'O man, whoever you are and wherever you come from, for I know you will come, I am Cyrus who won the Persians their empire. Do not therefore begrudge me this bit of earth that covers my bones.' - Cyrus the Great
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Riding at a trot ahead of his Immortal infantry, Artaxerxes soon reached the frontline. Watching the chaotic battle ahead, Artaxerxes noticed there were areas on the battlefield where his light infantry was having trouble holding on against the Scythian horde.
Scythians wielded crude war hammers and spiked maces, dressed in fierce animal hides and faces covered in warpaint. It was no surprise to Artaxerxes that his conscripts were having difficulty facing such a fierce foe.
Pointing to the particularly harsh section of the battlefield, Artaxerxes yelled over the chaos of battle, "Get our armored infantry to reinforce the line. We must hold on!"
Hearing this command, the flag bearer who had been riding beside him signaled to the horns, and after they sounded throughout the battlefield, thousands of armored elite infantry reserves began pouring into the areas where the lightly armored conscripts were struggling.
With their entrance, Hystaspes' army soon had to reinforce their struggling lightly armored Scythians with their elite armored units.
Having watched the battle for long enough, Artaxerxes kicked his horse into action. Breaking into a gallop, the Immortals had to go from jogging to sprinting to keep up.
Artaxerxes, having surveyed the battle, found a particularly weak section of Scythians on the right flank, where the rebels had few reserves due to the absence of their cavalry.
"Immortals! Wedge formation!"
"Ooooh!"
Acknowledging the commander, the Immortals expertly orientated themselves from a standard phalanx into an arrow-like formation. The wedge formation, a tactic Artaxerxes had been able to briefly introduce into his elite guard during their brief stay at Persepolis for his coronation.
Used by the Celtic and German tribes against the Romans, the wedge formation was perfect for breaking through enemy lines.
Persians, hearing the roar of the Immortals behind them, parted like a tide to make way for the stampede. Any unlucky man hesitant enough to not avoid the charge was simply crushed under the weight of an Immortals boot.
The Scythians, seeing the parting Persians, whooped and ululated in glee as they thought that the weak Persians were fleeing from their mightiness.
However, in the not so far off distance, the celebrating Scythians saw a lone rider break through the dust clouds of the moving troops.
"Hah?! One rider? Is he suicidal?"
"Who cares! He's my kill!"
Various shouts erupted among the ruckus Scythian warriors, all wanting the glory of killing a cavalryman.
"Wait...What's that behind him?" A lone man asked after more of the smoke cleared.
As the smoke vanished, an intimidating sight came into view. Black-clad warriors - thousands of them - donned silver masks and intricate iron armor, and charged at breakneck speeds in an odd formation.
Bewildered and terrified, many Scythians didn't know how to react. 'Counter charge? Defend? Run? What do we do?'
It wasn't long before experienced warriors among the Scythians snapped back into reality and began yelling orders, "Get it together men! The hordes of hell are upon us!"
"To battle! To battle brothers!"
"Brace yourselves!"
Artaxerxes, impressed by the responsiveness of the Scythian barbarians, adjusted his position on his horse for impact. Placing his feet firmly in his stirrups and tightening his grip around the shaft of his spear, Artaxerxes crashed straight into a shieldless Scythian who could do nothing but absorb the full brunt of war horse and man.
"Aghgh-!"
His scream was cut short by horse hooves caving his face in. Not stopping at that, Artaxerxes kept his hefty war horse at a gallop, bulldozing through as many Scythians as possible in order to make way for his Immortals.
Not ones to be left behind, the Immortals soon pierced into the Scythian line like a spear, expertly using Artaxerxes' opening to their advantage. Themistocles led the Immortals, thrusting his spear into armorless barbarians while simultaneously using his bronze Greek shield to defend against any incoming bludgeons from Scythian attackers.
As Artaxerxes deftly dodged an incoming mace strike and impaled the attacker, he felt something off about the sunlight.
Looking up, he saw countless arrows raining down from above. "Shields up!" Artaxerxes yelled.
Raising his figure eight wicker shield, it wasn't long before Artaxerxes felt the crushing weight of bolts deflecting off the ornately crafted shield. Suddenly, Artaxerxes felt his horse give out from under him.
With years of experience, Artaxerxes deftly escaped his collapsing steed and rolled on the ground. Looking back, he saw his trusty horse dead on the ground, an arrow bolt through his eye.
'Fuck! I like that horse...' Ataxerxes thought in anger. That had been the horse his father have given him after he slayed a lion. The horse had also seen him safely through many dangers.
Gritting his teeth, Artaxerxes glared at the Scythians around him. Many lay dead from the recent archer volley, yet it was only so long before they were replaced by more men. Whitening his knuckles around his spear shaft, Artaxerxes threw it forward with all his might, enraged by the loss of his horse.
The spear flew at 300 mph, to the common eye it was just a blur at the corner of their vision. This wasn't the case for anyone who stood in front of the spear.
