In the year 301 of the Parsian calendar, the sixteenth shah,[1] Gotarzes II, passed away at the age of sixty-one. Crown Prince Osroes ascended the throne and took the name Osroes V, seventeenth shah of Pars.
In the year 303, Osroes V appointed his younger brother, Andragoras, as Eran[2] and sent him to destroy the Principality of Badakhshan on the southeastern border. Kayumars, ruler of Badakhshan, took his own life. His wife, Tahmineh, was brought to the royal capital of Ecbatana by Andragoras.
In the year 304, Shah Osroes V suddenly passed away at the age of thirty. His younger brother and Eran, Andragoras, ascended the throne and took the name Andragoras III, eighteenth shah of Pars.
In the year 305, Andragoras III made Tahmineh his queen.
In the year 306, a prince was born to Shah Andragoras and Queen Tahmineh. He was named Arslan.
In the year 310, the Kingdom of Turan invaded from the north, but was driven back.
In the year 311, Prince Arslan was formally declared Crown Prince.
In the year 312, the Kingdom of Turan invaded from the north once again, but was repelled.
In the year 313, the Kingdom of Misr invaded from the west and advanced toward the royal capital of Ecbatana, but the Parsian army defeated them.
In the year 315, a coalition of Turan, Sindhura, and Turk invaded from the northeast, southeast, and east. The Parsian army defeated the allied forces.
In the year 320, the northwestern Kingdom of Lusitania destroyed the Kingdom of Maryam, an ally of Pars, and invaded Pars itself. Andragoras III personally led his army to meet the invaders on the Plains of Atropatene. Crown Prince Arslan entered battle for the first time. He was fourteen years old.
(Chronicles of the Kingdom of Pars)
Chapter 1: The Battle of Atropatene
The sun should have long risen in the eastern sky, yet it could not penetrate the veil of fog blanketing the plains. It was midway through the tenth month of the year. The autumn sunlight was weak, and not a breath of wind stirred. The heavy fog, rare in the climate of Pars, showed no sign of lifting.
Arslan, son of Shah Andragoras III of Pars, patted the neck of his uneasy horse. His first battle lay before him, and he himself felt anxious as well, but unless he calmed the horse first, there was no hope of a proper fight.
Still, what a thick fog. The rolling plains with their endless gentle rises were nowhere to be seen, nor were the snowcapped mountains that should have loomed faintly in the far north.
Hoofbeats sounded from the right, and an armed old knight emerged from the mist. It was Vahriz, the Eran of Pars. Though already sixty-five, his body, hardened by war, hunting, and horsemanship, remained powerfully built.
“There you are, Your Highness,” he said. “You must not stray too far from His Majesty’s camp. In fog like this, losing your way even once would be disastrous.”
“Vahriz, doesn’t this fog put us at a disadvantage?” Arslan asked the old knight, his eyes gleaming beneath his helmet like the clear night sky.
“Whether it’s fog, the darkness of night, or even a blizzard, nothing can stop the charge of the Parsian cavalry,” Vahriz laughed. “There is no need to worry. Ever since your father, Shah Andragoras, took the throne, the Parsian army has never known defeat. Surely Your Highness knows that.”
The fourteen-year-old prince did not take the old man’s confidence as truth. Had he not just said that losing one’s way would be disastrous? Even Arslan’s horse feared the fog. If it slowed down the army, the cavalry would lose its greatest strength.
“Dear me, Your Highness is more anxious than this old man. The Parsian cavalry numbers 85,000, and we know every inch of Atropatene’s terrain. Meanwhile, those Lusitanian barbarians crossed four hundred farsangs[3] to get here. They know nothing of the land. The fools came all this way only to make graves for themselves in a distant country.”
Arslan, idly playing with the hilt of the dagger at his waist, stopped and asked, “Just recently, the Kingdom of Maryam fell to the Lusitanians. Was Maryam not also a distant foreign land to them?”
The old man was about to answer the overly logical prince when another rider emerged from the fog and called out, “Eran Vahriz, please come to the command post at once.”
“Is it finally time to set out, Qaran?”
The middle-aged knight shook his helmeted head hard, red tassel bobbing. “No. Your nephew has caused some trouble.”
“Dariun?” said Prince Arslan.
The old man merely pinched his snow-white beard and frowned in silence.
“Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty is enraged and has ordered Marzban Dariun stripped of his rank.[4] Dariun is one of the five greatest warriors in the kingdom. It would be a significant loss.”
“A mardan-e mardan.[5] I know.”
“If such a thing is done before battle, it will affect the morale of the entire army. Eran, please come to the main camp and calm His Majesty.”
“That idiot,” the old man grumbled, though the affection in his voice for his nephew was impossible to hide.
Led by Qaran, Arslan and Vahriz rode across the fog-dampened grass toward Shah Andragoras’s camp.
Shah Andragoras III of Pars was forty-four years old. He wore a splendid black beard, his gaze was sharp, and he carried the presence of a warrior who had remained undefeated throughout the sixteen years since his ascension. Tall, broad-shouldered, and deep-chested, he slew a shir[6] at thirteen and earned the title of shir-gir.[7] At fourteen, he entered the battlefield and won the right to call himself a mardan. He was a man worthy of commanding the entire military of Pars: 125,000 cavalry and 300,000 infantry.
