The Heroic Legend of Arslan – What's worth fighting for
Shapur One-Shot
Pars Era, the year 320, autumn.
The army of the Kingdom of Lusitania to the northwest contrived to bring down the Kingdom of Maryam and then set out to invade the Kingdom of Pars.
In response, Andragoras III led his army himself and marched to the Fields of Atropatene to intercept the invading army.
Crown Prince Arslan embarks upon his maiden battle. He is fourteen years old.
At the Fields of Atropatene was where it began. Atropatene. A wide area, well known to the Parsian army for they had fought and won many battles upon those sacred grounds.
It was just another fight, for a Marzban like himself. Shapur had fought many. Being already 36 of age, Shapur had had his fair share of responsibilities thrown upon him as a Parsian soldier. Still, for a Parsian soldier he was rather young, might I add. But he was a loyal soldier to his land and to his King. And this was what brought him to Atropatene.
King Andragoras III, Eran Vahriz, Marzban Kharlan, Marzban Kubard, Marzban Manuchurh, Marzban Khayr, Marzban Khurp, Marzban Khshaeta, Marzban Daryun und at last he himself, Marzban Shapur.
All of the eight Marzban command ten thousand cavalrymen each. Combined with King Andragoras III personal guard, the vast army totals 85 thousand cavalrymen and 138 thousand men on foot. It was truly an army that would outnumber most by a large amount.
Additionally, the geography of the Fields of Atropatene was fully known to the soldiers of Pars. The Lusitanian army had as good as come all the way to a foreign land, only to dig their own grave.
This is what everyone of the soldiers believed. And with their King marching alongside them, no one even dared to doubt the victory of Pars.
But when night finally fell upon the lands, heavy wafts of mist started gathering along the horizon, clouding their view, making it impossible to see their enemies' position. But in return, making it impossible for their enemy to see theirs.
However, the mist didn't only cloud their view, it clouded their mind as well, clouded their perception – left no room for doubting thoughts. 'Retreat' was a word the King had not once used in his life. If he even knew that said word existed at all. A warrior avoiding a battle – if that is not cowardice, what is it?
"Shapur!" A deep voice from behind him called while he was taking the saddle from his horse, allowing his loyal steed a last breather before the battle that was waiting for them.
"Huh!?" The other one replied irritatedly, obviously not in the mood to deal with his 'friendly rival', "What do you want, Kubard? As you can see, I don't have time and I don't have the nerves to deal with you right now."
This caused the other to give a laugh. He knew that the black-haired Marzban didn't appreciate it to be disturbed during the night before a battle, knowing fully well that same Marzban's thoughts weren't on the battlefield but far, far away, straying wherever his mind took them.
"Marzban Shapur, strongly loyal to his Majesty and a firm follower of Pars. An uptight and rather serious man, always only proceeding in a straightforward and logical manner," Kubard rambled, ignoring the hateful look that the other Marzban pierced him with.
"What do you want!?"
"Well," the grey-haired replied, his good eye focusing on his fellow soldier until they locked eyes, "Your thoughts don't seem to be here, as they should be, since the battle is about to begin soon. Are you thinking about it again? What's worth fighting for?"
"This is nothing of your concern!" Shapur replied angrily and stomped away, giving the reigns of his horse to one of his subordinates, retreating to a tent for the night.
The veteran warrior could only give a sigh, "One day you won't be able to run away… You will have to decide whether you want to be a soldier of Pars or..."
Morning never came, for the fog never made way for the sun, yet the clarions announced the red dawn. Blood was about to be shed upon the Fields of Atropatene.
"That is the signal to attack!"
As soon as the sounds faded away, everyone started preparing for the battle, being led into formation by their respective commanders.
"We will avenge our ally Maryam and give those savages a taste of justice they will never forget!"
"Our last big battle was sometime ago! I had better not see us lagging behind the other divisions!"
All soldiers gathered in formation, intently listening to their king's speech, awaiting their orders – awaiting to steadily go forward, trusting that the ground before them was nothing but a vast land.
"O kings of old of Pars! Sage King Jamshid! Hero King Kaykhusraw! And the spirits of all the other kings! We beseech you to watch over this army!"
"We beseech you to watch over this army!" The soldiers repeated with complete conviction.
For the last time before the upcoming battle, silence fell upon the Fields of Atropatene. The quiet before the storm. Only one cry could be heard that penetrated the gloom of the mist.
"Yashasiin!"
At the Fields of Atropatene was where it began. Atropatene.
