the mouth and speaking at the top of his lungs.
"This building is a natural fortress, and with the protection of the heavenly god Yaldabaoth, the evil heathens will never be able to attack us. We are going to use this fortress as a base to establish a kingdom of God in thisnd. You are all God''s apostles, noble bodies who will participate in the holy war. Bring your honor and prudence! The shadow of God is always over your heads."
The knights and soldiers were moved to tears. However, as a matter of course, exceptions were everywhere.
"What kind of holy war is this? There are no women, no wine, and we cant even loot the cities. Why do we have to lose our lives fighting in the middle of nowhere?"
Some people whispered this privately, but no one left the fortress. There was no way to escape because the surveince inside the fortress was extremely strict, and the Parsians were waiting outside the fortress.
When Bodin, who had finished his sermon, was about to leave the altar, a cry came from the water reservoir located deep inside the fortress.
"Fire! Fire ising out!"
The cavalrymen looked at each other and ran in the direction of the reservoir. There, they saw the fire flowing out from the tunnel.
This was Sam''s method. He had poured oil into the underground aqueduct and then lit it on fire.
Because there is still air between the ceiling of the underground water line and the waters surface, the fire will not go out. The fire gradually flowed inside the fortress. The reservoir was made of stone and wood, and now that the fire was burning the wood, the whole room glowed brightly in a red and golden me.
Bodin, who had run to the reservoir to see what was going on, knew immediately that this was a tactic of the Parsians, and he could not help but gnash his teeth in hatred.
"Damn, these heathens!"
Angry curses did not improve matters as smoke filled the entire fortress and the soldiers of Lusitania panicked. Although they drew their swords and picked up their spears, the enemy they faced was fire and smoke, and these weapons could not do much at all.
"Put out the fire! Put out the fire quickly!"
Because it was an oil fire, even if you pour water on it, it will only fuel the fire.
In the midst of the confusion, an arrow flew into the wind and pierced the face of the cavalryman who was instructing the men to put out the fire. The cavalryman let out a scream and rolled into the water, disappearing into a column of me and water. The Lusitanians, stunned by the sudden event, were thrown into a panic when they saw a group in Parsian armor appearing from the other underground aqueducts.
"The infidels are invading!"
The cavalryman who shouted was shed at his left shoulder by Hilmess longsword, and fell down amidst blood and screams.
At the sight of the Parsians breaking into the fortress, Archbishop Bodin, who was in the cloister, could not help but be horrified. He had tortured and killed many heretics, but never had he fought an opponent with a weapon. "Hold them back! Hold them back!" He ordered in a loud voice, and then immediately disappeared into thin air. The other cavalrymen fought back with their swords drawn even in their fear.
"O God! Please give us strength! Give us the strength to defeat the infidels!"
A bloody battle ensued. The Knights of the Holy Church were forced to take a defensive position, but they did not surrender to the pagans. They sang the name of God under their breath and shed at the Parsians. Swords shed, spears stabbed, the sound of metal filled the fortress, tied horses neighed in panic amidst the blood and mes, and blood sttered on the stone floor while the dead and wounded fell one after another onto the bloodstained ground.
"Where is Bodin? Don''t let Bodin escape!"
Hilmes ordered while still swinging the sword in his hand. Despite his shorings in other aspects, Hilmes, who was called the "rightful king of Pars", was definitely not a coward. Not only that, among the kings of Pars in the past, there were not many people who were as brave as he was.
A Temple Knight threw a thin spear. Hilmes''s shield moved to the left, blocking the tip of the spear, and the sword in his right hand shed, cutting the throat of his opponent. At this time, a long, thick-ded sword wielded with two hands swung from the other direction. After dodging the blow with a superb maneuver and letting the opponent lunge, Hilmes''s blood-stained longsword swung in his hand, only to hear a sound like cutting a melon in half. The chest armor of the Temple Knight was shed and the white de pierced into his body.
The blood that sprayed out wove a red mist in front of the silver mask. The severed head fell to the ground, while the severed arm fluttered through mes and smoke.
The horsemen of Pars followed Hilmes wielding their own weapons to cut down the Lusitanian horsemen, with Zandeh''s movements in particr being the most striking. Since his defeat in a solo fight with Daryun, he had abandoned his sword skills in favor of a weapon that would give fuller y to his strength. Now he was wielding a huge club in both hands. This club was made of wood, rolled and reinforced with cowhide. In the front were several thick nails. With the force of a whack, a human skull would even be cracked, and the eyes would fly out.
The bodies of the Lusitanian knights piled up around Zandeh.
Angry cries and screams filled the atrium, the cloisters, the towers, and the walls of the fortress of Zabul, and blood and sparks stained the sight of the cavalrymen.
The Temple Knights did not expect the enemy to invade the fortress at all. They were convinced that the steep rocky hill and the double iron gates were impossible to breach.
They were also convinced that the fortress was originally owned by the Parsians, but they had captured it by cutting off the enemy''s food, and that there would be no problem while they still had food.
Faith and courage alone could not stop the Parsians'' onught. Someone let out a shout and started running toward the steps of the gate, so the others followed. They wanted to escape to the outside of the fortress.
The gates of the fortress were opened. The Lusitanians were forced by the Parsian soldiers and the billowing smoke to escape to the outside. The bright sun of Pars shone in the sky above the two thick gates. After rushing outside from the dark interior, the soldiers eyes could not adjust to the bright light and they could not see anything yet.
One by one, the Lusitanians filed out of the fortress. Although the Lusitanians generals tried tomand the soldiers to line up in formation, the scene was too chaotic as the tides of people kept pouring out of the fortress gates.
"Fire!"
This was the order issued by Sam. He, whomanded the archers, had his soldiers aiming at the entrance of the fortress gates on stand-by.
The Knights of the Holy Church who ran towards the outside of the fortress fell down one by one under the rain of arrows that fell from the sky. Despite this, their courage showed no sign of decay at all. They swung their swords, and the armor on their bodies made a loud nging sound as they charged toward the enemy line.
Sam''s strategy was extremely clever. He told the soldiers to stop shooting for a while, while retreating back, as if the soldiers of Pars could not hold back the onught of the rushing Temple Knights. As long as the Lusitanians moved forward, the Parsian army fell back. The Lusitanian array advanced further. In addition, the terrain was t, and the Lusitanian soldiers were wearing heavy armor, so it was impossible to run for long. So, after exhausting their strength, the Lusitanians stopped to catch their breath.
The Parsian soldiers, who should have been routed, stopped in unison. Once they formed a neat formation again, they shot another rain of arrows at the Knights of the Holy Church, whose advance had slowed down significantly. The first volley caused more than a hundred of the enemy to fall, and the others scrambled to raise their shields to block the rain of arrows.
The cavalry with Sam as the vanguard rushed out from the nk. In order to block the rain of arrows, the Temple Knights raised their shields to their heads. Thus, facing the attack from the nk, their bodies werepletely defenseless. Spears and swords pierced their bodies, and they were at their numbers began to dwindle.
Finally, their confidence and courage ran out. With their formationpletely disintegrated, the Lusitanians ran in all directions, dropping their swords, spears, and even their armor.
The sand on the ground was drenched in the blood of the Temple Knights.
The fortress of Zabul fell, and the sacred banner hanging on the fortress''s gate was pulled down.
Among the captives, the leader of the Temple Knights was brought before Hilmes. Hilmes turned to the wounded, bleeding captives, tied up like domestic animals, and asked.
"What happened to Bodin? Where is that half-crazed monk hiding?"
Capture Bodin alive, was the order he gave. After capturing him, they tied him like a wild beast, dragged him on foot through the wilderness, and took him to the royal capital, Ecbatana. There, they handed him over to Guiscard, the king''s brother, who was furious with Bodin. Guiscard would have been delighted to have Bodin executed, wouldn''t he? For Hilmes, it was a great pleasure to make the Lusitanians and the Temple Knights hate each other and kill each other for their own ambitions.
However, none of the more than one hundred and forty captives of the Temple Knights spoke up in reply. Perhaps because they really didnt know Bodins whereabouts, or maybe they knew but did not want to tell Hilmes.
"Yaldabaoth is testing the loyalty of our faith. We cannot betray the archbishop."
"Hmph, and your god has no other way to test the loyalty of his followers?
Hilmesughed coldly as a frenzied glow surfaced in the eyes of the Lusitanian cavalryman. He raised his blood-covered face while his whole body was tied up tightly, and said to the sky as if he was drunk with wine.
"O God! Please forgive our sins! We fought to eradicate the godless heathens from the earth and to make this world the kingdom of God, but we, who are ipetent and untalented, lost to the evil heathens. Things havee to this point, and at least my life must be used to reduce the number of enemies by one. O God, please be wise!"
Then, an incredible thing happened. The cavalryman should have been so badly wounded that he could not even stand up. However, at that moment, he leaped up like a beast chased by fire and rushed toward Hilmes.
Hilmes, who was careless, lost his bnce. He swayed backward, his armor nged, and one knee hit the ground. At that moment, another cavalryman darted out and tried to hook his own foot to make Hilmes fall to the ground.
Just then, Hilmes''s longsword let out a terrible roar. The first blow of the longsword split the head of the first cavalryman, then stabbed into the side of the second mans head. Blood sprayed out and short screams of agony echoed against the walls.
"Kill these men!"
Hilmes ordered in a fit of rage. But then he turned to Zandeh, who was trying to drag the men out, and said.
"No, those who have sworn to renounce the god Yaldabaoth can be spared."
However, the faith of the one hundred and forty captives was extremely strong. Not one of them renounced his faith, and each one died while chanting the name of God.
At the end of the execution, Zandeh seemed to be a little tired of the smell of blood and asked.
"Do you want to check for survivors, Your Highness?"
"Forget it, I don''t want to deal with these fanatics anymore."
"What should we do with the others?"
"It would be too much trouble to behead them one by one."
Hilmes''s silver mask glowed hazily.
"It''s better to let them die in the desert. With no water and no food, they''ll all die anyway. If there is still one who manages to escape death, count it as the blessing of Yaldabaoth!"
The order was immediately carried out. The remaining Lusitanian soldiers were driven out into the desert without weapons, horses, armor, and without water or food. Many of them were already wounded and did not even have the opportunity to receive medical treatment.
The total number of these people reached 20,000. The 12,000 who swore to submit to Guiscard were spared. The others were either killed in battle or executed; in short, the Temple Knights were routed from the fortress of Zabul.
While the bloody executions were being carried out inside, a group of men rode outside the fortress to the west, one farsang (about five kilometers) away.
It was the heretical inquisitor Bodin, the archbishop of the Yaldabaoth religion. While the two sides were in the midst of the melee, he left the fortress and his knights who were fighting desperately, and fled with only a few attendants.
"Abomination! Abomination! Watch! You heathens, heretics, apostates! Those who despise God and the priesthood will be burned by the karmic fires of hell!"
Bodin called out his curse towards the twilight sky. One of the knights apanying him asked him where they should go, and Bodin''s eyes shone brightly as he replied.
"Maryam! Let''s go to Maryam! There are still enough troops there, and the right faith remains. I will use the power of that country to punish that foolish intrusion of Innocentis, the abominable Guiscard, and that Silver Mask!"
Thus, Bodin, who had sacrificed the lives of many knights of strong faith to keep himself alive, with aplex fire burning in his chest, dashed towards the west.
Book 4: Chapter 2 (1)
Book 4: Chapter 2 (1)
The heavy gray waves reflected the dark sky. Soon, the early morning light turned the sea and sky a turquoise blue.
To the northeast of the Kingdom of Pars is the region of Dam, which faces the vast Darband Ind Sea.
Fishermen and salt makers gather at the end of the day''s work in a gathering ce among the rooftops. They ate sugar desserts and dried figs, talked about the obesity of their wives, the arrival of a beautiful woman in the town''s tavern, and, unfortunately, their lovers.
Suddenly, a fisherman stood up, the crowd''s attention was focused on the horizon, where he was looking. A white sail appeared in front of everyone''s eyes.
"Hey, that white sail, doesn''t it look like Maryam''s boat from the pattern?"
"Well, I guess it is, isn''t it? That''s unusual!"
In the past, Pars and Maryam also had disputes over the dominion of theke on the national border and the Darband Sea, but they had maintained peaceful rtions for the past fifty years. The two countries exchanged envoys, traded through ships and merchants, and bards and art groups from both sides often traveled, making the Darband Sea ake of peace.
But sincest year, the peaceful rtions between the two countries have been broken off. This was because Maryam had been invaded by Lusitania before Pars, and could not continue the diplomatic rtions.
Although there were port officials who managed matters such as taxation, smuggling and maritime rescue, they had now all withdrawn to Ecbatana. During this period, Pars was also invaded by Lusitania, so the only people who would sail on the Darband Sea were fishermen, and the port had looked unusually depressing.
Although the Darband Ind Sea is really argeke, the water is rich in salt. The two countries, Pars and Maryam, had worked together to measure it and found that it was extremely wide, 180 farsang (about 900 km) from east to west and 140 farsang (about 700 km) from north to south. There were also tides that rose and fell. To the people living near the shore, thiske is no different from the real sea. Not only that, but the inhabitants of Dam, who have traveled to the south to see the real sea, say:
"Ah! There is also a bigke in the south! It''s not big enough topare with the Darband Sea, though."
This is what the people of the south say when they make fun of the ignorance of the people of Dam. However, from the standpoint of the Dam citizens, they could not understand why they were being teased by the people of the south.
In any case, it was indeed Maryam''s military ship that appeared on the inner coast of Dam at this time. In addition to three sail poles, there were one hundred and twenty oars. The bow of the ship was decorated with the statue of the sea god they revered, but the body of the statue was pierced with arge arrow, and part of the sail was burnt. It was a sign of war.
Under the gaze of the fishermen, a small boat was lowered from the side of the military ship. Although it was a small boat, it was big enough to carry about twenty people. After letting the sailors row the boat to the shore, a middle-aged knight in glorious armor called out in the Parsiannguage.
"We want to see someone of suitable status. We are from Maryam and have escaped from the Lusitanians. Is there a lord or a magistrate or something like that present?"
He meant not to talk with such people of lowly status. The fishermen were slightly offended, but still answered with a confused expression.
"Hey, what do you want?"
"If Lord Narsus was here, he could instruct us on what to do."
"Oh, I wonder what Lord Narsus is doing since he was forced out of the pce?"
Dam was the domain of a lord named Narsus until three years ago. However, the young lord went into seclusion after he was expelled from the court by King Andragoras III. After that, Dam became the king''s territory. Still, the old lord Narsus remained more popr than the king.
"Yes, Lord Narsus seemed to want to be a painter, but I dont think he could make a living like that. I hope he will not die on his own."
"He is kind and very smart, a well-educated man."
"And he has m with him!"
"Yes! m is a good boy, and would not let Lord Narsus starve to death."
These people talked about the old lord with impunity, but they still loved him as theyughed. In short, since Narsus was not there, they could not rely on his wisdom. Now, they must use their own minds to pass judgment.
"Ah, its best to go and report to the officials first!"
With great difficulty, they remembered the officials sent from the capital. If there was ever a need for them, now was that time.
"Well, someone go and inform them! They arezy people who love to show off their authority. Theyre probably already asleep now. But never mind that, go and wake them up."
After receiving the notice from the fishermen, the local officials of Dam hurried towards the sea.
The territory of Pars was so vast that the Lusitanian army, which was holding down Ecbatana, could not patrol all of it. Although there were several scouting parties sent to set fire to the area, that was all, and there was no real plundering or killing, so the fishermen were able to drink tea and chat at leisure.
The Maryami people spoke eagerly to the officials who had arrived.
"The Lusitanians should be themon enemy of Maryam and Pars. We should work together to defeat the abominable invaders and bring the world back to justice."
"Ah, that works out well."
Such a reply seemed too perfunctory, but the problem seemed too big for these local officials.
To the north and west of Dam is the Darband Sea, and the other two directions are surrounded by mountains, making it an area of great geographical independence. The winds that blow across the ind sea bring abundant rain, thend is extremely fertile, crops are abundant, and the inhabitants have ess to fish and salt from the sea. Even if one stays in this ce until he dies, he could still live a full and rich life, so the people here did not know much strife.
"Ah, it is useless to be so anxious. Let''s just observe for a while before making ns!"
Even the officials had such a habit, and people of all status were waiting for changes to arise on the other side of the mountains.
Their bnce of life was finally disrupted. Suddenly, the soldiers who were watching the southern mountains from the watchtowers rang the bell to alert theirpanions.
"It''s the Lusitanians! The Lusitanian cavalry is attacking!"
The voice from the soldier who was watching sounded like a cry of grief. He wanted to run down from the tower while screaming, but a dozen arrows flew toward him, one of which pierced his throat. The soldier plummeted toward the ground with his hands held high, head down and feet up.
Book 4: Chapter 2 (2)
Book 4: Chapter 2 (2)
T/N: This is probably the most violent chapter so far. Just be aware.
The invasion of Dam was carried out by the subordinates of Marquis Leuthold, a nobleman of Lusitania. The purpose was mainly reconnaissance and plunder. Since Arn had made his name apparent, Guiscard had reinforced the strength of the main army, but this group had taken advantage of the gap to make their way to the region of Dam.
From the cliffs overlooking the coast, they saw the lone Maryami ship.
"Huh? Isnt that ship from Maryam? How nostalgic!"
The voice of the Lusitanianmander was full of mockery. Maryam had been conquered, and their army had copsed. The ship that appeared off the coast of Pars must be the only remnants, so there was nothing to fear.
The Lusitanian troops totalled 300 cavalrymen. They were confident because they had already scouted Dam beforehand, and knew that there were no Parsian army troops in this city. After taking half a day to reach the coast, they immediately showed their fangs.
"Burn it all! Burn everything and kill all the people! The infidels cannot be spared, and those who betrayed Yaldabaoth to collude with the infidels are even more guilty!"
Even before the order was given, the Lusitanian soldiers shouted and speeded up their advance. For the people of Dam, the nightmare had just begun.
The Lusitanian soldiers ran into the vige and began to kill people who were trying to escape. Old men had their backs pierced by spears, women had their necks shed by swords. Blood spurted everywhere, screams filled the air, and all this only made the invaders more excited. A crying baby''s body was thrown into the air, and the moment it fell, was pierced by a spear. This is what the Lusitanian soldiers did to the "heretics who had sold their souls to the devil". For those who disobeyed God, it didnt matter how brutal the treatment was. Every house was set on fire, and those who were forced out by the fire were shot down by arrows at the door.
Theughter of the Lusitanians, who were reveling in the bloody violence, stopped abruptly when they spotted a knight strolling leisurely through the streets. The knight wore no armor, but therge sword hanging from his waist caught the eyes of the Lusitanians.
This traveler''s age was likely around thirty. He had a strong physique, and dark hair that resembled a lions mane. A leisurely smile hung on his rugged face, and his left eye was closed as if it was no longer functional.
He was the former Marzban, Kubard. He called himself "The One-Eyed Lion", but he was better known by his nickname, "The Braggart Kubard". In any case, he was now a vagabond without a sovereign or status.
Through the introduction of his old friend Sam, he had briefly followed Hilmes, but they hadnt gotten along well. Therefore, he was now heading to visit Prince Arn, who was supposedly gathering troops on the eastern border. Since there was still no guarantee that he would get along with Arn, he was at least nning to meet him first.
He was originally heading west, but had taken a wrong turn and instead came to the northwest; partly because he didn''t know the geography of the area very well, and partly because the street signs had been destroyed by the Lusitanian army. When he realized that he had taken the wrong road, he had already entered the territory of Dam and had to cross two mountains to get back on the right road. There was really no way out of this, but there was no good wine or women in the mountains, so he thought that everything could wait until he found good wine or met a good woman. So, he rode to the streets of Dam.
The Lusitanian knights blocked the way of the traveler.
There was no hint of fear or uneasiness on Kubard''s face, but a pleasant gleam in his one remaining eye as he looked at the Lusitanian knights.
"Who are you? Where are you trying to go?"
The Lusitanian knights questioned him with anxious eyes, something that could not be faulted. No matter how Kubard looked or the big sword on his waist, he did not look like an ordinary farmer or merchant.
"Hm, this ce seems to have been abandoned by the gods."
Kubard muttered. In front of him were not beautiful women, but rough men. No wine, but the smell of fish and blood. As such, he did not care. Kubard fastidiously spoke in the Parsiannguage to the Lusitanian knights. Just as he finished speaking, the great sword had alreadye out of its scabbard.
With a sh of light, the head of the Lusitanian cavalryman left his body with a spray of blood. The severity of this blow made the other Lusitanian cavalrymen pull back in fear.
The voice of the aggressor was still very rxed.
"I didn''t sleep wellst night, and even the kindest people get cranky without sleep! For you, this is the worst bad luck of your life."
Kubard''s Parsiannguage was only half-understood in the ears of the Lusitanians, but his meaning was made clear through his actions. The man was against the Lusitanian cavalry, the apostles of God.
Swords and shields, armor and bodies shed fiercely, blood and screams filled the air, and blood pooled on the ground. The one-eyed Parsian was like a gue to the Lusitanians. The great sword swung through the wind and attacked the enemies with amazing speed, cutting down its opponents as if cutting grass, and several horses lost their riders and fled.
Then, several things happened at the same time.
Due to Kubards bravery, the number of Lusitanian cavalry was steadily decreasing. Seeing this bloody scene from the distance, five or six Lusitanian horsemen tried toe to the aid of theirpanions. They were on a hill and could not run down in a straight line because of the cliffs ahead. They turned their horses around and ran down the gentle slope, trying to detour around to theirpanions'' location.
When they came to the street, they ran into a traveler riding a horse with a white mane. It was a young man of eighteen or neen, with a ck cloth wrapped over red hair.
"Get out of the way, kid!"
The aggressive tone of the Lusitanian speech seemed to make the young man more angry than the actual words. Silently, he grabbed therge war horn hanging from his waist and swung it forward, striking the cavalryman, who was trying to run past him, right in the face.
The horn hit him, and the rider, whose nose had been broken, let out a sharp scream and fell from his saddle. The horse that had lost its rider did not slow down, but still ran past the young man quickly.
"What are you doing? Damn it!"
The other Lusitanian horsemen were exceptionally agitated. They began to swing their des at the young man.
The young man did not wait for the enemy to surround him before he quickly pulled the reins, turned the horse''s head and ran. He was not running away, and his motive soon became clear. The Lusitanian soldier, who had caught up with him and swung down his de, saw a sh of lighting from the young man''s scabbard from below to above.
The Lusitanian cavalryman took a sh from his chest to his left shoulder and fell backwards with a spray of blood. As he fell to the ground with a ssh and a wail, the hooves of a fleeingpanion approached. This was one of the Lusitanian cavalrymen who had lost the will to fight and fled after the altercation with Kubard.
The chaos rolled up in a whirlwind. When the chaos subsided, all that remained on the scene was the strong smell of blood, ten dead Lusitanians and two living Parsians.
Book 4: Chapter 2 (3)
Book 4: Chapter 2 (3)
"My name is Kubard. And you?"
"Mene."
The young man replied curtly to Kubard, who had given his name first to note off as aggressive. But after all, his identity was already clear.
"I am the son of the Zott n''s chief Haltash."
"Oh, the Zott n, huh?"
The Zott n were a troupe of bandits whose power was based in the central and southern regions of Pars. Kubard had certainly heard of them.
"What are you doing in a ce like this?"
"Looking for my sister. I cant return to my n until I find her."
At the end of autumnst year, the Zott n chief Haltash, took his daughter, Alfreed, on a plundering trip, but they had not returned. Mene had gone out searching with a few of his men, and found the bodies of his father and some other n members on the second day of the journey. However, Mene did not find Alfreeds remains. Mene, who had brought his father''s body back to the n, was faced with the question of electing the next n chief.
"Why dont you be the new chief?"
"Cant. My old mansst wish was that my sister''s husband be the next chief."
"Why ignore the existence of a boy like you?"
"He didnt like me."
"Because you''re not cute enough?"
It was only a joke, but Kubards sentence seemed to be like a sword stabbed in Menes chest. He did not answer immediately, but tightly pursed his lips, and his expression looked as if he was about to explode because of the dissatisfaction in his heart. This seemed like a rather dangerous expression, and was a stark contrast from his originally rxed face.
Mene had been beaten several times by his drunken father. His younger sister Arfreed had tried to intervene, so she was beaten as well.
After sobering up, Haltash would regret beating his daughter, but he never felt guilty about beating his son. Although he acknowledged Mene''s wisdom and bravery, he also publicly dered that Mene was not popr and therefore could not be the next chief.
For all these reasons, after his father''s death, Mene had to bring his sister Alfreed back to his n, or else he would have to bring back proof that she was dead. Even if he could eventually be the chief, it would be a long time.
When Mene calmed down, the two travelers noticed a group of people approaching on foot. For a moment, they both began to draw their swords, but they quickly lifted their guard. The visitors were the ones they had saved. There was a mix of Parsians and Maryami, some speaking in Parsian with a Dam ent, others in Parsian with a Maryami ent.
One of them was a middle-aged Maryami knight, with a ck beard on the lower part of his face and a slim figure, who invited the two travelers to his ship in solemn Parsiannguage.
The two Parsians who were neither old acquaintances nor fellow travelers came to the shore of the Darband Sea. At that moment, a small boat came down from the Maryami military ship and arrived at the shore. A well-dressed Maryami woman greeted them both.
This woman was probably over sixty years old. Her hair was gray, but her muscles were still strong and her skin still shiny, her back was still straight, and she seemed to be a person full of energy and wisdom.
"It''s good to see two brave knights of Pars."
"And you are?"
"I am the head maid in the pce of Maryam, and my name is Jovana."
Judging from her aura, even if she said she was the queen, anyone would believe it. Originally, she was an old woman with umon majesty, and she was also fluent in Parsiannguage. One cannot help but suspect that she is not really the head maid, but of a higher status.
"So, what is the head maids business?"
"I would like to ask a favor of you two."
Just as he was about to ask what kind of help, the middle-aged knight who had brought them asked,
"You''ve killed a lot of enemies before, right?"
"Yes, Ive killed a hundred lions, a thousand people, and thirty dragons."
After finishing this sentence in a serious manner, Kubard added another sentence as if he suddenly thought of something.
"Actually, I killed another ten justst night."
"Dragons?"
"No, mosquitoes. I slept by a swamp."
A lightly insulting smile surfaced on Kubard''s face. The Maryam knights seemed to notice that they were being mocked, and were about to angrily say something, but the head maid Jovana stopped them and asked Kubard,
"Since you have lived such an eventful life, the present situation must be boring for you, right?"
"Huh? Not really. As long as there is good wine, beautiful women, and enemies to kill, living is not boring."
While Kubard and the maid were talking, Mene looked away with a disbelieving expression and refused any conversation.
The head maid began to exin what had happened.
Originally, Maryam was a nation that followed Yaldabaoth, just like Lusitania. Under the same God, Maryam and Lusitania should be allies. However, Yaldabaothism is divided into several sects, and the "Western Church" of Lusitania and the "Eastern Church" of Maryam have been in opposition for over 400 years.
Despite their antagonism, it wasnt more than arguments and nder. Although rtions were not good, they still had diplomatic and trade agreements. Two years ago, however, a very dramatic change urred in the rtionship between the two countries.
The Lusitanian army, which suddenly invaded, took control of Maryam in just one month. This was only possible with Guiscard''s thorough nning and excellent implementation. The king of Maryam, Nicos IV, was a cowardly man who had never fought in battle. The king and his consort Jelena were under house arrest in the pce, and they had signed a document of surrender, seeking only to save their lives.
However, the Lusitanians broke the pact. The Temple Knights, led by Archbishop Bodin, surrounded Maryam''s pce one night, blocked all the exits, and burnt it to the ground.
"They will survive if it is Gods will!"
This was Bodins justification. The life and death of the King of Maryam would be entirely up to God. If God granted favor to the king, a miracle would ur and save the couple.
The miracle had not happened. The King of Maryam and his consort were found as two charred corpses.
Guiscard, the King of Lusitania''s brother, was furious. He did not sympathize with the cowardly King of Maryam, but what country would trust Lusitanian diplomacy in the future if a religious leader would wantonly break a treaty with one of the most important political figures?
During the dispute between Guiscard and Bodin, the eldest daughter of the king, Princess Militsa, and the second daughter, Princess Irina, took the opportunity to escape under the protection of several retainers and fled to the castle of Aclea, located across the Darband Sea.
