The Title of Your Place
By: Tidia
Disclaimer: Movie is owned by Disney, and I can't take it away from them.
Notes: Just a little thought that came to me, and I have a few more that I plan to have some fun with. Thank you for the kind alerts and reviews. I know nothing about Persian history except the crash course at Wikipedia
At twelve years of age Dastan was excited to go with Tus to visit the area of Dista. He was to assist his brother as a squire, learn more about the Empire – its military and tax system. He had checked his bow many times with the hopes they would come across bandits as they traveled along the Royal Road. Garsiv, sour because he was staying in Nasef with the King, said Dastan would not find any adventure, just a boring trip to a satrapy.
There was no adventure on the road, just the one night in Tus's tent where one of his brother's guards told him stories about the King's battles. Dastan loved hearing the stories. He hoped he would do just as well in battle when his time came.
They made it to Dista the next day where Tus was welcomed as the Crown Prince, and Dastan by his brother's side slipped in as the squire, not as Prince Dastan, youngest, adopted son of King Sharaman. Tus thought it would allow Dastan more freedom, and Dastan was thankful he didn't have anyone fawning over him. He could explore Dista, which he did from the rooftops when Tus did not need him.
The satrap of the area was Jalal. Father has said that tax payments from the area were lower than subsequent years and therefore sent Tus to investigate. Dastan didn't trust Jalal, and neither did Tus, but they could see no apparent reason for the feeling.
"He doesn't treat his servants well," Dastan started to explain to his brother. He was keenly aware of how servants were treated, since he had lived on the streets himself. Servants worked hard and deserved to be treated with some kindness.
"What did he do?" Tus asked, taking a seat as a pulled off his boots.
Dastan shivered at the memory. "He had a boy beaten for spilling some drink. It was an accident. His arm got bumped." Dastan had been a witness, and wanted to intervene, but was unable to get Tus's attention until it was too late.
"Father did not send us here to evaluate how Jalal treats his servants, Dastan," Tus said softly whereas Garsiv would have ignored him or told him he was softhearted. "Did you find any gold in your travels in the city?"
Dastan's exploring had not yielded finding some hidden treasure of taxes. "No."
"Then his reasons for not having collected as much tax revenue could be true," Tus said out loud. As usual he was thinking through his decisions.
Dastan shrugged, going to his pallet that had been arranged in Tus's room. "I guess so."
"Get some sleep, Dastan. We will be going home soon."
Dastan closed his eyes with that happy thought. Garsiv was right, learning about politics was boring.
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
The next day there were activities in the training circle near the stronghold. Jalal's soldiers were putting on a show of their talents with weaponry. Dastan kicked at the packed sand, and Tus elbowed him to pay attention.
Jalal's youngest son, Benham was in the ring now. He was a bit older than Dastan, and slashed the air with the wooden sword.
"Your young man should be a good match, Prince Tus," Jalal said, gesturing to Dastan.
Tus nodded. "Yes, and perhaps a wager, too?"
Dastan shot up with excitement. Tus's men gave him an encouraging roar, and Dastan smiled at the attention. Dista's weapon's master handed him a wooden sword, similar to the one he used with Garsiv and Tus to practice.
The match seemed to be going well. Dastan enjoyed himself and felt as if he was well met. He tried to bring some excitement to the swordplay by taunting the nobleman's son. "That all you have?"
Benham wrinkled his nose, then pushed Dastan causing him to stumble. Benham moved in closer. "You are not my better," he said in a harsh whisper. "You're insignificant." Benham then brought his elbow across and hit Dastan in the mouth.
Dastan tasted blood, heard his brother call out to him, but he was now fixated on finishing this fight. He was playing fair until Benham changed the playing field. Dastan would reply in kind. With two hands on the sword Dastan started to press forward. Benham stumbled back from the onslaught, and took a knee to the ground, picking up some sand, throwing it in Dastan's eyes.
Benham used the dirty trick to swing his sword into Dastan, hitting him in side as Dastan blocked too late. Dastan bent over the side, Benham charged at him. Dastan saw the opportunity, met Benham and flipped the slightly older boy over his shoulder so he skidded closer to the stands.