And now that shah trembled with rage inside the luxurious silk tent of the main camp. Before him knelt an armed young man. This was Dariun, nephew of Eran Vahriz and the youngest of the twelve marzbans in all the Parsian army, at only twenty-seven years old.
A marzban was a general who led ten thousand mounted soldiers. The Parsian army traditionally valued its cavalry over its infantry. Among the cavalry, the officers were azadan,[8] and the soldiers were azat.[9] Among the infantry, the officers were azat, but the soldiers were ghulams.[10] A marzban ranked just below wispuhran[11] in the army.
And Dariun had attained that position at only twenty-seven. That alone was enough to give some idea of just how formidable he was.
“Dariun, I thought better of you!” the king barked, striking the tent pole with his riding whip. His attendants flinched. “Since when did you, whose fame has reached even Turan and Misr, become possessed by the spirit of a cowardly wretch? I never thought I would hear the word retreat from your lips, especially not before the battle has even begun.”
“Your Majesty, I do not speak out of cowardice,” Dariun spoke for the first time.
He wore black from helmet tassels to riding boots. Only the lining of his cloak was red, like it had been dyed with the rays of the setting sun. His sun-tanned youthful face was sharp and firm; he was a handsome man, but armor suited him far better than ceremonial robes of silk and jewels ever would.
“A warrior who avoids battle—if that is not cowardice, then what is it?”
“Your Majesty, please consider this. The mighty strength of the Parsian cavalry is well known throughout the land. Why, then, would the Lusitanians deliberately set camp on plains so favorable to cavalry warfare and wait for us there?”
“…”
“I believe they have set some kind of trap. And above all, this fog. We can barely make out the movements of our own forces. I only suggest that we fall back for the moment and redeploy near the capital, Ecbatana. How is that cowardice?”
Shah Andragoras gave a laugh that cut into the young warrior’s pride. “Your tongue has grown sharper than your bow and sword, Dariun. What kind of trap could those barbarians possibly set? They’re unfamiliar with the terrain.”
“That I do not know. But if our own people are among the Lusitanian army, then we can no longer assume that they are unfamiliar with the lay of the land.”
The king glared at him. His gaze alone was enough to make most of his attendants tremble, but Dariun did not flinch and stared back.
“People of our kingdom aiding those barbarians? Impossible.”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, it is not impossible. Ghulams who flee abuse might assist the Lusitanians out of revenge.”
The king’s whip cracked through the air and struck Dariun’s breastplate. The attendants’ breaths caught in their throats.
“What was that about ghulams?! So that’s it. No wonder you’ve been spouting such nonsense. That wretch Narses has put foolish ideas into your head. Have you forgotten that that insolent man was banished from the royal palace and forbidden contact with anyone who serves me, whether military or civil?”
“I have not forgotten, Your Majesty. I have not met Narses even once in these past three years. He is my friend, but—”
“That miscreant is your friend? Bold of you to admit it.”
The king ground his teeth. His fury erased all wisdom befitting a ruler. He threw down his whip and drew his jeweled sword. A faint-hearted attendant let out a small yelp, thinking Dariun would be cut down.
But the king did not go that far. Instead, he thrust his sword forward and, with the tip of the blade, knocked away the small golden medal pinned to Dariun’s left chest. It bore the shape of a lion’s head, a badge of honor permitted to be worn only by the eran and marzbans.
“You are hereby stripped of your rank as marzban! Consider it mercy that I do not take from you the title of mardan and shir-gir as well.”
Dariun said nothing and just stared at the patterned carpet beneath him. But the shaking of his armored shoulders could not hide the anger at having his honor as a warrior unjustly sullied.
Shah Andragoras sheathed his sword and pointed viciously toward the entrance of the tent.
“Now go. And never show your face before me again.”
The tent flap stirred. Dariun still had not moved.
From the direction the king was pointing, Prince Arslan and two men appeared.
1. Parsian term for king. In Persian, shah (شاه) means king, monarch, or ruler. It is a royal title historically used for the sovereign emperors and kings of ancient Persia and modern Iran. ↩
2. Parsian term for commander-in-chief of the Parsian army. ↩
3. Approximately 2,000 kilometers. 1 farsang = 5 kilometers.↩
4. A Parsian general who commands ten thousand cavalry. Based on the real-life class of margraves, warden of the marches, and by extension military commanders, in charge of border provinces of the Parthian Empire and mostly Sasanian Empire of Iran. ↩
5. Parsian term for warrior. In Persian, the word mardān (مردان) is a masculine noun that literally translates to men. It is the plural form of the word mard (مرد), which means man. Because of this root, the name and word are heavily associated with strength, courage, and virtue, often translating to brave men, heroes, or the manly/valiant ones. Mardan-e mardan means warrior among warriors.↩
6. In Persian, shir (شیر) means lion. ↩
7. Lion hunter. ↩
8. Parsian term for the lower nobility, which knights belong to. Based on the real-life class of Iranian nobles. ↩
9. Parsian term for free men. ↩
10. Parsian term for a slave/s. Based on the real Arabic word meaning servant, assistant, boy, or youth. ↩
11. Parsian term for royalty. Based on the second class-rank of the four types of the Sasanian aristocracy. The group consisted of princes belonging to the Sasanian royal family or related to it. ↩