Chapter 59: What victory manages
Jalinus was overseeing the battlefield. Well, at least what remained from it. He saw both Persian and Arab soldiers, lying dead in the sand, each seemingly the sa. He also saw several dead elephants – such magnificent animals, one would think it's impossible for them to die. And yet, here they lied, dead, sa as soldiers, horses and cals around them. It was strange, to think that so much death and destruction happened daily around the world. How have humans not gone extinct yet, wondered Jalinus.
"It looks like a scene from a nightmare, doesn't it?"
Jalinus heard Bahman's voice behind him. Calm and even cold. But strangely soothing.
"I don't know. I never had nightmares like this."
"Then prepare yourself."
Jalinus looked perplexed, but didn't pay it much attention.
"So what now? What happens now?"
"We make proper sky burial for our dead and burn the enemy. Then we scrap the encampnt, take the prisoners and we march back to Ctesiphon. Oh, and we send a report ahead of us, to our Shahanshah, may he be immortal."
"Do you think they'll co back? Arabs, I an."
"I don't think so. This defeat should cripple them for good. But I don't have clairvoyance, you know."
Jalinus just smiled at that. They weren't even aware, but today, they made history. And, to Jalinus's surprise, he coped with the after-battle stress much better than he thought he would. That is, until he went to sleep. Then he truly understood what Bahman ant when he said he should prepare himself.
--
"A ssage from you, my Shahanshah, may he be immortal."
A ssenger entered the throne room bearing an urgent ssage from general Jaduya. Yazdegerd was pessimistic about it from the beginning and didn't even want to read it at first. The fear of reading about another brutal defeat was sothing he didn't want to experience again. He thought he steeled himself enough and that a ssage of loss wouldn't sadden him much. But this wasn't about saddening – he knew that wasn't the emotion he felt. It wasn't sadness but feeling of incompetence. He was just tired of failing all the ti. As he was opening the ssage, he was tempted to just throwing it away. But what kind of ruler would he be if he didn't face his own failures?
And, to his surprise, this ti it wasn't failure.
As he read the lines that stood in the ssage, he started to get overjoyed, and it showed on his face. His guards took notice of that, and so did several courtiers in the court room. At the age of 12, Yazdegerd III. has finally won a battle against the Arabs.
One of the guards couldn't bear it anymore and asked. Seeing soone suddenly beco happy beyond asure was strange and he wanted to make sure everything was all right.
"Is sothing the matter, my Shahanshah, may he be immortal?"
Yazdegerd looked at him with his beaming smile and simply said "They won."
It wasn't sure whether the soldier understood what he ant, but Yazdegerd couldn't care less. He got up from his throne room, let his servants take his crown off of him and made his way towards the guestrooms, where Usama was housed under a strict oversight. This just showed that deep, in the core, Yazdegerd was just an abandoned child forced to wear the mask of an adult.
Yazdegerd arrived to the room, where he t Rostam, who was also here for so reason. But it didn't matter, as Yazdegerd wanted to call him too, so he just got two birds with one stone.
"My Shahanshah, may he be immortal."
"Good morning, general Rostam." said Yazdegerd and started to open the doors to the room where Usama was supposed to be. Rostam noticed that and thought he'll only get in the way, so he turned around and started leaving.
"Don't leave, general. I wish to speak with you too. It's an important matter."
Rostam turned around once more, this ti to face Yazdegerd. Then he followed him.
"Does this matter sohow concern that Arab too?"
"It does."
They entered the room where Usama was already sitting on the upholstered chair, as if waiting for them. But that was obviously not true, as he looked as if he had just woken up.
"Enjoying your stay, Usama?" asked Yazdegerd.
"Why, yes, I am, my Shahanshah, may he be immortal."
"That's good to hear. May we sit down with you? Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
"I haven't, my Shahanshah."
Yazdegerd then turned on Rostam as if wanting to ask the sa thing.
"No, I didn't, my Shahanshah."
"Good! Neither have I!"
As both Rostam and Usama wondered how is their breakfast relevant to what they're going to discuss. But Yazdegerd didn't seem to have the sa wonders as he ordered a servant to bring them a breakfast. They waited all about 30 minutes for the breakfast, all while talking about irrelevant things, such as favourite food, drink and other aningless stuff. After they finished their breakfast, Yazdegerd took out the ssage.
"Gentlen, this is the reason I wanted to talk with you. And, also, I wanted to celebrate a bit, thus the breakfast."
He gave the ssage first to Rostam, who then passed it to Usama. Rostam kept his iron expression, while Usama smirked.
"This proves that Usama is soone we can trust. And it also proves, that our Empire is not yet lost. We can still fight!"
"My Shahanshah, not to be pessimistic, but I would still wait for general Jaduya to arrive and give a full report before planning any next moves."
Yazdegerd nodded. He was happy he could share his happiness with soone. All this ti on throne, he was search for sothing that would affirm him, sothing that would assure him that he's doing great and that he's worthy of the throne. Was this battle it? Was this his Magnus Opum, sothing that would put him on a path of a worthy ruler? He though it was, but history would have it other way.
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