Like a harpoon, the spear impaled one man after another, not stopping until the entire shaft was stuffed with impaled Scythians.
"*Cough* What the hell...?" A bewildered and shocked Scythian asked. Looking at the spear shaft protruding through his stomach, behind and in front of him, there were other men impaled with the same spear.
One moment, he had been craning his head to get a better look at the front, the next, he felt a jolt through his entire body. As the man wondered what had happened, his eyes dimmed, and his legs slackened. Soon the entire shish kabob of Persians tilted over and collapsed.
While all this was happening, Artaxerxes wasn't idle. Jumping into action after throwing his spear, Artaxerxes dashed to the nearest dazed enemy and unsheathed his saber, decapitating the man effortlessly.
Angered and horrified, many Scythians chose to ignore the ladder part of fight or flight instinct and charged mindlessly at the monster that just killed a dozen men. Hardening his gaze, Artaxerxes realized that even he couldn't fight off hundreds of opponents.
As Artaxerxes was contemplating the best course of action, a dozen or so spears entered his rearview, dashing past him and fending off the Scythian attack. His Immortals had arrived.
"Kill all these Scythian dogs!" Themistocles yelled viciously.
Turning from his men, he respectfully asked, "Are you harmed, my King?"
Chuckling at his closest advisor's attitude, Artaxerxes responded, "I'm well, Themistocles. You arrived at the nick of time."
"Pardon?" Confused by the idiom, Themistocles threw a confused look at the king while surveying the battle.
Currently, the Scythians were buckling under the pressure of the Immortals spear piercing through the right flank. It wasn't long before the entire right flank of the Liar King's army seemed to collapse.
However, just as the first Scythians began to drop their weapons and flee, a thousand elite royal cavalrymen charged into the mayhem.
Seeing the cavalry unit, Artaxerxes shouted, "Immortals! Shield wall!"
Naturally not everyone heard his shout over the din of battle, but one officer passed it to the next and it wasn't long until the Immortal wedge formation shifted into a shield wall, one rectangular wicker shield over another, with spears at the ready.
Hystaspes, seeing this, grimaced in distaste. Without the stirrup, it was suicide for the cavalry to charge head-first into a shield wall formation.
Raising his spear, he signaled for his cavalry to follow him and flank the shield wall, thus causing disarray in the tight formation.
Watching the cavalry shift its momentum to the right, Artaxerxes immediately knew what they were planning.
Realizing he had to take action, Artaxerxes dashed through the chaotic melee going on between the disorganized Scythians and the orderly Immortal shield wall. Yelling at the top of his lungs while swinging his sword in the air to draw attention, Artaxerxes yelled, "Persians! Gather to your king! We must hold the right flank!"
Hearing this, any elite Persian infantry that had been loitering nearby in reserve rallied to their king, prepared to fight and die under his command.
Arriving at the right flank of the Immortal shield wall where the rebel cavalry was trying to encircle, Artaxerxes and his motley crew of a few hundred or so Persian infantry gathered.
Straight ahead of them in nothing but open plain and highland was a charging mass of elite Bactrian cavalry.
Hystaspes, noticing the hastily assembled defense, decided this was surmountable and rallied his men for a charge.
"Look at these farmboys men! Stripped from their mother's arms and given a spear! Show them the might of the Bactrian lance!"
Enthralled by their king's encouragement, the Bactrians eagerly urged and kicked their steeds onward into the disorganized defense.
Watching the elite cavalry pick up speed, Artaxerxes knew that they were committed to the charge, and not even Ahuramazda himself could slow their momentum.
"Tighten up formation! Brace for impact!" Artaxerxes yelled while clanging his sword against his shield.
The once lose and disorganized formation, tightened up and the men straightened their spears. Though not as orderly as the Immortals, it would certainly pack a punch.
Soon, infantrymen saw the war horses' hulking frames and wild eyes, causing many to piss themselves on the spot. Some began to pray, others just wanted to flee.
However, one thing kept the men together in the face of a thousand lances, and that was their King. Artaxerxes himself stood in the formation, ready to die alongside his kinsmen, something that all the men admired and respected.
As the cavalry reached closing distance, Artaxerxes and Hystaspes soon recognized one another, realizing that their duel would soon begin anew.
"Charge!"
"Brace!"
Screams and shouts crescendoed as the cavalry punched into the Persian formation. Artaxerxes leveled his shield and narrowly deflected an incoming Bactrian lance, getting knocked back by the sheer force of the impact.
Before long, another Bactrian cavalryman aimed his lance at Artaxerxes. Not one to take things standing, Artaxerxes deftly avoided the lance, but this time, he clutched onto the man's reigns, pulling himself up and onto the horse.
Landing in a seated position behind the rider, Artaxerxes mercilessly snapped the man's neck and shoved him off the horse.
Hopping onto the stirrupless saddle, Artaxerxes dexterously maneuvered his house around to search for his brother, Hystaspes.
