As soon as he saw the prince and eran enter his tent, shah Andragoras’ visage immediately turned grave. For he had ascertained at once the reason for his son and senior retainer’s appearance before him.
“Father…”
Arslan’s call reverberated back against unseen walls in an echo that felt ten times louder than the volume of his voice.
“I have not called for you, so why are you here? You are not welcome on this stage. Now withdraw and place your focus on your own contributions to the coming battle!”
Hearing the shah’s words which served more to cast him aside than scold, a feeling of resentment stirred with Arslan’s breast. It was true that it was not his place to interfere in these matters. And yet, he found it strange that his father would talk to him in such a manner. It seemed to him that he was speaking to him in a way that was sweeter than even the way his mother, Queen Tahamine, would.
Within the army of Pars, there were twelve marzbān who held command under the leadership of the shah Andragoras III and his eran Vahriz. Sahm, Qobād, Shapuhl, Garshasf, Kharlan, Keshvar, Manūchurch, Bafman, Kashehta, Kulp, Hayl and of course Daryun. From among them Keshvar and Bafman were stationed on the kingdom’s East border, Sahm and Garshasf protected the capital of Ecbatana, and the remaining eight were to take part in the battle at Atropatene under the command of the shah and his eran. Each oversaw 10,000 cavalry and, along with the 5,000 riders of the imperial guard known as the undying athanatoi, they now marched towards the fields of Atropatene as 85,000 cavalry and foot soldiers strong.
Arslan was the crown prince, and one day would stand at their zenith as the shah. Still, on this occasion, his status and his role were indeed separate, and at present he was no more than a low-ranked officer with only about a hundred cavalry assigned to his name. It was no small amount of pressure to handle any number of subordinates during one’s first foray into battle, but it was probably more appropriate to call them his advisors rather than his subordinates, in this case. Although Arslan had yet to pay any of his advisors much heed…
As Arslan struggled to find the right words, Vahriz took up the mantle in his stead. For he had always been one to come to decisions ahead of the pack. He now walked briskly over to his nephew, then suddenly, however lightly, gave his nephew a smack to his young cheek with an open hand.
“Foolish boy! What have you dared utter to his majesty to which you are so indebted? Remember your place.”
“Uncle, I haven’t—”
As he once again found himself smacked on his mouth as he started to speak, Daryun inhaled sharply, then bowed deeply to his shah. The eran Vahriz also took a knee and bowed towards the king of Pars.
“My Lord, in the place of my unfaithful nephew, this old man offers you his deepest condolences. May you find it in your heart to forgive him for his crime.”
“That’s enough, Vahriz,” answered the shah, but he made no attempt to hide the discomfort in either his expression or his tone. For he easily saw through how in the elder showing him how he reprimanded his nephew, he had in fact looked to protect the boy. Indeed, by doing so he had done what he could to save the honor of the shah, as well. If the two had been left to combat each other with increasingly heightened emotions, they would have undoubtedly reached an irreparable conclusion.
“Daryun!”
Andragoras addressed the pronate young knight with a voice lacking a modicum of kindness.
“I intend to retract not a single word I have said about dismissing you from your role as marzbān. But let us give you a chance to earn this position once more. You will fight for me in the upcoming battle, as a knight within the main battalion. May you prove to me through your exploits in combat that your crime has been absolved…”
“There are no words to express my gratitude for…your generosity.”
Refusing to meet eyes with Daryun who struggled to utter his response, the shah shot a cold glare at Arslan who stood motionless, baring his way further into the tent.
“Oh, and you’re still here?”
“Do not worry, I make to leave.”
Arslan was as good as his word. If his father was uncomfortable in that moment, so was he. Shah Andragoras had clearly been aware of Vahriz’s position, but it would not have hurt him to be aware of the prince’s position, as well.
Following him, Daryun stooped over as if to apologize.
“My prince, I have inconvenienced you a great deal. Please, forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. You only spoke the truth, is it not so?”
“It is, and Lord Kharlan also thought as much. I do not seek to share my shame, but it was Kharlan who recommended that I speak my words faithfully to the shah.”
“I see,” said Arslan as he nodded in acknowledgment, but the truth was that his intention was now focused on another person who would be absent from the current battle.
“Daryun, tell me, what kind of man was Narsus?”
“He was my friend, and, as far as I’m aware, there are none who was more adroit than he is.”
“Careful now, you speak of someone banished,” said the old general, quelling his nephew’s descent with a single stroke. Daryun gave him a look of descent, then offered,
“Did not even you disapprove of his banishment, uncle? Saying that the kingdom boasted no greater tactical mind? Was that all just for show?”
