Raiding Supply Lines 25
'This is what I did by the favor of Ahuramazda in one and the same year after that I became king: 19 battles I fought; by the favor of Ahuramazda I smote them and took prisoner 9 kings.' - Darius the Great
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-Bactrian Plains, Royal Road, 465 BC-
A man atop a stalwart Nisean horse, stared at the plains below him, imagining various tactics and strategies to make the most of the topography. His wild hair blew in the wind and a frown etched on his face, this man was Hystaspes, the Liar King, Artaxerxes brother.
Beside him, a bald man with narrow features spoke, "My King, it is dangerous for you to be so far ahead from the main force."
Hystaspes, still staring at the plain below, responded, "Eunuch, should I fall dead from an arrow right this second, then that is because Ahuramazda wills it. Remember this, we are all destined to leave this world, only what we accomplish before then is up to us."
The man Hystaspes was speaking with was Aspamitres, the eunuch who fled the Red Apadana and was once close friends with Artabanus, the king slayer.
Turning his horse around, Hystaspes rode back to his army, having seen enough of the land ahead. 'One can never trust a scout's words, getting a personal view is best' Hystaspes thought, glad at knowing with certainty of the route to be taken. Summiting a hill, Hystaspes saw his army marching at a snail's pace outward into the horizon.
Among the army were native Bactrians, however, the main reason Hystaspes had been able to raise 50,000 men was that half of them were Scythian mercenaries from beyond the empire's northeastern borders.
'A savage people, but powerful warriors, hardened by the northern plains'
Was the thought that first came to Hystaspes mind seeing the fierce warriors, expert horsemen, and respectable archers. The Scythians, unlike their Persian counterparts, wore animal hide and lacked any sort of armor. However, these men weren't to be underestimated, as was seen in the animal hide they wore, ranging from all sorts of dangerous predators such as wolves and even on rare occasions, lion hide.
"Eunuch, gather my generals for council," Hystaspes ordered, wanting to share what he had seen scouting ahead. "As you wish my King" Aspamitres said with a flowery courtesy, having used his various flattery skills honed at court to rapidly raise the ranks of Hystaspes inner circle.
Left alone, Hystaspes contemplated the choices that had led to him launching a rebellion. 'Being King is my birthright! Artaxerxes has no right to usurp my position, had father been alive, he would want me to be king!' Hystaspes thought in fury, whitening his knuckles with the tight grip on his reigns.
He had no knowledge as to what had occurred in the Red Apadana, only that his father was murdered, then summarily half the court and his brother ended up dead. After getting the letter, Hystaspes was internally still in conflict about his decision to revolt, but after hearing Aspamitres retelling of events, how Artaxerxes murdered his father and backstabbed his brother, Hystaspes could no longer hold back and immediately rallied his banners.
Hearing the gallops of his general's horses, Hystaspes snapped out of his train of thought, and rode over, planning the route ahead, the route that would lead to his brother's head on a pike.
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-Helmand Plains, 465 BC-
"Sir! A detachment of men has reportedly seen a caravan ahead!" Shouted a young man, breathing heavily after running to report the message.
Listening to this report was another man, donned in bronze armor and a colorful tunic. Hearing this, the man turned to a large number of horsemen behind him, about 50, and said," Do you hear that boys? More sheep for the slaughter!"
Unsheathing his blade, the cavalry commander rallied the men behind him, all whooping and cheering at the thought of plunder. These men belonged to the advanced scouting parties devised by Artaxerxes. They had one sole mission, to intercept and destroy any caravan carrying logistical supplies to the enemy army, in this case, that army was the Gandaran rebel force.
"Lets move!"
With the commanders order, the men sallied out and galloped their horses at full speed. Crescenting a hilltop, the commander spotted his prey. A few dozen carriages, all ladden with war supplies - ranging from foodstuffs to arrows and spears - rode across the vast plains, unsuspecting of the eminent danger they faced.
Lightly guarded, one of the hundred or so lightly armored caravan guards spotted the approaching cavalry, "Enemy! Enemy cavalry approaching!"
Shaken out of their sleepy stroll, exhausted after hours of walking alongside the carriages, the guards hastily managed to form a halfhazard defensive formation, facing the approaching cavalry.
The commander of the caravan guards yelled at the top of his voice "Hold together men! Any who dare flee will be sentenced to death!"
'We're about to die anyway!' was a thought that went through many of the unexperienced and exhausted guards.