"During these two years, we managed to hide out in that castle and fought against the Lusitanian invaders."
To the east of the castle is the sea, to the west is a swamp inhabited by venomous snakes, and to the north is a sheer cliff, so the only ce where you could lead an army was from the south. Because of the terrain, the walls of the castle were also deliberately raised to the south. There were two gates, and after passing through these two gates, there was another gate. An enemy who entered the square surrounded by high walls could neither enter the castle directly nor exit the gates quickly, and then the defenders could attack with arrows from atop the walls.
Two yearster, the Lusitanian army was able to capture the castle with great difficulty, but not through military force.
They had conspired with some people inside the castle and promised that "if they opened the gates for the Lusitanians, their lives would be spared, and they would be granted status and property.
After two years of defending the castle, they were tired and demoralized. The betrayers conspired with the Lusitanians one night and set fire to various parts of the castle. After a flurry of confusion and bloodshed, Militsa helped her sister Irina flee the castle in a boat, while she herself leapt from the tower
"We finally arrived at this ce after sailing for five days. However, it seems the Lusitanians have already reached here as well. We hope that you will help the poor Prince Irina and help fight the Lusitanians."
Book 4: Chapter 2 (4)
Book 4: Chapter 2 (4)
Faced with the other party''s request to help the Princess of Maryam, Kubard was not quick to agree.
"Hmm, not only is there a Prince of Pars who wants to restore the country, but there is also a princess who wants to rebuild Maryam."
Kubard thought in his mind with slight mockery.
"There seems to be a whole lot of princes and princesses who want to rebuild their country these days! If Lusitania falls, then there will be princes who want to rebuild Lusitania."
Kubard thought it was kind of funny. In the grand scheme of things, it seemed that Pars and Maryam had also destroyed other people''s countries and killed other people''s kings before. This was just the cycle of cause and effect.
Nheless, it was not fun to watch the ruthless Lusitanians run around. If they wanted tomit heinous acts in Lusitania, it would be fine, but this was Pars. Even if Pars had its ws, they should be reformed by Parsians, not by Lusitanians.
In any case, Maryams demand could not be rejected on this ount now. The people of Dam also needed external help to defeat the enemies in their city.
Although Kubard had no intention of tantly refusing, he was not obligated to grant the other side''s request without a second thought.
"What does Her Highness, the Princess of Maryam think? I would like to hear from Her Highness''s mouth that she has issued a decree to defeat the Lusitanians."
Kubard''s one eye was cast towards the military ship, and the head maid and knight could not help but look at each other at these words.
As a curtain was drawn aside, light came into the ship''s cabin. Prince Irina was sitting on a luxurious velvet-covered seat to greet the two Parsians.
A dark veil covered the princesss face, and the scent of spices filled the air.
"Can no royals show their true face?"
Kubard thought of Prince Hilmes, who he had met and parted ways with some days before, always wearing a silver mask. At that moment, a clear voice came from behind the veil. It spoke perfect Parsian with no Maryami ent at all.
"I have heard that generals of Pars are very brave, and the soldiers are strong. Wont you lend me your strength?"
"Strength alone does not help much."
Kubard''s reply was only half-heartedly polite. Confidence in one''s own strength was not always enough, you also had to put in other kinds of work. The defeat at Atropatene six months ago taught Kubard this, and brought the whole Parsian army face to face with this harsh fact.
The battle between Pars and Lusitania was certainly the fault of the invading Lusitanians, but Parss carelessness was also an indisputable fact. When the neighboring state of Maryam was invaded without reason, Pars should have been alert and prepared early.
"Ah, well its in the past now."
Kubard changed the subject. Although he liked to fight, it was still a job where one''s life was at stake, and he would be justified in asking for a reward.
"Ah, I don''t know how the situation will look in the future, but Ill help you put out the fire in front of you. However, the water isnt free."
"Are you asking for payment?!"
Kubard smiled as he met the Maryami knight''s reproachful gaze.
"Ill take only kindness as thanks when helping the poor, but it feels rather disrespectful not to receive payment from the rich, right?"
"Why do you assume were rich?"
"Ive never seen a poor person in such fine silks!"
Mene suddenly interjected. After looking around for just a moment, one could tell that the interior of the ship was extremely luxuriously decorated, despite being a military ship.
"There are many women in this world who sell their bodies to feed their children, or to buy medicine for their sick parents. If I saw such a woman, I would help her even if she didnt ask me. However, I am not obliged to help someone who is obviously rich, but stingy with their money."
Having heard such sharp words from Mene through the veil, the princess was left speechless.
"This is why I dont like nobles. They always expect others to serve them. They need soldiers to die in battle, for peasants to pay taxes, and for themselves to enjoy luxury."
Mene kicked the floor with the soles of his boots.
"They turn a blind eye while ves and free people suffer, but its awful when kings and nobles suffer. The people who watched indifferently as the ves starved to death gave food only to the royalty who had lost their countries. Why should I help those who abandoned their people to flee with their own riches?"
"Have you said enough?"
Kubard asked quietly, and Mene paused. The momentary silence was broken by Jovanna, the head maid. She offered a proposal for payment and they agreed with it.
"All right! The pact is established. In the name of Mithra, god of covenants."
"In the divine name of Yaldabaoth."
The knight of Pars and the matron of Maryam confirmed the pact properly, although each had doubts as to how much they could trust the other.
Book 4: Chapter 2 (5)
Book 4: Chapter 2 (5)
Kubard predicted that the Lusitanians would wait for darkness to fall tounch a surprise attack. The Lusitanians still had 280 horsemen, while only two were on Kubard''s side. They were driven away once, there was no way they would just retreat.
"In order to shake peoples confidence, and to identify their targets, they will start a fire. Because theyre unfamiliar with the geography of thisnd, theylle from the main road. Trust me."
For Kubard, this was his first battle since the defeat of Atropatene. At that time, Kubard led 10,000 elite cavalry. Now, he had only the remnants of Maryam''s army and the peasants, fishermen and petty officials of Dam on hand, which together amounted to only 300 men.
"Thisll be fun!"
Kubard mused, as he ordered around people who had never seen a single battle. The men who had seen their wives killed were burning with vengeance and had a strong desire to fight. If they could manage to follow Kubards instructions, they may be more reliable than actual soldiers.
Mene, with a ck cloth tied over his head, built a wood fence along the street connecting the cliffs to the coast of the Darband Sea. He poured fish oil in front of the fence, and sprinkled it with a strange ck powder.
This was a weapon used by the Zott n for attackingrge caravans. Itbined fat, saltpeter, sulfur, charcoal, and three more secret medicines. This recipe produces an incredibly loud sound. Combined with fish oil, it should be even stronger. After he had finished venting his anger and dissatisfaction with the princess of Maryam, he silently went about his work.
When the moon rose to the middle of the night sky, the sound of horses'' hooves rang out in the darkness. The Lusitanian cavalry''s counterattack began.
Nearly three hundred horses'' hooves pounded the ground as they approached. The sound seemed to scare some of themon people. However, it felt nostalgic to the former Marzban, who once led 10,000 troops.
In the darkness, a few small fires ignited. ming arrows tore through the night air. They tangled with twigs and wood, shing red and yellow mes, and the armor of the approaching Lusitanian cavalry reflected the fire, an unpleasant light emerging from the darkness. At that very moment, the arrows fired by Mene pierced the ground.
The situation hadpletely changed. The fire triggered the ck powder and fish oil, creating a dazzling curtain of fire that blocked the path of the advancing Lusitanian knights.
"What!"
"Ah, it''s!"
The horses went wild with fright and their riders were thrown to the ground. The fire was out of control, and the loud popping noise paralyzed the ears of the people. The horses whinnied in panic, and the riders were unable to stop them.
"Spread out!"
A captain of the riders shouted. Those who had managed to stay on their horses obeyed his order and spread out. At this time, several riders who had fallen off their horses were crushed and killed under the hooves of theirpanions.
It was toote to care. The Lusitanian horsemen ran to the other side of the road, guided by the faint light of the moon, trying to make their way around the heretics.
However, the trap designed by Kubard and Mene had severalyers of construction. The horses that were running on the road suddenly tipped over a rope that had been drawn across the road. The cavalrymen were thrown out of their saddles, flew through the air, and fell to the ground. While they groaned and struggled to get up due to the pain and the weight of their armor, they were caught in a fishing.
The Lusitanian soldiers were caught in the, but still tried to break free. The unpleasant-smelling fish oil was poured on their heads. As they tried to escape, ming arrows were fired. The fish oil burst into mes that roared to life.
There were screams and shrieks as the bodies of the Lusitanian soldiers, reduced to ming masses, iled on the road. It was a brutal way to fight, but the inhabitants of Dam, who had watched their wives being abused in broad daylight, showed no mercy. They ran with sticks in their hands, and beat the ming Lusitanian soldiers until they no longer moved.
The Lusitanian soldiers on the other road noticed something glowing falling from the trees, but it didnt seem to cause any harm, so they continued to run forward. They eventually ran into a knight in front of them, blocking the road. A one-eyed man wearing Maryami armor. Of course, it was Kubard.
Because of the narrow road, the Lusitanian cavalry could not go around him, so they had to meet the one-eyed man face-to-face.
"Heretic! Now you''re going to pay the price for those treacherous moves!"
The first cavalryman raised hisnce and advanced. Kubard easily dodged it and shed the Lusitanian cavalryman across the neck as he came closer. The head flew off and the body fell to the ground with a heavy thud. By this time, the second cavalryman had been shed from his right shoulder to his left armpit.
Kubard swung his great sword vertically, shed horizontally, and stabbed diagonally, and all of these movements were decorated with copious amounts of human blood. The rattle of the swords as they exchanged heavy blows rang in Kubard''s ears. Soon after, the screams quieted as the cavalrymen dropped their weapons and began to flee for their lives.
The Lusitanian cavalry captain who now approached was also a man of some martial fame, and he didn''t panic at all when faced with Kubard. Perhaps in order to let hispanions escape, he stood up and shed with Kubard''s greatsword. Sparks flew everywhere and the tter of swords filled the air. However, there was still a big difference in terms of strength, and it wasnt long before blood shot out from the captain''s shed neck and the man fell to the ground.
"What a shame! Your skill did not measure up to your bravery."
After saying these words to the corpse on the ground, Kubard kicked his horse''s belly and started chasing the fleeing enemies.
The night was still dark, but the fleeing Lusitanian cavalrymen still had sea sparkle on their armor, so there was no need to worry about losing them. There were six of them in total, which was all that remained of the enemy.
(TN: If youre wondering, by sea sparkle, they mean bioluminescent dinogetes. These are microscopic phytonkton that glow as a defense mechanism to ward off predators. I actually studied marine biology in college, so I got unreasonably excited about this. The world of phytonkton is vast and incredibly important to ecosystems!)
The six being chased ran past the Dam citizens, sitting with theirnces and clubs on the side of the road.
Kubard yelled,
"Don''t let them get away! Go after them!"
If one of them got away, the situation here would be known to the main forces of the Lusitanian army. If they were all killed, the Lusitanian Army would never know what was going on, and even if they came to check, it would take quite a bit of time. The people of Dam could use this time to fortify their defenses and perhaps ask for help from Prince Arn''s army.
The Lusitanian soldiers must not be allowed to escape. The people of Dam knew this, but they had exhausted all of their strength and stamina and could only sit on the ground. They were not used to fighting, after all.
Kubard had no choice but to go after them himself.
A harsh sh cut the Lusitanian soldier''s neck, spurting blood that flew through the night air.
With another sh, another cavalryman was cut down. The Lusitanian soldiers had no more intention to fight back. They ran frantically and desperately. The other four cavalrymen had managed to get too far away, and now the only thing to do was use a bow and arrow.
To be a Marzban, one must be an expert in various weapons such as the sword, spear and bow. However, even among the Marzban, there were still those who were better or worse with certain weapons. Kubard was not the best with a bow and arrow. Of course, he was still better than an average soldier, and managed to pierce the body of one of the fleeing enemies.
Kubard shot two arrows and took down two Lusitanian cavalrymen. The third arrow missed, but the fourth took down another man.
By this time, the third man was out of the range. Kubard stammered and dropped his bow, realizing that this would turn into a long chase. Just as he was about to urge his horse forward, a strong gust of wind blew past Kubard.
The Lusitanian knight, whose figure had be a tiny ck dot, fell backwards from his saddle. Kubard watched as the young man with an unpleasant expression on his face lowered his bow.
"Nice shot!"
The young man of the Zott n replied with his usual unhappy expression when Kubard praised him.
"I consider myself the second best archer in Pars."
"Oh, really? Whos the first?"
"Havent met them yet, but I like to think that someday Ill find someone better."
What an interesting fellow! Kubard thought to himself. This mans skill with a bow and arrow alone might have been enough to earn him the title of Marzban.
Suddenly, Mene drew his sword and stabbed the ground. It turned out to be a Lusitanian cavalryman who had fallen to the ground, but was notpletely dead, trying to strike onest blow at Mene.
"I am Mene of the Zott n. If you died unjustly, feel free toe to me in the form of a vengeful ghost."
Shaking the blood from his sword, Mene said these words viciously. This marked the end of the bloody battle.
Book 4: Chapter 2 (6)
Book 4: Chapter 2 (6)
The Lusitanian cavalry was routed from Dam, and for the time being, peace was restored. After graciously epting words of thanks and jugs of wine from the people of Dam, Kubard now asked Maryam to fulfill their end of the deal. Since he had sessfully wiped out the Lusitanian cavalry, it was only natural that this should be done.
The head maid feigned ignorance at first.
"Ah, what was that again? I often forget things in my old age.
"Cunning old woman. It''s the reward we agreed on! If you forget, I wouldn''t mind reminding you."
"Ah! It would have been so convenient if youd died in battle with the Lusitanians.
"I see no reason for me to martyr myself for some grannys sake. Please fulfill your side of the agreement immediately!"
Thus, Kubard received five hundred Maryami gold coins and three boxes of luxuriouspiszuli jewelry. Mene, however, was a different story.
"I dont ept rewards from people Ive saved. The Zott n can only take things by theft.
The Zott n seems to divide people into those who need help, and those who should be stolen from.
Dawn was approaching. A white light floated on the horizon of the ind sea. When Kubard was about to leave the ship after epting the reward, another maid called to him. It turned out that Princess Irina was waiting in the cabin. After weing the one-eyed Parsian, Princess Irina began to speak.
"I have something to ask you. If you are willing to answer, I would be grateful."
Kubard thought to himself, "Its probably that kind of thing, right? He liked women, and women liked him, but he never expected to be admired by a princess.
"I heard that you are a general of Pars, so you should know very well what goes on inside the pce?"
"More or less."
Kubard''s answer was concise. To Kubard, the pce was full of luxury, grandeur and waste, which made him feel very ufortable. If not for important matters, he would not go near such ces.
"So, you should know of Prince Hilmes, right?"
What? Whose name did the princess just mention? Even a bold man like Kubard was surprised by the suddenness, and he looked back at the princess''s face.
"Is the Prince Hilmes you mentioned the son of thete King Osroes?"
"So you do know him. Well, he is the prince whose father was killed by the brutal andwless Andragoras. He is the true king of Pars."
Kubard was unable to answer, and he looked back at the proud face of the princess, still covered by a veil.
"Why do you ask about Prince Hilmes, Your Highness?"
"Because he is very important to me."
After speaking, Princess Irina reached her hand to the veil and slowly removed it. Kubard saw her face for the first time. She had fair skin, a slender face and bronze hair, but the color of her eyes was unclear. They were tightly closed. Noticing Kubards surprised reaction, she asked quietly.
"My maid did not tell you that Im blind?
"No, I was unaware."
What a cunning old woman! Kubard could not help but inwardly curse the old maid.
"Then, youve never seen His Highness Hilmess face?"
"I know that his face has terrible burn scars. However, since I am blind, that kind of thing doesnt matter to me.
Prince Hilmes'' silver mask must be to hide the burn scars, Kubard finally understood. But if he really regained the throne, would he still have to wear the mask in the future as well?
"Lord Kubard, since I met Prince Hilmes ten years ago, hes been the only one in my heart. I want to see him, please do me a favor."
"Are you aware of Prince Hilmess temperament?"
"I know he has a rather fierce personality. However, he is very gentle to me. That is enough."
Once again, Kubard was speechless. Although Hilmes was a man obsessed with vengeance, he had not done anything cruel to the blind princess of Maryam.
"I''m sorry to ask, but what would you do after meeting His Highness Hilmes? Let me put it this way, his only goal right now is obtaining the throne of Pars"
"Isn''t Prince Hilmes the rightful heir? If he is not allowed to ascend the throne, then Pars is just the same as Lusitania and Maryam. Both have be countries devoid of justice and humanity. Isn''t that right?"
Kubard shrugged his broad shoulders, but of course, the princess could not see this.
"Im sure thats what Prince Hilmes thinks."
"Are you of a different opinion?"
"There are all kinds of people in this world."
To avoid any further discussion, Kubard replied curtly. The blind princess fell into deep thought. It was not appropriate for an outsider to express too many opinions.
Of course, Kubard''s thoughts were different from hers.
I eat beef andmb even though the cow and sheep have done nothing wrong. Kubard thought. It is not always clear which side is the one of justice. If Hilmes and Irina meet again and get married, she would surely give birth to a righteous and just prince, right?
Kubard knew where Hilmes was. He should be in the western fortress of Zabul fighting with the Temple Knights. However, to reach there, Prince Irina would have to pass through upiednd of the Lusitanian army.
For Kubard, being caught in the middle of trouble is something he resents. In other words, the most troublesome thing in this world is someone else''s lovelife. What''s more, one side is Prince Hilmes, and the other is the princess of Maryam, and getting entangled with them is like swimming in fish oil with a torch.
"Let me think about it."
The bold and decisive Kubard gave an uncharacteristically vague reply, then left the cabin. He felt that if he went on like this, he would eventually agree to the other party''s request.
Once on the deck, Kubard met the head maid Jovana. When she saw Kubard, she gave a warm smile. This attentive old woman must have known about his conversation with the princess, right? Kubard once again suppressed his anger.
He was about to leave when he realized that Mene was gazing at him.
"What is it? Do you have something to say?"
Being asked by Kubard, Mene said something unexpected with an usually uneven expression and voice.
"Just give me the task of getting the princess to that Hilmes guy!"
"Oh "
Kubard looked at the young man of the Zott n. Although Mene tried to hide his expression, his cheeks suddenly looked extremely red and his eyes didn''t dare look directly at Kubard. It was obvious that the young man of the Zott n had also been entrusted with the same request as Kubard.
"What about your sister? Dont you have to look for her?"
"At least my sisters eyes are functional."
"Hmm. That''s a good point."
Kubard did not say the words you must be in love with the princess. Mene was taking this unpleasant task in ce of Kubard, so any further mockery would be punished by the god Mithra. He was not irvoyant, and had no way of knowing that the murderer of Mene''s father was Prince Hilmes.
"Then you can do it. Everyone has a home to go back to, or a path to take."
After saying this, Kubard added another sentence.
"With Prince Hilmes is a man named Sam. He is an old acquaintance of mine, and a reasonable man. Find him first and give him my name. He should not act against you in any way."
"You don''t want to meet him again?"
"Another meeting between him and I would beplicated. But if you see him, please give him my regards and tell him that Kubard is still off being Kubard."
Kubard told Mene that Prince Hilmes was probably in the vicinity of the fortress of Zabul. Mene nodded, his eyes shining.
"What does Prince Hilmes look like?"
"I don''t know."
"Youve never seen him?"
"I''ve met him, but I haven''t seen his face."
He felt that there was an unusual meaning implied in Kubard''s words. Mene frowned speechlessly, so Kubard added.
"Youll know when you see him. He always wears a silver mask to hide his face.
Mene sniffed and frowned more tightly. To him, his doubts seemed to be increasing.
"Why would he do that? People only hide their face if theyre doing something wrong. The Zott n still show our faces when we plunder and set fire!"
"I heard that he has severe burn scars."
Mene epted Kubard''s brief exnation.
"That''s really unfortunate!"
Mene murmured, but his tone implied that a man should not care so much about his appearance.
Kubard threw the leather pouch to Mene, which contained five hundred Maryami gold coins. The weight of the bag startled Mene. He seemed to want to say something, but was stopped by Kubard with a smile.
"Take it! It''s a thief''s job to help people with too much money, right?"
So, Kubard and Mene went their separate ways, ording to their own ideals. This was at the end of April.
Book 4: Chapter 3 (1)
Book 4: Chapter 3 (1)
May 10th. As the season began to change from spring to early summer, Prince Arn of Pars led his army out of the fortress of Peshawar. Their destination was the royal capital of Ecbatana, located in the west, about two hundred farsang (~a thousand kilometers) away.
The total number of troops was 95,000. There were 38,000 cavalry, 50,000 infantry, and 7,000 soldiers carrying grain. Before leaving Peshawar, Arn gave the infantry the status of azat, or freemen, and paid them in silver coins.
The first formation had 10,000 cavalrymen. It wasmanded by Tus, Zaravant, and Isfan. The second formation had 10,000 cavalrymen under Daryun. The third formation, which Arn was a part of, had 5,000 cavalry and 15,000 infantry. It included Narsus and Jaswant, as well as m and Alfreed. The fourth group was Kishward''s cavalry of 10,000. The fifth group had only 15,000 infantry under themand of a general named Shaghad, and the final rearguard, the sixth group, had only 20,000 infantry, led by General Ruham. In addition to this, there were 3,000 cavalry under themand of Farangis.
(TN: I know what youre thinking, and no, this is a DIFFERENT character that is ALSO named Shaghad. Fortunately, you dont really have to remember this one as I dont think he is ever mentioned again. Also, I hope youre keeping track of all these numbers because theres a test at the end.)
Lucian, the satryup, who was to stay at the fortress of Peshawar with 15,000 soldiers, respectfully saluted as he saw the crown prince out of the city.
"May the gods of Pars bless Your Highness day and night, in battle or in peace."
"The fortress is counting on you. Because of you, I can go to war without fear."
Narsus, Jaswant, m and Alfreed moved back half a horse length to follow the Crown Prince. Daryuns 10,000 troops had already set out, and for the first time since the defeat at Atropatene, the continental road of Pars was full of Parsian soldiers.
The sun-beaten armor and weapons shone golden, and the sound of horses'' hooves echoed in the air. A traveler looked down on the scene from the top of a hill overlooking the road.
Life is a journey
As is death.
The wings of a bird as it crosses the river of time.
Each p of its wings makes a man older.
This was a quatrain poem, the essence of Parsian literature. However, this one was not very good. The man humming the poem was young and quite beautiful, with red and purple hair and an oud strapped to his saddle. Looking down at the line of Parsian troops heading west on the continental highway, Gieve looked around and checked his preparations for the journey. His swords were sharpened and his bow had thirty arrows prepared. On top of that, the sack of gold and silver coins was heavy enough to bring him back to reality.
"Well, I suppose I have my own obligations now."
Muttering to himself, Gieve pulled at the reins of his horse and smiled bitterly.
"What a shame that there isnt even anyone here to appreciate my good looks!"
After carefully turning his horse''s head down the treacherous rocky mountains, the future court musician began to gallop lightly.
There were several things that had urred before this. At the beginning of May, Narsus reported to Arn that the preparations for the march had beenpleted.
"As of now, our army is fully prepared to march. Please order the army out as soon as possible."
There were many things to take into ount. Their food was not enough for more than 100,000 soldiers, and Arn understood this matter. He nodded after listening to Narsus''s report and decided to order the army to march on the 10th day.
"There is something I need to speak with you about, Your Highness. Do you have a moment?"
Narsus made this request on the night two days before the departure of the army, and Arn agreed.
"Will it be just you and I?"
"No, I would like some others to be present."
There were five people that Narsus chose to attend the meeting. Those were Daryun, Kishward, Farangis, Gieve, and Lucian. As the seven men sat around the table in the crown prince''s room, Jaswant stood guard outside the door like a faithful sheepdog, sword at the ready.
Once all seven were seated, Narsus immediately brought the topic to the forefront, not needing to mention that the subject matter of this meeting was top secret. This was already concluded when Narsus selected the participants for the meeting.
"Last year, when His Highness Arn came to Peshawar, a man wearing a strange silver mask attacked His Highness. Everyone certainly still recalls this?"
Narsus was speaking specifically to Lucian, as neither Arn nor the others would have forgotten. The sword that cut through the winter night and the torch me that reflected the silver mask appeared in Arn''s mind again. The crown prince nodded, and a distant look appeared on his face.
Before the meeting, Narsus had repeated the name Hilmes to himself several times in preparation. After Narsus exined his thoughts to the group, Arn gathered his own thoughts, and asked,
"So, if the situation were different, he would be the one in my position as the crown prince?"
"Yes, of course, if His Majesty Osroes V were still alive."
"Narsus
Daryun spoke out to stop his friend from continuing because he couldn''t bear to see Arn''s expression dim, but still, Narsus continued.
"A country doesnt need two rulers. No matter how cruel, how indifferent, this is the unchanging rule of the ages. Not even the gods can overturn this rule. If His Highness the Crown Prince bes the King, of course there will be no crown for Prince Hilmes."
Lucian, the oldest of those present, opened his mouth for the first time, stroking his thick gray beard with one hand.
"Is the man who ims to be Prince Hilmes really him? Could it be someone who was aware of the circumstances and assumed his title out of ambition and selfishness?"
"What circumstances do you mean?"
Arn asked. That is, the sudden death of thete King Osroes V and the ession of his younger brother Andragoras. There were many rumors around Osroes'' death, and some people suspected that Andragoras had killed his brother to im the throne. Of course, this matter was treated as a secret, but anyone who was connected with the royal court should have known.
Narsus told Arn of the rumors of what had happened before King Andragoras'' reign. Arn''s eyes, which were the color of a clear night sky, were instantly covered with a dark cloud, and it was only after a long time that he asked,
"Is it true? The rumor that my father killed his brother for the throne?"
The young tactician shook his head gently.
"No one can say for sure. Its likely that the only one who knows the truth is His Majesty Andragoras. What I can be sure of is that Prince Hilmes believes this rumor to be true and thus hates Your Highness and Your Highness''s father. In his hatred, he has joined hands with the Lusitanians to bring the army of another country into our own."
Narsus'' voice was extremely grim, and Arn and the other five men remained silent.
"That is to say, he valued the throne more than the well-being of the country. There are many ways to take revenge, yet he chose such a destructive method."
"I understand, Narsus."
Arn paled and gently lifted a hand.
"For now, I must put an end to the Lusitanian army before my cousin does, and I hope you all will help me. When things have settled, then I will deal with my cousin."
Book 4: Chapter 3 (2)
Book 4: Chapter 3 (2)
The ck knight, Daryun, and his friend, the tactician, walked side by side in the corridor. Daryun looked like he wanted to say something, but didnt. He looked at Narsus, who continued to walk forward with feigned ignorance, and then finally opened his mouth.
"Narsus, I know youre always thoughtful, but dont you think youre being a little too cruel to His Highness? Isnt this just putting another burden on his shoulders?"
"Is it really better to keep it a secret?"
Narsus said with a faintly bitter smile.
"I''ve been carrying this secret on my own for almost half a year. If I could keep it from His Highness any longer, I certainly would. But, Daryun, you should understand this. Even if I conceal it as much as I can, wouldn''t it be worse if the other side were to reveal it first?"
Narsus had a point. Hilmes would definitely disclose his identity and im his rightful session to the throne. Instead of suddenly learning about it from the enemy, it would be less shocking for Arn to be told by his ownpanions.
"Moreover, Daryun, His Highness Arn''s own identity is also vague. In contrast, the matter of Silver Mask is ultimately someone else''s business. If he were to let himself be shaken by such things, then he simply wouldn''t be able to bear his own secrets."
What Narsus meant was that Arn''s birth also had someyer of mystery around it. Although Daryun nodded his head and said yes, the bravest general of Pars sighed.
"Even so, His Highnesss burden is too heavy. He is only fourteen years old!"
"In my opinion, His Highness Arn is more determined than he looks, and he will be able to ovee the matter of Prince Hilmes. All he needs is time."
"Is that too optimistic?"
The knight in ck asked without hesitation.
