Chapter 63: The battle of Al-Quadissiyah
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Chapter 63: The battle of Al-Quadissiyah
Yazdegerd seemed to be alerted. He quickly turned his gaze towards the Arab army who looked as if they were preparing their formations. As Yadzegerd was slowly realizing the gravity of the situation, Rostam was already gone, shouting commands for the soldiers to prepare. He didn't waste any time and he quickly gathered the high command to discuss the upcoming battle with them, as well as sending lower commanders and sergeants to gather the army into formation and prepare them. Yazdegerd simply looked astonished, but deep inside him a rage was brewing. Maybe not rage, but rather frustration. Frustration on how powerless he was in these situations, where skill mattered more than rank or education. And he wasn't very skilled in warfare. From the few lessons on strategy and tactics he managed to get he wasn't very wise, and he wasn't very much skilled with a blade either. He was merely a figurehead at this point, like a king in chess. Valuable, but dependent on others to protect him as he could do very little. Just as the frustration was getting better of him, Rostam suddenly looked his way.
"My Shahanshah, I'd like you to take part of the discussion, if that's possible."
Yazdegerd simply nodded and started walking Rostam's way. He felt a bit relieved. Of course he wouldn't refuse Rostam.
After a brisk but effective discussion about the tactics, which Yazdegerd didn't understand as well, Rostam turned to him.
"My Shahanshah, I'd like you to give a speech to the soldiers. I believe I told you before, but it'll drastically boost the troops morale."
Yes, he told him before. But not only Rostam. He remembered from his lessons on strategy, that ruler or a general giving a speech to the army before will brighten up the soldiers tremendously. Every great general in history was giving them. The question is whether it were those speeches that helped them win the battle, or whether it was their own skill. Yazdegerd didn't know, but he hoped that the speeches played a significant role, because that was the only thing he could do at the moment.
"No issues, my spahbed. But bring me Bashir and the boy here. They'll accompany me during the speech. Having one of the most important representants of the clergy couldn't be harmful."
Rostam nodded. "I'll call for him." Then he turned around back to the officers. "You know what to do, right? Then go to your posts and wait for further instructions."
Yazdegerd was surprised at how quickly men can change. Just yesterday had Rostam held Bahman Jaduya with high respect, and now he was commanding him like a common soldier. There was a huge and obvious difference between Rostam during battles and outside of them. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the thrill that changed him so much. But that didn't really matter. Perhaps it was even good he was able to adapt so quickly and so well, thinking quickly but still rationally. Perhaps it was this ability that was the dividing line between good and bad commander.
--
It was now clear – the Arabs were certainly preparing for an attack. The Persian formation was almost finished and so they were more than ready for the Arab attack. But that wasn't going to happen.
Yazdegerd stood on an elevated spot, overseeing most of the army. Rostam stood next to him, making sure the formation is completed well. Bashir was also present, together with the kid. It was dawn of the battle and Yazdegerd was nervous more than ever. He stood there, his knees shaking, his throat sore. Far in the distance, heralds were standing. They were supposed to relay Shahanshah's message into the faraway ranks of the army. It wasn't possible for the whole army to hear him, so he had to rely on these heralds. But he was at a loss of words. The pressure, the stress, all those eyes, all fixated on him, on his small figure covered in expensive robe and golden crown. He was a symbol of the Empire, of many nations, of millions of people, yet he couldn't even encourage those he was supposed to represent.
No, he was. On his left side, he saw Jalinus on his horse, looking at him with expectant gaze. Bit in the distance, he saw Bahman Jaduya, looking grumpy yet somehow excited. Rostam was also awaiting the speech, and even though he was hiding it behind his iron expression, he too was nervous. Yazdegerd wasn't the only one nervous here. Many of the soldiers were much more nervous than him – after all, none of them knew whether they'd return alive, or stay here atop of the Towers of Silence. Yazdegerd had much higher probability of surviving due to his rank. The least thing he could do was to encourage them.
