Arslan Senki

The fact that Crown Prince Arslan had returned to the fortress of Peshawar was not really much to rejoice about. Only a month ago, they had set out from the fortress. After capturing two more fortresses from the Lusitanian army along the continental highway, they had been halfway to the king's capital, Ecbatana – only to have to start everything over again.

"It's a shame that it was all in vain!"

Arslan felt a sense of futility gripping his whole body, yet he knew he could not give up because of this.

"It's great that Peshawar didn't fall. There are not many dead, thanks to your cooperation and support. Also thanks to the assistance of King Rajendra of Sindhura, all in all, things are going quite well."

After Arslan announced these upsides, everyone's spirits were lifted and the situation they were currently facing seemed less difficult. In reality, the Turanian army was camped along the continental highway, and without defeating them, there was no way to advance further to the royal capital, Ecbatana.

After entering the fortress, the tactician Narsus seemed to be deep in thought, and when pressed by Daryun, the future court painter lowered his voice and replied.

"I’m quite worried about the situation in the royal capital, Ecbatana."

"How so?"

"I think the Lusitanian army’s response was suspiciously lax. Our army retreated and they didn't make a single move."

"Hey! Talking like that only now?"

Daryun looked at his friend with a bitter smile. Wasn't the reason why the Lusitanian army watched them retreat without taking any action because they were afraid that the Parsian army had some kind of secret plan? From Lusitania’s standpoint, as long as they remained inside the fortress of Ecbatana, they would not lose to the Parsian army that easily. Wouldn't it be best for them to let the Parsian army retreat? Daryun thought so, but was this not really the case? Were there other reasons why the Lusitanian army did not attack from the royal capital? Seeing Daryun's expression, Narsus spoke up and said.

"Yes, the enemy outside the capital is not what is stopping the Lusitanians."

"In other words, you think that something strange may have occurred inside the royal capital?"

Narsus nodded in acquiescence, and then gently moved his upper body. A heavy sound was heard from beside him, and an arrow bounced off the fortress wall. It was an arrow shot from the Turanian army outside the fortress.

"If that arrow had hit its mark, history would have been rewritten."

After speaking leisurely, Narsus deliberately waved his hand at the enemy on the ground. Ignoring the fact that this action triggered a string of Turanian curses tinged with anger, he leaned his body against the wall of the fortress and fell back into his thoughts.

The Lusitanian army had already conquered one country, and another was more than half conquered by them. Under these circumstances, they must be feeling overwhelming power. It was not unbelievable that one or two internal conflicts would occur. Daryun also thought about it, but what Narsus was thinking was something even deeper.

Daryun did not dare ask more questions, for he knew not to disturb his friend's thoughts. Within these few days, Narsus would draw a conclusion and make a plan for the enemy in front of them, the army of Turan. At that moment, Narsus raised another matter.

"If the Turanian army is defeated, they may join forces with the Lusitanian army."

"To the Lusitanians, the Turanians are infidels. Is it even possible that they might join forces?"

"Aren't we also joining forces with Sindhura now? King Rajendra doesn't believe in the gods of Pars!"

"That's true."

"It won’t matter. It was the same situation three or four years ago. It's not difficult to find gaps in such a half-hearted alliance and exploit them. We've made a rather good acquisition on our side, too."

He was referring to Kubard. Kubard was a famed hero, and an old acquaintance of Daryun, Narsus and Kishward. Arslan certainly welcomed him to join the camp, but, after entering the fortress, Kubard only focused on drinking and sleeping. Once this man was surrounded by allies, his tension was relieved. However, it could also be that this man didn't want to cause any trouble, so he deliberately avoided the others.

"The Lord Tactician has been having a hard time too!"

"Well, artists are not suited to dealing with the mundane world. I'd like to quickly take care of things here so I can return my focus to the beautiful world of painting."

"The world of painting might not take you back."

Daryun's voice was very low, so Narsus did not hear it.