"What if His Highness Arn intends to atone for his father''s sins and gives up the throne to Prince Hilmes? Given His Highness''s personality, it''s not impossible."
"That''s right. Then, Prince Hilmes would be our king, no?"
Although Hilmess method of revenge seemed wild, he was not without the ability to rule a country. With his goal of revenge fulfilled, he might be a wise and brave monarch.
However, even if Hilmes wanted to free the ves, he would likely not make it a priority. If he were to do anything, he would only give an order to treat the ves well. Perhaps this was the major difference between Hilmes and Arn. Gathering his light hair, Narsus looked back at his friend.
"Rather, I would like to hear what you have to say. Daryun, if His Highness fails to be the king of Pars, would you then follow Prince Hilmes?"
"Don''t be ridiculous."
Silver Mask and Daryun had met face to face, and Hilmes was the man who killed his uncle Vaphreze. He shook his head.
"Should that timee, the two of us will join forces to conquer a country suitable for His Highness Arn to govern. There are citizens that suffer from bad governance everywhere."
Hearing Daryun''s joke, Narsusughed. No matter what opinion he and his friend had, it was ultimately up to Arn to make the decision.
Narsus changed the topic
"About Tus, Zaravant, Isfan and the others "
"Hm?"
"Let them serve as the vanguard. You and Kishward will retreat to the second line this time."
For Narsus, the issue of military formations also held an aspect of political utility. After their numbers swelled greatly, the issue of internal unification was a problem that still had to be solved.
Fighting a war is not the same as winning. One reason why the neers have conflicts with the others is because of the difference in their martial fame, so these people must be given the opportunity to build a name for themselves.
In addition, even if they lost the vanguard, as long as the two men in the second formation, Daryun and Kishward, were unharmed, it was not difficult for them to achieve victory. Just the thought that these two men were still alive would give the soldiers some peace of mind.
After hearing Narsus'' proposal, Daryun crossed his arms.
"So its my job to give others the opportunity to build up their reputation?"
"What are youining about? Youre always the one in the spotlight."
As they turned the corner of the corridor, there was suddenly a foul odor that slowly wafted over with the night breeze. It smelled like something burning. They didn''t even have time to think about it before there was a strange sound in their ears. It was the sound of an explosion.
Daryun and Narsus looked at each other. Without saying a word, the two men drew their swords and ran. Smoke slowly drifted through the night air. Suddenly, they felt a wave of heating over them, and saw a red fire scurrying through a corner of the darkness.
"Fire! Fire, Lord Narsus!"
The teenager m shouted as he ran over. After seeing the expression on his master''s face, he continued without waiting for a question.
"The grain warehouse was set on fire. A few people saw strange figures and are chasing them!"
Daryun and Narsus looked at each other again. The strange figure that crossed their minds was the face that wore a silver mask. Even people as brave as Daryun and Narsus could not help but be stunned for a moment. Thetter called to the former in a low voice.
"Daryun, go and guard His Highness!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Daryun immediately turned his head and darted away. If Silver Mask was Hilmes, he might have taken advantage of the confusion to assassinate the Crown Prince. The security around the prince should be stricter.
In the midst of the growing chaos, the presence of the Marzban Kishward was even more important. In any case, the fortress of Peshawar was his domain.
"Put out the fire! Put out the fire first! Draw water from well number four!"
He gave the stern and calm order to prevent the fire from spreading. Since they could leave the work of extinguishing the fire to Kishward, Narsus took m and joined the soldiers who were chasing the arsonist. The crowd was moving very fast, and the sound of people and armor was so noisy that Narsus and m were separated. It seemed that Alfreed''s voice could be heard in the confusion, but it was hard to tell.
"He''s escaped that way!"
"Don''t let him escape! Kill him!"
The shouts of the soldiers were filled with a bloodthirsty exuberance. They hade here to fight, but so far, they had not had the opportunity to participate in an actual battle. Their excited energy could not just be dispersed through sparring matches and hunting. Therge group of men carried swords in their hands and had bloodshot eyes.
If the arsonist was Hilmes, there was no telling how many casualties would be caused by carelessly pursuing him. How many people were there in the fortress of Peshawar who could fight with Hilmes? Narsus couldn''t help but feel d that he had told Daryun to return to the Prince''s side.
"Found him!"
Hearing the soldiers'' shouts, Narsus turned to look. A figure darker than the night swept across the evening sky, the ck shadow moving quickly from the roof of the cloister to the stone atrium. The soldier who followed the trail ran forward and swung his sword down hard. The sound of the de rang out, and the soldier''s chop was bounced back. The counter-attacking sh made a short arc, and blood sprayed from the soldier''s jaw, and he fell to the ground. Two white des attacked again, however, the ck shadow jumped high and avoided the blow. They watched as he bit his short sword and grabbed the end of the eaves with his remaining right hand, and disappeared with a flip.
"What a strange enemy. Thats certainly not natural."
A man who served as amander under Kishward, murmured in amazement.
It was not Hilmes. He was not wearing a silver mask, and he was missing his left hand. The enemys figure jogged Narsuss memory. Wasn''t he the one whose hand was cut offst month when he failed to steal Bahmans secret letter? In that case, was his target still the secret letter? Had he already found it?
Narsus chased after the ck shadow, as this matter could not be left to others.
The shadow taunted its pursuers on the ground. It was as if he had be a part of the night itself, running quickly and silently across the top of the fortress with his body low.
Suddenly, the dark figure stopped moving, as he saw another person on top of the fortress besides himself. The figure leaning against the wall moved slowly, blocking the shadows path.
It was Gieve.
"Well, arent you the spy that got his hand cut off by Lord Narsus the other day?"
Gieve continued to advance, moving as slowly and smoothly as water. The dark shadow saw that Gieve''s movements were natural, but with a murderous aura, and there was no route of escape.
Wordlessly, the shadow assumed a ready stance, slightly bent at the waist, as if his whole body was on springs, his eyes shining.
"They do say that only smoke and thieves like high ces."
As Gieve uttered these words, a white sh of light shot out from the dark figure. The shortsword in his right hand shot out toward Gieve''s face.
As Gieve''s longsword deflected the shortsword, the ck shadow made a strange sound and jumped, attacking empty-handed. Gieve seemed to see something subtle, but he did not dodge, instead he took a step forward and swung his sword from the lower left to the upper right, cleverly slicing the shadow''s outstretched right hand into two.
The man who had now lost both his hands fell backwards towards the wall of the fortress while spurting blood. Instead of being immobilized by the pain, he jumped up with an extremely impressive speed, not giving Gieve a chance to strike a second blow.
"Courageous, but unworthy of sympathy. Are you going to bite me next? If only it was a lovely girl biting my finger, that would be better"
Gieve''s longsword shed. Something else seemed to sh in front of his eyes andnded on the ground. It was a thick needle that had been fired from the mouth of the shadow. Without hesitation, Gieve leapt up and swung a violent horizontal sh.
The head of the ck shadow seemed to disappear before the sword struck. However, what remained at the tip of Gieve''s sword was only a piece of a ck cloak. As Gieve clicked his tongue and swung the ck garment away, he heard the sound of water resounding below.
"Falling into the moat? Just like Silver Mask."
When Gieve heard the young tactician''s voice, he turned back and put his sword away in its sheath.
"Look at this."
Gieve picked up the wrist he had cut off and handed it to Narsus. Something like this didn''t look pleasant, but Narsus gently squinted his eyes and looked at it carefully.
"It''s poisonous."
The nails of its fingers were a blueish ck. Hed dipped his fingertips in venom and could poison an enemy with just a scratch. This was not a formalbat technique, but a technique used by low-level assassins.
It had not been like this when Narsus chopped off his left hand before. Perhaps it was after losing his left hand that he transformed his remaining right hand into a poisonous weapon in order topensate for his unfortunate condition?
"What a terrifyingly strong conviction."
Narsus did not answer Gieve''s sentiment with words, and ordered the soldiers who had arrived at that moment to split up and search the moat. There was no way he could swim if hed lost both hands, and even if he could swim, there was no way to climb out of the moat. He had been bleeding, so perhaps he was already dead. If he was still alive, Narsus had something to ask him.
"Yes, he was looking for Elder Bahmans secret letter. I knew that too. What I don''t understand is why he was after it. And who ordered him after it? What is their intention?"
Narsus'' questions were interrupted before he could get an answer. The soldiers searching the moat had retrieved a body from the bottom of the water in the early morning, missing both its hands, and with its face disfigured in some strange way, leaving no clues to determine his identity.
Book 4: Chapter 3 (3)
Book 4: Chapter 3 (3)
The night before the march, the ck shadowy figure was confirmed dead, and since the fire had not caused much damage, a grand festival was held in the fortress.
However, on this night, there was a confrontation between the old and new vassals of Gieve and Isfan. It was more of a duel than a confrontation.
After drinking, it was easy to argue and fight. However, this was not a good enough reason to forbid people from drinking, as that would be too unreasonable. The smell of wine, mead and ale filled the hall, and the smell of barbecuedmb wafted through the air. After the Crown Prince left the table for an early rest, the whole hall became a banquet where people drank and spoke without formalities, and loud conversations and boisterous songs could be heard everywhere. However, even in such a lively banquet, if one looked closely, you could find that the people who have followed Arn since the beginning and those who have recently joined the army are gathered together, but there is still littlemunication with each other.
What broke this status quo was the actions of Gieve, who was known as the "wandering musician. He slowly approached the seats of the new recruits and, regardless of their disturbed expressions, spoke with Isfan. Isfan is the younger brother of Marzban Shapur. Half a year ago, Shapur, who had be a prisoner of the Lusitanian army, was brought to the gates of the capital, Ecbatana, and it was Gieve who killed Shapur at his own request, with a single arrow.
At this time, Gieve himself exined the cause and effect of this incident.
This was the beginning of themotion.
"Damn it! You were the one who shot my brother?"
There was a bright light in Isfan''s eyes, strongly resembling a wolf. It seemed that rage overpowered the drunkenness.
"Don''t be angry. I was the one who put your brother out of his misery. You should be thanking me, theres no reason to hate me."
"Shut up!"
As soon as Isfan stood up, the knights around him were supportive. They didn''t like this wandering musician of unknown origin.
To Isfan, histe brother, Shapur, was his savior and his mentor in battle and tactics. Sometimes his older brother seemed strict and stubborn, but he did everything ording to reason, did not lie, and died a noble death. These were Isfans thoughts. It was only natural that Isfan would get angry when someone made such ament about his brother.
On the other hand, Gieve epted his opponents anger with great grace.
"I''ve seen a lot of people who talk big just because there are a lot ofpanions around. Are you one of those people?"
"Do you ever stop talking?"
Isfan leapt up from his seat.
"I''ll quiet that tongue of yours for you!"
Isfan kicked the floor hard, drew his sword, and lunged towards Gieve''s head. This single continuous movement seemed to be done in a sh.
The people around saw that Gieve was about to be split in half. However, it was only a momentary fear. Gieve avoided the sword by no more than the thickness of a piece of top quality paper of the country of silk, and the expression of mockery and malice on his beautiful face looked abominable in the eyes of the other party.
"I''ll say this up front, you should me the Lusitanians for killing your brother!"
"I know! But, it''s not a Lusitanian that is in front of me right now, but you!"
Isfan shouted and lunged towards Gieve.
The speed and intensity of the blow exceeded Gieve''s expectations. He avoided Isfan''s attack with the agility of a snow leopard, but he lost his bnce. A few hairs flew away with the wind of the de.
When Isfan regained his posture after the attack, Gieve had already unsheathed his sword. The smooth de was aimed straight at Isfan''s throat with amazing uracy.
This time, it was Isfan''s turn to be surprised. He also dodged his opponent''s blow with a wolf-like movement, but his whole body fell to the ground as he lost his bnce as well.
Both sides skirted across the stone floor, dancing with their swords. Sparks burst out in a blueish-white glow, tearing through the shadows of the night, and the ringing of metal resounded off the floor. And two, three fierce attackster, one of Isfan''s feet bounced up and swept across Gieve''s.
Gieve fell to the side. This was a move he had not expected. Isfan not only had honorable sword skills, but also used unorthodox tactics.
The sword swung down, hitting the stone floor and bursting into sparks. Gieve, who escaped the fatal blow, rolled on the ground and swung a powerful chop towards Isfan''s knee. There was another burst of sparks, and Isfan held his sword vertically to deflect Gieve''s attack.
Gieve jumped up and thrust his sword in the nick of time. The moment Isfan tried to block it, Gieve''s sword changed its angle like magic and wrapped around Isfan''s sword, knocking it to the ground.
Isfan bent his upper body, barely avoiding his opponent''s blow. However, in a split second, he changed from a defensive position to an offensive one. He caught Gieve''s sword with his right hand and struck at Gieve''s left hand. Gieve couldn''t help but let go. As a result, Gieve''s sword was now in Isfan''s hand. However, Gieve immediately picked up Isfan''s sword that had fallen to the ground. Just as both sides were about tounch another attack, a sharp shout rang out.
"Both of you, lower your swords! You are in the presence of His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!"
"Ah, Lady Farangis."
The role that had been yed by Kishward just half a month ago was now taken over by Farangis. However, this time, the two sides had even drawn their swords.
"Im d that Lady Farangis is worried about me, but I would not lose to this guy."
"Don''t speak nonsense, faithless man!"
This was unexpected of Farangis. She took a graceful step back and Arn''s figure appeared in front of everyone. Before the Crown Prince could speak, Isfan dropped his sword and knelt down. Perhaps because of his brothers strong loyalty to the royal family, he was sincerely frightened and regretted his rash actions.
Arn''s eyes turned to the musician.
"Whats going on? Gieve, why wouldrades fight each other?"
"We are just people withpletely different outlooks on life."
Unlike Isfan, Gieve remained standing and answered extremely nonchntly. shing a brave gaze, he continued.
"Ive travelled with His Highness Arn for a long time now, but I always knew very well that I was not meant for life at court. With my personality, it is best for me to do what I like and be on my own. Instead of having to socialize with others, it is better for me to travel alone."
"Gieve?"
"Think of it as a good opportunity. I will bid farewell to Your Highness here. Please take care."
After picking up his sword and putting it back in its scabbard, Gieve solemnly saluted and started to walk out of the hall.
"Gieve, please wait a moment! Don''t be too hasty! If youre dissatisfied, we can discuss it!"
The Crown Prince spoke out, and Gieve stopped in his tracks.
"I''m sorry, Your Highness. Ah, Lady Farangis, if you spend your days in tears after my departure, it will cast a shadow on your beauty. Only a smile can reveal one''s true beauty, so please keep smiling for my sake."
"Why would I cry for you? Dont waste your breath, if you want to go, just go."
Then Gieve smiled faintly, walked to the balcony, leaped gracefully over the handrail, and disappeared.
Looking at Arn''s face, still frozen by the suddenness of the incident, Daryun, after the crowd had been dismissed, approached the crown prince with determination and said in a low voice.
"Your Highness, Narsus had asked me to keep this a secret, but I must tell you that it was just an act."
"An act?"
"Yes. Narsus and Gieve decided to perform this act after discussing it at length."
Arn had no words. It was a long time before he asked in a low voice.
"Why would they do this?"
"For the sake of Your Highness, of course."
"For my sake? Did he think he would make things difficult for me here?"
"It is true that Gieve is not very popr with the neers. If Your Highness shelters him, it might be perceived that Your Highness is biased, and it might be difficult to maintain internal peace."
"So Gieve left for the sake of the harmony of the whole army?"
"There were other purposes as well."
Narsus had wanted to send someone wise and brave who could be trusted to spy on the inner workings of the capital, Ecbatana, and the Lusitanian army. Hed discussed with Gieve to create a situation where Gieve would leave Arns camp and give him the opportunity to act alone.
Those on the other side were not aware of these things. However, despite the fact that he had saved Shapur from pain, it was indisputable that Gieve had shot Isfan''s elder brother. This incident might be a problem in the future, so before the whole army was torn apart by this incident, Gieve was allowed to leave for a while, so that the internal feelings could be dealt with in a way that no one would disagree with. That was Narsus'' idea.
"Is that so? I was so unwise that I added so much trouble for Narsus and Gieve."
Muttering to himself, Arn turned his eyes to Daryun.
"When will I see Gieve again? Will it be possible to restore his honor by that time?"
"Gieve had said that he would run to Your Highness anytime, anywhere, even if the world was ending, as long as Your Highness needed him. If Your Highness wants to see him again, then we should take back the royal capital as soon as possible."
Then prepare beautiful women and wine in a beautiful mansion as a token of appreciation for Gieve''s efforts, and call him back. Arn listened to Daryun''s words and nodded repeatedly.
After taking Arn back to his bedroom, Daryun returned to the hall and saw his friend standing on the balcony.
"I''m sorry, Narsus. I told His Highness about your scheme."
"How unexpectedly talkative of you! Gieve put on such a convincing performance for us, and you went and exposed it all?"
Despite his words, Narsus was not really angry. He picked up two small bunches of grapes from the fruit tray by his side and tossed one to his friend.
"His Highness is an incredible person! It''s amazing that three people with such different temperaments and ideals, like me, you and Gieve, are all willing to serve him."
Narsus brought the bunch of grapes to his mouth and ate three fruits in one gulp.
"For the record, Narsus, I have always been devoted to the king''s family. I''m not going to quarrel with my lord and then run away like you did."
Daryun ruthlessly drew a line between himself and his friend, and Narsus indifferently erased the line drawn by him.
"I just happened to have a good reason! You cant convince me that you have a milder temperament than me. Surely you dont really believe that!"
"Well"
Daryunughed bitterly and bit into a grape bunch just like his friend.
On the other hand, Arn who was lying in bed could not sleep all the time. He tossed and turned, his mind still haunted by several thoughts.
Daryun, Narsus and Gieve all had their own ways of living. They were all older than himself, and all possessed excellent skills, yet all served him equally well. Arn felt lucky, and he wanted to give something back to them.
"I hate it when people in high ces take for granted that they are being served by others."
Gieve had criticized so bluntly. Arn, on the other hand, did not suffer from this mdy. He often found it a joy to be treated kindly by others, and so he treated them as kindly as possible in return. It was a very sad thing to be treated coldly by others, so he reminded himself not to be indifferent to people. Although this seemed to be a simple matter, it was not so easy.
Arn thought of his cousin Hilmes. When he was holding a sword against Arn, what kind of expression was under that silver mask? Arn found it difficult to imagine.
Book 4: Chapter 3 (4)
Book 4: Chapter 3 (4)
Thus, on May 10th, Prince Arn of Pars led his army out of Peshawar fortress in order to retake the royal capital Ecbatana back from the Lusitanian army.
The 10,000 horsemen in the first formation weremanded by the neers Tus, Zaravant, and Isfan. The central force of 4,000 horsemen wasmanded by Tus, the left nk force of 3,000 horsemen wasmanded by Zaravant, and the right nk of 3,000 horsemen was led by Isfan.
The news of Prince Arns departure from Peshawar reached Ecbatana, which was about 200 farsang (about 1,000 kilometers) away, five dayster. Ironically, this speed was due to the efficiency and expert nning of the Parsian postal system.
King Innocentis VII of Lusitania, who received the news, immediately solved the problem with his own skills. He did so by delegating all the military power to his brother Guiscard, and then retired to his room to pray to God for victory.
In addition to the king, there was now another thing that made Guiscard feel dissatisfied and suspicious, and that was the behavior of Hilmes. Hilmes had stayed inside the fortress of Zabul since he captured it and had not returned to Ecbatana. When asked, he made excuses about repairing the fortress, which had been damaged in the battle, strengthening the underground waterways, and lording over thend himself.
In addition to that, thends around the royal capital began to cry out about theck of water.
"Everyone is throwing their problems at me alone. How about using your own brain to figure out how to solve it?"
He said this, but at night, Guiscard still sought thepany of beautiful women from Lusitania, Maryam and Pars to spend the night with and enjoy his life.
"Send a messenger to Silver Mask! Tell him to leave some guards at Zabul fortress and return to Ecbatana immediately!"
After considering all of his options, Guiscard gave this order. If he seemed too eager to ask Silver Mask to return, he might reveal his weakness. Guiscard had such concerns, but he felt that the time to adopt a stricter policy was now. Rtively speaking, what would Silver Mask do in response?
After the matter of Silver Mask was finished, Guiscard called a meeting with fifteen of his major military generals. Two generals, Bauduin and Montferrat, had left Ecbatana in order to round up the troops scattered across the country. To Guiscard, these two men were the mostpetent, so the meeting was rathercking in spirit due to their absence.
After the attendees made several less-than-helpfulments, Guiscard gave his instructions. He asked his men to assemble the soldiers stationed around Ecbatana as soon as possible and form a force of 100,000 men. The generals could not help but stir up amotion at his words.
"We don''t need to send out 100,000 troops at once! Rather, we should send out 10,000 soldiers first to see what happens before making a rash decision."
"Yes, yes! It''s not easy to send out 100,000 troops at once!"
Dissenting voices rang out everywhere. Guiscard stared at the people present, and the generals who bore his gaze could not help but cower. Guiscard lowered his voice to make his speech more coercive.
"Prince Arn''s army, reportedly numbering 80,000, is advancing westward from the continental highway in great numbers. Even if they exaggerate their numbers, there must be at least 40,000 soldiers. Do you think you will have any chance of winning with 10,000 soldiers to touch an army of 40,000?"
"No"
"Then, won''t our 10,000 soldiers be wasted? This oue also only gives Pars the propaganda material to defeat the Lusitanian army. Sending out smaller forces only does more harm than good. Understand?"
"Yes. His Highness the King''s Brother''s deep thinking is beyond our ability to match."
The generals couldn''t help but feel admiration. Guiscard was pleased to be ttered by them, but the thought that he had to lead people who did not even understand this simple point to fight against the Parsian army disappointed him. He wanted to at least call back Bauduin and Montferrat as soon as possible and give themmand of the actual battles, so he sent an envoy to the two generals.
Guiscard estimated the strength of Arn to be about 40,000 men. Generally speaking, everyone exaggerated their troop strength. It was not unusual to even report a number that was several times the actual number.
In fact, at this time, Guiscard had already fallen prey to Narsus'' psychological warfare. He made the number of his own troops smaller than the actual number, so that Guiscard would underestimate the strength of Parsian army.
"This is a cheap trick, but it would be good if the other side fell for it. Underestimating the opponent''s strength is amon psychological weakness."
Narsus rified this to m.
At this stage, Guiscard was indeed fooled. However, Guiscard was not a total fool, and he did not make the calction of "if the opponent has 40,000 troops, we will send 50,000 troops". He wanted to prepare an army of 100,000 men and crush 40,000 of them in one breath, without a single drop of Lusitanian blood. Even Narsus would not have predicted this.
The war between Pars and Lusitania had begun in an invisible way that no ordinary man could imagine. The fight on the battlefield would be the veryst stage of the war.
Book 4: Chapter 3 (5)
Book 4: Chapter 3 (5)
While Guiscard was facing various problems in Ecbatana, Arns army had already traveled about 10% of the way there.
May 15th. Until that day, the Parsian army had been advancing unhindered. At this time of year, the sun was hot, but the humidity in the air was low and the breeze was soothing to the body and mind.
Arn, riding a light-colored horse, had not spoken much since the army left. There were many things he still had to think about. On the third day, he looked north towards the face of the mountain Damavand, and could not help but be surprised by the dramatic change in the mountains appearance. Hed wanted to send out a detailed investigation party, but given the current situation of the Parsian army, there was no soldiers or time to spare for that, and it would have to wait until after they recaptured Ecbatana. His personal interests could not take precedence over the more important business.
After passing south of Mount Damavand, the smell of war became stronger and stronger.
The first barrier to Arns army was the fortress of Chasum. Located on a hill about half a farsang (2.5 kilometers) from the road, surrounded by shrubs and cliffs, this fortress did not appear easy to capture.
However, upon hearing the name of this fortress, both Daryun and Kishward were taken aback. Even they, who were both Marzban, were not aware of its existence.
This fortress had been hastily built by the Lusitanian army during Arn''s expedition to Sindhura. Its main purpose was to choke a key point of the continental highway and monitor the movements of Arn''s army.
"That Guiscard fellow isnt half bad!"
Learning that there were, indeed, some formidable enemies in the Lusitanian army, Narsus could not help but smile. Without challenges like these, it wouldnt be any fun to fight. Although, their army suffering significant damage definitely could not be said to be a pleasure.
Zaravant and Isfan asked Arn for permission to attack the fortress. As far as the young generals were concerned, this was their first battle since joining Arns army. Their blood must have been boiling. However, Narsus coldly refused their request. He sent m to take charge of the reconnaissance, and after receiving his report, he looked at the map while mumbling under his breath, and then made his battle n.
"It''s decided. Let''s leave Chasum fortress alone for now."
Jaswant stated his own opinion politely.
"Is it really alright to leave the fortress alone? Wont it be a problem in the future?"
"Even if we attack it now, it''s not simple to capture. There is no reason for us to do so. Let''s just leave it alone for now and move on, Your Highness."
"If that''s what you think is best, Narsus."
Arn knew that the young tacticians words must have taken into ount hundreds of scenarios, and he epted the advice quickly.
Narsus summoned m and Alfreed and gave them each an ount of their tasks, sending them as envoys to Daryun and Kishwards camps; on the other hand, he sent ordinary messengers to the first camp, telling them to leave the fortress alone and move on.
Isfan and Zaravant were very dissatisfied with this order, but since Tus had already started to advance in ordance with it, they had to follow it.
The Lusitanian army in Chasum fortress also sent out scouting parties to inquire about the movements of the Parsians, and they immediately received news of their advance.
The lord of Chasum fortress was a man named General Clemence, who had also taken part in the invasion of Maryam.
"Heathens who do not fear God, I will make you pay for your sins of cult-worship that have umted for centuries."
Clemence was a devout follower of Yaldabaoth. He had strong faith, and was extremely kind and just to those who also followed Yaldabaoth. He had an excellent temperament, and was known as "Clemence the Just" in Lusitanian.
However, he was extremely cruel to those he considered pagans. From his point of view, the pagans were of the devil, and their sins were so deep that the only way to do the right thing was to kill them. "The only good heretic is a dead heretic" was his most frequent saying.
"Have the infidels ignored my fortress and continued marching west? Well, our daily training drills will finally be put to use."
Once the Parsian army began to move forward, Zaravant and Isfan were hasty in their march. They thought this would allow them to encounter an enemy sooner and start fighting. Even the older Tus''s admonition fell on deaf ears, and they continued to argue with each other without giving in.
"Zaravant, slow your march for a little while."
"Nonsense! You''re the one who should slow down!"
Thus, Isfan and Zaravant kept advancing with each other arguing back and forth, finally pulling away from the second group by five farsang (about 25 kilometers).
Barhai, amander in the second formation, was taken aback.
"If they want to go ahead, they need permission! Should I call them back?"
However, the ck-d "Tiger General" only smiled faintly and shook his head.
The first line, which had abandoned itspanions in the second line and marched forward, met the Lusitanian army on the afternoon of the 16th. Finally, they had met an enemy. The Lusitanian army had constructed earthen barricades on the road to prevent them from attacking.
The battle started immediately. While sending news of the fight to the rear, Zaravant and Isfan let the cavalry charge forward without waiting for Tus. Their initial attack was thwarted as millions of arrows were fired from within the barricades. However, Zaravant gave an order.
"Don''t panic! Spread out left and right, go around behind the barricades and overwhelm the enemy!"
As always, the Parsian cavalry knew no fear.
"Yes, got it!"
"We''ll show those damned Lusitanians what were made of!"
The cavalrymen of Pars pulled on their reins, kicked the bellies of their horses, and dust rolled up as they advanced. It was the invincible Parsian cavalrys attack.
However, the Lusitanians strategy was very cunning. The Parsian soldiers, who had started to spread out to the left and right of the barricade, tried to go around to the back, but they ran into a rope tied across the road. They sneered, drew their swords and cut the rope. As they watched the rope flying through the air, there was a sudden and strange sound, and thousands of stones fell on the heads of the Parsians. The rope had been attached to the stone-thrower. Stonesrger than a man''s fist fell like rain, and both men and horses were struck squarely. The horses whinnied and fell to the ground, and the riders could not move once they fell.
Even Zaravant and Isfan had to give the order to retreat. At that moment, the Lusitanian knights who leapt out from behind the barricades rushed out with their spears.
