Coming Storm 38
'Now I know that God will give victory to His Anointed, Will answer him from His heavenly sanctuary with the mighty victories of His right arm.' - the Psalms
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-Parthia, Nisa, 465 BC-
Deftly wielding his bow astride his Nisean steed, a youth dressed in armors galloped his horse across the never-ending highland plains of his upbringing.
This young lad rode without a stirrup, relying on the skills ingrained into him as a child to fire his bow at targets scattered across the plains. Every time his fingers touched the taught sinew bowstring, an arrow would fly and hit a bullseye on a distant target.
At times, when he passed a target before he could load his next arrow, rather than turn his horse around, the young man would swivel his torso around and fire the bow from the reverse. Naturally, even while shooting backwards the arrow would strike true.
After all, he was the son of Otenes, satrap of Parthia. He was Surena.
Born into such a prestigious house, it was a common occurrence for Surena to be under intense scrutiny by his peers and surroundings. Unlike some of his other siblings who caved under the pressure and turned to drink and women for stress, he turned to diligent training and tutoring.
Thus, it was no surprise that when Surena heard word of his King's call to arms, he immediately received his father's permission and volunteered to join the new cavalry unit.
Reaching for another arrow, and taken out of his thoughts, Surena soon realized he had run out of arrows in his quiver.
"I suppose that's enough for today," Surena said to himself, admiring the view of the endless surrounding plains and the crystal clear sky above.
Riding his horse at a trot, Surena soon reached the outskirts of his hometown, the capital of the satrapy of Parthia, Nisa.
Though in Surena's view Nisa was a mighty city that stood above the rest, in all honesty, it was a quaint and modest suburb that didn't have much going on relative to Persia's famed metropolis' of Babylon, Ectbana, and Susa.
The guards, recognizing their young prince, immediately opened the gates to the city. Nisa's main boulevard consisted of a bustling marketplace filled with hecklers and merchants alike, all trying to sell their wares and make a hefty profit.
Seeing Surena, the son of the satrap of their province, almost all the merchants called out to him, trying to sell 'priceless' artifacts and all sorts of goods from around the empire. Desensitized to the merchant's calls, Surena trotted his horse through the thoroughfare and soon came upon a sizable mansion that rested on the highest hilltop of the city.
The Parthian mansions were a stark contrast to their Persian counterparts. Where the Achaemenids plated columns in gold and carved beautiful reliefs of majestical creatures and legendary heroes, the Parthian mansion was drab and was clearly designed for practicality, not luxury.
Entering the mansion grounds, one of his father's attendants ran up to him, "Lord Otenes has called you to his study."
Hearing this, Surena nodded in affirmation and dismissed the man.
Handing his horse to a stableboy, Surena strode into his family complex and headed to his father's study.
Passing quite a few servants and familiar faces on the way, Surena greeted them all politely and continued on through the zigzagging passageways. Before long, he stood outside a large door that had the relief of a djinn, providing good providence and defending from evil-doers.
He knocked his knuckles against the door, and soon after he heard a deep voice, "Enter."
Opening the door, Surena was greeted by the sight of a large man seated behind a cedar wood desk and a warm summer breeze that blew against his face from a pair of open windows at the back of the room.
Outside of the desk, there wasn't much else as one was expected to be standing when speaking to his father, Otenes.
Performing a light courtesy to his father in respect, Surena said, "Father, you summoned me?"
"Mm yes... it is about your application to join the King's new unit. They accepted of course, but you'll be required to pass a rigorous training period that will go on for months." Pausing, Otenes looked at his son pointedly, making sure Surena was paying attention to every word he was saying.
"This is no field trip, boy. War is not a playground and if you're planning on joining the army instead of studying then very well, but I will not send a son to war only for him to piss himself in battle and bring shame to my name!" By the end of his tirade, Otenes face was beet red, and it was obvious how he thought about one of his sons joining the army.
Persian court politics was a cesspit, and it wasn't uncommon for the heads of noble families to fall out of favor for the errors of their descendants. It was one of the many reasons why noble sons were encouraged to pursue the bureaucratic route, not the militarist route.
Noticing his father's doubts, Surena said with confidence, "Father, I can assure you that I will pass the training with honors and that in battle I will bring glory to our house!"
Otenes, taken aback by his son's flare, readjusted his view on this son of his. As a wealthy satrap, Otenes had many wives and many sons, Surena was just one of the litter. Thus, Otenes knew next to nothing about the man but seeing his stalwart confidence reassured Otenes that this son may truly accomplish something of merit.
After a few more moments of tense silence, Otenes let out a ruckus laugh, "Hahahaha! Very well then boy! Prove yourself on the battlefield and create a legend of your own!"
Hearing his father's uproar, Surena stared in a daze at the usually calm and dismissive man he had grown used to.
Dismissed by a wave, Surena left his father's quarters, still in a daze. Clenching his fists till his knuckles whitened, Surena resolved, 'I'll prove it to you father! Prove that I'm not just some nameless son of a concubine and bring glory and honor to my name!'
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-Ionia, Ephesus, 465 BC-
"*Sigh* Why doesn't anything ever happen?"
"What did you expect? Battle and glory? We'll be lucky to spot a seagull!"
Currently, a Persian patrol was watching the Ionian coast off of the bay of Ephesus. Both men were young, still in their teens, and had readily joined the local garrison after growing up listening to the legends of Cyrus the Great and Xerxes' campaigns against the Athenian barbarians.
"Heh, I knew I should have joined the Immortals... Then id at least get some action, maybe even catch a glimpse of the God-King!" One of the duo complained with a petulant tone. Picking his nose and lazily leaning against his spear, the man didn't exactly inspire confidence.
Hearing this, his comrade immediately stammered, "Immortals!? Were you dropped as a child? Only those with the strength of a bull, the bravery of a lion, and the speed of a falcon have a chance at joining their ranks!"
Speaking of a falcon, the young man who had just retorted his comrade's claim held a loftily swaying banner of the Imperial Shahbaz, used to signal to nearby patrols.
Incensed by the retort, the man straightened off of his spear and said, "Who are you to claim I don't possess such qualities? My mother claims that I could even slay a dragon should I choose to! Why I tell you, my fathers-uncles-best friends-sisters-husband is an Immortal! That means I have connections."
About to launch another rebuttal, the young lad holding the imperial banner noticed something at the edge of the dense fog in the distance.
Finding the distant silhouette odd, he squinted his eyes to get a better look. Meanwhile, his comrade was busy talking about all the great qualities he possessed and how his talent was being wasted on a seemingly remote border patrol posting.
Finally taking notice of his companion's now gawking stare, the prideful man turned his head to peer out into the bay.
What he saw made him soil himself.
Endless lines of warships pierced through the dense fog cover off the Ephesus bay, aboard each vessel seemed to be hundreds of hoplites, each wielding a spear and shield, along with the iconic Corinthian helmet.
If that alone didn't give away the identity of the attackers, what they saw above the ship's sails certainly did. Above each warship, billowing in the wind were the banners of the Delian League, a pair of white wings on a blue canvas.
Already, shouts were echoing across the coastline, reaffirming that what they were seeing wasn't an illusion, but a full-on invasion force.
Without a word of dialogue, the duo did as they were taught should an invading force approach the Ionian coast, the Bannerman would signal, the signal would pass on, and they then fall back to the city walls of Ephesus.
Finishing his signal, the Bannerman could only pray to Ahuramazda that the signal was seen and fall back with his comrade to the towering city walls of Ephesus, ignorant of the fate that awaited him.