"Great King, are we not a little exposed in this current position?""Papak, don"t be an old woman! We need to ensure my dear brother can see the size of our vast force and tremble at its might."
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The rest of the entourage around the Great King began to laugh on cue at the courtier, taking advantage of his insult by the Great King. The scorned adviser, Papak, put his head down, never daring to question twice the leader of entire Persian Empire.
Or should he say, the soon to be ruler of the entire Persian Empire. For his commander, the leader of this vast army, a man affectionately known to later history as Cyrus the Younger had, at this moment, the t.i.tle of mere usurper to the throne. The legitimate king of the Empire, Cyrus" older brother Artaxerxes II, was encamped a little more than a mile from their current spot, hugging the safety of the Euphrates river deep in the heart of the land called by later men Mesopotamia. Only by squinting his eyes could Papak make out the great standard of Persia flapping in the breeze near the enemy camp.
One might wonder how it had come to this: how two great armies, led by brothers sharing the same blood, could find themselves occupying the same battlefield where only one could be victorious. It was a question that Papak had found himself gnawing at frequently, especially given the stakes of this expedition. Of course, there weren"t many who doubted that Cyrus would be the victor of this contest. Anyone who had been in his presence could see that he was destined to be the ruler of the world, so apparent were his virtues, intelligence, daring, and courage.
Papak hazarded a glance over to the man he acknowledges as Great King. Cyrus the Younger wore a curious smile, like one who was in on a secret still hidden from everyone else. With one hand gently stroking his long, dark beard, he surveyed the land between his small entourage and his brother"s camp. Papak had seen this look before, and knew he was creating his plan for the morning, when battle would begin. As far as plans went, Cyrus had never led him astray. The second son of the late Great King Darius II, Cyrus demonstrated clear intelligence and skill from a young age. The Little Wolf, as they called him in his father"s court, for the wolfish smile he would give after peppering a target with arrows, or from demonstrating his superior horsemans.h.i.+p, Cyrus would have made a fine Great King, had he not been born second in line for the throne. That was the only avenue of life where Cyrus did not rank first, a privilege only given to Darius" first son, Artaxerxes.
Papak had known Artaxerxes when he was just a boy as well, having spent the majority of his forty-four years in service to the Great Kings of Persia. He could still remember the day, almost twenty years prior, when young Cyrus has bested his brother in spear training, and how the father Darius looked on so proudly at his warrior son. No doubt Darius had hoped for Artaxerxes to be the wise and peaceful ruler, while his brother Cyrus would wield the spear and s.h.i.+eld in defense of the Empire. It is a blessing he could not see where those carefully laid plans have fallen on this battlefield. After tomorrow, one of his sons would pa.s.s forever from this world. Papak"s bet hedged that it would not be Cyrus.