"Don''t let the infidels escape!"
The Lusitanian knights took advantage of the situation and pursued them. At that moment, Tuss 4,000 men cavalry arrived, and the two conflicting armies immediately fell into a state of melee. Tus himself was caught in a tangle with several Lusitanian cavalrymen.
Tus, who was pinned down, was undaunted. He swung his sword in his right hand while loosening the chain coiled around his left shoulder.
The chain was thrown out with lightning speed and struck the Lusitanian knight directly in the face. The knight''s nose was broken, his teeth were shattered, and his face was covered with blood as he tumbled off his horse. Tus did not let the other knights have time to cower. The chain flew in mid-air, knocking down two more knights.
The chainbat art had been passed down from the Nabataean people. Tus had been learning it since he was ten years old, and is more skilled with the chain than a sword.
Isfan and Zaravant''s crisis was temporarily averted, and although Tus was very skilled, he really couldn''t hold back the attack of the Lusitanian army either. He ordered a retreat, and drove back the advancing Lusitanians. The power of his chain was certainly frightening to the Lusitanian knights, but his personal bravery was not enough to prevent the defeat of the whole army. The first formation of the Parsian army continued to be pushed back, and without the assistance of the second formation, they could only keep retreating.
However, at this time, an urgent message came to the front of the line.
"Somethings wrong! Stop the fighting! Chasum fortress is under attack by the Parsians and is about to fall!"
"Wait, what?!"
Clemence was shocked. Even if they won this battle, if Chasum fortress was captured, they would have no fortress to go back to.
Clemence hastily ordered to stop the attack and return the fortress. They were already some distance away from the fortress. Could it be that this group of the Parsian army was just a decoy?
Since the Lusitanian army suddenly stopped their pursuit, Tus and others reorganized the defeated army and started to follow behind the Lusitanians to catch up. At this time, Tus showed hismanding power, which was far above the ability of ordinary people. The Lusitanian army, which was in a hurry to advance, went back into their earthen barricades.
At this moment, the sound of rain came through the dusk, and countless arrows attacked the Lusitanian army. The Lusitanian soldiers fell down with screams. The Parsians had infiltrated their barricades somehow.
"Damn it "
Clemence, who moaned helplessly, knew that he had fallen into the enemy''s trap. The Parsian army''s cavalry made a move to attack Chasum fortress, then snuck into the earthen barricades and attacked the Lusitanian army that had passed through there unsuspectingly. From the barricade, the Parsian troops jumped out and attacked the Lusitanian army, which was lost in confusion.
The Knight in ck ran on the front lines, and when he decided that Clemence was themander, he came straight at him. The ck-d knight burst forward as fast as an arrow fired from a bow, and the Lusitanian cavalrymen who tried to hold him back rolled off their horses with a spray of blood. Clemence heard himself scream as he saw the Parsians long sword glowing in the thin dusk.
"Those who wish to meet the same fate wille to me, Daryun!"
Instantly, the Lusitanian army was silent, yet the silence was soon broken with more screams when Clemence'' head was thrown to the ground in front of their eyes. Clemence was a strong man, yet his head was cut off by the ck Knight of Pars in just one move.
There was a knight named Castellio in the Lusitanian army who had once been saved by Clemence. Castellio, in order to avenge his savior, did not flee with the crowd, but stayed in ce alone and continued to fire arrows towards the Parsian army. Although he shot down two men, he was shot through the right elbow by a beautiful Parsian woman with long hair. When she saw Castellio fall, the Parsian woman, Farangis, ordered her men to catch him. The brave Lusitanian knight was bound and brought before themander of the Parsian army. He had already epted that he would not be spared, but the youngmander did not kill him.
"Return to Ecbatana and tell the King of Lusitania this: Soon, Arn will visit him with Parsian-style courtesy."
Thus, the knight Castellio was able to live on with his beloved horse, and became a messenger to inform his king of their defeat on the continental highway to the west.
Book 4: Chapter 4 (1)
Book 4: Chapter 4 (1)
After surrounding the impregnable Chasum fortress with 2,000 infantry, the Parsian army continued its advance to the west. They were not fighting to attack the fortress, but to remove the obstructions and secure the rear. Outside the fortress, the forces of Chasum werergely routed, and the remnants of their army held onto the fortress to show resistance. They were fully prepared to die, rather than surrender to the infidels, which was their business, but the Parsians did not have the time to deal with them.
Therefore, the Parsian army advanced straight ahead on the continental road.
To the Lusitanian army, they seemed to have miscalcted. They thought that they could hold the Parsian army at Chasum for at least ten days, but they had already passed through in just one day.
"Fools! Why did you leave the fortress to fight them? Why not hold the fortress and let the enemy besiege it?"
General Bauduin could not help but grit his teeth when he heard this news. He returned to the royal capital and epted themand given to him by Guiscard, to battle the Parsian forces.
"It''s useless to worry about it now."
General Montferratforted hispanion sorrowfully. He and Bauduin shared the responsibility of movements of the army. The trust of the king''s brother, Guiscard, was wee, but their responsibility was rtively greater.
After discussing cavalry, infantry, food, terrain, etc., it was Montferrat''s turn to sigh this time.
"I was thinking, winning the Battle of Atropatene was perhaps a mistake, wasn''t it? If there was no victory, perhaps our expedition would have ended at Maryam, and then we would have returned to our homnd."
"Hey, hey, didnt you just say that its useless to worry about it now? Because we won at Atropatene, we were able to im the wealth of Pars for Lusitania!"
Bauduinughed bitterly, while Montferrat nodded. They were both military generals who gained Guiscard''s trust and ability, and because they were so capable, they could see their own weaknesses as well.
The first point was that there was already a wave of voices among the Lusitanian army, especially the lower ranking soldiers, who wanted to return to their homnd. Although they were called soldiers, among the 300,000 forces of the Lusitanian army, there were only about 100,000 trained soldiers, and the rest were recruited from peasants or herdsmen. From their standpoint, it was not easy to defeat the pagans, get their share of treasures, and spare lives, so what they wanted most now was to go back to their homnd and return to peace.
"The warriors who went all the way to the country of Pars and killed the devilish pagans finally returned to the vige! What a remarkable thing! If he would marry my daughter, it would be an honor for our family too"
The young soldiers imagined such a scenario. In the eyes of the Parsians, they appeared to be invaders, plunderers, and killers, like men of the legendary Snake King Zahhak. However, poverty,ck of education, and narrow-minded beliefs deprived these people of their imagination. They could not imagine that anyone could believe in a different god than themselves and live a peaceful life with a different culture and customs.
"In any case, the victory drunkenness phase has passed, and the period of hardships in maintaining our army hase."
This matter was apparent not only to Montferrat and Bauduin, but also to Guiscard. One of the ministers said in aforting and charming voice to His Highness, who was deep in thought.
"Anyway, it is still best to keep Andragoras alive!"
If the Parsian army attacked Ecbatana, I believe they would be unwilling to move if they held Andragoras up on the gates and threatened to take his life.
"Uh, perhaps."
Guiscard wasn''t that optimistic. If Prince Arn was a man who valued his father''s life more than the throne, then Andragoras would have no value as a hostage. If Andragoras was killed, it would just make Arn more deserving of the throne. The method of taking Andragoras as a hostage had urred to even the ipetent King Innocentis, and there was no way the Parsian army hadn''t also thought of it.
First, what would be the result of trying to take King Andragoras as a hostage before the battle? If the battle was lost, there was nothing wrong with choosing the most advantageous strategy, but it would have been better to think of a winning strategy before nning for defeat, right?
It was Guiscard''s job to leave the responsibility for the actual battle to Montferrat and Bauduin. Preparing food and weapons, establishing formations for the whole army, repairing the walls of Ecbatana, storing water, and designating a person responsible for establishing ns for all else, these things were all Guiscard''s job, and he really worked hard.
"Just one more moment. Everything is almost over."
Guiscard decided. He would destroy Prince Arn''s army, and kill King Andragoras and Queen Tahamine, who had no reason to live. He also had to get rid of Silver Mask, whose origin was unknown and whose danger was increasing by the day. Archbishop Bodin must also be dealt with. After all these antagonists were taken care of, his ambition could be realized to im the throne of the new imperial dominion spanning the three kingdoms of Lusitania, Maryam and Pars.
"I won''t let any disagree with me."
Guiscard muttered to himself. Taking his brother''s throne was deceitful, which was why he had been resigned to being the king''s younger brother, content to hold the position of real power in the state and military. But he had done enough, hadnt he?
"If everything goes well, that is what God wants. If I refuse what God gives to me, it would instead be against God''s will."
This was the argument of Archbishop Bodin, and when Guiscard seeded in convincing himself, the man who was scheduled to be robbed of the throne by him walked into the room, full of concern.
"Are you already done praying?"
Guiscard asked, and Innocentis lowered his voice with a mysterious expression.
"Im done. Rather, I have something important to ask you. Wouldn''t it be good if Maryam and Pars joined forces, brother?"
It seemed like someone else had mentioned the possibility of Pars and Maryam joining forces in Innocentis''s ear.
"It wouldnt be good. We don''t have to be too concerned about it."
"Is that so? However, if the Parsian army is in the east and the remnants of Maryam''s army are in the west, it wont be easy to deal with if they both attack us at the same time, right?"
Innocentis seemed to understand the seriousness of the matter as well as he could, and there was a disturbing look in his eyes. Guiscard had also heard about Marquis Leuthold''s soldiers seeing Maryam''s military ship in the Darband Ind Sea.
"The wounded simply sit and lick their wounds. The remnants of Maryam''s army have no more power. Brother, please don''t worry."
Rather than Maryam, Guiscard was more worried about Archbishop Bodin. Archbishop Bodin, who had been driven out of Zabul fortress, had no ce to go other than the country of Maryam if he wanted to flee for his life. He had already given an order to send an emissary to capture Bodin for treason. Among the Lusitanian army that entered Maryam, Bodins knights were extremely powerful. If things went wrong, there was also the possibility that they would gather in Maryam to fight against the king and his brother.
If things were not handled properly, the Lusitanians might be banished forever from the sunlit skies and fertilends of Pars. Moreover, they would no longer be a powerful country, and in the memory of the Parsian people, they would be nothing more than a group of thieves. Compared to their magnificent beginning, wouldn''t such a fall be tragic?
After pacifying his brother to get him to leave, Guiscard took a breath and asked his subordinates to bring the finest wines of Pars to his room. Amaid poured carnelian-colored wine into an ornate goblet, filled a silver te with lemons and almonds, and left. Guiscard picked up the ss and brought it to his lips, when suddenly he stopped his hand and muttered to himself.
"Which side will win, the gods of Pars or Lusitania? We have only one god on our side, while they have many
Book 4: Chapter 4 (2)
Book 4: Chapter 4 (2)
After passing through Chasum fortress, the Lusitanian stronghold that the Parsian army faced next was the fortress of Saint Emmanuel. The name of this fortress came from the first Lusitanian nobleman who converted to Yaldabaothism. It was originally an abandoned fortress of Pars, so the Lusitanian army converted it for themselves.
The lord of the fortress was Count Baracacion. He had previously been the director of the royal library in Lusitania. Now, he was nearly sixty years old. The front part of his head was bald, and the back part was covered in white hair, but somehow his beard was still ck. He summoned the knights to the main hall of the fortress.
"His Highness the King''s Brother has given us orders. O faithful subjects of Lusitania, O pious people of the god Yaldabaoth! Listen with all your heart!"
Count Baracacion announced solemnly, and the knights knelt down, their armor and swords ringing with sound. Dozens of torches stuck in the walls wavered with mes.
The order given by His Royal Highness Guiscard, the king''s brother, was different from the situation at Chasum. He told the soldiers to fight the pagans, to hold the army in check, to buy time and to deplete the enemy''s strength. Guiscard also told the defenders of Saint Emmanuel that Ecbatanas own army would be prepared to go to support them as early as possible, so it was important to hold out until that time. But, frankly speaking, Count Baracacion did not expect a rescue. He had already realized that they were just a small piece of a huge military strategy.
"There may have been some dispute in the royal capital, Archbishop Bodin left the city, the Temple Knights fled to Maryam, and all these rumors have reached us."
Count Baracacion looked around at the crowd.
"But, even if these rumors are true, we don''t need to mind them. We, as Lusitanians and followers of Yaldabaoth, just need to fight and not disgrace ourselves. Gentlemen, do not forget. We are fighting for the righteous god and sweeping the pagan demons from the earth!"
"O God! Please protect us!"
The cavalrymen bowed their heads together.
After the assembly was over, Count Baracacion, who was walking out of the hall towards his room, was called by a trainee knight at the bottom of the corridor.
"Count, please wait a moment."
"Oh, is that you? What is it?"
The voice that called out to the Count was childish and eager. This man was small in size. When he heard the request to be on the front line when fighting with the Parsian army, the Count shook his head gently.
"I understand your feelings, but your grandfather gave you to me to take care of. Instead of rushing into the war, you should take care of yourself for now and wait for ater opportunity!"
"I cant believe you would say that. I left my homnd toe here solely for the purpose of fighting in the war. In the past, whether it was against Maryam or Pars, you always put me too far from the battle for some reason. This time, no matter what, I must deal a blow to the pagans of Pars, otherwise I will never be able to do so."
"But, Etoile"
"Even if the Count won''t let me join the battle, I will still go. If I have offended you with these words, I hope you will forgive me. Please understand how eager I am to have the opportunity to fight against the infidels."
Count Baracacion looked at the trainee knight named Etoile with a heavy expression and thoughtful eyes.
"It seems that it is useless for me to try to stop you."
The old man said with a sigh. The one who listened was far happier than the one who spoke.
"So, Count, you promise?"
"No. But don''t act so rashly! If you make a mistake, I will have no way to face your grandfather."
"Yes, I know. I''m sorry for taking up your time."
The knight-in-training kept nodding his head, shrinking his body and running away as if he was bouncing off the stone flore. The Count shook his head and muttered.
"Once you''ve fought in a real battle, you''ll know that war is nothing but misery. But you have toe back alive to understand it!"
There were several people in the Parsian camp who had won their first battle, but still did not look happy, and even more so for those in the first formation.
For Zaravant and Isfan, their first battle was extremely humiliating. When they fell into the trap of the Lusitanian army and lost, it was Tus who had saved them, and the enemy general''s head was cut off by Daryun. Zaravant and Isfan turned out to be mere annoyances. With regret, they could only sigh at their own uselessness.
"We must avenge our shame in the next battle."
Having made up their minds, Isfan and Zaravant led the first formation once again. Side by side with them, and already very dignified, Tus was not particrly reserved nor boastful. With a mild expression, he steered his horse forward.
"Although you cant see it, the loss has taught you a lesson! Sometimes you must suffer to learn."
Hearing the mocking words of the general, the Mardan fu Mardan Daryunughed.
"It''s better than losing once and giving up. If they didnt aplish what we needed, Chasum fortress wouldnt have been rendered powerless in just one day."
These words were true. Because Isfan and Zaravant were defeated, the Lusitanian army took advantage of the victory, and as a result, the strange strategies that Narsus had set up fell into ce one by one.
"It''s not possible to win every time! We want to minimize the amount of bloodshed before we reach the gates of the capital, but the Lusitanian army''s goal is probably the opposite of ours."
"This continental highway has always been covered with corpses, horses, blood and sweat!"
On the 20th of May, the army of Pars took up its position in the fields of Shahristan and held a hunting festival over the vast area ofnd.
Not only for Pars,rge-scale hunting has always been an important training method for warfare. Training horsemanship and bowmanship were important. The Shahristan wilderness was one of the five major hunting grounds in Pars, where lions, leopards and other prey were abundant, about five farsang (about 25 km) from east to west and four farsang (about 20 km) from north to south, with grasnds, forests and marshes, with treacherous terrain and sharp turns, it is a ce where the Parsian soldiers could enjoy hunting.
This hunting festival was a ritual before the battle and a demonstration to the Lusitanian army hiding in the near-by fortress of Saint Emmanuel. It is not only to tell the people of Pars that the day of regaining the throne is near, but also to offer the game to the gods and pray for their protection.
Everyone, including Arn, ran through the wilderness in small groups of one or two hundred riders, showcasing their archery skills and dealing with nature in the Parsian way. Arn, however, did not want to shoot at rabbits and deer.
Even the wise and resourceful Narsus could not know all things, not to mention unexpected events. He did not know that about a thousand Lusitanian horsemen hade out of the fortress of Saint Emmanuel and approached the wilderness of Shahristan.
This group met up with the Crown Prince of Pars and two hundred horsemen in the south of Shahristan.
For the Lusitanians, hunting was also an important ritual, but this time the hunt had a great importance. First, they were out to hunt deer and bison in order to prepare for battle and store food. They were also to investigate the movement of the approaching Parsian army. They deliberately made a detour in order to avoid facing the army advancing on the road, but they faced them nheless.
It was not clear which side was more surprised, the Parsians or the Lusitanians. Both sides were stunned for a short moment. Then, the hostility on both sides boiled over, and the swords were unsheathed. The sun''s rays were cast on the ground, and countless shes of light filled the sky.
The sound of des rang out, and from that moment, the beasts were put out of mind, and the hunt between man began in the fields.
Book 4: Chapter 4 (3)
Book 4: Chapter 4 (3)
Farangis, riding on her horse, fired a series of arrows at the iing Lusitanian soldiers. It was a series of shots from a rather close range. When the bow string yed its death tune for the fifth time, the fifth Lusitanian soldier was shot through his right armpit and fell off his horse with his feet kicking in mid-air.
"One of you hurry and inform Lord Daryun and Lord Narsus!"
Farangis shouted, and when the shouting stopped, the sixth man was partially shot through the right upper wrist and could no longer fight. The Lusitanian soldier who was clinging to his horse''s neck and barely managed not to hit the ground had galloped off. Suddenly, from the woods ahead, a hundred or so horsemen leapt out and knocked the unfortunate man off his horse. It was certainly not the cavalry of the Lusitanians, but a group of Kishward''s men who were close by and heard the sh of swords and the sound of men running quickly. The whirlwind of chaos immediately grew and the smell of blood got stronger.
Kishward, the "Twin de General", feared by the generals of Misr to Sindhura, showed the Lusitanians his skill for the first time on this day.
Kishward''s hands shed with the light of his swords, and blood was immediately sttered wherever he struck. The two Lusitanian soldiers whose necks had been severed simultaneously tumbled from their saddles, spurts of blood blotting out the sunlight, and fell to the ground.
At this time, m, who had hurried his horse, crossed the meadow and ran to Narsus'' side.
Narsus had been going over maps in his tent. They were not his own maps, but the topography and roads around Shahristan urately drawn by a professional painter. As he lifted his cup of green tea, m arrived to report the emergency, and the future court painter was then unable to drink his tea.
As far as Narsus was concerned, there was nothing more unbearable than bloodshed caused by such "less than refined" encounters, but the crown prince could not be left alone because of this.
"m, you have done well, but you should go to Daryuns camp and tell them the news. I will also rush to Shahristan immediately."
Narsus dropped the map in his hands and ran towards where his horse was tied. He instructed one of the knights to block the road to the fortress of Saint Emmanuel, then jumped on his horse and galloped off. When he looked back over his shoulder, there was only one other following him. It was the young girl with red hair wrapped in a blue scarf.
"You''re fast, Alfreed."
"That''s all Im good for!"
"Did you bring your bow and arrows?"
"Of course! I can take down ten enemies and five allies."
"Shooting down your ownrades isnt ideal."
"I don''t intend to do that, but sometimes my arrows get nearsighted!"
Talking to this young girl can make you forget the seriousness of the situation! Narsus thought as he galloped his horse.
However, this situation was indeed quite serious.
Arn also seemed to be in trouble. His men had asked him to flee in the midst of the battle, and he had done so, but he had unwittingly been separated from Farangis and Kishward, and had run into a huge Lusitanian horseman in the shadows of the forest.
In Arns mind, he at least had to be able to protect his own life. If the other party was as brave as Silver Mask, that is, Prince Hilmes, then of course, one had to leave it to Daryun or Kishward to deal with. But this enemy was just an ordinary cavalryman.
The Lusitanian cavalryman didn''t seem to be afraid, and came straight at Arn with his sword. Although Arn was nearly overwhelmed by his strength, he still skillfully maneuvered his reins and avoided the blow. The armor and saddle made a heavy ng as they swept past Arn. The rider let out a roar, turned his horse''s head, and closed in again.
Arn made a feint, the knight dodged, and then turned to counterattack. The force was strong, but it was an attack that went in a circle, so Arn blocked it with ease. With a sharp ng of the de, Arn''s wrist felt an impact. His opponent was a man of great strength, not only was the sword heavy, but the force of the blow was also heavy. If he continued to fight him head-on, he might lose his sword because his hand was paralyzed.
Fortunately, Arn''s horsemanship was more advanced than his opponent. Although he was not yet fifteen years old, Parsians were, after all, known for their expertmand of horses.
The Lusitanian cavalryman keptunching deadly attacks, but almost all of them fell short, and let his huge body dangle in mid-air.
Finally, Arn''s sword struck the Lusitanian cavalryman''s bare neck, and the winner was decided. In the very short journey from his horse to the ground, the rider was forever relieved of his pain. Then, another scream came from behind Arn. A Lusitanian who was about to thrust hisnce at the prince was attacked by a shadow descending from the air.
"Azrael!"
Arn called out and raised his left hand, and the brave hawk pped its wings and stopped tond on the wrist of its wingless friend.
As Arn heaved a breath out of his lungs, another horse came running closer. Azrael made a menacing sound. However, the man with a white turban curled around his head was not a Lusitanian.
"Ah, Your Highness, youre alright? That''s great. If anything had happened to Your Highness, I would have been hanged by Lord Daryun, Lord Narsus, and Lady Farangis."
As the young Sindhuran finished his clumsy speech, several more horses'' hooves sounded, and more Lusitanian soldiers broke into Arn and Jaswants sight. The two men and a hawk were immediately surrounded by light reflecting off the enemys des.
Jaswant, who had evaded decapitation by a Lusitanian knight and knocked him to the ground after a brief but intense exchange of des, turned his head and uttered a joyful sound.
"Lord Daryun!"
Only the inside of the ck cloak appeared to p like a blood-stained banner. The Lusitanian soldier rushed toward the neer wielding his sword.
However, the ck-d knight seemed to turn into a wind of steel and passed by the Lusitanian. The Parsians longsword struck down like a thunderbolt of death, piercing the Lusitanian''s armor and shattering the skull that the armor was protecting.
The blood of the Lusitanians turned into red rain and fell on thend of Pars, as if the inside of Daryuns cape had broken into pieces and scattered.
The ck-d knight drew bright red arcs in mid-air with his silver de. An amature bard would probably describe the scene as "death, death, death, and more death". Screams in Lusitanian rang out around him, each one apanied by the sweat of the living and the blood of the dead.
As the deadly fight unfolded, dust and smoke flew up and into the mouths, noses and lungs of the warriors. The living, the dead, and the half-dead struggled, tangled, and rushed on horses and on the ground, as if there were no end in sight.
The Parsians and the Lusitanians were now neck-and-neck in numbers. On the side of the Parsians there were two Marzban, shing and shing with three swords, and continually sending their enemies into the hell of the Parsians and the heaven of the Lusitanians.
Jaswant wielded his sword on Arn''s left, while Farangis, who ran to Arn''s right, shot the Lusitanians at close range with her bow and arrow.
The Lusitanian army was continuously cut down. They hade to hunt the type beasts without weapons, however, now they themselves became the prey.
Turning their backs on infidels was forbidden by the code of warriors of Yaldabaoth. However, they had be outnumbered, and they had to inform their other troops of the matter. A determined soldier, in order to inform everyone of the retreat, raised the horn in his left hand and was about to blow the signal.
Farangis shot an arrow.
The Lusitanian soldier did not blow the horn, and it reflected the sunlight as it fell to the ground, hitting the ground and rolling aside. The holder of the horn was shot through the throat by an arrow and fell from his horse.
Since the retreat signal was not heard, the Lusitanian armys retreat was more chaotic than orderly. In this melee, Daryun''s skill overwhelmed the whole field, and his ck clothes became a symbol of Lusitanian death. Hisnce rested across his saddle, but so far it had not been used, and he was seen swinging his longsword across the field, building bridges of blood in the air and on the ground.
Suddenly, the shadow of an arrow flew toward Daryun.
The arrow hit its mark. It made a sharp ringing sound as it hit Daryun''s ck breastte. However, the arrows power was not as good as its uracy. It did not prate the armor, andnded in the sand and dust.
Daryun looked down at his armor, then looked towards the opponent who had tried to shoot him. It was a Lusitanian soldier riding a horse. He could see that he was notching another arrow and was about to draw the bowstring again.
Daryun sped towards the man. Arrows flew around him, and the de of the longsword cut them down. As the archer desperately tried to avoid his opponent''s attack, Daryun''s longsword made a roaring sound. There was a bursting sound as the bow snapped in two, flew in mid-air, and the sword struck the Lusitanian''s armor.
The echo was surprisingly loud. It turned out that a small body was buried in the oversized armor, so perhaps the impact on the body was softened. The Lusitanian knight swayed on his horse and lost his bnce, but he avoided the fall by clinging to the reins. The helmet on his head, however, was flung to the ground.
The Lusitanian''s head was exposed, and his hair tossed in the wind. Light brown, long hair that reached below the shoulders covered a fair face.
"A woman?"
Brave as he was, Daryun could not help but be surprised. At this instant, the other party drew a sword and stabbed harshly.
This strike was like a sh of lightning. Even though Daryun was shocked, he was not careless. He blocked with his longsword, flipped his wrist, and the Lusitanian woman''s sword bounced away with a high-pitched sound and fell to the ground.
Losing her helmet and her weapon, the Lusitanian woman warrior remained undaunted, her deep honey-colored pupils holding sparks of excitement.
"Kill the infidels!"
The woman shouted, her face fair though it was, she was still a child. At best, she was probably only fifteen years old, the same age as Arn, perhaps? Daryun had no intention of killing her.
"I wont say anything, you can run away!"
Daryun dropped these words briefly and turned his horse around, but the young girl did not appreciate the opportunity.
"Coward! How dare you turn your back on a woman! Turn around and let''s fight it out! Are the Parsians really such cowards? Or"
The woman''s screaming voice suddenly changed to Lusitaniannguage, and Daryun could not understand it. He rode his horse with a bitter smile and was about to leave the ce.
Suddenly, Daryun changed his mind, because he thought this young girl stubbornly running around on the battlefield was likely to be killed by a merciless de. Without a word, he turned his ck horse towards the Lusitanian maiden and took up hisnce from the saddle.
Seeing this action of his, the Lusitanian maiden quickly had a response. She was not trying to escape, but to pick up the sword that had fallen to the ground. Daryun could not help but admire her courage, and he raised hisnce.
Thence passed under the chainmail on the front of the maiden''s armor with amazing uracy. Daryun poured his strength into both wrists, braced thence, and the maiden''s body floated up from the saddle. The maiden''s fair face was tinged with red, and her two feet kicked in mid-air.
"Let go of me! Insolent fellow! What do you want?"
The horse, whose body became lighter all of a sudden, let out a neigh and fled the battlefield. Although she was in mid-air, the young girl still let out a voice of anger and protest.
Detain her. She is just a child, dont be too rough."
He gave this order to three or four of his men who ran over to him. Daryun then lowered his spear at an angle, and the girl slipped to the ground and was apprehended.
At this time, a familiar voice came from behind. It turned out to be the tactician Narsus running through the smoke of the melee.
"Daryun! Daryun!"
"Ah! Narsus, His Highness is safe. But I have caught a rather interesting prisoner."
"Well talkter, right now it''s time to attack the fortress of Saint Emmanuel, Daryun."
"What, really?"
Astonished at the words, Daryun immediately understood his friend''s intention. Today''s sh between the two armies was a sudden event that the Lusitanian army did not expect. The home camp of the Parsian army already knew about it, but the rest of the Lusitsanian army probably had not yet received word. If the Parsian army attacked Saint Emmanuel at this time, the Lusitanian army would be taken by surprise. They would open the gates to rescue their returningpanions, and the Parsians would be able to take advantage of the opportunity to attack the fortress. If the fortresss defenders could bear to see theirpanions killed and did not open the gates, then there would be no choice but to attack againter. This situation would have been like the original n.