Looking around, it seemed that his fellows were putting up quite stiff resistance. After the initial charge of iron, horse, and sheer gravity, Artaxerxes infantrymen had pulled themselves together into squads and began using sickles to drag men off their horses.
Watching the chaos unfold around him, Artaxerxes had a hard time searching for his brother. That was until his honed battle instincts flared and he quickly swung around, deflecting an incoming spear thrust with his blade.
The man who had stabbed at him was dressed majestically, with winged lions emblazoned on his iron-scaled armor and a black cape billowing behind him.
Artaxerxes was dressed similarly, with a falcon on his iron-scaled armor and a tattered gold cape flowing in the wind.
"That's not how one should greet their brother, Hystaspes."
"Then it's a good thing I was greeting a bastard!"
Not bothering to waste their time on small talk, the brothers engaged in fierce mounted battle, unaware of the chaotic battle around them.
Arrows rained by the thousands, men died by the hundreds, all of this couldn't pull the attention away from this duel, for whoever won this, won the war.
Normally, when swordsmen or warriors of a similar caliber fought, they would use the first few minutes of battle to test one another and figure out each other's strengths and weaknesses. This was not the case between Artaxerxes and Hystaspes, both knew one another like the back of their hands.
Closing the distance between them, Araxexes deflected an incoming spear thrust from Hystaspes, and latched onto it. Using his advantage in strength, Artaxerxes clutched onto it with his full strength and destroyed the shaft.
Hystaspes, unfazed by his brother's herculean strength, quickly backed his horse and unsheathed his saber.
Where Artaxerxes had strength, Hystaspes had cleverness.
Hystaspes moved in for a downward slash, and Artaxerxes quickly blocked, only to block air. Hystaspes had launched a fake and dropped his sword from his right hand onto his left and quickly hacked sideways across Artaxerxes' chest.
Caught by his brother faint, Artaxerxes leaned backward on his horse - nearly dismounting - and narrowly avoided the attack. He didn't escape unharmed, however, as his armor now had a vertical scar in its scalework and a trickle of blood leaked out of the armor.
Tsking at his brother's quick-wittedness, Artaxerxes honed his senses. Taking a moment's breath, the brothers quickly re-engaged in their furious duel.
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Meanwhile, all around them, the battlefield was constantly shifting. After Hystaspes charged into the Persian right flank, the bulk of Bactrian forces had been sent to the right to reinforce.
This had turned into a costly mistake by the Bactrian high command, as it wasn't long before the huge battle of nearly 20,000 cavalries came to the end. The indisputable victor was the Persians.
Using their stirrups, the Persians had high maneuverability and an increase in all-around skill. With this innovation10,000 Bactrians lay dead and 15,000 Persians remained atop their horses. Quickly taking advantage of the cavalry-less army, the Persians charged into the Bactrian center's rear.
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Artaxerxes deflected another one of his brother's slashes, redirecting it to the side, and made a move of his own.
Utilizing his horsemanship skills, he deftly maneuvered his horse to rear on its hind legs, causing Hystaspes own horse to froth at the mouth in anger at being out showed. Hystaspes's horse, rearing itself to show its might, dismounted the dazed Hystaspes, who was completely caught off guard by the horsemanship.
Planted on his behind, Hystaspes sword lay discarded a few paces away. Artaxerxes, dismounting from his horse, placed his blade over his still-confused brother's neck.
"Do you yield?" Artaxerxes asked, looking down at his brother.
Glaring viciously at his brother, Hystaspes caught a phantom image of his father's lofty indifferent expression overlapping with his brother, sending him into a rage. "Agghgh! You and father are both the same!"
Making a grab for a dagger concealed in his tunic, Hystaspes shot upwards toward Artaxerxes. Artaxerxes, caught off guard by his brother's sudden burst of speed, reacted on instinct and cleaved his sword downwards.
Blood spilled and a man lay dead.
Artaxerxes, breathing heavily, face covered in his brother's blood, looked down at his brother. His shoulder was bisected down to the torso leaving a terrifying image forever seared into Artaxerxes mind.
Stumbling back, Artaxerxes had the urge to vomit, he had killed his brother, he had killed the rebel, and he had won.
Unable to afford the luxury of contemplating what he had just done, Artaxerxes was suddenly shocked out of his revelry by ear-bursting cheers.
Looking around in a daze, Artaxerxes saw men waving their swords and spears in the air chanting his name. In the distance, Artaxerxes saw his cavalry running down any fleeing Bactrian or Scythian rebels who may wish to find refuge in the mountains.
It was all setting in, he had defeated his brother, 'No!' Artaxerxes thought, he had defeated the Lie and upheld Ahuramazda's Truth and by extension - stabilized the Achaemenid Empire.
Raising his blood-soaked blade into the sky, he encouraged the celebrating men's chants, causing them to soar to new volumes.
"Artaxerxes!"
"Artaxerxes!"
"Artaxerxes!"