'Depart in peace, you Persians, and declare to your fellow subjects how the mighty Ahuramazda has dealt out vengeance to the contrivers of the Lie over the Truth' - Artaxerxes II
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-Aerian Highlands, 465 BC-
Watching the battle on the hill above, was a gallant figure astride a white Nisean horse of the finest breed. His iron-scaled armor had intricate carvings of various fantastical creatures.
Above him, a banner loftily swayed in the early morning breeze. Emblazoned on the swaying banner, was a prowling winged lion, the symbol Hystaspes had chosen to use as his sigil. Hystaspes believed the winged lion was a representation of himself; brave, strong, and free-spirited.
"My King, as you can see, Artaxerxes planned on ambushing our encampment and massacring you in your sleep!" A man among Hystaspes' retinue spoke, and just behind them was the Bactrian command center, where various orders were being received and sent to men on the battlefield.
"Mm, my brother truly is a coward for attempting such a dishonorable tactic. But how exactly were you aware that Artaxerxes planned on marching today?" Hystaspes asked, eyeing the eunuch Aspamitres wearily.
Assuming a sly smile, Aspamitres responded, "I have my sources, my King. Not even the Liar King himself can escape my eyes and ears..."
Picking up numerous red flags from this response, Hystaspes internally resolved himself to have the eunuch assassinated as soon as possible, lest he allowed himself to 'suddenly fall ill'.
After a few moments of awkward silence, a messenger dashed toward the gathering of generals and advisors. Out of breath, the young messenger gasped, "The King -- I mean the Liar-King was spotted on the battlefield, *gasp* he's rallied the enemy forces!"
Overlooking the young man's misstep, Hystaspes spoke to his generals, "That would explain the sudden increase in morale."
Minutes earlier, there had been a sudden push by the Persian frontlines, resulting in Hystaspes having to send reinforcements earlier than anticipated.
"Yes my King, but I believe with the chariot reinforcements we've sent well soon hear word of the Liar King's demise!" Shouted an enthusiastic young commander.
Various other generals seemed to agree, believing that Artaxerxes was a hot-blooded fool and would soon realize war wasn't so simple. However, Hystaspes thought differently, he had grown up with Artaxerxes and among the three siblings, Artaxerxes had always been the most martial and the most enthused by the art of war.
Unable to shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach, Hystaspes ordered, " Send in the elite infantry immediately." Resulting in many grumbles from the general staff.
Hearing their Kings order, bannermen signaled, bronze horns blew, and infantry phalanxes advanced.
After a moment more of contemplation, Hystaspes ordered with a grim determination, "Rally my personal guard, I wish to greet my dear brother..."
(A/N: All this is happening while Artaxerxes fights on the hilltop, not after. I'm mirroring events)
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-Margianan Valley, 465 BC-
Inarus smashed his war horse through the unsuspecting back of the Chorasmian archer, disintegrating his spine and mortaring his corpse into the fertile valley floor.
"Charge men! Charge!" Inarus yelled at the top of his lungs, tearing his throat from overuse. Echoing his yells, a thousand more followed, as Inarus and his cavalry charged into the rear of the Chorasmian formations.
As Inarus cleaved one Chorasmian after another, he had to reminisce as to how he had finally managed to get the ever-elusive Chorasmian army exactly where he wanted.
It had all begun after sending a detachment of men up the river Oxus to disrupt enemy supply lines. Days after their commitment, Chorasmian troops began to shift towards the rear in order to deal with the growing threat of diminishing supplies.
Unlike how Inarus originally planned, the Chorasmians stayed put and didn't push the offensive with a weakened force. So, he had to improvise. Realizing the effectiveness of using triremes to ride upstream the Oxus and flank the enemy, Inarus did just that.
Ordering his trusted lieutenant, Dadarsi, to lead a full frontal assault on Chorasmian positions, Inarus meanwhile quietly boarded a fleet of hastily built triremes, or rather canoes that miraculously managed to safely transport a thousand of his most elite cavalry upstream.
Though it was inevitable that a few boats capsized on the river, a vast majority made it to the desired landing zone, which was adjacent to the Chorasmian's rear which was unguarded due to the heavy assault being pressed by Dadarsi's forces.
Seeing the exposed back of not only the Chorasmian archers but also its High Command, Inarus charged his horse forward, followed by his elite cavalry, all thirsty for blood.
And that brings Inarus back to where he was now, swinging his blade down on what seems to be a noble. Fat and laden in silks and precious gems, the man squealed like a pig as Inarus' blade impaled his heart.
Killing the wealthy-looking man, Inarus surveyed the battlefield. Up ahead, where Dadarsi was leading the main assault, things were looking grim for the Chorasmians as men began to discard their weapons and flee as they realized they were no longer protected by the valley walls, but rather were surrounded by an unknown amount of elite cavalry.
As the Chorasmian frontline disintegrated, Inarus' elite cavalry swept through the battlefield, expertly using their newly acquired stirrups to deftly maneuver between the outclassed Chorasmians.
Realizing the battle was won and gazing at the dead man below him who was most likely the satrap of Chorasmia, Inarus thought, 'The King will be pleased with such a gift...'
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-Aerian Highlands, 465 BC-
Blade soaked in blood, Artaxerxes deftly flicked the saber with his wrist, splattering the blood on the grassy hilltop.
Artaxerxes had just finished destroying his fifth chariot and was beginning to feel the strain on his overworked and tired body. Taking a moment to breathe, Artaxerxes gazed up at the sky. Dense clouds billowed above, blotting out the sun.
'Hopefully, it won't rain...' Artaxerxes thought
Lo and behold, moments later he felt a raindrop on his forehead, and then one on his nose. Soon a downpour came crashing down, turning the ground to mud. 'Curse my luck!' Artaxerxes thought.
Suddenly, Artaxerxes horse nervously shifted. Artaxerxes, curious about what upset the steed, shook himself out of his daydreaming and looked ahead. What he saw made his skin curl.
Ranks upon ranks of armored Bactrian infantry were storming the hilltop. In moments, they had already taken advantage of the gaps left in the Persian formation left by the chariots to maximize their damage.
Heavy infantry, plus the remaining chariots, melted through any remaining Persian defenses. Had it not been for the knowledge that their King was among them, the men would have already routed; some units suffering as many as 80% casualties.
Realizing the situation called for an immediate response, Artaxerxes jumped into action.
"Tsk, Immortals! Chosen by God! To me!" Artaxerxes shouted.
By now, few of his Immortal guards returned. Many were too spread out on the battlefield or fallen, so Artaxerxes would have to make do with the few hundred or so that remained. Having rallied his cavalry, Artaxerxes pondered on what action to take because quite frankly, he couldn't think of much to affect the situation on the front with so few remaining Immortals.
As Artaxerxes was about to order his Immortals to charge, the roar of a bronze horn ripped through the battlefield. Turning his horse around, Artaxerxes stared through the torrent of rain to see what could have caused such a commotion.
As he turned, slivers of light broke through the black clouds above, illuminating the arriving force. What Artaxerxes saw was truly breathtaking.
Phalanx upon phalanx of elite Greek hoplites, all donned their iconic Corinthian helm, six-foot-long spear, and round bronze shield. Feeling tears emerge at the edges of his eyes at such a glorious sight, Artaxerxes resolved himself.
"Ahuramazda has graced us with his presence men! To the death!" Artaxerxes shouted, managing to pierce his voice through the downpour of rain.
Rearing his horse on its hind legs, Artaxerxes pointed his sword forward, toward the enemy, and charged.
Almost immediately afterward, he was followed by his Immortals, his infantry, and lastly a tide of Greek warriors.