"Alright, but Narsus, when did you give up your far-sighted approach to act off the cuff?"
"Saying that I act off the cuff will ruin my reputation, please call it adapting to the changing circumstances."
The strongest and the wisest generals under Arn''smand talked andughed while directing theirpanions to speed up their horses and charge straight ahead.
Book 4: Chapter 4 (4)
Book 4: Chapter 4 (4)
The attack and defense of the fortress of Saint Emmanuel took on a form that no one could have imagined.
For the Lusitanians, it was an unexpected turn of events. A dusty fog lifted from the south of the fortress. Just as the fortress''s defenders suspected that the smoke seemed excessive for theirpanions returning from the hunting grounds, a group of horsemen had swarmed to the fortress. The enemy and theirpanions were tangled together, and it was impossible to tell whether they were friend or foe.
At this time, if the lord of the fortress, Count Baracacion, was a ruthless man, he would have closed the gates of the fortress to prevent the Parsians from invading even if hisrades outside the fortress were crying out for help. Besides, he had no other way to guard the fortress and follow the order of His Highness King''s brother Guiscard. However, Count Baracacion hesitated. Imagining the sight of hispanions, locked outside the gate and being chased by the enemy with no way to escape, was unbearable to him. In the short time that Baracacion hesitated, there was no more room for decision.
Daryun, who was standing at the front of the Parsian army, was going to attack, but as soon as he saw that the other side did not close the gates, he immediately changed his judgment. His decisiveness was a strong contrast with Count Baracacion.
"I''m going to attack, Narsus!"
After turning back to say these words, Daryun darted forward in a ck shadow. He and the Lusitanian soldiers who were trying to escape into the fortress rushed and pushed each other, cutting down those who tried to block his way. He rushed straight into the fortress.
The walls of the fortress and the watchtowers echoed the sound of fear.
"Shut the gate! Close the gate!"
Count Baracacion gave this order with great difficulty, and just as the soldier who carried out the order was about to swing his axe and cut the rope, an arrow flew from somewhere and pierced his throat, and he fell off the wall without uttering a word. In the dazzling chaos of swords, spears, and angry cries, no one noticed the incident. On the rocky hill towering closest to the fortress wall, the young man who had performed that impressive long-range shot whistled, and an expression of satisfaction surfaced in his blue eyes.
On the ground, the fierce sh of swords and spears continued on.
Daryun swung hisnce and knocked two Lusitanian horsemen from their saddles. The gates of the fortress, both inside and out, were crowded in a whirlwind of armor, swords and spears, and the gates could no longer be closed.
As Daryun''snce pierced through the body of a Lusitanian rider, thences handle broke from too much force. The broken spear sank into the smoke with the Lusitanian knight.
Thence was lost, and Daryun drew his longsword, which shed as if it were a hawk that had seen its prey on the grounding down from high in the sky, cutting the Lusitanian knight''s wrist in half.
The Lusitanian soldiers, who supposedly did not know Daryun, wielded their swords indiscriminately, trying to kill this terrible knight in ck. However, the result was only to make the storm of blood that Daryuns longsword had swept up even more miserable.
The Parsians followed behind Daryun, forming a wall of armor to surge forward.
"You Lusitanians have no right to die on thisnd. Thends of Pars are only for burying Parsians."
It was Zaravant who uttered this bold statement. With a spear in his right hand and a shield in his left, he made his way into the midst of the Lusitanian soldiers. In the battle of Chasum fortress, these young Parsian knights were not able to show their true skills, and now that they finally had another opportunity, they could not help but be energized by it.
No one could say if they understood the words and were enraged by them, but a Lusitanian soldier rushed forward with his spear.
Zaravant picked up his own spear and stabbed at the breastte of the oing Lusitanian knight. The force and speed of the thrust caused the spear to pass through the thick breastte and straight through the knight''s back.
Daryun, who witnessed the sight, shouted.
"Careful, Zaravant!"
Daryun''s own spear was stuck in an enemy''s body, so he thought Zaravant would be in a dangerous situation if he lost his weapon.
"Thank you for your advice, Lord Daryun."
Zaravant, who answered loudly, saw in the corner of his eye an enemy who jumped from the left at this time, and he suddenly swung his shield with such force that the unfortunate man whose face suffered this heavy blow from the shield flew three gaz (about three meters) away and fell to the ground dead.
The army of Pars kept invading through the gates, and their numbers kept increasing, and they began to set up a battle formation with Daryun at the center.
"O Gods of Pars! Your devotees are about to fight to regain their country. Please give us strength!"
The cavalry of Pars'' army roared out.
"All troops break through!"
They burst in together. cing their spears across their saddles, wielding swords and battle axes in their hands, their horses'' hooves pounded on the stone floor. The Lusitanian army roared back to meet them.
Soon, the handles of the spears, swords and battle axes were moistened with blood, as well as their armor and saddles.
The Lusitanian soldiers were no less brave and faithful than the Parsian cavalry. With the name of God on their lips, they fought face to face with the invading enemy.
However, things did not depend on courage and faith alone. The Parsian army was winning the battle and was much more numerous. The Lusitanian army was only about 10,000 strong, while the Parsian army was ten times as many. Although not all the soldiers invaded the fortress to fight, the disparity in numbers still contributed to the victory to a great extent.
The fortress of Saint Emmanuel had now be a ce where the Parsians could show their individual bravery. As long as the ideal conditions of battle are established, they can prove that the warriors of Pars are the strongest warriors on the continental highway. What''s more, the warriors gathered here were the very best warriors of Pars, and the Lusitanians were cut down like grass.
Although Count Baracacion was a beloved and highly respected man by his men, unfortunately, he was not a famous general on the battlefield. His instructions and orders could not keep up with the progress of the battle, but only caused more confusion.
The Lusitanian soldiers who had strong confidence and were defending the fortress to the death, despite the extremely unfavorable situation, fell one by one under the onught of the Parsians.
The battle situation became more and more intense, and the scene was bloody.
Book 4: Chapter 4 (5)
Book 4: Chapter 4 (5)
The Battle of Saint Emmanuel was bloody, and required little tactical strategy.
Therefore, the presence of the militarymander Narsus was extremely thin in this battle. It was because of his excellent judgment that the encounter in Shahristan and the battle of Saint Emmanuel were sessful, and the whole fortress was taken in one day. Without Narsuss decisiveness, the Parsian army would have sounded the golden horn and the drums of defeat. If the Lusitanian army had run back to the fortress and closed the gates, the reorganized army could have set up a defense across the walls for several days of fierce battle.
Now, the situation waspletely different. It had be what Daryun wouldter call "taking advantage of an opportunity", but of course he knew that this was not really the case.
One more thing.
"The fall of the fortress is inevitable, but we can''t let the pagans get a hold of our food stores. Though it''s a pity, we must burn it all!
Having received the order from Count Baracacion, one of the remaining cavalrymen was attempting to set a fire in the granary, but by this time, the granary was already upied by Narsus. All the grain in the fortress thus fell into the hands of the Parsian army.
"Narsus worries a lot about food for someone who grew up wealthy!"
However, from Narsus'' point of view, even without weapons, he could still fight with his wits and bare hands. But without food, even wisdom and courage are useless.
"By order of His Highness the Crown Prince, those who surrender and drop their weapons will not be killed. Those who disobey this order will pay with their lives!"
When Daryun''s voice rang out, the bloody fight was nearing its end. Almost all of those still standing and sitting atop horses were Parsians.
"Don''t kill those who surrender! Pars is a civilized nation, we dont kill women and children or plunder like the Lusitanians. That is an order!"
The one who announced these words with a slight tone of mockery was the Tahir Kishward. Putting his twin swords into their sheaths, Kishward jumped down from his horse and approached a wounded Lusitanian soldier sitting against the wall of the fortress. The bloodied and wounded man''s body did not move, but he was gasping in pain.
"Where is the lord of this fortress?"
The cavalryman looked at Kishward with abhorrence, then arge amount of blood spilled from his mouth and his head dropped. He had bitten through his tongue and killed himself.
Azrael pped his wings on Kishwards shoulder, and the bearded general stroked the bird''s feathers in disappointment.
"What stubborn people! At this rate, it seems that no one will surrender."
Soon after, most of the Parsians felt the same way as Kishward. m and Crown Prince Arn were riding side by side, looking for the whereabouts of the fortressmander, when suddenly m called out.
"Your Highness, look!"
Arn followed the instruction and looked up, and couldn''t help but gasp.
The tower located in the southeast of the fortress wall was probably used as a watchtower, however, it had now be the setting for mass suicide. The few women and children in the fortress jumped down from it with sad cries, perhaps because they thought it was better to throw themselves into the arms of God than to suffer the shame of being killed by the infidels.
The sight of a living being falling like a stone from such a great height in order to give up their life paralyzed Arn''s mind in a matter of seconds. After regaining consciousness, Arn desperately shouted.
"Stop! Dont do that! I won''t kill you, don''t seek your own death!"
Arn looked around at the knights and again shouted.
"Help me to stop them! Someone speak to them in Lusitanian!"
"Its useless. The entrance to the tower is barricaded from the inside. Every effort is being made now to break through the door, but"
It was Narsus who answered, but there were some things that even he could not do anything about.
Thest figure jumped into the air and fell like a meteorite, the armor it wore striking hard on the stone floor. The Parsians ran over either on horseback or on foot and saw an old man who had fallen to the ground, bleeding.
"The Count! Count Baracacion!"
A Lusitanian came flying out of the crowd of Parsians with a sad cry. It was the maiden that Daryun had hoisted up with his spear. The oversized armor on her nked, only to see her kneel beside the Count and pick him up.
"Count, wake up!"
"Oh, it''s Etoile? You''re still alive, huh?"
He seemed to be trying to say something like that, but just barely moved his lips. Then, his eyes closed. If he had continued serving as the king''s librarian in the capital of Lusitania, he would have been able to live out his life smoothly. Instead, he died in a way that was extremely unsuitable for him because he had taken up a task that was not meant for him, all the way in a foreign country.
The young girl lifted her tearful eyes.
"Who killed the Count?"
The maiden screamed, picking up the sword at the Count''s waist. She carried the sword on her right shoulder with both hands and looked at the Parsians around her.
"State your name! I want to avenge the Count, give me your name!"
"He hit the ground and died, do you want to attack the ground to avenge him?"
Tus replied with a taut face. The chain rolled over his left shoulder was dyed bright red.
"Shut up!"
The young girl swung her sword and shouted in the Parsiannguage, which was more mechanical than the average Parsians speech, however, Kishward, who stepped forward with smooth footsteps, quickly snatched away her sword.
"No way, tie her up!"
Kishward gave the order, and three of his men stepped out.
"What are you doing? Let go of me! You filthy heathens! God will punish you, you will be struck down by God, how can you tie up a knight like a domestic animal?" The young girl was no match for the strength of the three men. Immediately, she was tied up.
Keep her tied up for now. Your Highness, what should we do with this young girl?"
Farangis asked. Her expression was full ofughter. The Lusitanian maiden''s behavior seemed rough and reckless, but it had an effect on the Parsians hearts. They were tired of the bloodshed. Seeing the group suicides from the tower, their battle frenzy subsided, and the feeling of killing had turned bitter. That bitterness within them seemed now to be almost entirely blown away by the actions of this young girl. Of course, the maiden was just single-mindedly acting ording to her own will.
The young girl''s vision reflected the figure of a teenager about the same age as herself. The golden armor shone in the afternoon sun, and the teenager looked at the Lusitanian girl with a confused expression. His feelings were very difficult to immediately express in words. Finally, the teenager opened his mouth.
"I think its fine to let her escape. Give her a horse, and some food and water and let her go."
A violent protest was immediately heard. It was from the mouth of the young girl herself.
"I can''t go back like this!"
"Then what do you want?" Farangis asked.
"Torture me! Beat me with a whip! Stabbing with a red-hot iron skewer will do, and waterboarding won''t hurt either."
"Why do you want to make a nuisance of yourself?" Farangis thought it strange. She asked gently, but with slight mockery.
"If I return unharmed, I will surely be suspected of epting favors from the infidels, or of colluding with them. To give up one''s life for God is the well, the wish of the followers of Yaldabaoth."
After saying everything within her Parsiannguage ability, the young girl looked around.
"So, kill me! Or else torture me, I don''t want to go back unharmed!"
She shouted while kicking out both legs and ying up her character, as if on a sacrificial b.
"What''s wrong? Still not making a move? Damn you heathens!"
The knights of Pars, who were originally called brave and fierce, looked at each other, and none made a move. Arn looked on with a deep, thoughtful expression, and Daryun and Farangis whispered and discussed together.
The knights also whispered amongst themselves.
"Hey, are all the women in Lusitania so unruly and difficult?"
"Ah, they cant all be this weird, maybe its just her?"
"No, I bet theyre all like that in Lusitania. Those barbarians probably came here because they hated the women of their own country, and came for our good Parsian women!"
A bitterugh gushed out from the crowd at these words.
With no more fire and blood, this burst of bitterughter put an end to the Battle of Saint Emmanuel.
Book 4: Chapter 4 (6)
Book 4: Chapter 4 (6)
The young girl was locked up in an underground cell. She sat on the cold, stone floor and cursed as hard as she could both in Parsian and Lusitanian, and then racked her brain for even more curse words.
Themp on the wall had a faintly wavering me that indicated that this dungeon had an external airflow. At that moment, the mes shook sharply, there was the sound of a lock clicking, and the thick cedar door swung open. The young girl raised her head back up and took up a fighting stance. She was tired and hungry, but had not lost her spirit.
Through the door entered the young man that had worn gold armor. However, he had now taken off his armor and changed into more casual attire, a cool white summer coat with blue trim framing the cor and lower lining.
In his hand, he held an earthenware te, from which came an aroma that made her stomach growl.
"You must be hungry, right? I brought some food for you, so please eat."
"Is the food of heathens really edible?"
"What a strange thing to say."
Arn wore a faintly serious smile.
"Didn''t you Lusitanians plunder the rice, wheat and fruit that grew on Parsiannd? Can you not eat food unless it was taken by force?"
"In any case, Im not yours tomand."
While she suppressed her appetite with religious faith, her young and healthy body rebelled, and the maiden''s stomach made a loud sound. The girl could not help but blush up to her ears, and she took her eyes off the teenager for a moment, not knowing what to say, and looking very ufortable. The teenager suppressed hisughter and looked at the young girl before finally saying with a persuasive tone.
"Then, think of it this way! To you, it''s the enemys food, so if you eat this, youd be doing us a great disservice by diminishing our supplies. Wouldn''t that be a great merit for you?"
The young girl blinked and fell into contemtion for a minute, and seemed not to have a hard time convincing herself.
"Is that so? If I eat this food, you guys will be hurt by the decrease in supplies?"
"Headaches abound."
"Good, then it is my greatest pleasure to hurt you heathens."
The youngdy spoke with the tone of a leader of a country dering a war, and picked up her te. She tried to eat with as much grace as possible, but the spoon in her hand moved faster and faster. The fragrantmb stew was quickly stuffed into the girl''s mouth. After catching her breath, the girl briefly considered expressing her gratitude. She cleared her throat and began to give her name.
"I am the trainee knight Etoile of Lusitania. My real name is Estelle, but I''ve thrown that name away."
"Why? If you don''t mind, I''d like to hear the reason."
"Estelle is a woman''s name. I am the only daughter of a knight''s house, so I must be a knight so that I can inherit my familys knighthood. If I cant be a knight, my grandparents and attendants and the people of ournds will be disgraced."
"And that''s why you joined the expeditionary force?"
The young girl nodded her head in reply to Arn''s question.
"I left my homnd as a trainee knight. If I establish merit and be a full-fledged knight, my family will be proud of me."
"But you''re still so young! Probably about the age to be my younger sister, right?"
"How old are you?"
"I''ll be fifteen this year."
"What month?"
"September."
"Then I''m two months older than you! It doesn''t make sense to treat me like a little sister!"
The trainee knight Etoile, or the young girl Estelle, indignantly asserted this. She moved her eyes from Arn to the empty te, and then looked at Arn again as if she had something to say.
"What is it?"
"I would like to reduce your food supply a little more."
"Ah, I see. Sorry, that''s all the stew there is. But I have something else."
Arn took out a cloth bag and set it out in front of Estelle. Some bread, cheese, dried apples and other things were then presented to the young girl. Picking up the cheese, the maiden suddenly asked.
"Those knights are very respectful to you, are you a person of high status?"
After a moment of hesitation, Arn nodded, and the maiden''s eyes radiated excitement.
"Have you seen Arn, the crown prince of Pars?"
"I have."
"At the royal pce?"
"Not just in the pce. I see him any time I look in a mirror."
After blinking a few times, the young girl finally understood the meaning of Arn''s words. When her wide eyes returned to their original size, she stood the index fingers of both hands on the left and right sides of her head.
"Doesn''t the heathen prince have two curved horns, a mouth that splits below the ears, and a ck, pointed tail?"
"Is that so? Maybe my horns and tail will grow when Im older."
Arn said with a smile. Estelle dropped both hands and gazed at the teenager of the same age as her.
Perhaps there was a big difference between the customs of the court of Pars and the court of Lusitania. Although Estelle was a knight, she never talked to the King of Lusitania, but always shouted "Long live the King" with a crowd from far away. In the Kingdom of Pars, the Crown Prince himself came to the dungeon to bring food to the prisoners?
However, what she said was something else.
"I''m thirsty"
"Of course."
Arn handed her a canteen, and the young girl took it and brought it to her mouth. It nourished not just her body, but her heart as well.
"You are such a strange person."
"People often say that about me, but I dont see it myself."
"Kings and princes are supposed to sit on a majestic throne. Maybe its because your king doesnt act like a true king that the royal capital was taken away."
The maiden''s taunt was not intended to be deeply malicious, but there was no way for Arn to turn a deaf ear to it, and he naturally adjusted his expression.
"Lets be clear on something. Did Pars invade Lusitania, or did Lusitania invade Pars?"
Arn''s voice was extremely steady, and that was because the teenager was attempting to suppress his anger. Estelle sensed this a little, but she couldn''t help but refute it.
"It''s true that the Lusitanian army invaded, but that''s because your country doesn''t believe in the true God. If you would stop worshiping pagan idols and evil gods and follow the true God, you would not have to shed so much blood."
"Thats nonsense!"
Arn replied in a firm voice. The young girl continued with determination.
"It is not nonsense. We are followers of the god Yaldabaoth who act ording to his will, and that is why we are fighting against the infidels."
"If it is as you say, then why did your Lusitanian army attack the Kingdom of Maryam? Aren''t the people of that country believers of the god Yaldabaoth as well? Theyre just like you!"
"That''s that''s because the people of Maryam believe in the wrong way."
"Who told you that?"
"It was God who said it."
Arn stared at the other.
"Did you hear God say that? Did you hear God''s voice with your own ears? And even if so, how do you know that it was indeed the voice of God?"
"It was the priests"
The young girl''s voice broke off, and the other teenager''s voice was even stronger.
"It is you yourselves who insult the gods. No, I''m not talking about you, I''m talking about those in power in Lusitania. They only pretend to be the voice of God in order to fulfill their own desires and ambitions."
"Shut up! Shut up!"
The young girl stood up. Tears of regret were flowing in her eyes. She was upset that her own sincerity had been rejected, and also that she could not offer a rebuttal.
"Get out! I''m not going to say anything more to you. You''re the one who persuaded me to eat, I don''t owe you any favors."
"I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to use you."
The young girl''s agitation caused Arn to regain hisposure.
After apologizing, Arn stood up and was about to walk out when he suddenly stopped again.
"Etoile, do you know the prayers of Yaldabaoth?"
"Of course."
"Then, could you please offer a prayer for the dead tomorrow? We are burying the remains of both of our armies tomorrow, but the Lusitanians will need a prayer in Lusitanian.
Estelle was startled, forgetting her anger for a moment. Burying the remains of the enemy?
The practice of the Lusitanian army was to leave the bodies of heretics as food for wild animals. How strange was this prince of Pars? Or, perhaps, were the Lusitanians the strange ones?
The dungeon door opened and closed again. Arn''s figure disappeared, and the sound of footsteps became further away. Seized by a sense of defeat, Etoile fell to the ground again. She knew the door was unlocked, and somehow she knew it wasn''t because the prince had forgotten to lock it. Anyway, she would stay there until tomorrow''s funeral! Estelle thought so, and leaned her back against the wall.
Book 4: Chapter 5 (1)
Book 4: Chapter 5 (1)
News of the Lusitanian defeat reached Ecbatana as the sun moves east to west.
"The fortress of Saint Emmanuel fell, and almost everyone in the fortress, including Count Baracacion, died in battle or by suicide. However, some of the sick and wounded were spared by the Parsian army. The Parsian troops will likely leave Saint Emmanuel within the next few days"
"We lost another fortress in only one day? Useless fools!"
After cursing in disappointment, Guiscard muttered "Rest in peace, O souls! and a few other prayers. Not out of piety to God, but a sense of grief for the dead. Leaving aside the ability of the old man Baracacion as a military general, he was still a respectable man.
"It would have been better to have let that old man manage the books, it was really a mistake to let himmand the fortress. And it was really unwise to let that Bodin guy have sole management of the books in Lusitania, Maryam and Pars.
However, there was no use fussing over the responsibilities of those who were not here. Guiscard summoned his courtiers, who appeared uneasy, and again intimidated everyone.
"The continental highway is now paved with sweat and blood, and the Parsians are quickly approaching. The fire of vengeance is burning in their eyes, and they are eager to reim thend of their ancestors."
The two generals, Bauduin and Montferrat, seemed to be emotionless, but the other courtiers caused amotion.
"Once again, I want to make it clear to all of you that this is a matter of our survival, and that everything weve gained since the victory at Atropatene could be forfeited overnight. But I hope that you will help me, Guiscard, by suppressing your selfish thoughts and embracing humility. Is this possible? Gentlemen?"
Guiscard was arrogantly ignoring the presence of his brother. The courtiers nodded together, but a disgruntled voice rang out.
"We have the protection of God, so there is no way we will lose to the infidels."
"Oh? Then you mean to say that the fortress of Saint Emmanuel had no divine protection?"
Gazing at the speechless courtiers, His Highness the King''s Brother strengthened his voice.
"Don''t speak Gods name with that tone. He will only love us if we do our best. Only by bettering ourselves can we open the path to God''s heart."
Guiscard didn''t really have such a deep faith. The nobles, military generals, officials, andmoners of Lusitania should not worship any gods but him, Guiscard. If Yaldabaoth was really all-powerful, he would have made Innocentis VII a wise king long ago, wouldn''t he?
Montferrat and Bauduin calmly swore to follow the orders of His Royal Highness, and the other nobles and courtiers followed suit. Guiscard skillfully used intimidation and a sense of personal eagerness to make them obey and strengthen their trust in himself. Satisfied for now, Guiscard dismissed the meeting.
"Silver Mask has returned."
This report came in just as Guiscard had finished arge meal and was about to leave the table.
"Has he brought an army?"
"He has with him only about a hundred horsemen, the rest remained at Zabul fortress."
Guiscard''s left eye twitched for a moment. He hated Hilmes for this abomination. Did he want to use Zabul fortress as his base? Did he just assume that Guiscard could not kill him, or even punish him at the moment? Guiscard hated him with a passion, but he couldn''t cut him off. Now that there were enemies in the east, he could not make enemies in the west as well. If the capital was left empty in order to face Arns army, the enemy mighte in from the west, and then Guiscard would go down in history as a hopelessly ipetent person.
When Silver Mask appeared in front of Guiscard, he bowed respectfully, but his tone of voice and the words he spoke were not so respectful.
"I heard that the Lusitanian army has continuously lost its eastern strongholds one by one, and that Andragoras'' brat is already halfway to the capital."
"Those are mere rumors. Since ancient times, rumors have been nothing but poisonous weeds blooming on the seedbeds of ignorance; were you distracted by their flowers?"
Guiscard''s mocking words slipped over the smooth surface of the silver mask. To Guiscard, the mask that hid the other''s expression was the target of his hatred. He had been suppressing such feelings when he first met with Silver Mask to talk about the initial conquest of Pars. But he could only take him at his word that he was wearing the mask because his face had been badly injured.
On the other hand, Hilmes had note to Ecbatana specifically for the purpose of mocking Guiscard. The news of Arn''s advance and victories made it impossible for Hilmes to stay peacefully in the western fortress of Zabul. He had to admit that he was a step or twotepared to "Andragoras brat".
Still , he could not give up Zabul fortress, and if hed returned with more than 10,000 troops, there was no guarantee that the overly-suspicious Lusitanian army would allow them to enter the city. After a few moments of deliberation, Hilmes had decided to leave Sam to guard Zabul while he rushed back to the royal capital. When Guiscard finished his sarcastic words, Silver Mask suddenly uttered a very surprising sentence.
"My real name is Hilmes, and my father''s name was Osroes."
"What? Osroes!?"
"Yes, Osroes, the previous king of Pars. My father''s brother was Andragoras, the abominable man who killed his brother and usurped the throne."
Guiscard was silent, and his silence expressed his astonishment. He had jokingly said to his men before, "Maybe Silver Mask is a member of the Parsian royal family. If this was the truth, things would be even furtherplicated.
"What''s going on? Can you exin to me in detail?"
"Of course, I was nning to."
Guiscard then heard from Hilmes the dismal history of the royal family of Pars, which was a dark battle of brothers provoked over a woman. Fratricide, usurping the throne, and eventually, killing his nephew as well. This is no less than the history of Lusitania, also coated with dirty blood, and the secrets of the royal capital. Guiscard was shocked, but he knew that Hilmes words had been truthful from beginning to end. After Silver Mask finished speaking, Guiscard took some time before asking.
"But why did you tell me this now? Whats your n?"
"His Highness the King''s Brother has been kind to me, and I hope that we can still join forces in the future to work together for a great cause. I am revealing my secrets now because I trust Your Highness."
The future King of Lusitania was not so stupid as to truly believe the words of Silver Mask.
Was it jealousy? Guiscard pondered Silver Mask''s intentions. He had already revealed his feelings by calling Arn "Andragoras'' brat". Perhaps he did not see Arn as an equalpetitor. However, the reality of the situation required ignoring Hilmes'' pride and moving forward.
If things continued to develop, Arn would be the one to reunite the people and the army of Pars and be the hero that saved the country. If things went on like this, and Hilmes appeared afterwards to dere the legitimacy of his throne, no one would spare him a nce. Although Arn was the son of the usurper, if he had liberated thend and the people with his own strength, Hilmes'' im would have been treated as a joke andpletely ignored. It was probably because of this concern that Hilmes wanted to make his existence known now.
Silver Mask, do you think that the bravery and skill of the Lusitanians will not be able to withstand Arns army?
Guiscard changed his face slightly. From all angles, this man named Hilmes was really unpleasant. Wasnt it hypocritical to advocate for the legitimacy of his throne, as well as the ambitions of Guiscard, who also wanted to usurp his brother as king?
A strange feeling overcame Guiscard. Suddenly, he remembered King Andragoras, who had been locked up in the dungeon for almost half a year. If Andragoras really had killed his brother to be the king, then he is not the first to attempt such an ambitious move.
I must go to Andragoras and ask for rification. Guiscard''s mind turned as he thought.
"Arn has gathered 40,000 to 50,000 troops and has already taken two fortresses from our army. Can you stand against the might of his soldiers?"
"That can''t be called military strength at all, that boy is just relying on others."
"Well, I have an idea, Silver Mask, or, Lord Hilmes. There must be a reason for a man to be able to gather so many soldiers, and it takes considerable talent tomand that many soldiers, doesn''t it?"
"Andragoras'' brat has no power to speak of. He is merely pushed around by those close to him and manipted like a puppet. That has nothing at all to do with talent or wisdom."
"Ah, I see."
Guiscard did not agree with him, but he understood from the gaze Hilmes shot through his mask that this matter could not be solved by jokes or mockery. Although Guiscard had learned some sword skills, he was not confident that he could defeat the agitated Silver Mask in a one-on-one confrontation. There was a group of fully armed knights outside the room waiting to move, but there was no need to act rashly at the moment.
Guiscard could also just let Hilmes and Arn fight each other to decide the issue of session to the throne of Pars. In this situation, instead of relying on convoluted strategies, it was better to adopt the original n and gather arge army to crush Prince Arns army head-on. With this in mind, Guiscard sent Hilmes back without making any promises.