“I was speaking about his personality. I did not say it about his mind.”
As he gazed at the uncle and nephew on the verge of debate, Arslan felt the slightest bit of envy stir within his breast.
If only father and I had a relationship where we exchanged ideas as warmly, and directly, as this, Arlsan thought. Thinking also that it was best not to bring himself into the pair’s direct exchange, Arslan turned to face his horse.
The eran bowed to the young prince once more as he took his leave, then returned to scolding of his nephew.
“Daryun, even if you desire to question leadership, you must know there is timing for such things. After making his majesty aware of your exploits and talent, even to the point of being appointed marzbān, was it not the utmost in short-sightedness to remove yourself from the exclusivity of your role?”
“You are right, uncle. There was timing for questioning authority. When we had lost would have been too late.”
While he may have held back to the shah and crown prince, he now let his uncle receive the remaining force of his words.
“To be frank, Lord Uncle, there was no promise I would still be alive at the battle’s end. And I do not think I possess the necessary skill to question our ruler as a ghost.”
This caused the old general to snort.
“You are careless with your words. Narsus was the same way. But perhaps believing yourself so easily to be right quickly makes your words lose their appeal.”
Daryun looked like he had something to add, but his silence seemed to stem from his thought his uncle would get the best of him. Noticing, the elder quickly changed the subject.
“Daryun, it has now been 16 years since I earned my title of eran.”
“You were already marzbān by the time I was born, right?”
“That’s right, and I had been for a while. As you can see, by this white beard.”
“Though you still speak with much confidence.”
“Alas, flattery has never suited you. But so be it, I also think it’s about time I passed off my seat at the table to the young.”
Daryun blinked his eyes. His uncle surely jumped sporadically from one topic to the next, making it hard to follow where he would turn next. To assuage his nephew’s confusion, the old man now said,
“It is you who will be the next eran of the kingdom of Pars. When I departed for battle, I expressed my wishes as such to her highness the queen in the capital city.”
Daryun gazed at his uncle in amazement.
“I thank you for that uncle, but I believe that is up to the shah to decide. And after today’s sequence of events, I find it hard to believe that he would consider your wishes, no matter how strong.”
“Come now, of course he will. The shah is deeply aware of your prowess,” said the old man, with a small sigh.
“By the way, Daryun…”
“Uncle?”
This time it was the uncle who seemed to look for his words, while young Daryun had stood ready.
“Tell me, what did you think of prince Arslan’s appearance, having not seen his lordship’s countenance for a while.”
“I think he has a fine countenance. I’m sure that within 2, 3 years he will be the talk of any young noble lady in the kingdom. But uncle…”
“Would you say that his face reminds you more of the shah, or the queen?”
Daryun seemed taken somewhat aback by the question. The attractiveness of one’s face did not seem a qualification for ascending the throne, so he wondered about his uncle’s current concern.
“I suppose if I must choose, I would say the Queen.”
More accurately, he thought the prince looked more different from his father Andragoras III, but recognizing his place as a subordinate, he declined to say so directly.
“I see, he looks different from our shah, you think,” nodded the eran of Pars, observing his nephew’s true sentiments. If he had been like his father, he would have had a face that exuded cunning and thick lined might of his father. Having affirmed this, the general continued,
“Will you not swear your loyalty to Prince Arslan now, Daryun?”
The young warrior who just a bit ago had been marzbān, looked at his uncle with surprise. It was difficult to ascertain the reasons for his question in the moment before the battle for the fate of the kingdom.
“I have already decided to show the utmost loyalty to the royal family of Pars. Why ask for me to swear loyalty again now…?”
“Swear loyalty to the prince himself, Daryun.”
“I will, if that is what my uncle bids me do…”
“Will you swear on your blade?”
“On my blade,” said Daryun wittily, then offered a bitter laugh, his faced grimaced. It seemed that he thought his uncle’s persistence had gone a tad too far.
“Shall we offer him some sort of contract, too, uncle?”
“No, I think your pledged allegiance will be plenty,” Vahriz said with the utmost earnestness, his face too serious for even a chuckle, making Daryun realize the inopportune timing of his sarcasm.
“It is from you alone that I want an alliance formed with Prince Arslan. For I think you’d agree your singular loyalty will surpass that of a thousand cavalry.”
“Lord uncle…”
Overwhelmed, Daryun’s raised his voice. He had accepted the words of his esteemed uncle, but did he not have the right to hold his misgivings, as well? But it was just then that the sound of a horned flute pierced through the fog and reached his ears. Battle was upon them. With a force belying his old age, Vahriz spurred his horse back to the main battalion. Daryun had failed to hear the true meaning of his uncle’s words.