The shouts of the constantly besieging Turan army rode the wind streaming in from outside the fortress. Although they couldn't break the strong walls of Peshawar, they still kept on attacking undeterred, while the Sindhuran army, which had reached the country's border, was just watching the Turanian army's camp in order to avoid losses of their own. This was typical of King Rajendra’s way of calculation, and Prince Arslan, who trusted him, really made Daryun worry. As if he understood Daryun's mood, Narsus made this comment to Prince Arslan.

"Those at the top should be more like Your Highness. As for the dirty work, please leave that to us. If you’re not not a person able to shine in the darkness, it will not be possible for you to establish a new era."

After making such a comment and giving his friend a reassuring nod, Narsus remembered a companion who was not present.

"There’s been no contact from the Lord Musician for a while. He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would die halfway through a quest, but where exactly is he?"

Northwest of the fortress of Peshawar, in a corner of the overlapping mountains, a musician continued his journey in solitude. It was not easy even for Parsians, who were a horse-riding people, to ride in such a treacherous mountainous area. However, this handsome man with a lively expression in his blue eyes was an expert rider. He rode leisurely on a path along the cliff, on a rocky ridge, through the rivers without bridges, and rode deep into the interior of Mount Damavand, with an oud strapped to his saddle.

He was the self-proclaimed "traveling musician" Gieve.

After parting with Arslan's group, driven by his innate sense of adventure and curiosity, as well as another wonderful temptation, he decided to take his horse to Mount Damavand. To the good people of Pars, Mount Damavand was just a horrible and disgusting mountain.

Gieve now boldly marched toward this forbidden place. While Arslan and his party received the urgent report and the whole army turned back to the fortress of Peshawar, Gieve was heading towards another danger.

Later historians who wanted to write a biography of King Arslan spent a lot of time recounting the events of the year 321. All in all, the month of June in the year 321 of the Parsian calendar was marked by several important events, and it was not easy to grasp them all.

Part of the responsibility for this lies with Gieve. The number of incidents could have been reduced, at least a little, if this shameless man had not had the idea of climbing Mount Damavand.

Of course, Gieve was unaware of the difficulties suffered by these people in later generations.

As the horse continued to advance, color began to disappear from the land. The clouds hanging low over the top of the mountain blocked the sunlight, the trees thinned, and the gray-brown cliffs and jutting, rocky fields multiplied. The sound of birds also changed from pleasant chirps to strange cries. Poisonous smoke spewed from the rocks, and above the swamps hovered a strange miasma. The mountains and fields of Pars were full of life and beauty, but as soon as one stepped near Mount Damavand, all the beauty disappeared, and only an oppressive feeling of desolation remained.

Perhaps also aware of this oppressive feeling, Gieve looked around and shrugged his shoulders as if bored.

"What a pain in the ass! It's been three days since I've seen a woman's face. If I meet an ugly woman in these mountains and mistake her for a beauty, It’ll bring shame to my ancestors."

The man continued chattered on, even when he was alone. Broadly speaking, the range of Mount Damavand spread over seven farsang (~35km), but before entering the mountains, Gieve had procured wine and grain from the nearby towns, as well as a sheepskin cloak to keep out the cold. Although it was summer, the mountainous areas would get cold at night.

Gieve, approaching Mount Damavand, noticed something strange on the mountain road when darkness was creeping in the next day. He saw fresh hoofprints, and not just one, but likely dozens of riders running right in front of Gieve.

"Strange, people with good intentions shouldn't be anywhere near Mount Damavand, except for me. In that case, are these people mountain bandits? Whoever they are, they must not be easy to deal with."

    After making this speculation, Gieve gently pressed the hilt of his sword with his left hand. Although he was brave, he was not reckless, and he certainly did not want to meet up with such a large group of people. After carefully continuing another half farsang (~2.5km), Gieve stopped his horse, and decided to spend the night in the brush. He made a campfire in the thick of the night. It would certainly be dangerous to continue.