Book 4: Chapter 5 (2)
Book 4: Chapter 5 (2)
"I''vee to borrow your power once more."
These were the first words spoken by the long-absent guest.
This was a dark, cold, and damp stone room, deep underground beneath the royal capital of Ecbatana. Piles of strange books towered in dusty corners, as well as minerals, animal remains, and nts used in magic rituals that all were steeped in a strange miasma. The unusual atmosphere filled the room, like a colorless, poisonous smoke. In the midst of the smoke was a man dressed in dark gray, who now appeared young, a newly painted portrait of an ancient being.
"Have you atst regained the strength of your youth? Happy now, aren''t you? Then, you must also understand my desire to quickly reim my country and my throne."
Hilmes said, trying to keep the anxiousness from his voice, and the mage listened stoically.
"Restoring my power and youth is quite time-consuming and intensive. The human body is the vessel of life, and youth is the state when the vessel is full. Once the water level has depleted, it is not an easy task to fill it again.
His appearance seems to be around the same age as Hilmes, or a little younger. The newly restored young magician''s face could even be said to be beautiful, if fake flowers could be considered as beautiful as real flowers It was strange to hear a man this youthful speaking like an elderly man.
"Are you saying that you want me to make the Battle of Atropatene happen again?"
"You dont need your magic to know that."
"Even so, Im not sure I agree. How would another Battle of Atropatene benefit me?
The mage asked mockingly, Hilmes'' silver mask shone as he answered, undeterred.
"When I reim my rightful throne, I''ll give you enough treasures tost ten lifetimes."
"Whose treasure? The Lusitanian armys treasure?"
"It was the wealth of Pars to begin with."
"And is it yours now?"
"It belongs to whoever is king."
The mage chuckled lowly and ended his questioning. Another man began to murmur.
"Honesty is a virtue for those above-ground, but not toomon down here. However, it should still be used once in a while. Honestly, I am not without my own resentment toward Arn and his men. Two of my disciples were killed by them."
The mages eyes moved towards a dark corner, where only five of the former seven figures remained.
"Though they had not yet be anything great, they were so faithful that I still mourn for them.
The five disciples could not help but bow their heads in shame. Hilmes hid a sneer behind his mask.
"Andragoras''s little dog has formidable retainers with him, and some meager tricks won''t be enough to deal with them. You should want to beat them for yourself too, right?"
The mage shook his head.
"No, there must be no haste. Arn doesn''t have wings, so he won''t arrive at the royal capital that quickly. What''s more, it is not a bad thing for you if Arn has some degree of strength."
"What do you mean?"
"Do I need to make myself more clear? I always thought you were a smart man!"
""
Hilmes fell into deep thought under the mask, and quickly understood the meaning of the words. That was to say, Arn and the Lusitanian army fighting each other would weaken them both.
Since capturing the royal capital, the Lusitanian army had not gained much strength. And since Arns army had overtaken two fortresses in a row, the reputation of the Lusitanian army was on a decline. Nevertheless, there were still 300,000 Lusitanian troops. If they were allowed to retain such strength, it would not be a good thing for Hilmes, whose ultimate goal was to take back the country from Lusitania.
If Arn continued to fight a long and bloody battle with Lusitania, Hilmes could take advantage of the situation and retake the royal capital, Ecbatana. This was what Guiscard feared. But then, in order to defeat themon enemy, Arn and Guiscard might also join forces against Hilmes. Hilmes did not think it was a mistake to make his identity public, but politics were like a turbulent current, and it was hard to keep track of their movements.
"You seem to be making ns for yourself!"
The mages insightful voice pierced through Hilmess mask, causing a chill to run through him. His eyes shone, and the "rightful heir to the throne" was silent.
As the magician said, he was making calctions in his own favor. That is, to leave his own forces unharmed and to make himself the final victor in the near future.
The mage muttered.
"The Holy sword Rukhnabad."
These words shone with a great light as they reached Hilmes'' ears. Hilmes'' tall body shook slightly as if it had suddenly shrunk, shaking from the cold, wet air. The meaning of the words boomed out with a loud sound that was inaudible to the human ear and prated into Hilmes'' soul.
"How about that? Just that one sentence will give you a full understanding of what I mean, right?"
The mage wasn''tpletely sure.
The precious sword Rukhnabad was the sword used by the ancient hero king of the Parsian Kingdom, Kai Khosrow, which could be said to be a divine relic. Kai Khosrow had used this sword to defeat the tyranny of the Serpent King Zahhak and bring peace to thend of Pars. It is said that the sword Rukhnabad is a gift from the gods, who protect the well-being of Pars, as well as justice on earth.
The legend of the founding of the kingdom, as well as the origin of the sword is said to have been passed down in the poem "Heroic Deeds of Kai Khosrow", where it is written that "the sword Rukhnabad, which can cleave iron in two, was forged from a fragment of the sun.
Acquire the sword Rukhnabad for yourself! The mage had instructed Hilmes. The meaning hidden in his eyes let out a strong light through the holes in the silver mask. After a few seconds of silence, Hilmes bowed his body.
"Excuse me. I''ll return in the near future."
Hilmes'' farewell speech seemed brief, and that was because his mind was upied with other things. When the sound of his armor disappeared in the darkness, an artificial smile floated on the mages face.
A disciple poked his body out of the shadows as if he had made up his mind to speak.
"Master"
"What is it? Speak up, Gurgin."
"Is that man truly nning to sneak into Kai Khosrow''s tomb to steal the sword Rukhnabad?"
The mage narrowed both eyes.
"He will get it. For no other thing could be more symbolic of the kingship of Pars than the sword Rukhnabad."
How strongly Hilmes imed to be the rightful heir to the throne of Pars, the descendant of the Hero King Kai Khosrow! With this, his life full of painful abominations could still blossom into something worthwhile. Hilmes'' desire for legitimacy could be satisfied if he could get the sword Rukhnabad.
This time it was another disciple who asked a question. A disciple named Gustaham.
"Master, is it true that only by removing the sword Rukhnabad from its tomb can the Serpent King Zahhak reappear?"
"The seal is very strong, unexpectedly strong."
The mage frankly admitted his error in estimation. Twenty years after the Serpent King Zahhak was sealed beneath Mount Damavand, the holy sword Rukhnabad was dug up and reburied in the mausoleum of Kai Khosrow. After three hundred more years, the twenty bs of rock constructed around his coffin had crumbled one by one, and the Serpent King Zahhak should have been resurrected. However, as long as Kai Khosrow has the sword Rukhnabad with him, its spiritual powerbines with the hero kings soul and binds the snake king. Thus, the only way is to remove the sword from the coffin, and separate its power from the tomb.
"How''s that? Interesting, isn''t it? It isughable that Kai Khosrow, who opposed the rule of the Serpent King Zahhak and dominated the world for more than three hundred years should have his own descendant remove his ancestors seal and bring Zahhak into this world again."
The mages disciples did not seem to be as optimistic as their teacher. They exchanged nces with each other, and Gurgin spoke on behalf of the group.
"Sorry, honorable teacher, once he gets the sword Rukhnabad, will Hilmes still be constrained by us?"
Because he was afraid of his teacher''s anger, he spoke politely, but the mage wearing dark gray clothes was surprisingly not angry at all.
"Yes! Our power may not be sufficient to fight against Rukhnabad''s power."
"Then, are we just going to watch our future enemys power increase?"
"Don''t say such foolish things, our power won''t make any difference at all. Hilmes'' opponent will be the Serpent King Zahhak the Great, and his power will once again descend into this world."
The disciples made sounds of joy and understanding at these words. They were nearly in a frendzy.
"As long as the Serpent King Zahhak descends again, the sword Rukhnabad will be but a broken key, and it will not be able to lock the Serpent King away again. We are going to make the descendants of Kai Khosrow atone for their ancestors unforgivable sin of rebelling against the Serpent King."
The five disciples stood up wordlessly and gave their master a respectful, but unmistakably bat-like bow.
Book 4: Chapter 5 (3)
Book 4: Chapter 5 (3)
In the end, Guiscard turned a deaf ear to Hilmes''s confession. At times, overthinking choices in political and military strategy would render him indecisive, and he could not alter his original n at such short notice. The most important thing now was to let his trusty Montferrat and Baudouin win their battles.
A terrible strategy shed through Guiscard''s mind that very night. He suddenlyughed maniacally, causing the Maryami woman in bed with him to re furiously into his teal eyes.
"Hmmmm! Why didn''t I think of this sooner? Perhaps I was still ashamed of such a thing?"
There was a darkness in Guiscard''sughter. He was certain of this once he had thought about this strategy more clearly. The n was to let Silver Mask, that is, Hilmes, kill Guiscard''s brother, King Innocentis.
Of course, Hilmes would not fall for Guiscard''s trick so easily, but it was possible to make him kill King Innocentis by taking advantage of his exceptional sense of legitimacy. This was Guiscard''s conclusion.
Of course, after killing Innocentis, Hilmes would not be let off the hook. The person who killed the king of Lusitania would be punished by the heir to the throne of Lusitania. And who is the heir to the throne? His Highness Guiscard, the king''s brother, of course. In this way, Guiscard can rout two enemies in one move.
"Where is Silver Mask?"
Guiscard came out from inside the bedchamber and asked a servant, and the question was passed along several retainers. The answer, which reached Guiscard''s ears with great difficulty, said that Silver Mask did not stay overnight in his official residence inside the royal capital and had left the city as soon as it got dark. He told the city gate guards that he had left the city on the order of His Highness the King''s brother, so they did not stop him. Of course, Guiscard had not given any such orders to Silver Mask.
Then, this could be an opportunity. Shouldn''t he go see King Andragoras, who was locked up in the dungeon? Guiscard considered it. He was an important prisoner who had been captured alive with great difficulty, and it was a pity to let him live just to satisfy Hilmes''s vengeance. If he used him well, he might be able to divide Andragorass faction against Arns faction and Hilmess faction, and make things even more chaotic.
In the past, Guiscard had wanted to meet with King Andragoras, but was prevented from doing so by the torturers who worked under Silver Mask''s orders. This time, Guiscard intended to take his own knights to suppress the torturers and forcibly meet with Andragoras.
However, it was best to wait until dawn. Guiscard called a knight named berria and ordered him to go after Silver Mask.
"Theres no need to capture him. After you find him, follow closely and see what hes up to."
"Yes, sir. How many men should I take with me?"
"Ill leave that up to you. Be careful!"
After receiving His Highness the King''s Brother''s order and the heavy bag of gold coins, the knight berria hurriedly set out.
At dawn, the day began for Guiscard, who was again overwhelmed by political and military affairs. However, before dinner, Guiscard found a gap in time that allowed him to visit the dungeon with six knights working directly under him.
Tempted by both money and the threat of violence, the torturer agreed to Guiscard''s request after a brief moment of hesitation. Guiscard was led down a long staircase, guarded by his knights. With great difficulty, he finally came face to face with the prisoner chained to the stone wall.
"King Andragoras, right? It''s a pleasure to meet you. I am Duke Guiscard, brother of the King of Lusitania."
The prisoner did not respond to Guiscard''s name. A foul stench permeated the room, like blood, sweat and dirt mixed together. The smell was hard to describe in concrete terms. The prisoner''s hair and beard were unkempt, his clothes were torn and he looked filthy. His right hand was chained to the wall, while his left hand hung down helplessly, scars from whips and fire wounds covered his entire body, and his skin was barely visible beneath the wounds and dirt. The giant body, which was stronger than Guiscard, looked like a tired beast.
"Youve been feeding him, right?"
After saying that, Guiscard couldn''t help but feel ridiculous for asking this silly question. It was impossible for someone to go without food for six months and still survive. The torturer did notugh. He answered Guiscard in a tired voice.
"We must allow him to retain enough strength to withstand the torture, so we give him two bowls of rice a day."
"Well, it must be difficult for a king who has always been ustomed to a life of wine and luxuries."
Feeling as if his tone had been too flippant, Guiscard could not help but feel a bit nervous, deep down. He had an intense sense of foreboding. Perhaps it was because this was such an ufortable ce, dark and deep underground. However, King Andragoras himself gave Guiscard a sense of foreboding far beyond that.
Suddenly, the prisoner who had remained silent until now, made a sound.
"What does the royal family of Lusitania want from me?"
The sense of oppression implied in the voice was extraordinary. Guiscard couldn''t help but take a half step back, and managed to control his emotions with great difficulty.
"I met your nephew recently, King Andragoras."
"Nephew?"
"Yes, the orphan of your deceased brother, Osroes, called Hilmes."
"Hilmes is dead."
"Ohhh, thats funny. Hilmes is dead? Then who was it that I met?"
Guiscard''sughter stopped after a moment, and a nervous, puzzled glint swept over his slender eyes. King Andragoras'' lips twisted wonderfully behind his tangled ck beard, and the one whoughed was now the king. When Guiscard was about to ask him what was so funny, Andragoras opened his mouth first.
"Do you know the real Hilmes, O King''s brother of Lusitania? And how do you know if that man wearing a strange silver mask iming to be Hilmes is really him?"
""
"Just because he said so, you believe him? Well, Lusitanians are not too smart, are they? How can such a society defeat us? Incredible!"
There was a strong provocation in his tone. Guiscard''s forehead glistened with a light sweat. Guiscard was not stupid, much less a cowardly man. Yet, he felt that his tongue, hands and feet seemed strangely heavy, and he was pinned to the spot. A red light shed in his mind, thinking that it was only right that he should kill Andragoras III, the king of Pars, right now. He should kill him while he had the chance.
Then, a sudden change urred.
A fierce crash sounded, and the Lusitanians held their breath. The chains flew in mid-air in front of their eyes, as they broke and flew apart.
"Look out!"
When Guiscard shouted, the Lusitanian knight on his right, who was about to draw his sword, let out a miserable cry. Guiscard thought he saw the knight''s face sshed with blood in that instant, and his eyes widened. As the knight''s armor made a loud ng, blood and screams shot into the air at the same time. Darkness and light and sound pulsed around Guiscard as the knights fell to the ground on his left and right. Guiscard also drew his sword, but as soon as it left its scabbard, it was caught in the chains.
Now the king of Pars and the Lusitanian Kings brother faced each other one-on-one.
"This is the Nabataean iron chain technique that ves practiced in order to resist their brutal and abusive masters."
"Well"
Guiscard groaned. His knees were weak from the severe sense of defeat. Had he been too careless? Had he assessed the situation too optimistically? However, it was unimaginable that someone who had been imprisoned in a dungeon for six months and tortured for days on end could still break the chains on his body andunch a counterattack. Guiscard barely managed to squeeze out a sound.
"You, are you a demon?! How can you still have such strength?"
"You ask how I broke the chains?"
Andragoras threw down the chains that now stunk of blood and flesh with great force.
"Iron is different from gold, and it will decay. After six months of pissing in the same ce, sweating, pouring salty soup on it, it finally rotted away. Now"
Andragoras stepped forward and snatched the sword from the fallen Lusitanian knight''s hand. Guiscard could not move his feet as if they were stuck to the floor, and he thought he was about to be killed. Wasnt this a pathetic way to die? That he had led himself to his own death
However, the king''s eyes were cast to another ce.
"O torturers,e over here. I''ll let you have a chance to atone for offending the king!"
It took Guiscard a moment to realize that the torturers had not fled. They stood frozen in the corner of the room like y dolls. Like Guiscard, no, more so than Guiscard, they had been ensnared by the awesome power of the resurrected King Andragoras.
As if they were being controlled, the torturers crouched on the floor with their backs bowed, practically curling up. The chief torturer groaned as if he was dying.
"O King, please spare my wife"
"I''m not interested in your wife."
The sword was swung high and dropped heavily. The head of the chief torturer was split like a ripe melon, and a stray drop of blood sshed onto Guiscard''s face.
King Andragoras, who had put away his sword, shot a cold nce at Guiscard.
"The rest of you stand up. Your sins are unforgivable, but Ill spare you this once. If you swear allegiance to me, tie up the Lusitanians standing over there!"
Andragoras pointed the tip of his blood-stained sword toward Guiscard, and the torturers, who had recovered their wits, rose from the ground with eyes that looked as if they had been possessed. So quickly, they had be a group of human dolls, made of flesh and easily manipted, meticulously carrying out the orders of King Andragoras. Surrounded by several men with huge bodies and thick arms, Guiscard was put in chains without being able to do anything about it.
"Be at ease, I won''t kill you. You are a rare hostage, the safety of me and my queen depends on you."
King Andragoras said with a flourish, holding out his wrists to the torturers who had be his loyal minions. One of the torturers took the key from the dead chief torturer and unlocked the iron shackle around the king''s right wrist. The wrist, which had regained its freedom for the first time in six months, was wounded, but King Andragoras did not show any particr pain; he just shook his hand gently.
"Now, let''s go up!"
He shot a nce at Guiscard, and it was then that Andragoras'' eyes shone as if vengeful from the days of confinement.
"How does it feel to be imprisoned? The Kings Brother of Lusitania should be able to endure it, right? For the king of Pars has endured it for half a year now. Hm hm hm hahaha"
Book 4: Chapter 5 (4)
Book 4: Chapter 5 (4)
Arns army only stayed in the fortress of Saint Emmanuel for a brief time. The kahina, Farangis, had been in charge of funeral prayers for the fallen Parsian soldiers, and the trainee knight Etoile, also known as Estelle, offered prayers for the fallen Lusitanians. Afterwards, Arns army prepared food and weapons, and left the fortress immediately.
The stench of corpses had remained even after they were disposed of. The Parsian soldiers did notin, but the atmosphere was still unpleasant.
If the fortress was left unattended, there was the risk of itter being taken over by enemies or bandits, so it was set on fire. As they watched ck smoke pour out from the fortress, the Parsian army began to move.
One group of people among the Parsian army looked particrly out of ce. Except for one on horseback, the rest of the people were on three cattle carts, most of them sitting on hay and nkets. The Parsian army let those Lusitanians who had surrendered during the battle travel with them. Arn had feared that if he left them alone, they would be attacked by bandits or animals, or sumb to injuries, so hede up with this n.
"Narsus, do you think its foolish of me to do so?"
"Criticizing one''s lord is a rare opportunity, so I should make the best of it."
The crown prince originally asked this question in all seriousness, but the young tactician justughed.
"What thoughts led Your Highness to make such a decision?"
"I think that if its possible for only 900 to die instead of 1,000, the difference may be small, but its still worth doing. However, maybe this still sounds self-serving. Perhaps there is a better way
While riding beside the Crown Prince, Narsus turned his thoughtful eyes toward the early summer sky.
"I don''t mean to say that Your Highness should not care what others think. But, if you think it''s the best way to go at the moment, there''s no need to worry too much about it."
To put it bluntly, the Lusitanians had been forcibly taking over thends of Pars. Even if they were women and children, as long as they were Lusitanians, they would have been charged with the same crime as the invading soldiers. However, it was the Lusitanians in power that were making the decisions, and the women and children were merely their victims, so to speak. They did not even possess the means to voice their own opinions, Arn thought. Narsus was aware of this situation, and he thought that this was actually where the Crown Prince''s strengthy.
Estelle, a young girl who called herself the trainee knight Etoile, was now with Arn''s army, but had still not be friendly with Arn. She was given three cattle carts for about twenty survivors, including the sick and wounded who could not walk, pregnant women, and children. Etoile rode ahead of them on her own, still wearing the same oversized armor.
When a baby cried and the young mother was unable to nurse, she ran to the food carts with a bowl and milked a cow herself. Her technique certainly wasnt expert, but it was a desperate attempt to care for the weak. Among the small group of Lusitanians, it was Estelle alone who worked earnestly. Since most of the other knights had died in battle, she had to do her duty as a trainee knight. Her mind had been made up.
"Theres something strange about that Lusitanian girl!"
"Its interesting, though! I hope she stays that way."
Both Daryun and Narsus had an uneasy feeling about the final stages of the battle of Saint Emmanuel, but they were not to me. Estelle''s presence had given them a feeling of relief.
Arn felt the same way.
In his childhood, Arn had been raised outside the pce by a nursemaid and her husband. He used to y in courtyards or on the street with other children his age. Among them were also the daughters of some freedmen. They yed chasing games and hide-and-seek together, and Arn wrote the few words he had learned on a wax tablet, and they all read them aloud together. The children, though poor, were cheerful and affectionate.
After moving to the pce, there were no more young girls around Arn. Luxuriously dressed, well groomed, elegant and older noblewomen went in and out of the pce, and Arn only watched in a sense of disconnection and loneliness. This situation changed after he met Farangis and Alfreed, and after he met Estelle, he felt as if he had met again with the young girls he used to y with in his childhood. Arn wanted to do as much as he could to help her.
Estelle''s mood had also changed a lot.
At least for now, Etoile didn''t want to think about death and revenge. The most important task at the moment was to escort her 20patriots, still dirty and wounded and unable to take care of themselves, to a ce where there were more of theirpanions. After seeing the remains of more than a few thousand of her countrymen ced in a mass grave and covered with dirt, Estelle wished for no more deaths. At the very least, no more deaths of civilians and those who hadid down their weapons. For all of her determination, shecked the means to put this into practice, and was forced to rely on the Parsian prince to provide her with oxcarts, as well as instruction from the beautiful pagan priestess with ck hair and green eyes. At first, Estelle was hostile towards her because she was a pagan, but she had helped deliver a pregnant womans baby, so Estelle had to be grateful to her. Although she was a pagan, kindness is, after all, kindness. If these weak and helpless people were abandoned, there would definitely be nothing left for them but death.
"The throne itself does not hold any meaning. Depending on who sits on it, it can be a symbol of justice or evil. No human being is perfect, but if one refuses to give his best effort, and without someone to stop him, this king will soon fall into a pit of sin. His Highness the Crown Prince has been making every effort, as all those who follow him have witnessed. Because they believe he is a special person, they follow him with great pride.
When Estelle asked Farangis why everyone followed the Crown Prince, who was still just a teenager, so faithfully, Farangis answered her this way. On the other hand, when Farangis asked Estelle why she had learned thenguage of Pars, which she hates, Estelle replied like this.
"I learned the Parsiannguage to be of service to Lusitania. If I know thenguage, I can immediately tell what you heathens are up to. I can inform mypanions of your battle ns and plots, so youd better be careful."
Estelle said this with hatred, as if to make her sound more convincing.
"What an odious little girl. If you hate Parsians so much, you don''t have to stay with us!"
Alfreed oftenined of her discontent with Estelle, but when she saw Estelle running around every day for the sake of the refugees, she couldn''t seem toin anymore.
"Ah, I cant watch this! Hold him like this! If you gently rock a baby like this, hell calm down and be quiet."
Alfreed used to take care of young children when she was with the Zott n.
"Oh, little one, don''t cry! How can you grow up to be a great bandit if youre so weak?"
"Nonsense! This child will be a great knight of Lusitania. Why would he be a thief?"
"So its okay for a knight to be cowardly?"
"I didn''t say that!"
Watching as the two young girls argued, Farangis couldn''t help but smile.
"Ill never get tired of watching this!"
Book 4: Chapter 5 (5)
Book 4: Chapter 5 (5)
A hawk soared through the sky. It rose and descended in the air, then turned itself around and went straight down behind the other side of the mountains.
"Ah! What a fine hawk!"
Eximed the young man of the Zott n. The neen-year-old Mene was escorting Princess Irina and her party, who had crossed the Ind Sea from the country of Maryam. They had been avoiding the main highway as they continued on their journey.
Little did Mene know that the hawk was named Azrael, and that across the mountain range was the Parsian army, where his sister was rocking a Lusitanian baby.
The slow pace of their journey could bepared to that of a snail''s, and there were some whoined to Mene that they "should have taken the continental highway and gone faster".
"If you want to reveal yourself to the Lusitanian army, then go ahead and do it!"
Mene shot back nonchntly. The reason the trip was so slow was because the Maryami soldiers had no horses and had to carry pnquins. In addition, they had brought a lot of unnecessary baggage, and the nobility were not used to walking so much, often having to stop and rest. It seemed uneptable to Mene to me him for their slow pace.
"I am truly grateful to Lord Mene. If I find His Highness Hilmes, I will have him thank you properly."
The blind Princess of Maryam, said this to Mene on one asion.
"Im not doing this for any reward. After taking you to that man Hilmes, I am going to find my sister, and return to my vige."
Mene replied unhappily. Although he wasnt really too upset, the young man still felt insulted by the others looking at him like that.
What the hell was he doing? Mene had thought about it. He should only be focused on looking for his sister, whose whereabouts were unknown, and bringing her back to the vige to solve the problem of session of the Zott n chief. That''s how things should be. Instead, he was escorting this foreign princess to her beloved. Really, what the hell was he doing?
He did have a strange feeling about Princess Irina. He felt that she wasnt very different from his sister, who had always been frivolous with her emotions.
However, this seemed a little different than simple infatuation, and Mene felt that he could not have just left her. The one-eyed man hed met in Dam seemed to have made that conclusion as well, but that was likely due to his own strange view on things. However, one does not always know their own heart best.
That one-eyed man must be off traveling somewhere right now, Mene thought. As he wondered this, Mene gazed up at the sky.
After parting with Mene, Kubard, who had formerly been a Parsian general, continued his journey in the direction of the rising sun.
Kubard rode his horse through the mountainous area close to the Darband Ind Sea, experiencing adventures that would someday be legends, but for him, it was merely exercise to help digestion. To someone else, his words would probably only be considered "Braggart Kubard" type of talk.
However, by this time, Arn had already left the fortress of Peshawar. Lucian, and the others who had stayed behind, were all unfamiliar to Kubard. Although they all knew of the bravery of this prestigious Marzban, it did not seem appropriate for him to stay here.
"Perhaps I am not destined to follow Prince Arn!"
Kubardughed slightly to himself. If hed crossed over the mountain to the south and continued up the road, he would have met up with Arns camp. However, because he did not choose to go this way, he missed them.
"Ah, forget it. Theres no time limit, and I have plenty of money to travel, so let''s go west!
He turned back while still in front of Peshawar, and headed towards the continental highway. The chances of finding a beautiful woman in Peshawar were likely too little, anyway.
At the same time, there was another lone man traversing Pars on horseback. This man was the opposite of Kubard, having just separated from Arns army and was now on his own. The traveling musician with red hair and blue eyes had changed his direction since discreetly demonstrating his marksmanship at the fortress of Saint Emmanuel.
His goal was the legendary Mount Damavand. He remembered that Arn had a hang-up about this mountain, and he himself also had a great interest in it. The road he was now taking towards the east was also the continental highway, where the Lusitanian army had been swept away not long ago.
In addition to that, there was a man with a small group of about one hundred horsemen, running through the Parsian wilderness in order to avoid crossing paths with Arns army. He was the knight wearing a silver mask. This man, who imed to be the rightful heir to the throne of Pars, was headed towards the tomb of Kai Khosrow, the founder of the kingdom, at the request of a magician dressed in dark gray. He wanted to use the sword Rukhnabad as proof to all of Pars that he was the rightful king.
Following this man was Zandeh. He had always been loyal to Silver Mask, but this time, he had vague feelings of unease and doubt. He thought that one should not risk everything on obtaining a legendary sword. His Highness Hilmes was undoubtedly the rightful heir to the throne of Pars. It was true that he was now in an unfavorable positionpared to Arn, but wouldn''t it be better to think of another countermeasure? For example, when meeting alone with Guiscard, the king''s brother of Lusitania, couldnt they threaten him and take him as a hostage?
However, Zandeh did not say these words, and followed behind Hilmes. He knew that once Hilmes had decided on something, he would definitely see it through.
In the country of Pars, the countless threads that weave together the human world have formed a wide, and the people trapped within these threads are chasing their own threads, entangled in the mess of threads. To untangle all these threads, each person sits down at their own ce and works on their ideal tapestry. It will take a great deal of time.
But this doesn''t necessarily mean that the tapestry will ever be finished, or that all the threads wont be dyed a blood red before it ispleted.
Book 4: Chapter 5 (6)
Book 4: Chapter 5 (6)
Ecbatana had been the royal capital of Pars for over three hundred years, and now, even under the upation of Lusitanians, things seemed to be calm. The market was open as usual, and although the Parsians and the Lusitanians were at odds with each other, they still maintained order, buying, selling, eating, drinking, singing, and making noise. Although the Lusitanians used threats of violence to bargain for lower prices, the Parsians had also thought to raise their prices from the beginning. The citizens did not let themselves suffer under the bullying of the invaders, so both sides were evenly matched.