Dastan wiped his eyes- he could still feel the grit there, but was able to focus on his chance. Benham was getting to his feet. Dastan ran towards the other boy. Jalal was sitting on the lowest part of the steps of the arena, while Tus was seated above him. Dastan stepped on Jalal's knees and used them to vault himself towards Benham, tackling the boy.
Dastan recovered first in the melee and placed his wooden sword against Benham's throat. "Do you yield?"
Benham struggled, trying to get out of Dastan's hold. "Not to the likes of you!"
"Unhand him!" Jalal ran over to the boys, pulling Dastan off Benham. The wooden sword hit Benham's chin.
"How dare you!" The satrap backhanded Dastan, his ring breaking skin on Dastan's cheek.
Dastan's head snapped back, he sought to put his feet on the ground, but Jalal still had him in his grip.
"Stop, unless you want your life ended." Dastan heard Tus say, and this was enough to get Jalal to release him.
Dastan landed on one knee.
Tus had a hand on his shoulder, then lifted his younger brother's chin to see the cut. "Dastan?"
"I'm fine, Tus," Dastan wiped the blood with the back of his hand. He felt the blood smear over his cheek, and saw Tus's eyes glow with rage.
"That insolent cur cheated," Jalal fumed, pointing to Dastan.
"I saw your son throw sand in my brother's eyes," Tus replied. "I would call that cheating."
"Benham?" Jalal questioned as if his child could do no wrong. There were many fathers like that in the court. "Did you say brother?" Jalal had finally caught on.
Dastan enjoyed seeing the satrap squirm.
"That is Prince Dastan, my brother." Tus squeezed Dastan's shoulder. "You shall remedy yourself."
Jalal bowed, staying low. "I-I-did not know-"
Tus moved Dastan so that he was in front of him. "My father will hear about this, Jalal. He will not be happy that you struck his son."
"I beg for forgiveness, Prince Tus, Prince Dastan. I did not know, if I could explain-"
"Out of my sight, Jalal." Tus turned his head away from the other man. "You and your son should leave Dista. Go to Susa until you are called by my father."
"My Prince?" Jalal looked up at Tus.
Tus gestured for his guard to provide escort to the departing satrap. "Now."
Jalal roughly grabbed his son, who was still stunned by what transpired.
"But Father, how is it possible that he is a prince?" Benham said in confusion and was cuffed by Jalal.
Two of Tus's guards followed the disgraced man and boy. Tus glanced at the gathering crowd. "People of Dista, this act against the Empire, against King Sharaman cannot go unpunished. Prince Dastan is the son of your King. We will take care of Dista, and reward those who are loyal to the Empire."
Dastan felt embarrassed that he was drawing so much attention. Tus was accustomed to the attention since he was next in line for the throne, but Dastan liked to be anonymous. They walked off the field, and people bowed to them, honoring that Tus had done well with his impromptu speech.
"Are you going to tell Father, Tus?" Dastan asked, by his brother's side as they made their way back to their room.
"Yes. I will send a dispatch to him today. He needs to know, Dastan. Jalal did not know who you are, but still it was not his place to hit you," Tus stated. If he had been a Persian soldier, then it would have been Tus to reprimand him or a soldier above him in his company. There would have been proper justice. The satrap had acted beyond his boundaries with Crown Prince Tus present. "You're still bleeding." Tus turned Dastan's head.
It was stinging, and when Dastan touched it his fingers were wet with blood. It had not clotted. "I did best Benham."
"You did. Well done, brother. I would expect nothing less." Tus brought a wet cloth to Dastan's face. "Garsiv will be proud once he hears about how you got this mark."
Dastan smiled, imaging what his older brother would say. "He'll want Jalal's head and Benham's."
"Father will deal with Jalal first," Tus answered.
"Maybe now we can found about the tax money?" Dastan shrugged his shoulders. At least something should come from what had happened to him. Surely, the others in the satrap's court would be forthcoming with information.
Tus smiled, then started laughing. "I think we just might, Dastan. We just might."
The end.