'What's worth fighting for? What actually makes a warrior?' Shapur thought, leading his company forward, his hand firmly grabbing the reigns of his horse. Even though, battle came upon them, his mind was occupied with the question the 'drunken idiot' asked him.'It's been 26 years since I have become one and 10 since I have become a Marzban. But what makes a Marzban of Pars?'
The army marched forward. The galloping of the hooves against the ground could be heard even many miles away, the wind carrying the sounds onward through the vastness of the land.
'Is it pride? Honor? Or the glory we receive with our every return from a battle?'
The cavalry rode forward, the enemy ahead of them. With their blades unsheathed, the Parsian soldiers headed into battle, ready to annihilate the enemy – only to fall into the grave that had already been excavated for them.
'Is it for land and king?'
A deep moat, for those who rode to fast ahead and fell inside too deep to climb the precipitous cliffs. And for those stopping, halting at the edge, too broad to cross.
The following troops were able to halt and turn in their advance, changing their course to avoid the moat and choose a path around it while dodging lit arrows the enemy aimed at them.
'I am a Marzban of Pars! But what does this mean to me?'
A sudden gush of wind and enormous tongues of flames caught his attention. It wasn't just a moat. It was supposed to be a grave – mass murder.
'I am responsible. Responsible for all these men that are dying right here, right now.'
In the mixture of the sounds, the hooves against the ground, the battle cries of the soldiers, now joined the agonizing screams of the miserable soldiers that rode at the front. The blazing flames consuming not only their bodies but also their voices, making their tortured screeches fade in the wind, getting lost in the mist.
'I have land. I have wealth. Yet, I have to see my underlings die… What use does my wealth have, if I can't save the ones I'm responsible for?'
They came to a halt again. Arrows were being shot at them from in front of them. And above. From towers with archers on top, the Lusitanians started encircling them, making it almost impossible to gain some ground and benefit from the advantage of geography they thought as given.
'Still I have become a Marzban… But why?'
One after one, the soldiers fell, either by arrow, by sword or by the flames. It was a trap – and they blundered right into it.
'Wasn't it because I wanted to protect others? Because I wanted to protect my dear brother and the woman I love?'
He and the remaining of the soldiers that were following him were barely able to escape, managing to retreat behind the troops of his fellow Marzban, Kubard.
'NO! I'm a soldier of Pars! I'm fighting to serve the King and my country. No one has ever defeated Pars under the King's leadership. Our victory is a given.'
But the relieve to be able to take a breath and rest even if only for a very short time was immediately diminished again, when several indignant calls started to reach his ears, spreading among the soldiers like wildfire.
"THE KING RAN AWAY!"
"THE KING HAS RUN AWAY!"
"HE RAN! HE RAN AWAY!"
"KING ANDRAGORAS HAS RUN AWAY!"
Nothing else could be heard anymore but the wild rumors of the King's flight that raced across the battlefield.
The soldiers' resentment about the King's retreatment and his abandoning of them only grew with every passing minute.
"Our King Andragoras? The Invincible King has ran away?"
"LUSITANIA IS VICTORIOUS!"
"What?" Kubard exclaimed, obviously not being able to believe the rumors the soldiers carried forward to him.
Metal collided with the ground, a metallic sound resonating from the object that was thrown away, when Shapur tossed his helmet aside. "This is absurd! We are here, risking our lives in battle, yet the King leading our army runs away?!"
More metallic sounds could be heard, caused by the Parsian soldiers on foot that were devastated, letting their spears fall to the ground, all fighting spirit losing them. The devastating war had defeated them.
"The morale of Pars had been dragged through the mud. There is no coming back from this," Shapur continued, only to be interrupted by the Marzban beside him.
"I quit! I quit!" Kubard proclaimed, raising his broadsword above his head, resting it on his shoulder, "Who would be fighting for now? I've no life to offer the likes of a king who abandons his men and runs."
Not only the morale of the simple soldiers had been broken. The Marzban, those most loyal to the king, lost the will to fight as well.
"We, too, will be fleeing as we please, Shapur."
'If we don't fight who else will?!'
"Kubard! What are you saying?! You are a Marzban! And you would incite your men to quit fighting?!" Shapur countered, a frown visible on his face. With his finger raised at his rival, he argued, "The King has his responsibilities and we have ours!"
"Protecting his kingdom is the first and foremost duty of the king. It's that duty that gives a king the authority of a king… The King is no longer worthy of being a king. And the same applies to us."
His argumentation was solid and with the taunting look he was giving him, Shapur knew that the grey-haired man had made his decision.
"You yourself threw down your helm in rage just now."