However, in a corner of the royal pce, a dark shadow began to rise, unimaginable to both Lusitanian forces and the citizens of Pars.
The Lusitanian courtiers and soldiers were on-edge, because the King''s brother Guiscard had been taken as a hostage at the hands of King Andragoras of Pars, who had escaped from the dungeon. Now, a tower in the royal pce was upied by Andragoras, and Guiscard was imprisoned in it.
"If wed killed Andragoras long ago, we never would have ended up in this situation. It seems that Archbishop Bodin was the only one that was right about this matter.
Montferrat sighed, but it was now toote for regrets.
That said, King Andragoras'' strength was truly beyond the imagination of the people of Lusitania. He could be handcuffed for more than half a year, and still have the strength to live after experiencing harsh torture. A bloody path led to the door of the room where Andragoras was lurking. More than ten reputable knights had been killed, not to mention the other soldiers who had fallen victim to Andragoras'' sword.
"When I saw that ck-d Parsian knight at Atropatene, I thought for sure that there could be no other knight as powerful, but it seems that Andragoras isnt inferior to that ck Knight at all."
Bauduin discreetly wiped the sweat from his forehead. Of course, Andragroras was able to upy a corner of the pce, partly because of his strength, but also because he held the king''s brother Guiscard as a hostage. Although the Lusitanian army had prepared archers, they did not dare act rashly, afraid of harming the king''s brother.
If they forced their way in, King Andragoras could kill Guiscard. Of course, this was why Andragoras had to take a person of sufficient status as his hostage. Everyone knew that the pir of Lusitania was not the king, but the king''s brother. If Guiscard was killed, the Lusitanian army would crumble on its own without Arns army even having to attack. Although Bauduin and Montferrat were both aplished military generals, they were far less capable of handling politics than Guiscard.
Even if they surrounded Andragoras and killed him with swords and a rain of arrows, it would have been a lost cause if Guiscard was killed before then. Even if King Innocentis VII was still alive, it would not be worthwhile.
"It would be better if it was not His Highness the King''s brother who was taken, but the King himself, who would prove useless as a hostage. Then, we wouldn''t have to worry so much about what strategy to use."
There were people who murmured these thoughts, but hurried to cover it up with a joking tone. Nobody was admonished, as all were aware that this was truly everyone''s sincere thoughts.
The two generals, Montferrat and Bauduin, came up with a way to negotiate with their "useless" king, visiting his sitting room.
"Your Majesty, please give us that Tahamine woman. We will use her as a hostage to negotiate with King Andragoras for the release of His Majesty''s brother."
Montferrat bluntly questioned King Innocentis VII. The king''s face turned from blue to red, then from red to blue, and finally to purple. The wavering of his mind was fully visible on his face, but his stubbornness did not budge at all. He insisted that taking Tahamine as a hostage was something that God would not allow.
When Montferrat, who could not stand the king''s stubbornness, was about to raise his voice, Baudiun turned pale and spoke up.
"Ive told Your Majesty from the beginning that this Tahamine woman was bad luck. But the past aside, is your brother or some pagan woman more important to Your Majesty right now?"
While the stubborn Innocentis was left speechless by this remark, a fragrance wafted gently by and a light powder drifted between the three men. All eyes turned in the same direction, gazing at the figure.
The Queen of Pars was standing in the doorway of the adjoining room.
Let me, Tahamine, repay the kindness that was shown to me by Your Majesty! As the Queen of a defeated nation, I could have been subjected to cruel torture, but youve treated me as a guest."
This was the premise. The ageless Queen of Pars, with a sultry beauty, asked to be allowed to convince her husband to put everything to rest before things got out of hand.
"Ah, Your Majesty, do not let this woman deceive you. If she is freely allowed to go back to Andragoras, there is no telling what kind of mischief they wille up with together."
"Watch your words, Bauduin!"
The king''s voice was so sharp that both generals felt as if their eardrums were about to be pierced by needles.
"Youre being a little too harsh in your suspicions, aren''t you? This lovely woman wants to solve the problem for us and return to her bloodthirsty husband,ing up with a reasonable way to solve things! God above, Tahamines courage has really moved me to tears. I dont want to allow it, but I must. You see why I must! The generals know the pain in my heart!"
As soon as he finished speaking, two streams of tears began to flow from the eyes of King Innocentis.
While bowing their heads deeply to their lord, Montferrat and Bauduin could not help but feel despair within. No, nothing more could be done at this rate!
This was decided upon, and the resurrected King and his Queen were thus able to meet again.
"You seem to be in good spirits, O Tahamine, my wife!"
Hearing King Andragorass voice, Tahamine walked toward the center of the room without even the slightest sound of footsteps. Her gauzy blouse reflected the light.
"How many years has it been since I snatched you from the hands of the Duke of Badakhshan? During this time, you have never loved me. You are a stubborn woman. Once the door of your heart is closed, it will never open again."
The smell of alcohol emanated from the king''s body. Not only because he had drunk wine for the first time in six months, but also because he had washed his wounds with it. His hair was loose, and he was wearing armor, but no helmet. These things had been obtained at his request by the Lusitanians. Since the king''s brother Guiscard was taken as a hostage, the Lusitanians were forced to do as they were told.
"I only truly love my child."
Tahamine''s voice was low, so low that it felt colder than the temperature in the dungeon.
"It is only natural for a mother to love her child."
Hearing her husband''s insincere reply, Tahamine suddenly became frantic. The tone of her voice raised throughout the room.
"Give me back my child! Give me back my child! Give me back the child you took from me!"
Ignoring his wife''s agitation, the king turned his head away.
"I heard from the Lusitanians and the torturers that Arn has led an army out of Peshawar fortress in the east and is now advancing towards Ecbatana. Isn''t this great news for Arns parents?"
Arns name did not seem to bring any warmth to Tahamines face. The passion seemed toe and go quickly, and Tahamines face, seemingly carved of white Serican marble, did not waver in the slightest. Her gauzy blouse that bore the light glowed like a firefly against the queens smooth skin, a stark contrast to her blood-soaked husband.
"There''s plenty of time for that."
Andragoras sat in a chair, the ttering of his sword and armor filling the chamber.
"O Tahamine, it took me quite a long time to make you mine. And after more than a decade, I still dont have your heart. Since it took so long to see you again after the defeat in the Battle of Atropatene, I have be ustomed to waiting, so I will wait once more!"
King Andragorasughed, like a thunderp that shook the sky.
In one corner of the wide room, the torturers, who had be the faithful servants of the resurrected king, were guarding Andragorass greatest weapon, the man who was boiling with shame and helpless, chained like a prisoner.
He was Guiscard, the King''s brother of Lusitania.
Arn and the others, who were continuing West, of course, were unaware of the sudden change of events that took ce in the royal capital of Ecbatana.
In the middle of May, the news of their capturing of two fortresses had spread throughout the wholend of Pars. It was generally believed that the continental highway seemed to be the road to victory.
With each advance of a farsang (about five kilometers), more and morerades came to join them. Ironically, the great strength of Kubard was nowhere to be seen among those who came to join them.
"This increase in troops is certainly a good thing, but it must mean even more headaches for the tactician."
The ck-d knight Daryun teased, while Narsus replied without a smile.
"Too many people want toe to our banquet without bringing a dish of their own. It is indeed giving me a headache!"
Hearing the two of them talking, Arn couldn''t help butugh. Right now, he was about to face an even bigger obstacle, but he had no way of knowing at this time.
At the end of May, a hymn of life rang out from the cattle cars of the Lusitanians. A pregnant woman had given birth to a baby. The woman''s strength was very poor and both lives were at stake, but because of assistance from Farangis and Alfreed, the baby was born safely.
"It is a healthy baby boy. No matter which gods he believes in, the heartspassion will illuminate the path of this child''s life."
Farangis smiled and handed the baby, wrapped in crude newborn clothing, to Estelle.
Tears welled up in Estelle''s eyes. They were certainly not tears of anger or sorrow. After the weight of countless tragic deaths, the birth of this baby held a remarkable significance. This fact transcended the hardships put forth by the state and religion, and shook the young girls heart.
Arn and his army had already made it a third of the way to the capital, Ecbatana.
At this time, the vast grasnds in the north of Pars surged up in dusty clouds, dying everything in the colors of war, expanding towards the south.
These were the grasnd people of the kingdom of Turan, a generations-old enemy of the Kingdom of Pars.
Book 5: Chapter 1 (1)
Book 5: Chapter 1 (1)
It was a rather refreshing morning. The summer sunlight fell on the ground like a shattered crystal, and a cool breeze was in the air. When the sun rises high enough in the sky, the dry heat will be unpleasant, but one can always avoid it by taking refuge in the shade. In the Kingdom of Pars, each of the four seasons had its own beautiful scenery and colors. But right now, the whole country stank of blood.
The me for this did not lie with nature, but with foolish humans. The two-legged creatures who sang of peace, yet continued to fight, had covered thends of Pars with blood in what should have been the beautiful early summer.
At the end of May in the year 321 of the Parsian calendar, troops of the Kingdom of Turan, north of the continental highway, rolled up gusts of sand and dust in a furious wave of people and horses rushing south. They broke through the borders of Pars and Sindhura, trying to take the wealthy countries of the continental highway into their own greedy hands.
The king of Sindhura was the young Rajendra, who had just formally dered his ession. Sincest year, Rajendra and his half-brother, Gadhevi, had been fighting for the throne. Finally, with the help of Arn, the crown prince of the neighboring Kingdom of Pars, Rajendra defeated his half-brother and took the throne. However, there were still many rebellious forces in Sindhura, and although the new king was sworn in, he had not yet had time to hold a formal coronation ceremony, and had to instead concentrate on reunifying the country. While he was busy, the "Rulers of the Grasnds", Turans army, attacked again. For Rajendra, this was not a good thing.
In the past, Sindhura had joined forces with Turan to invade Pars. But now, the situation was different. Rajendra and Prince Arn of Pars had made a pact.
"Go and tell Prince Arn of Pars!"
He said to "tell" Arn instead of "inform", which was a typical Rajendra-style tactic. He knew that it would be difficult for his forces to fight against the feared army of Turan by themselves, but only because Sindhura and Pars were now allied, could they repel this strong, new enemy. Therefore, he could reasonably cry out "Prince Arn, please help us! to seek reinforcements. However, Rajendra''s way of thinking was a bit different.
"If the Turanian forces move south to invade Pars, Arn, who is moving west to recapture the capital, will be in trouble. Then, if the fortress of Peshawar falls, Arn will be in great danger. I''d better inform him as soon as possible."
Rajendra''s analysis was certainly correct, but he did not say that the situation was also unfavorable to himself, only that he thought of doing a favor for Arn. This was what made Rajendras n so particr. Leaving aside this mans peculiar character, as Rajendra sent an emergency envoy to Arn, the invasion of the foreign army brought even more blood to thends of Pars.
Rajendra''s envoy crossed the border and arrived at Peshawar before the morning of June 1st. The person in charge of Peshawars security was Lucian, who had been appointed by Arn as the Satryup. After the envoys arrival, he gathered the main generals to exin the situation.
"Our mission is not to boast our martial valor and fight the enemy, but to ensure that His Highness the Crown Prince can take on the Lusitanian army without worries. We must maintain hold of Peshawar fortress.
After disying authority befitting one of his age and making his thoughts clear to his men, Lucian immediatelyid down several ns. The fortress of Peshawar had 15,000 soldiers, plenty of food and weapons, and a well for water, so there was no shortage of supplies. The fortress was originally intended for the entire army to be stationed, so there was no need to worry about rations. Lucian chose a knight named Parazada and a specially selected horse to be the messengers to head west.
On the afternoon of the same day when the emissary Parazada left the city and headed west, the soldiers standing on Peshawars watchtower noticed a cloud of smoke on the northern horizon.
"The Turanian army is attacking!"
Lucian, upon receiving this report, immediately closed the fortress gates and ordered the soldiers to strengthen all fortifications.
"We absolutely cannot leave the fortress! If we hold for five to ten days, His Highness the Crown Prince will return with his army. Everyone just needs to do their best to defend the fortress!"
If anyone other than Lucian had said that, he would have been considered a "coward who retreats instead of fighting. But since these words came from the well-respected Lucian, this argument was unheard. Sandbags were piled up against the inside of the tightly closed gate, and the Parsian army awaited the enemys attack.
Parazada, who had left Peshawar fortress as the emissary, was traveling on horseback towards the setting sun, racing to catch up with the army of Crown Prince Arn, heading west on the continental highway, still fifty farsang away (about 250 kilometers). Beforest year, Arn and his party had worked very hard to avoid crossing paths with the enemy, yet now, there was no one else on the highway.
After passing through several ces where the Parsian and Lusitanian armies had fought, Parazada traveled under the stars and continued to run non-stop into the next day. Although his horse had amazing speed and endurance, it was still mortal, and thus had physical limits. In the evening of the second day, the horse finally copsed.
Although it was one of the most famous horses in Pars, after a day and night of nonstop running, it could no longer continue on. Parazada stood helplessly in ce.
"Get going! Hey! Move!"
He desperately pulled on the reins, but the horse was already exhausted to the extreme. Although it tried to keep going in response, it suddenly fell to the ground with its front legs bent. Blood bubbled from its mouth, and the horse was already dead.
The Parsian had a strong fondness for this horse, but now he didn''t even have time to grieve its death. Parazada began to continue on foot.
Even as young and strong as he was, he was exhausted after the fierce ride, and his feet seemed to stumble. During that period of riding, he had not drank even a drop of water, let alone slept. He had barely gone a thousand paces when he saw the shadow of a lone rider further down the road.
He saw the man advancing slowly towards the west. When he noticed the mans leisurely pace, a thought came to Parazada''s mind. He called out to the traveler, dragging his tired feet to catch up. The man on the horse regarded him with little interest.
"Did you say something?"
"I don''t have time to exin. Please lend me your horse!"
"Sorry, but I''m using it right now. If I lend it to you, won''t I have to walk?"
The man reminded him of a tiger, his left eye scarred over, while his right eye burned with a strong, powerful light and a hint of mockery. This one-eyed man was the former Marzban, Kubard. He was not worried at all, and seemed to be enjoying his trip.
"If you lend me your horse, I swear to pay you back."
"Let''s talk about that when you really have something to offer!"
Taunted by the other party, Parazada could not help but get agitated. He felt that this one-eyed man was deliberately hindering his mission.
"I''m sorry, but I''ll have to resort to force."
With his body and mind exhausted, Parazada drew his sword. Seeing the opponent''s glowing white de, Kubardsid-back attitude remained unchanged.
"Dont bother! I''m very strong," he said. And unless you want your loved ones to cry for you, it''s better to keep your own life!"
"Shut up! You braggart!"
While shouting wildly, Parazada swung his sword towards the man on the horse. However, the strong blow did not even reach the man''s body. The man, as if it was a great inconvenience for him, pulled his own greatsword from its sheath. Sparks flew in front of his eyes, and Parazada fell to the ground. Fatigue and hunger came all at once, and he could not get up. Anticipating the final blow from his opponent, Parazada used hisst remaining strength and shouted: "How hateful! Will this be the end of Pars? Just because this unreasonable man won''t lend me his horse!"
When the one-eyed man heard these words, he stopped his horse as he was just about to leave, and looked back at Parazada over his broad shoulder.
"You say that I, Kubard, am an unreasonable man? You dont even consider your own impetuous recklessness, and speak such nonsense.
The name that the man had said flowed through Parazada''s body like a wave.
"Kubard? Lord Kubard, the famed Marzban?"
"No, we just have the same name. I am not such a great man!"
This was, of course, a joke, but Parazada didn''t seem to notice. He managed to brace his tired body and put his sword into its scabbard, forgetting even the pain from the blow to his head by Kubard, and lowered his head to the ground with both hands.
"I didn''t know it was Lord Kubard, so please forgive me for the rudeness. If your lordship does not understand, thats only natural. However, there is a reason for my desperation. The fate of the nation of Pars is at stake"
Kubard felt that Parazada was exaggerating a bit, but seeing his serious expression, he decided to hear him out. Afterwards, Kubard lent his horse to Parazada, and he proceeded on foot. He sat down on the roadside under a tree. If he just waited here, he would surely meet Prince Arns army. Kubard decided to sleep under the tree, and settled down.
Book 5: Chapter 1 (2)
Book 5: Chapter 1 (2)
Parazada, who had borrowed a horse from Kubard, finally managed to catch up with Arn''s armyte that night. As he hurried towards the army that was slowly advancing west in the moonlight, a group of men appeared in front of him and blocked his path.
"Who are you, insolent person? Who would so arrogantly try to approach the camp of His Highness the Crown Prince?"
The speaker asked as they drew their sword. Parazada could not help but be surprised that the voice that reached his ears was female, and pleasant as a musical tone. After hearing Parazada''s report, Farangis immediately took him to the Prince''s camp. The tactician Narsus, the Marzban Kishward, and other important generals were all gathered together, and Parazada''s report seemed to have been a bomb dropped among them.
"The Turanian army has crossed the border"
There were no cowards among those who followed Crown Prince Arn. However, they all felt a pang of tension. Even Daryun and Narsus couldn''t remain calm. Turan, the Ruler of the Grasnds, was an age-old enemy of Pars. Lusitanians were certainly hateful, but they all had the impression that Turan was an even more formidable enemy.
Before going to the Land of Silk, Daryun had fought in battle with the brother of the Turanian King, and cut the fierce general down from his horse. From that time on, Daryun himself became an enemy of Turan, and while he came and went from the country of Serica, there were several people who wanted to take his life. However, there was also chaos within Turan, and assassinations and schemes weremon, so there had been norge-scale hostile acts towards Pars for two or three years.
But now, Turan was invading from the south. This came as a big shock to the Parsian people. After seeing that the Parsian army was about to take back the king''s capital, Ecbatana, from the hands of the Lusitanian army, Turan intervened from the side. And the one who tipped them off had been the neighboring king of Sindhura, Rajendra.
"He''s exactly the kind of person who would say that! The one who needs saving is Sindhura, isnt it? At this point in time, he still wants us to think hes doing us a favor." Kishward could not help but say with a bitter smile.
"What is Narsuss opinion?"
Daryun asked his friend.
Before that, Narsus hadnt said a word, and kept his eyes closed in serious thought. Only when Daryun pointed a finger at him did the young tactician finally open his eyes. With the crowd now looking at him, Narsus expressed his opinion clearly in one sentence.
"I think we''d better turn back the army, Your Highness."
They had finally embarked on the road to liberate Ecbatana, but now they would have to turn back. It was a major disappointment, but there was no other choice.
The worst-case scenario was to be attacked by the Lusitanian army from the East and the Turanian army from the West, so it would be best to take advantage of the fact that these enemies had not joined forces to attack together. This is what Narsus said to the crowd.
Farangis shrugged her shoulders.
"I''m sure Prince Rajendra will be pping his hands in sess."
"If it makes him happy, so be it. Anyway, his thoughts are nothing before His Highness Arn''s great n to restore the country."
Narsus made a clear decision, and Farangis and the others nodded their approval. The armys new course had been decided, but the Knight in ck, Daryun, cocked his head.
"We must turn back, but if the Lusitanian army knows that the Turanian army is invading, they may stille after us. We should conceal this matter!"
"No, there is no need to conceal it."
Narsus'' answer was as clear as ever. Not only did he not want to conceal it, but he even wanted to inform the Lusitanians of the Turanian invasion and the Parsian armys new course. He reasoned that if he made it public that "because of the invasion of the Turanian army, the Parsian army had hurriedly returned to the East ", the Lusitanian army would certainly want to confirm the authenticity of this information. Once they knew that it was the Parsians themselves who released this information, the Lusitanians would be wary. They would be convinced that "this could be a trap, so we shouldnt attack yet", and as a result, they would just hold their breath and watch the Parsians leave, and would not attack.
On the other hand, even if the Lusitanian army attacked from the royal capital, it did not matter. The Lusitanian army was only able to go against the Parsian army because of the strong walls of the royal capital, Ecbatana. If they dared to leave the citys walls to fight in the field, Narsus had over thirty tactics in mind to defeat them, and drive them back to the city in just one battle.
Narsus made this statement to his colleagues. In fact, Narsus had an even more powerful strategy in mind, but he did not want to present it at this time.
Since the decision had been made, there was no need to bring up unnecessary issues.
"Then, immediately prepare the army to return east. Everyone, please make preparations to leave immediately."
Hearing Arns order, Narsus said to one of hispanions.
"Lady Farangis, please lead 500 cavalrymen to Peshawar first to raise the morale of the soldiers defending the fortress there."
"Understood."
It was a dangerous task, but the beautiful Kahina with long ck silky hair readily agreed. Then, Parazada, who had been silently supporting his tired body against one side of the military council table, got up and knelt down in front of the Crown Prince.
"Then, I will lead Lady Farangis to the fortress of Peshawar. Is it possible to lend me two horses?"
Arn''s dark eyes floated with a worried look.
"You are too tired. Rest for one night and set out with the infantry tomorrow!"
"Thank you, Your Highness, for your concern, but I don''t feel like resting at all. Please allow me to travel with Lady Farangis."
"I see, it''s up to you. However, is there a reason you need to borrow two horses?"
"One is to repay the person who lent me this horse. Only thanks to his generosity was I able to appear in front of Your Highness."
Because Kubard had asked for secrecy beforehand, Parazada did not mention his name. In any case, the person who lent the horse to the messenger was a benefactor of their army. Arn conveyed this to Farangis, and ordered the attendants to prepare a meal for Parazada.
Parazada declined the meat-based dishes and asked only for a bowl of wheat porridge and ale with eggs and honey.
The extreme fatigue had made his stomach weak, and he had to avoid heavy food. After finishing the porridge as fast as possible, Parazada drank all the ale, but when he tried to stand up, he staggered and fell to the ground. A short timeter, a loud snoring was heard.
"Let him have a good rest! He should sleep well before the effects of the medicine in the ale wear off!"
Parazada was exhausted. If he didn''t rest before riding such a long distance again, it might kill him. Arn knew that it was useless to reason with him, so he yed a little trick. After giving instructions to arrange a bed for the snoring knight, Arn nodded to Narsus. This was a wordless instruction for Narsus to act immediately. Narsus nodded back, knowing that he had also instructed the servant boy m to act immediately, as nned.
After seeing m leave, Narsus smiled at the Crown Prince and said,
"Are you sorry to be turning back, Your Highness?"
"I suppose so. Its a shame, but it''s for the best."
These were Arn''s sincere words. There had been a great deal of suffering since the Battle of Atropatene, and if things went too smoothly, it was rather disconcerting. It was only natural that there were obstacles. That said, it was rather surprising that Turan had not invaded Pars before now.
Narsus spected on this matter. Perhaps it was because there was a lot of internal strife in Turan, and there had been no avable power to attack other countries. Once things had settled down, they looked around at their neighbors and found that every country was in a state of division and chaos, so theyd finally made up their mind to attack.
Although they were also horse-riding people, the social structures of Pars and Turan are different. Parsians had a fixed residence and engaged in agriculture andmerce, while Turan was a nomadic nation that, because of its wealth, dominated other countries to collect taxes or plunder. Plundering was not a crime in Turan, but a very important industrial tool. They did not have to use the name of the gods like Lusitania, and for them, plundering was certainly considered a brave act.
The two captains, the "Mardan fu Mardan" Daryun and the "Tahir" Kishward, had to prepare their respective forces and left the Crown Prince. Arn took Jaswant to the small procession of wagons near the camp. These people were the Lusitanian refugees led by the apprentice knight Etoile, also known as Estelle. Since Pars now had to turn back in order to fight a new enemy, they could not continue to travel together.
"So youre leaving us behind? Isn''t that irresponsible after wevee all this way together? What are we to do with our sick and children?"
Arn felt that he might be chastised in this way, but Etoile just looked straight at Arn, who had apologized to her, and did not say anything. Then, she loosened her interlocked hands and nodded to the foreign Prince, who was only two months younger than her.
"It is the duty of a sovereign to go and rescue his men when theyre under attack. It is good that you decided so quickly. Thank you very much for keeping watch over our sick and children, and allowing us to travel with you."
Arn could not help but feel shocked. He knew that Estelle was a very brave girl, but frankly speaking, he was surprised at her understanding. After saying thanks, Estelle asked.
"By the way, what kind of gods do those Turanians believe in?"
"I''m not sure about the details, but it seems that they worship a sun god! I believe its name is Dayan."
"Is that so? Then theyre all pagans, anyway. However, please don''t wipe them all out, because the remaining Turanians can be converted to the faith of Yaldabaoth. It would be a shame to kill them all."
Arn thought Estelle was joking, but the young girl had a serious look on her face. In any case, her wish for the Parsian army to win was sincere, so Arn gave a solemn thanks and told the young girl that he had left sufficient food and medicine with them. The maiden''s reply was this.
"I do not intend to ept this as a gift. Since it is a loan, we will definitely repay it. If you heathens die, you will fall to hell, and it is impossible to return from that world. So you muste back alive.
Book 5: Chapter 1 (3)
Book 5: Chapter 1 (3)
The Parsian army quickly began to turn back.
The Lusitanian army had not moved. Theyd been trying to make their move, but still could not. His Highness Guiscard, the king''s brother, who had always been at the center ofmand, giving out judgments and orders, and carrying many responsibilities, had been taken prisoner by King Andragoras III of Pars, who had escaped from the dungeon. Attempting to rescue him could make an even bigger mess of things. The Lusitanian army dared not take any risks, because they thought that the Parsian army''s sudden change of course must have some hidden agenda. They could only grit their teeth, hold their breath, and watch as the Parsian army turned around again.
Even a wise man like Narsus was not omniscient, and could not fully predict what was going on in the royal capital of Ecbatana. In his mind, he came up with dozens of possible scenarios, including the scenario of "King Andragoras escaping on his own". However, he did not know that this particr scenario had now be the reality. After all, human intelligence has its limits.
In any case, the fact that the Lusitanian army refrained from taking action was a good thing for the Parsians. The army began to turn back its formation under Narsussmand and move east. Daryun and Kishwardsmand was so efficient that there was no confusion among the army in the dead of night.
By this time, the 500 horsemen led by Farangis had already been moving east under the moonlight for some time. Farangiss beauty and bravery were not a secret in Arns army, so these cavalrymen did not have any shame following a womansmand. On the contrary, they acted as if they weremanded by a goddess, and were extraordinarily energetic.
After running two farsang (about ten kilometers), the group came across a man. This man had been walking on foot down the road, waving his hand leisurely. Farangis turned her horse and faced the lion-like man in front of her.
"What are you? If youre an evil spirit, I dont see any horns."
"I am the man who lent his horse to the messenger from the fortress of Peshawar."
"Oh, so you are our benefactor? Then, of course, we shall repay the loan."
Farangis signaled, and a knight brought over a horse, already saddled. At the same time, a heavy leather pouch was handed to Kubard, filled with gold as a reward.
"We should give you more in return, but we must first hurry to Peshawar. I hope you can ept just the gold for now! This is from His Highness the Crown Prince."
"Oh, how fortunate!"
Kubard said. What he eximed was not of Arns thoughtfulness, but Farangiss beauty. In both the Parsian and Sindhurannguages, there was such a phrase as "beautiful as silver moonlight". Unlike Gieve, Kubard never considered himself a poet, so he did not express his feelings in an artistic way. What he said instead, was something else.
"I''ll go to the fortress of Peshawar too! Perhaps I can be of some help."
"Do you have confidence in your fighting ability?"
"Some."
These were words of extreme humilitying from this man. However, he promptly revealed his true nature.
"I consider myself to be the second strongest knight in Pars."
This phrase was borrowed from the young man Mene whom he had met not long ago. This seemed to have little effect on Farangis. She looked at Kubard''s imposing figure with an unfriendly gaze, said "do whatever you like", and started to move her horse again. Kubard smiled lightly and followed.
The Turanian army was very likely brave and strong enough to rival the Parsian army, however, they were not so good in siege battles. It would not be easy for them to break through the Parsian army, led by the Satryup Lucian, who was holding down the fortress of Peshawar.
The fortress, made of red sandstone, was tall and strong, preventing the Turanian armys attacks. In addition, they had no weapons built for besieging a fortress, the gates were barricaded, and arrows raining down from the walls made the Turanian army helpless. Relying on direct attacks would only cause more of their own losses. Although only two or three days had passed, the battle was already at a stalemate.