"Soldiers of the Empire! Iranians! Today, the invader is, once again trying to steal more of our land. They came to pillage, rob, kill, rape and murder! They want to replace us, to banish and destroy our way of living, the way our ancestors lived. They want to destroy our history, our nation and our religion. They have already spilled more blood of our brethren then we should've allowed. And today, they'll be put to an end by your spear, blade or arrow. We shall let them pay for the blood with which they sullied our land, our Empire. They acted like wolves killing off a herd of sheep. Little did they know that the sheep they were trying to kill were lions disguised as sheep. That's why they will meet their end today, with Ahura Mazda overseeing their defeat! Let's kill those barbarians, let them taste defeat today, so they know to never again go against the might of the Iranians, against the might of Ahura Mazda!"
The speech was met with a glorious roar from the army. Yazdegerd didn't know whether his speech worked so well or if he'd be met with the same roar should he say anything, but he chose to believe the former. They soon heard cheers from the Arab army too. It was time for prayers. Both of the armies held prayers before the battle, everyone praying to their own god. The Zoroastrian prayer was held by Bashir and the reincarnate, who acted as a medium. Silence fell upon the land, as both armies were praying to a being they didn't really knew existed, yet they still told them their wishes, their fears and their deepest secrets, for many of whom it was the last time they ever told anyone. But maybe it was exactly the knowledge, or at least hope, that someone is watching over you, guarding you and protecting you, guiding you towards the right path that made them trust their gods. If you think about it like that, sometimes it doesn't really matter whether the being really exists or not.
--
Rostam overlooked the battlefield. At first, he wanted to lead the charge personally, but after some convincing, even he himself had to admit that it's a foolish idea. He saw the two armies, clashing against each other, overlooking the mighty battle from afar. Yazdegerd was doing the same from somewhere. As soon as the battle begun, his pushtigban instantly surrounded him and guarded him so he wouldn't be harmed. No one knows what the Arabs might be planning. The battle was in early stages, so it was difficult, nearly impossible to say who will win. No one has made any breakthrough yet, so it all mattered on the minds of the commanders and swords of the soldiers. Rostam frowned and gestured for the herald to prepare himself. He was about to give commands.
--
Jalinus was deep in the enemy line, fighting together with men under his command. He charged with them on horseback to bring the morale even higher, but was planning to soon retreat and give commands from a safer distance. As he was slowly pulling back, his bodyguards creating an opening for him, he heard a sound of a war horn. A Persian one, to be exact. It was clear to him what that meant. New orders. He had to get back from the frontline to properly relay the commands. He turned around. The battle was intense. Men screaming, swords slashing and clashing, spears stabbing and swooshing and armour clunking. He still didn't get used to the sounds. To the atmosphere. He wondered whether he even was suited for such a role on the battlefield. But that lasted only a small moment, before he started to focus again. He was here to win the battle, not evaluate his life.
He rode from the bulk of his men and relayed the orders given to him from above. His men started to slowly retreat and let the Arabs push further in. Without them noticing The Immortals charging from the hill right into their flank.
--
Arabs reacted fairly quickly, but the damage was still done. Their flank was now in ruins and Jalinus's men used this opportunity to push in and start slaughtering the confused Arabs. At the same time as The Immortals charged, Jaduya's flank started to push into the enemy, forcing him to further divert his resources, making them fall back. As the flanks started to cut off and encircle parts of the Arab army, the centre was still fighting fiercely.
Rostam still oversaw the battle. He was certain victory is in his grasp, he just needed to make the right push. And so he ordered the centre to also start pushing. Putting their force into it, breakthroughs in Arab lines started to appear. Persians started flooding the Arabs, encircling parts of their army in pockets that were then promptly slaughtered. Arab army started mass fleeing, not even their commanders being able to do anything. How majestic yet simple. Just being caught off guard for a moment could mean doom. At this point, no resistance was left. Who could flee fled, and who didn't ended up as a blood stain on the desert sand, which had already turned red.
