'Xerxes, the Great King, King of Kings, Son of Darius the King, an Achaemenid'-Xerxes
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(466 BC)
It had been 17 years since Artaxerxes found himself in the body of a newborn prince. And in those years much has happened. From family feuds to outright rebellion, Artaxerxes had experienced his fair share of drama.
Since the death of Masistes and his family--10 years ago now--things have been relatively calm in the Persian Empire. Ever since his father's humiliating defeat in Greece, Xerxes had lost the will for military expansion and shifted his sights to leave his mark elsewhere.
Xerxes I, King of Kings, began massive building projects across the empire, centering heavily in Persepolis. He enlarged Perspolis by building a massive palace designated for members of the harem. Xerxes also completed the building of the Gate of All Nations, a colossal gateway signaling the entrance to Persepolis, carved with illustrations of various nationalities subservient to the empire.
He began the construction of an enormous hall, named the Hall of a Hundred Columns, to further add to Persepolis' majesty. He then built an enormous gate in Susa, naming it after his father, Darius.
His father's massive building projects aside, Artaxerxes had busied himself as well, he had become an expert horseman, confident enough to beat either of his brothers in a race and handling. As well as becoming proficient in the art of the bow, sword, and shield, Artaxerxes was lean and good-looking. He wore a heavy, colorful, woven tunic of good thick wool, padded for insulation, and belted at the waist. Over this was a floor-length gaunaka, woven by his mother, which was lined with sheep's fleece and decorated with appliquéd rosettes and felt horses' heads. His hands were calloused and hard, the result of over a decade of clutching the rawhide of horses' reins, gripping the hilt of the sword, and stretching the gut string of the bow.
He wore woolen trousers--colorful baggy britches which tucked into thick leather boots which reached the knee and were lined with fox fur. As princes went, he was not the most elegant, with his overgrown hair tied into a low chignon at the base of his neck. His clothes allowed for flexible movement, warmth, and protection.
Artaxerxes, on horseback, rode through rolling plains. The heartlands of the Persian empire. Following him was a cavalcade of courtiers, guards, and servants.
Surveying the plains around him, he kept a watchful eye. "My Prince, there's been a sighting 2 kilometers to the west"
Hearing the scout's report, Artaxerxes shifted his weight and turned his horse--without needing to use the reins-- towards the west. The dozens of followers behind him quickly adjusted their course to keep up with their prince.
After galloping through the rolling hills, Artaxerxes judged that he had traveled far enough and once more, surveyed his surroundings. Thanks to the kohl caked around his eyes, the glaring sun overhead had no effect on his vision.
Whistling, he held out his arm, and slowly afterward, a shadow blotted the sun. With swift precision, a shaheen falcon landed on his leather-padded arm. Its inch-long claws latched on tightly, and it's bright yellow eyes stared into the eyes of its companion.
"Looks like you found lunch, Horus," Artaxerxes said with mirth, noticing remains of a recent catch around the predator's mouth. "Now, go find my prey." With those words, he motioned for Horus' swift takeoff and followed his falcon, which was trained in the ways of the hunt.
In its own sort of way, hunting was less of a sport than an art form. The royal hunt was never simply a matter of killing animals. It too was a ceremony loaded with rules and etiquette. A successful hunt ended in the animal's death, but it had to be a specific type of animal that was killed: gazelle, deer, ibex, wild horses, bears, and lions were all considered a proper sport. The animal must have been free to run from its predator, or turn and attack the hunter, and it must be killed deliberately with no use of traps.
For the elite of Persia, the hunt had become an elaborate ritual filled with jargon and stiff with ceremonies. The royal hunt served to validate the aristocratic credentials of the nobles, central to the court.
The greatest kudos was to be had in hunting lions. From very ancient times, lion hunting was the strict preserve of royalty.
Following the falcon further west, followed by his retainers, Artaxerxes summited a hill that overlooked to rolling plains below. And then he saw it. A lounging feline, its mane blowing in the strong wind, the King of the Savanna.
Spotting the lion, Artaxerxes motions for his guards to form a wide perimeter, to cage the lion in. Having passed the order, Artaxerxes and a few Immortals directly ride toward the lion.
"Don't interfere." Was all Artaxerxes told his guards before reaching his hand out toward one of them.
Reaching his hand out, one of his Immortals passed him a throwing spear, tipped with gold. His knuckles whitened under the firm grip placed on the throwing spear.
'Calm down, Artaxerxes, just do what you've trained to do.'
Calming his nerves, Artaxerxes dismounted from his horse a few meters away from the lion, lounging in the tall grass. The lion, having long since realized the presence of the Persians, didn't put much thought into them, after all, from his perspective they were weird-looking hairless monkeys.
However, upon notice of the size of the man who had just dismounted, with a pointy stick, the lion's alertness rose several levels and he rose from a lounging position into a stalking one.
"Looks like I've got your attention," Artaxerxes whispered, staring down the now-standing lion, both ready to move at a moment's notice. He had chosen to dismount his horse on the off chance it reared back in fear of the lion, causing Artaxerxes to be trapped or killed from the fall.
His guards, only a meter behind their prince, exchanged worried glances. Their prince had always been one for oddities, but facing a lion on his own seemed to top any previous expectations. Plus, they feared for their lives, should the prince die on the hunt, they and their families would be skinned alive and crucified.
Unaware of the guard's nervousness behind him, Artaxerxes had entered a zone of extreme focus, not thinking of anything whatsoever except for the lion - no - the prey in front of him.
Entering a state of emptiness, the prince stood absolutely still, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Suddenly, with a deafening roar, the lion sprinted full speed towards Artaxerxes, covering the length of a few meters in moments. The guards, surprised by the sudden movement were too slow in loading their bows, unable to slow the lion.
However, Artaxerxes was still perfectly still, with the lion sprinting straight at him with its gaping maw outstretched, ready to bite his throat. With a quick inhale, Artaxerxes shift his weight forward, leaning towards the right, the side where the lion's claw was farther back.
Jumping in midair, the lion pounced on its prey...
His spear gripped firmly in his left hand, and his weight still carrying his strength forward, he thrust the spear into the lion's exposed ribcage...
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Artaxerxes sat in the massive dining room of Babylons Summer Palaces, dressed in his new lion-skinned coat. With the lion's head and mane serving as a hoodie, and the bulk of the body lined with the fleece of fox fur, flowing down his back like a cape.
On the table were the finest delicacies from around the empire, whether it is Persian, Egyptian, Lydian, and so on. With the only exception of greek foods, having been outlawed by Xerxes.
The feast had been thrown in celebration by his father for slaying a lion on his hunt and officially becoming a man.
Xerxes, as always, sat upon his imperial throne/Takht, gazing at those below him. There were a group of artisans carving a relief into the stone walls. It was to be an illustration of Artaxerxes slaying a lion with wings and the head of a human, because, Artaxerxes supposed, people found that more entertaining to look at.
Standing up off of his throne, the Kings movements immediately silenced the crowd. "Today, we not only celebrate my son's successful hunt but his entrance into adulthood!" Xerxes announced.
Pausing for a signal, those below immediately began to clap, occasionally shouting cheers of joy and congratulations to the King. "Thus, I, Xerxes, proclaim him to be wed to Damaspia the Achaemenid"
Artaxerxes, who had been reveling in the festivities, spits the wine out of his mouth, "Huh?"