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 plannin’ to turn coat.”
If that’s the case, I’ll cut him down, Giv seemed to want to say, with his deep blue eyes flashing. 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 contemplating something on his own, and in the end did not express any opinion.
Keshvad had also come 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 black armor clinked as he turned his long-limbed body toward Bahman.
“It is only natural to have His Highness Arslan lead us in the recovery of the royal authority of Pars. Should we not spark movement from those internal forces in order to accomplish that very same task? Why is it that you hesitate, Lord Bahman? Rather than preaching caution, I wonder if you do not simply lack 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 alas, 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 in comfort. 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 clamped 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 the late 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 clairvoyant.”
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 particularly 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 blade and bow.”
Only an instant had passed when Bahman’s gray brows made a great jolt. From his likewise gray beard escaped a labored 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, accompanied 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 only come up with a forced explanation.
“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 they laid siege to the fort, we’d be in for a real mess once we returned.”
“… I suppose.”
Keshvad nodded, but his eyes flashed 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 Arslan remains yet in the fort. As we were commanded 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 Arslan, 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 reclaim the lands 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. Arslan’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’s late father Qaran, than for Zandeh himself.
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 plannin’ to turn coat.”
If that’s the case, I’ll cut him down, Giv seemed to want to say, with his deep blue eyes flashing. 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 contemplating something on his own, and in the end did not express any opinion.
Keshvad had also come 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 black armor clinked as he turned his long-limbed body toward Bahman.
“It is only natural to have His Highness Arslan lead us in the recovery of the royal authority of Pars. Should we not spark movement from those internal forces in order to accomplish that very same task? Why is it that you hesitate, Lord Bahman? Rather than preaching caution, I wonder if you do not simply lack 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 alas, 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 in comfort. 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 clamped 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 the late 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 clairvoyant.”
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 particularly 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 blade and bow.”
Only an instant had passed when Bahman’s gray brows made a great jolt. From his likewise gray beard escaped a labored 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, accompanied 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 only come up with a forced explanation.
“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 they laid siege to the fort, we’d be in for a real mess once we returned.”
“… I suppose.”
Keshvad nodded, but his eyes flashed 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 Arslan remains yet in the fort. As we were commanded 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 Arslan, 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 reclaim the lands 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. Arslan’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’s late father Qaran, than for Zandeh himself.