The cavalry commander, seeing the defensive formation, yelled, "Theyve lined themselves up for us boys! Pick your targets, no mercy!" Reinvigorated by his yells, the cavalrymen sped up their horses to breakneck speeds and leveled their spears straight ahead.
'Are these horsemen suicidal? Theyre going to knock themselves off their horses!' The caravan commander thought, an experienced soldier who had witnessed cavalry charges before. More often than not, they employed hit and run slash targets with swords, dealing with opposing cavalry and occasionally harassing infantry.
Charging straight into any infantry formation with a spear atop a horse was seen as suicide as even the most experienced riders would dismount and break every bone in their body from the impact.
However, he saw none of that here, rather these men seemed to be fullheartedly committed for impact.
As the opposing forces saw the whites of each others eyes, each commander shouted, "Brace!"
The impact was horrendous, with men atop horses thrusting their spears straight into the defending spearmens bodys, pincushioning anyone who stood in their path. The caravan commander could only stare in shock as any precedent he had witnessed was overturned, watching helplessly as the front lines of the defensive formation was consumed by the full speed of the cavalry charge.
Caravan guards who attempted to dodge a thrusting spear, would only colide into a galloping horse, instantly getting crushed under the sheer weight of the war beasts. Seeing they're fellows so helpless in the face of the Persians charge, the men at the back of the formation routed, uncaring of their commanders threat of execution.
Noticing the helplessness of the situation, the caravan commander could only yell, "Hold the line! Hold the line! Hold the-"
His voice was swiftly cut short, as his head soared in the air, decapitated by the cavalry commanders saber. Wiping the blood off his saber on the cuff of his sleave and looking around at the remnants of the caravan guards fleeing into the surrounding plains, the commander ordered, "Chase them down, leave no witnesses to report today's events!"
Having laid out a command, a dozen or so of the cavalrymen immediately set out to hunt any stragglers in the yellow Helmand Plains. "The rest of you! Forage what you can from the wagons, burn the rest."
His men all quickly dismounted and got to their tasks, while a few stayed on their horses and kept a vigilant eye on the surrounding plains. As the cavalry commander dismounted, he could only marvel and the object that had allowed for this all to be possible. The stirrup. This was what his blacksmith had called this new tool introduced by the King.
It had allowed not only for a drastic increase in the skill level of his men, but also a increase in the number of cavalrymen available, as it was much easier to train men to ride a horse with a stirrup. Staring at it for a few moments longer, the commander quickly resumed shouting orders at his men to speed up, aware that they had a quota to fill, and more logistic carvans to loot.
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-Helmand Plains, Persian Army Headquarters-
In the middle of the vast Helmand plains, was a camp stretching endlessly in all directions. 20,000 fire places lit up the night sky, perhaps had it been under different circumstances, this would have been a beautiful site for sore eyes. However, these campfires represented the amount of men ready to fight and die for their King, not to admire the night sky.
In the middle of this camp, stood a massive tent 10 meters in height, with a round frame and a circular hole at the top, something the greeks had dubbed ouranus (heaven), for it provided a perfect view of the skies above.
Inside the extravagant tent stood the general of this theatres army, Megabyzus, Artaxerxes brother in law, and a general who had made himself known in the greek campaigns.
Megabyzus was currently in discussion with his various advisors and leutenants about the current situation in the Helmand Plains.
"Lord Megabyzus, our advanced parties have sent back reports of various successful raids, though some have failed to report back." Reported an advisor with a clay tablet in his hands, in it was detailed in cuneiform script the many different battle reports ongoing in the enemy rear.
"Mm, excellent! Reinforce any depleted advanced parties with newly trained men, the Gandarans will increase their logistics caravans defenses multiple folds from here on out." Megabyzus said with a hearty laugh, glad at the way things were going.
"But my lord, should they reinforce their supply line, wont it no longer be possible to conduct raids with small parties?" Asked one of the various army officers in the tent. Hearing this valid concern, Megabyzus responded, "That should be the case, but even so, with the new introduction of the stirrup from our glorious King, we can afford to lose some men. Whats vital is that the Gandarans spend more and more manpower on supply lines, rather than their main force."
"With their men spread thin, we will swoop in and anhilate their puny force!" Megabyzus let the last part out with a shout, slamming his fist down on the wooden table in the command tent and spilling some of the wine out of his jug. The rest of the men in the room, emboldened by his words, let out a ruckus of shouts and praises for the Kings innovations and Megabyzus' courage.
"Victory!"
"Victory!"
"Victory!"