"No, that was thoughtlessly done," he replied, taking the courage to stand up for the king he himself doomed just a few moments ago, exclaiming "The King did not run away! He must mean to return to the Royal Capital of Ecbatana in anticipation of fighting once more!"
But a look at the soldiers told him that no words were able to re-ignite their spirit and nationalism.
Instead he averted his eyes back at the one-eyed Marzban, accusing him, "You are a subject of the crown. If you dishonor His Majesty any further, friend or not, I will show you no mercy!"
"Oh-ho. Interesting. Just how do you intend to show me no mercy?"
Pushing their horses forward to approach each other, they head butted with fierce looks in their eyes, emphasizing that they both valued their beliefs and weren't about to back down.
That is until they were interrupted by the call of a soldier, "We're under attack!"
A unit of soldiers belonging to the Lusitanian Kingdom was approaching them, their weapons raised in warning, the banners of Lusitania proudly carried at the head of the column.
With a strong pull of the reigns, Kubard turned his horse around, earning an offended look from the black-haired, "You would run from me, Kubard?!"
"If we do not drive away that enemy force, there will be no retreat to be had," he replied with an amused smile, "After we have taken care of them, let us speak at our leisure upon the makings of a subject of the crown. Eh, Shapur?"
"You had better not tell me at a later date that you have forgotten!"
"I will not forget. If this later date should come to pass, that is."
The other let out a grunt in reply.
"One more thing, my friend," the grey-haired started without looking back at him, "If this later date should come to pass, you can't pull off any more excuses. You have already had the guts to ask her for her hand in marriage. If you don't intend to actually marry her, no matter the circumstances that might hinder you, I might as well do so!"
With this last words and his sword raised in the air, he drove his horse forward, riding towards the Lusitanian army head on.
"As if I'm going to allow that," Shapur grunted to himself, before pushing his own steed forward as well.
'I would have married her a long time ago if it would be that easy.'
Sword clashed against sword, spear clashed against spear. Soldier fought against soldier.
'To marry someone that was exiled from the Kingdom of Pars… I would have to beg on my knees in front of the King to lift the ban...'
With Kubard's and his combined forces they were gradually able to push back the attackers, gaining ground bit by bit.
'To marry someone that was exiled from the Kingdom of Pars… The King would relieve me from my duties as a Marzban and send me into exile along with her... That is, if he wouldn't have my head for this violation of my boundaries and loyalty.'
A steel trumpet resonated in the distance, signalizing the arrival of support troops for the Lusitanian army. The ground they just gained had already been claimed again by their enemy. The imbalance between the two hostile armies was becoming all the more clear to the defending Parsian soldiers.
'Begging the King to lift her ban? Compared to this hopeless war we are fighting right now, it would be an easy task.'
"Shapur! Keep your act together!"
Kubard's voice brought him back from his thoughts, making him realize that a battle was by no means the best place and time to be lost in thoughts. Kubard... ~'What's worth fighting for...'~
Pictures of a happy family invaded his head, his facial features growing more grim by every happy memory that was added to the collection. Pictures of him, his brother Esfan and of the woman that he had loved for so many years…
A loud battle cry escaped his throat and with his sword raised high into the air, he marched forward, finally knowing the answer to the question that had been badgering him for a rather long time.
'What's worth fighting for...'
Without being able to counter the blows they were receiving, the Lusitanian soldiers fell victim to the sword of the Marzban one after the other.
'Is it for pride? Honor? Or the glory we receive with our every return from a battle?'
The Lusitanian force drove them backwards.
'Is it for land and king?'
They outclassed the Parsian army by too many men.
'Is it for the position as a Marzban? Is it for the responsibility for the life of other soldiers?'
A victory in Pars' favour was unthinkable.
'NO! That all may be heroic motives, but this isn't what's worth fighting for, for me.'
More and more of his own soldiers fell by the weapon of the enemy. His own soldiers that he was responsible for, that he had cared for. His family on the battle field.
'No matter if I have to abandon my position as a Marzban or if I'm exiled from Pars… What's worth fighting for is my family!'
The Lusitanian soldiers broke through their ranks, no one was able to stop their advance now.
'I should have fought for her when I still had the chance to.'
The enemy encircled him, attacking the loyal steed that had carried him all the way into this forlorn war.
'I should have lived my life the way I had wanted it to.'
Stumbling to the ground, his sword being wrested from his hand, he was captured by the opponent's soldiers.
'I should have protected my brother and wife until the end.'
The enormous gates of the Royal Capital, Ecbatana, came into sight. The Lusitanian army was closing in on its walls, plundering, murdering, leveling the villages along their way with the ground.
