Piruz was tired. And rightly so. He has won the first big battle Persians have won in the last ten, maybe twenty years. After the battle, soldiers, horses, commanders, everyone was tired. They let the city garrison and its commander to take care of salvaging the battlegrounds. Enemy soldiers weapons, armour most of their belongings were salvaged for later use. Except from any jewels or other more expensive possessions, those were scavenged by the remaining soldiers. Tents and horses were also taken by the city. Piruz's army were welcomed into the city as its saviours, hosting a feast for them. Wine ran plentiful, women were all around. And what more would soldier need? They saved the city from the horrific feat that awaited them, should the siege continue, so the feast was glorious. Piruz was enjoying the feast as well – he deserved it. At least for this one day. This was the day of victory and glory, and he was sure as hell he wanted to enjoy it. For the next few days though, that was a different matter. He needed to head back to Istakhr, but first he had to send report about the battle's outcome. Then he wanted to talk with local marzban to discuss supplies and other matters. He had a lot to do, but right now had no need to think about these duties. And so, the victorious army partied and drank till they could.
Next morning, Piruz woke up with a painful headache in a room he didn't recognize. He had a horrible hangover from all the drinking yesterday, not remembering anything. The room was well decorated, spacious and tidy. He was only in his underpants with his clothes scattered all over. Next to him was lying a naked woman. He immediately understood what happened and punched himself as a form of punishment. He quickly stood, dressing himself up. He then looked back at the bed with painful expression. He wanted to sleep a bit longer, but duties called. Duties he couldn't ignore. After drinking a lot of water, he washed his mouth with a vine-based mouth wash and chewed on fennel to remove the bad breath. Then, after making sure he had everything, set off to meet local marzban, Mahoe Suri. Walking the wide corridors with nothing but his clothes and sabre was a weird feeling for him. He was led by a servant of Mahoe, who came to pick Piruz up. After few minutes, that felt much longer in these corridors, they arrived in front of a magnificently decorated doors. Entering, they found a spacious room with all sorts of paintings and busts and other decorations, like sabres and armour sets. It sure was a sight to see. At the centre, there was a table made of dark wood, most likely painted, with golden linings. Behind the table, a man with dark hair and inviting smile sat.
"General Piruz Khosrow, I'm glad to meet you."
"Likewise, marzban Mahoe Suri. I must thank you for the feast you held for us. It's a great symbol of appreciation for my soldiers."
"Oh, please. If someone should be thanking, it would be me. After all, it was you who saved my city from those barbarians. I am grateful."
"I was sent here by the order of our Shahanshah, may he be immortal. If not for him, I wouldn't be here."
Mahoe's eyes widened a bit in surprise. He wasn't expecting that child-emperor to be behind this. His opinion of him went a bit higher after this revelation.
"Then, I also thank our Shahanshah, may he be immortal."
"Now, dear marzban, I would like to ask you and your city for a few favours."
"General Piruz, just say a word. Just say."
"Thank you. I will need enough supplies to make the march back, or at least into the nearest city. I would also like if you could take care of the wounded. And, also, make sure to bring our fallen onto the Towers of Silence and to burn the enemy corpses. We'll leave the battlefield loot to you. And, last thing, I would ask for a paper and something to write with."
"Of course, general Piruz. I can give you enough supplies to march at least to Zarang. There you can resupply and continue to Ctesiphon. Would that be enough?"
After being initially surprised, Piruz quickly understood that marzban doesn't know about the fact that Shahanshah rules from Istakhr. Thinking about the supplies, Merv must've been tired and undersupplied because of the recent siege. It made sense he couldn't give them rations that would last to Istakhr.
"Thank you, dear marzban. But most urgent is the paper and something to write with, if you could."
"But of course."
Said Mahoe and took a quill and a paper from his desk. Then he left the office, presumably understanding that the report is nothing he had any right to see. Piruz, after Mahoe left, started writing.
"My Shahanshah, may he be immortal, I write to you this report of battle at Merv as of one day after the battle ended. The enemy was completely annihilated with those surviving enslaved. As of this day, I reckon about four thousand of our men were lost in the fight with around two thousand wounded, from them five hundred not likely to be able to ever fight for Empire of Iranians again. I will present you with the full and more detailed report once I arrive.
Piruz Khosrow"
Of course, this "letter" was only to let Shahanshah know that the battle was won. A mere formality that served only as a means to let his ruler quickly know about Piruz's achievements. Piruz first had to know the exact numbers to make a full, detailed report. But that report would be made by some servant of his, so he brushed it off. After all, this was his last day in Merv, so he wanted to enjoy it a bit. And so, letting all responsibilities aside, he went on a stroll.