Tarkhan, Dizaboulos, Ilterish, Bo, Basmyl, Karluk and other powerful Turanian military generals gathered to hold a meeting on the southern bluff, where they could still see the fortress of Peshawar. The Turanians, more so than the Parsians, were horse-riding people, and even their meetings were held on horseback. Looking out over the red fortress, they expressed a variety of opinions.
Tarkhan spoke first. He was arge man with a red and ck beard covering the lower part of his face, and a muscr chest and arms. He was thirty-five years old. When it came to fierce Turanian generals, he was always mentioned first. His voice was so deep and powerful that it would make one''s belly twist from the vibration.
"The fortress of Peshawar is well defended. However, the Parsians will note out of the fortress to fight, and will simply hide and wait for theirpanions toe to their aid. Luring them out of the fortress is a must, but before we can even think about a countermeasure, we must first give up the intention of attacking the fortress."
Then it was Ilterish who spoke.
"Its fine if the Parsians don''t leave the fortress, as we don''t have to worry about them attacking Sindhura. Why don''t we turn around and take Sindhura first?"
The young Ilterish was a member of the House of the King of Turan, and was known as a "Prince". He was of medium stature, with white knife scars clearly visible on his sun-bleached forehead and left cheek, and a sharp and courageous look in his eyes. His father was the brother of the king of Turan, who had been killed fighting with a Parsian named Daryun. His heart not only burned with the fire of revenge, but also harbored ambition. He wanted to defeat Sindhura before destroying the Parsians to enhance his own reputation of courage.
"The Prince is too impatient."
The one whose bitter smile stopped Ilterishs bloodlust was Karluk. He had served as an envoy to the Kingdom of Silk, as well as Pars, and was an important person with a wide range of knowledge; and of course, he was very proud of this. The young and exuberant Prince Ilterish did not conceal his antipathy towards him at all.
"Humph! What are we to do then? Stand here and gaze at the red fortress from afar, crying, I can''t take it! I can''t take it!'' Is that all?"
"If that''s what the Prince wants to do, be my guest!"
"What did you say?!"
Believing that the other man was deliberately provoking him, Ilterishs gaze took on a dangerous glint. Karluk was unmoved.
"I was just thinking about the true goals of the King in the royal capital, Samangan. The first thing is to show the Parsians what we are capable of. Sindhura can wait."
Once they heard the names of Samangan and the king, the generals could not help but slightly reign in their expressions.
The capital of the Turanian Kingdom was called Samangan. Although it was the capital, it was very different from the capital of Pars, Ecbatana, as it did not have towering walls and prosperous city streets. Turan was a nomadic nation, and in times of peace, they collected taxes from caravans passing through their vast territory, and relied on the proceeds from silver and rock salt trading for their finances. The Turanians had no concept of settlements, but a reliable base was still indispensable. Samangan was their base, and they built their royal pce among the green valleys, surrounded by 20,000 tents,rge and small.
The Turanian pce itself was also arge tent. ording to records of traveling merchants who have seen the pce, the general description is as follows.
"It was a huge quadrangle, about a hundred paces on each side, three times as high as thences used by the cavalry. The pirs supporting therge tent were twelve in number, each as thick as a human body. There was a partially covered patio with a circr roof. The walls of the tent were formed by six ovepping pieces of thick cloth, with air circting between them to prevent the heat of summer and the chill of winter. The innermost cloth was silk, which the king of Turan had purchased from the Land of Silk at the price of 10,000 heads of sheep. The silk cloth had seven colors and was embroidered with depictions of beautiful women, sacred animals, and flowers. The floor was covered with carpet, and many rattan chairs covered in fur"
This nomadic nation had seen a great change in its prestige due to the leadership of their king. In January of this year, after a bloody struggle for power, King Tokhtamysh had taken the throne and swore to "enrich the country with the treasures of the south". In addition to the hatred for Pars that still ran deep in their hearts from the murder of the previous King''s brother when they were defeated four years previous, theyd received reports that Pars was now in chaos after being invaded by a foreign country from the West. Turan felt that there was no longer any reason for them to hesitate, and decided to invade Pars. And so, the Turanians had begun to move south. Of course, these things had all been considered by Narsus. For Turanians, plundering was an important part of their lives, so "what''s wrong with plundering people who have ample ess to wealth"? Of course, the party being plundered could not agree with such an argument.
While the Turanian army hesitated, deciding what to do in front of the walls of Peshawar, amotion broke out in the Turanian campte at night on June 4th. It turned out that a group of Parsians was trying to infiltrate the fortress of Peshawar in the dark. This was the advance party led by Farangis.
"A group of unsuspecting Parsians! Do they think they can infiltrate under the cover of night with such a small number of men? Let''s show them that they miscalcted!"
Generally speaking, the Turanians had better nighttime eyesight than Parsians. In the past, the Parsians had suffered against the Turanian army in several nighttime battles. Although Farangis knew this, in this situation, there was no other way but to break through in the dark. The first task was to create a small diversion, and Kubard took on the dangerous role of bait. In any situation, Farangis was always reluctant to delegate more dangerous tasks to others, but she felt that if this "danger" encountered someone like this one-eyed man, they would immediately flee.
Kubard then acted as a decoy. He instructed his assigned men to hide res in the Turanian armys camp, and then he himself swung his great sword left and right and sped forward. Seeing Kubards brave posture, a Turanian knight leapt onto his horse and went to meet him.
"I am Ilterish, a member of the royal family of Turan, bearing the title of Prince. If you want to get to Peshawar fortress, you have to pass through me first!"
From Ilterishs standpoint, he had made a very exaggerated statement in the Parsiannguage, however, the other party turned a deaf ear to it as if hed heard nothing, and began to advance with his horse.
"Do you intend to leave without even hearing the name of a military general? Youre all barbarians who don''t know how to behave!"
Ilterish shouted as he approached and swung his sword hard. The opponent raised his sword to block his attack.
The sound of des shing rang out and sparks flew, turning a small piece of the night into daylight, and Ilterish saw that his opponent''s left eye was blinded. Soon, they were immediately swallowed up by darkness again. The opponent had no intention of fighting. He deflected Ilterishs chop and turned his horse''s head towards Peshawar. He then threw ament to his opponent over his shoulder.
"I''ll let you go today, so hurry up and go back to drinking your mother''s milk!"
"Damn it! Such nonsense"
Ilterish looked enraged. He drove his horse forward, swung his sword,and the sound of the des and sparks repeatedly flew from the darkness. The sparks shone against armor, in a moment of dazzling brilliance.
Ilterish was very strong, so even Kubard couldn''t handle his attacks with just one hand. He changed from defense to attack, and took a real fighting stance. Another strong blow came at Ilterish, and a numbing pressure was felt through the de that took the blow.
The two sides went back and forth, hacking at each other for five or six rounds, but it was difficult to sustain a solo fight with enemy and allies mixed together. From time to time, other men and horses got between the two, and Kubard and Ilterish were separated. The whirlwind of melee kept expanding, swallowing the two of them.
Farangis watched the chaos with cold eyes, and rode into the Turanian armys formation. Her aim was not to cut down Turanian soldiers, but to rush towards the gates of Peshawar. Farangis had to take advantage of Kubard''s brave fighting to distract the attention of the Turanian army and try her best to approach the gates. However, her movements were still discovered.
"Parsians"
Just at the moment when some Turanian soldiers began to shout wildly and swung their swords towards Farangis, a short scream was heard, and a man on a horse rolled down to the ground. It turned out that Farangis shot an arrow from extremely close range. Letting out a cry, the de wielding Turanian soldiers continued attacking the despised Parsian left and right. The sound of bow strings rang out one after another, and the sound of men wailing and horses falling echoed one after another. Even the Turanians excellent night vision could not see her unpredictable movements.
"Ho-ho-ho! The best archer in Pars might just be that woman! If Mene saw her, Im sure he would want topete with her!"
Kubard, who was still wielding his sword in the midst of the chaos, also had time to observe Farangis'' divine skills. The unswayed enemy Ilterish shouted through the melee, still looking for Kubard, which Kubard pointedly ignored. The enemy was now outnumbered, and he had an important job to do. Now was not the time topare sword skills.
Farangis and a few dozen of her men made it to the fortress gate. As she lined up her troops, she called to the wall, "Open the gates! Open the doors! I am an emissary of the Crown Prince, Farangis!"
This musical voice still remained in the memories of the soldiers and generals of Peshawar. Lucian, who was in charge of the defense of the fortress wall, hurriedly gave the signal. Several sandbags were removed and the gate opened enough for Farangis to ride in. Just as she galloped through the gate, she turned her horse and struck with her sword. The Turanian soldier who was hot on her heels took a blow to the neck and fell to the ground. Kubard then ran in as well. As a result, less than a hundred Parsian soldiers entered the fortress, while the rest fled in the darkness ording to their ns. They went back towards the east to join Arn''s army.
"Three days, just hold for three more days, and then the reinforcements will arrive. His Highness the Crown Prince is not the kind of person who leaves hispanions behind."
When Farangis finished speaking, a cheer rang out from the city.
"Not only Lady Farangis, but even Lord Kubard, the Marzban, has alsoe. There''s nothing to fear from the tactless Turanian army!
After Lucian made such a deration, the cheers rose again. Farangis looked to the people around her, only to see the one-eyed lion, who was now covered with blood stains, leisurely responding to the cheers of the soldiers and gently raising his stout right arm.
"You were a Marzban?"
"More or less."
"So that''s how it is. It seems there are all kinds of people, even among the Marzban."
This sentence could not be considered apliment, but only Farangiss true feelings.
Book 5: Chapter 1 (4)
Book 5: Chapter 1 (4)
While the Parsian army weed the result of the battle, the Turanians could not help but be filled with disappointment and rage. The Parsians morale had clearly been boosted by the fact that their reinforcements had sessfully entered the fortress.
Prince Ilterish angrily rebuked hisrades.
"Can you still call yourselves warriors of Turan when a woman manages to break through our defenses? You should consider this a disgrace to your names and the achievements of your ancestors!"
Being scolded with such fury, Tarkhans generals were silent. It was true that what theyd done was disgraceful, but Ilterish could not say that he was not also partially responsible.
"Listen up! In order to restore our reputation, we must capture the fortress of Peshawar, bring that woman here, and show them what were capable of!"
Tarkhan countered Ilterishs statement.
"Please don''t put the cart before the horse. Our aim is to take down the entire Parsian army and bring these years of rivalry to a conclusion. Isn''t it a bit trivial to capture a woman, while screaming about your own regrets? As soon as we destroy Pars, that woman will understand that we are not that easy to mess with."
This argument was sound. Just when Ilterish was about to respond, Karluk spoke first.
"You are right. However, our current situation is extremely unfavorable. The king must be very unhappy too. Is there any good solution?"
"Theres always a solution. What do you all think of this n?"
Tarkhan''s proposal was to abandon Peshawar and move west towards the continental highway. The main Parsian army would likely turn around from the west in order to rescue their fortress. Instead of continuously attacking Peshawar and consuming time and troops day and night, it would be better to abandon the fortress and advance westward and wait for the arrival of the rest of the Parsian army. As long as Pars'' main army was destroyed, Peshawar fortress would wither away without much effort, like a tree that has lost its roots.
"In other words, this will be a head-on battle with the Parsian army. Could we still lose to them?"
Tarkhan finished with a smile, and Ilterish interjected somewhat excitedly, "I don''t know about the rest of you, but I''m confident that I won''t lose. However, the problem does not lie here. Please think about King Tokhtamysh. Is this what he would want?"
Having said that, Ilterish turned his horse and left. The generals who stayed behind whispered anxiously.
"The prince is too eager to get what he wants."
"No wonder. It would be a disgrace to the Prince if he could not secure Peshawar before the King''s own expedition."
"Not only the Prince, but we wouldnt be off the hook either! The king is a stern man!"
The generals fell into a silence, which was soon broken by Tarkhan, who murmured.
"The Prince has a point. If we don''t save the credit for the destruction of Parsian army for the King, we may displease him, right?"
"That means we must fight in moderation."
Karluk agreed with a deeply self-deprecating tone.
From the early morning the next day, the Turanian armys attack seemed to be extra fierce. Once they decided to attack the fortress, they had to do their best. The strength of the Turanian army was 60,000 in total, all of them were cavalry. 30,000 now surrounded the fortress of Peshawar, shooting arrows at the fortress, hitting the gates with thick wood trunks, and nailing stakes on the walls in order to climb them. The Parsian army, on the other hand, was busy responding to the siege, and Kubard continued encouraging the soldiers.
"Don''t worry, I''m the Braggart Kubard! Only for a flock of beautiful women would I ever give the fortress to those grasnd shepherds!"
This man seemed to equate his nickname of "The Braggart" with prestigious titles like "Warrior of Warriors" and "Twin de General", and the soldiers couldn''t help butugh. Because of such jokes, the soldiers forgot their fatigue and anxiety and raised their morale to face the onught of the Turanian army. This man, Kubard, helped the soldiers to face the difficulties with a unique approach different from that of Daryun and Kishward.
The Turanian army then brought out stone throwers. It was Turans usual practice to let the craftsmen of thends they had previously upied make weapons for them, and all the materials were locally sourced.
However, the performance of the stone throwers was not ideal. After throwing only fifty stones the size of a man''s head into the fortress of Peshawar, the contraption itself fell apart because it could no longer withstand the recoil, and the Turanian army brought out a second one. Farangis shot down the soldier who manned the stone thrower from a far distance away. Another soldier tried to man it instead, so this time Farangis aimed at the wooden joints that held the weapon together and shot an arrow. The screws broke loose, and the stone thrower burst into pieces on the ground.
Enemy and ally alike were impressed by Farangiss skills. After this, the Turanian army, who had given up the stone thrower, started to dig a tunnel to make an invasion route into the fortress. Ten thousand soldiers lined up shields at the work site, blocked the rain of arrows, and violently dug up the earth. It seemed that there was no good strategy to deal with the Parsian armys defenses. It was already dawn of the third day when Farangis thought of an idea. Her side could also dig a tunnel and then fill it with water.
"Parsian army!"
The loud shout startled the Turanian army. The generals leapt from their beds and jumped on their war horses.
The Turanian army originally thought that Pars woulde from the west, so they had deployed the rest of their troops in the west to wait. However, ording to Narsuss n, the Parsian army took a detour around the south side of the continental highway, crossed into the territory of the Kingdom of Sindhura, and approached the fortress of Peshawar from the east in the darkness of the night.
At dawn, the Parsian army and the Turanian army began to sh to the east of the fortress of Peshawar. From the Turanian armys standpoint, they were pinned down between the Parsian army inside the fortress and the Parsian army outside the fortress. If they had been on the vast ins, they would have been able to fight on equal terms; however, at this time, they had lost their first chance and could only watch the Parsian army rush into their formation. A general of Pars lept to the head of the formation and called out.
"Rascals who take advantage of our misfortune and attack for no reason! We''re tired of hearing the name Rulers of the Grasnds, and in the future Turan should call itself the Scavengers of the Grasnds!"
The one who shouted at the enemy was the "Twin de General" Kishward. He wielded his two swords in his hands, and steered his horse with only his feet, and began to draw blood with his des. Seeing this sight, a brave general of Turan advanced forward with his horse. Kishward spoke even more venomously when he saw this enemy present himself.
"He who does not grasp his own arrogance, who wants to invade another country out of ambition alone, will not only die in a foreignnd, but will also bring about the destruction of his own country! Do you want to bring about your own destruction, be a ve to your country, and go down in history as a fool?"
"You''re the man who
He could not finish this sentence, because he did not speak Parsian fluently enough. Because the onlynguage considered the internationalmonnguage on the continental highway was Parsian, if they wanted tomunicate with each other, the Turanians had to use the Parsiannguage to do so. Bo knew he could not battle his opponent verbally.
"Whatever! Take this!"
Before the words left his mouth, the spear had swung and thrust out. The blow was exceptional in terms of attack and speed. Kishward cleverly blocked the blow with the sword in his left hand, and then sharply swung the sword in his right hand horizontally. The white de should have sliced Bos throat, which was left wide open, but the brave Turanian general deftly swung his spear hilt and bounced the blow back. With a leap of a warhorse, the two opponents swapped positions.
While Kishward and Bo were fighting, Daryun rushed into the Turanian armys camp. The generals to his left and right skillfully gave orders to disperse the Turanian army and make their way to the gates of Peshawar. Those who stood in the way were cut down one by one by Daryun''s longsword, blood spilling all over the ground. Even after witnessing this sight, there were still some soldiers who darted towards Daryun without fear.
"Hey! Guy in ck! You are Daryun, right?"
A dangerous light emanated from the eyes of the Turanian warrior. He was the one who carried the title of Prince, Ilterish.
"In more than a thousand days, I have never given up my revenge for my fathers death! Now, I want you to pay with your life!"
Daryun had no intention of counting how many people''s hatred he carried. Taking the lives of others was certainly a sin, but every person he killed was the result of a dignified battle, and Daryun was not ashamed of what he had done. Nevertheless, the other side hated Daryun, as was a natural expression of human emotions.
"I don''t know who you are, but if I let you kill me, it wouldn''t be fair to the others who seek revenge. So I can''t let you kill me here."
"Don''t you worry! I will apologize to those people for you."
As soon as he said these words, Ilterish began to attack. Just at the moment when a fierce one-on-one fight was about to begin, several arrows fell down around them, and a stray arrow pierced the neck of Ilterishs mount. The horse let out a wailing cry, while the rider let out a curse, and both fell back together in the sand and dust.
"Let''s fight another day!"
With these words, Daryun galloped his ck horse toward his original destination, the fortress of Peshawar. The fortress gates had now opened, and he saw a familiar knight rushing out of the fortress wielding a greatsword.
"Ah, aren''t you Lord Kubard?"
Daryuns eyes widened.
"I haven''t seen you since Atropatene, but it''s good to see you safe and sound! Have you alsoe to follow His Highness Prince Arn?"
"By the look of things here, that seems to be the n for now."
In the midst of a reply, Kubard''s greatsword made a heavy metallic sound as it shed at the armor of the Turanian soldiers, splitting the enemy''s head from their body, and sshing bloody patterns onto the ground. Daryun smiled after hearing Kubards reply, and also swung his longsword.
The rainbow of human blood in mid-air, and the image of Daryun and Kubard wielding their swords side by side was a most reassuring sight to the eyes of the Parsian soldiers. Of course, to the Turanian soldiers, these two men were like a cmity in human form. They began to run away from the two des that yed a melody of fear, cowering and death.
The horns of retreat sounded from Turans camp. Seeing that the situation had taken a turn, Karluk had ordered his soldiers to give the retreat signal. The order of Turan''s army remained well organized in the midst of the fighting. The retreat operation began. Bo, who had fought with Kishward for more than twenty rounds, also put away his spear and turned his horse around before the winner could be determined.
The Turanian army, which had been attacking non-stop until that point, had to halt its advance because of its failure to capture Peshawar.
When Crown Prince Arn, who had the falcon Azrael resting on his left shoulder, entered the fortress, Peshawar erupted into wild cheers. Lucian, who weed the crown prince into the fortress, could not help but shed tears of relief. At this time, the Parsian army also received a message from King Rajendra of Sindhura, who knew that the Parsian army had entered the fortress, and that he woulde with 10,000 infantry and 20,000 cavalry and war elephant troops to join them. The situation seemed to have improved very suddenly.
"Humph! This man still acts only ording to his own convenience!"
Kishward said with a bitter smile, and the others also had a simr expression. There was no doubt that King Rajendra of Sindhura had stood by and watched the battle between the army of Turan and the army of Pars while doing his own calctions. Daryun''s argument was that Rajendra must have prayed to the gods of Sindhura for both of their nations to lose. No one disagreed.
However, the Turanian army regrouped a farsang (~5 km) west of Peshawar, and on June 8th they regrouped in front of the fortress gates. Just as the Parsians were about to face them, an earthquake struck.
It was a rather violent and lengthy earthquake. When the tremors stopped, the confidence of both the Parsian and Turanian armies were greatly affected, and both sides put away their des and returned to their camps without fighting. The generals and soldiers of both countries whispered about such a huge earthquake that they had not experienced before. The Parsians in particr were not only amazed at the magnitude of the earthquake, but also had an inexplicable fear of this incident, and most couldnt help but lower their voices. They just hoped that nothing unexpected would happen.
"The djin are really starting to mor. A wind carrying a foul omen seems to be blowing towards the northwest
The kahina Farangis frowned and looked out from the top of the fortress wall to the northwest with a sad face. On the other side of the rugged mountain range, there was a high and steep peak with a strange aura and many unknown legends. This was Mount Damavand.
Book 5: Chapter 2 (1)
Book 5: Chapter 2 (1)
The fact that Crown Prince Arn had returned to the fortress of Peshawar was not really much to rejoice about. Only a month ago, they had set out from the fortress. After capturing two more fortresses from the Lusitanian army along the continental highway, they had been halfway to the king''s capital, Ecbatana only to have to start everything over again.
"It''s a shame that it was all in vain!"
Arn felt a sense of futility gripping his whole body, yet he knew he could not give up because of this.
"It''s great that Peshawar didn''t fall. There are not many dead, thanks to your cooperation and support. Also thanks to the assistance of King Rajendra of Sindhura, all in all, things are going quite well."
After Arn announced these upsides, everyone''s spirits were lifted and the situation they were currently facing seemed less difficult. In reality, the Turanian army was camped along the continental highway, and without defeating them, there was no way to advance further to the royal capital, Ecbatana.
After entering the fortress, the tactician Narsus seemed to be deep in thought, and when pressed by Daryun, the future court painter lowered his voice and replied.
"Im quite worried about the situation in the royal capital, Ecbatana."
"How so?"
"I think the Lusitanian armys response was suspiciouslyx. Our army retreated and they didn''t make a single move."
"Hey! Talking like that only now?"
Daryun looked at his friend with a bitter smile. Wasn''t the reason why the Lusitanian army watched them retreat without taking any action because they were afraid that the Parsian army had some kind of secret n? From Lusitanias standpoint, as long as they remained inside the fortress of Ecbatana, they would not lose to the Parsian army that easily. Wouldn''t it be best for them to let the Parsian army retreat? Daryun thought so, but was this not really the case? Were there other reasons why the Lusitanian army did not attack from the royal capital? Seeing Daryun''s expression, Narsus spoke up and said.
"Yes, the enemy outside the capital is not what is stopping the Lusitanians."
"In other words, you think that something strange may have urred inside the royal capital?"
Narsus nodded in acquiescence, and then gently moved his upper body. A heavy sound was heard from beside him, and an arrow bounced off the fortress wall. It was an arrow shot from the Turanian army outside the fortress.
"If that arrow had hit its mark, history would have been rewritten."
After speaking leisurely, Narsus deliberately waved his hand at the enemy on the ground. Ignoring the fact that this action triggered a string of Turanian curses tinged with anger, he leaned his body against the wall of the fortress and fell back into his thoughts.
The Lusitanian army had already conquered one country, and another was more than half conquered by them. Under these circumstances, they must be feeling overwhelming power. It was not unbelievable that one or two internal conflicts would ur. Daryun also thought about it, but what Narsus was thinking was something even deeper.
Daryun did not dare ask more questions, for he knew not to disturb his friend''s thoughts. Within these few days, Narsus would draw a conclusion and make a n for the enemy in front of them, the army of Turan. At that moment, Narsus raised another matter.
"If the Turanian army is defeated, they may join forces with the Lusitanian army."
"To the Lusitanians, the Turanians are infidels. Is it even possible that they might join forces?"
"Aren''t we also joining forces with Sindhura now? King Rajendra doesn''t believe in the gods of Pars!"
"That''s true."
"It wont matter. It was the same situation three or four years ago. It''s not difficult to find gaps in such a half-hearted alliance and exploit them. We''ve made a rather good acquisition on our side, too."
He was referring to Kubard. Kubard was a famed hero, and an old acquaintance of Daryun, Narsus and Kishward. Arn certainly weed him to join the camp, but, after entering the fortress, Kubard only focused on drinking and sleeping. Once this man was surrounded by allies, his tension was relieved. However, it could also be that this man didn''t want to cause any trouble, so he deliberately avoided the others.
"The Lord Tactician has been having a hard time too!"
"Well, artists are not suited to dealing with the mundane world. I''d like to quickly take care of things here so I can return my focus to the beautiful world of painting."
"The world of painting might not take you back."
Daryun''s voice was very low, so Narsus did not hear it.
The shouts of the constantly besieging Turan army rode the wind streaming in from outside the fortress. Although they couldn''t break the strong walls of Peshawar, they still kept on attacking undeterred, while the Sindhuran army, which had reached the country''s border, was just watching the Turanian army''s camp in order to avoid losses of their own. This was typical of King Rajendras way of calction, and Prince Arn, who trusted him, really made Daryun worry. As if he understood Daryun''s mood, Narsus made thisment to Prince Arn.
"Those at the top should be more like Your Highness. As for the dirty work, please leave that to us. If youre not not a person able to shine in the darkness, it will not be possible for you to establish a new era."
After making such ament and giving his friend a reassuring nod, Narsus remembered apanion who was not present.
"Theres been no contact from the Lord Musician for a while. He doesn''t seem like the kind of person who would die halfway through a quest, but where exactly is he?"
Northwest of the fortress of Peshawar, in a corner of the ovepping mountains, a musician continued his journey in solitude. It was not easy even for Parsians, who were a horse-riding people, to ride in such a treacherous mountainous area. However, this handsome man with a lively expression in his blue eyes was an expert rider. He rode leisurely on a path along the cliff, on a rocky ridge, through the rivers without bridges, and rode deep into the interior of Mount Damavand, with an oud strapped to his saddle.
He was the self-proimed "traveling musician" Gieve.
After parting with Arn''s group, driven by his innate sense of adventure and curiosity, as well as another wonderful temptation, he decided to take his horse to Mount Damavand. To the good people of Pars, Mount Damavand was just a horrible and disgusting mountain.
Gieve now boldly marched toward this forbidden ce. While Arn and his party received the urgent report and the whole army turned back to the fortress of Peshawar, Gieve was heading towards another danger.
Later historians who wanted to write a biography of King Arn spent a lot of time recounting the events of the year 321. All in all, the month of June in the year 321 of the Parsian calendar was marked by several important events, and it was not easy to grasp them all.
Part of the responsibility for this lies with Gieve. The number of incidents could have been reduced, at least a little, if this shameless man had not had the idea of climbing Mount Damavand.
Of course, Gieve was unaware of the difficulties suffered by these people inter generations.
As the horse continued to advance, color began to disappear from thend. The clouds hanging low over the top of the mountain blocked the sunlight, the trees thinned, and the gray-brown cliffs and jutting, rocky fields multiplied. The sound of birds also changed from pleasant chirps to strange cries. Poisonous smoke spewed from the rocks, and above the swamps hovered a strange miasma. The mountains and fields of Pars were full of life and beauty, but as soon as one stepped near Mount Damavand, all the beauty disappeared, and only an oppressive feeling of destion remained.
Perhaps also aware of this oppressive feeling, Gieve looked around and shrugged his shoulders as if bored.
"What a pain in the ass! It''s been three days since I''ve seen a woman''s face. If I meet an ugly woman in these mountains and mistake her for a beauty, Itll bring shame to my ancestors."
The man continued chattered on, even when he was alone. Broadly speaking, the range of Mount Damavand spread over seven farsang (~35km), but before entering the mountains, Gieve had procured wine and grain from the nearby towns, as well as a sheepskin cloak to keep out the cold. Although it was summer, the mountainous areas would get cold at night.
Gieve, approaching Mount Damavand, noticed something strange on the mountain road when darkness was creeping in the next day. He saw fresh hoofprints, and not just one, but likely dozens of riders running right in front of Gieve.
"Strange, people with good intentions shouldn''t be anywhere near Mount Damavand, except for me. In that case, are these people mountain bandits? Whoever they are, they must not be easy to deal with."
After making this spection, Gieve gently pressed the hilt of his sword with his left hand. Although he was brave, he was not reckless, and he certainly did not want to meet up with such arge group of people. After carefully continuing another half farsang (~2.5km), Gieve stopped his horse, and decided to spend the night in the brush. He made a campfire in the thick of the night. It would certainly be dangerous to continue.
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