At the head of their campaign, tortured and chained to a post, a pool of blood around his feet, a well-known Parsian soldier. Marzban Shapur.
To see one of their most famous soldiers, one of their Marzban in the hands of the enemy… That was the last evidence the Parsians needed to proof the rumors true. King Andragoras III and the invincible cavalry of Pars were utterly crushed by the invading Lusitania.
"A bastard like you… There is no reason I should have to listen to a bastard like you censuring my beliefs. Hurry up and kill me. I would rather go to hell or anywhere else than be saved by your god. And from there, I will watch to the bitter end as your god and your kingdom are devoured and killed… by your own cruel ways."
"Why you… sinful rat! You heathen! You beast! You enemy of God!"
A spear in hand, the archbishop that dared to dishonour a Parsian soldier, started beating him up for his words of defiance. But this only sparked a new flame inside him.
"People of Ecbatana, shoot me to death with an arrow! It is too late to save me! Rather than be tortured to death by these Lusitanian savages, I would die by the arrow of a friend!"
Following his last wish, grieving for their lost Marzban who even in death defied to let go of what he believed in, the archers tried to save his life by giving him the final blow. But no arrow reached him.
'So this is how I die… Even though I wish that I could have seen them again, I'm proud to die as a faithful Parsian soldier. Everyone has to answer for themselves what they want to fight for. But what's worth fighting for, for me… is the love for my family.'
And finally, he was freed from the torture by the arrow he was desperately waiting for...
"Leiya," a voice called, causing said woman to turn around and look at the person that was approaching her, "It's my turn now."
The moon was just starting it's decent in the sky when the travelling musician came to take over watch from her.
The woman, sitting on a tree stump at the edge of the clearance they chose as their camping place for the night, however, didn't move an inch. Instead, she scooted over a bit and patted the space on the stump beside her, silently asking the purple-haired to join her.
"You should get some rest as well," he replied but still sat down next to her as requested.
She gave him a barely visible smile in return before averting her eyes to admire the beauty of the cloudless night sky. "Allow me to keep you company for a while."
Giving a hum in reply, he followed her gaze upwards, looking at the celestial bodies that scattered along the horizon.
"Did you know that he had a fiancée?" She asked, her eyes remaining set on the stars.
"Who?" He asked in return, quite confused by the sudden change of topic.
"Shapur. The Marzban whose life was taken by the arrow you shot."
Now he remembered that he had told them as he first crossed paths with the group around Prince Arslan about the things that happened in Ecbatana during the King's and the army's absence.
"To be together with someone as loyal to fault to a king, who betrayed his own kingdom, as him, she must have been rather foolish."
This statement earned him a low chuckle from the woman beside him. "She was. She was foolish, sometimes even narrow-minded and had a tendency to disobedience… Furthermore, she was the most stubborn woman I have ever met. Yet she loved him with all her heart."
"If I wasn't mistaken I would say that you're talking about yourself," Gieve mused, lightly laughing to himself.
But when no answer came he turned to her, his eyes absorbing the features on her face. Until he noticed the longing the cold light of the stars reflected in her eyes.
"You are talking about yourself..."
"Yes..." It was only a whisper but loud enough for him to hear.
His mouth stood agape and he was fumbling for words, obviously overwhelmed by the situation.
"No need to apologize."
"But..."
"I didn't tell you because I wanted you to apologize… I wanted to thank you."
If he wasn't at a loss of words before, he definitely was now. Gieve being speechless in front of a woman? A rare side to see, indeed.
"You want to thank me for killing your fiancée? You had every chance to blame me, even take revenge while I was asleep, yet out of all the possibilities you could have chosen, you choose to thank me?"
This elicited laughter from her, louder than before, but still in a low volume as to not wake the others.
"I have learned that from a war ignited by revenge, nothing can be born but sorrow. Even if I did kill you, Shapur's life wouldn't be revived in this world," she explained, her eyes had closed by now and a small smile adored her face, showing that she had already shed all the tears she could. "I want to thank you for freeing him from the torture he was receiving."
"But wouldn't you be happier to be together with him?"
"Our relationship was doomed from the beginning. If on earth or in heaven, I doubt that our souls were meant to be together. This is the fate the gods forced upon us. Now more than ever, for his sake as well, I need to keep on living. Love… that's something worth fighting for."
"You forgot something," Gieve intercepted, his eyes averting back, looking at the stars above, "This woman you were talking about, is the most kindhearted person I have ever known. I'm sure her fiancée – wherever he might be now – is very proud of her."
Updated: September 09, 2017 – Saturday
~KayleySayer