A/N: I'm so sorry for the huge delay with this... I didn't have much motivation for this at all for the past fee months. But it's here now soo... I don't entirely know what I was doing with this chapter but oh well...

Chapter 4

Slim Chance

Garsiv lays on his bed, staring blankly at the intricate designs of his tent. The small flame in a lantern flickers, distorting the designs. Scuffing feet pass by the tent entrance every few minutes. Men joyfully holler and laugh as a steady drum beats, glasses clink as they cheer Persia's victory. He has no doubt that Dastan is among these celebrating men. Drinking and possibly making a fool of himself by dancing. Garsiv was planning on joining the festivities himself but somehow wound up here.

He sits up and slowly rubs his face. Tired of sitting around, he stands up and exits his tent. He steps out and looks up to the ebony sky. He remembers gazing into the night sky with Kas in his lap and the pure amazement written all over the young boy's face as he stared, awestruck, at the moon. Kas never called the moon by its actual name, he always called it The White Ball in the Sky. Garsiv grins at the memory.

"Garsiv!" Someone hollers from around a large fire. Other men are placed around the fire with goblets or mugs of alcohol in their hands. One man though has clearly had more than his limit, a few feet away from the fire he's on his hands and knees vomiting it all back up. The stench drifts past his nose and he, himself, nearly gags. He pities the fool, for if it were five years earlier that would be him puking his guts out.

The person who called his name starts towards him, stumbling over the vomiting man and falling face first into the sand, unbalanced on his own feet due to the alcohol taking effect. He groans and slowly makes his way to Garsiv, keeping a more wary eye out this time. As he nears, Garsiv starts to recognize the man as one of his oldest friends, Roham.

"Garsiv why aven't I seen ya out 'ere?" He slurs.

"I've been resting, as you should probably be doing now. How much have you had to drink exactly?"

"I 'on't need to be restin'. I need ta celebrate!" He throws his hands in the air, sending the rest of his drink onto the sand. The drunk man doesn't notice he did so.

"Fine, I'll allow this, but only for tonight. I want you and the rest of the men awake and ready early tomorrow." He says as Roham brings his empty goblet to his lips, tries to take a sip, looks inside and finds it void of his drink. He frowns.

"Yes sir." He meanders back to his seat around the fire. Garsiv shakes his head and turns to leave. "Sir, I nearly forgot." Roham continues, waving his finger. "The King would like ta talk ta ya." Garsiv nods in response.

The prince strides down the rows of tents, passing more drunk men on their way to their tents or the fires. The light emitted by the fires start to dim as he nears Tus's tent. Two soldiers are stationed in front of the entrance. The orange glow of a lantern peaks through the flaps. The soldiers step aside.

Tus is standing over a table with a map sprawled over it when Garsiv walks in. The lantern sits atop several books. A scroll messy with scribbled words hangs over the edge of said table. Ink blotches corners of letters and the table top. He is mumbling things to himself and making flustered movements with his hand about the map.

He clears his throat, slightly startling his older brother. The older man smiles at Garsiv. "You wanted me?"

"Indeed, I did." He guides Garsiv over to the table. The map shows Persia, the surrounding lands and distant seas. Jesapa is circled in heavy, black ink. Faded words line the borders of the map.

"I need you to leave here and go back to Nasaf." He says pointing at the royal city on the map.

Garsiv looks at him puzzled, "Why is that?"

"I find it rather unsettling that taking control of this city was so easy. All these soldiers were easy to defeat, this doesn't live up to Jesapa's reputation."

Garsiv can't help but smile, "So you're saying that their 'true' army snuck past us and are on their way to the royal city?"

"I don't see why you're smiling. It's happened before and it could easily happen again. But, I admit it is a slim chance but still..."

"A hundred years ago yes, but not with our army now. Why do you suspect that?"

"Because like us, the son of the previous ruler is the General of their Army and possibly the strongest of their soldiers." He pauses for Garsiv to think over his words. "Now, tell me this. Why didn't we find him?"

Garsiv's eyes widen, "Why hadn't you told me this earlier?" He slams his hand down on the table.

"Because it had only just crossed my mind an hour ago and it was still a slim chance!" Tus yells back at his brother.

"You should have told me earlier dammit! Then all our men wouldn't be stumbling around drunk and we could be on the road by now!" Tus grows silent and remains so for awhile. Garsiv slumps in a chair and puts his face in his hands. He takes a moment to think over everything but the only thing he can think about is Kas.

"You're not the only one with family that you want to protect." Tus finally says.

"So not sending at least half of your army to that city where that family is is protecting them?" He asks with a slightly simmered down attitude, face still in his hands.

"If I were to send more than half my army to Nasaf and I turned out to be wrong then there would be virtually no one here. If Jesapa were to attack us here, I have no doubt they would kill me and all of the soldiers here. Then their stronger army, that could very well be hiding out, would march for Nasaf. If our army there were to lose they'd kill you, Dastan, my children and yours. That is how I'm protecting our families."

Garsiv is struck silent. His entire body freezes as he realizes that Tus is right. A good minute passes by before Tus begins to speak again. "I'm going to send Dastan out to search the surrounding area for their army tomorrow morning. If he doesn't find them you will depart for Nasaf with strong soldiers. Now get some rest."

Garsiv doesn't move for a few seconds before he stands. He doesn't make eye contact with his brother when he starts to walk. He bows before the King and leaves.