Rostam sighed. It was as if several rocks suddenly rolled off of his back. He felt much lighter and relieved. For a moment, he wanted to scream because of the joy, but he resorted to just smiling. Brimming with joy and confidence, he set off to bring the message to Yazdegerd.
--
"General Jaduya!"
Bahman turned around to see Jalinus riding towards him on a horseback.
"Commander Jalinus. Good to see you alive. What brings you here?"
They were both still on the battlefield, their soldiers scattered across, scavenging the enemy dead or searching for their fallen comrades. Jalinus looked around a bit, then set his gaze on Jaduya.
"We have won, didn't we?" n.-o-/v)/e.-l./b.-1/-n
Jaduya chuckled.
"We sure did. It all happened so fast. One moment we were on par with them, the next they were running like rabbits! Ha ha!."
Jalinus smiled and looked upon the battlefield, ridden with people who lost their lives and with people that lost everything but their lives. He wasn't sure how was this worth any goal. And to be fair, no one was.
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Chapter 63: The battle of Al-Quadissiyah
Yazdegerd seemed to be alerted. He quickly turned his gaze towards the Arab army who looked as if they were preparing their formations. As Yadzegerd was slowly realizing the gravity of the situation, Rostam was already gone, shouting commands for the soldiers to prepare. He didn't waste any time and he quickly gathered the high command to discuss the upcoming battle with them, as well as sending lower commanders and sergeants to gather the army into formation and prepare them. Yazdegerd simply looked astonished, but deep inside him a rage was brewing. Maybe not rage, but rather frustration. Frustration on how powerless he was in these situations, where skill mattered more than rank or education. And he wasn't very skilled in warfare. From the few lessons on strategy and tactics he managed to get he wasn't very wise, and he wasn't very much skilled with a blade either. He was merely a figurehead at this point, like a king in chess. Valuable, but dependent on others to protect him as he could do very little. Just as the frustration was getting better of him, Rostam suddenly looked his way.
"My Shahanshah, I'd like you to take part of the discussion, if that's possible."
Yazdegerd simply nodded and started walking Rostam's way. He felt a bit relieved. Of course he wouldn't refuse Rostam.
After a brisk but effective discussion about the tactics, which Yazdegerd didn't understand as well, Rostam turned to him.
"My Shahanshah, I'd like you to give a speech to the soldiers. I believe I told you before, but it'll drastically boost the troops morale."
Yes, he told him before. But not only Rostam. He remembered from his lessons on strategy, that ruler or a general giving a speech to the army before will brighten up the soldiers tremendously. Every great general in history was giving them. The question is whether it were those speeches that helped them win the battle, or whether it was their own skill. Yazdegerd didn't know, but he hoped that the speeches played a significant role, because that was the only thing he could do at the moment.
"No issues, my spahbed. But bring me Bashir and the boy here. They'll accompany me during the speech. Having one of the most important representants of the clergy couldn't be harmful."
Rostam nodded. "I'll call for him." Then he turned around back to the officers. "You know what to do, right? Then go to your posts and wait for further instructions."
Yazdegerd was surprised at how quickly men can change. Just yesterday had Rostam held Bahman Jaduya with high respect, and now he was commanding him like a common soldier. There was a huge and obvious difference between Rostam during battles and outside of them. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the thrill that changed him so much. But that didn't really matter. Perhaps it was even good he was able to adapt so quickly and so well, thinking quickly but still rationally. Perhaps it was this ability that was the dividing line between good and bad commander.
--
It was now clear – the Arabs were certainly preparing for an attack. The Persian formation was almost finished and so they were more than ready for the Arab attack. But that wasn't going to happen.
Yazdegerd stood on an elevated spot, overseeing most of the army. Rostam stood next to him, making sure the formation is completed well. Bashir was also present, together with the kid. It was dawn of the battle and Yazdegerd was nervous more than ever. He stood there, his knees shaking, his throat sore. Far in the distance, heralds were standing. They were supposed to relay Shahanshah's message into the faraway ranks of the army. It wasn't possible for the whole army to hear him, so he had to rely on these heralds. But he was at a loss of words. The pressure, the stress, all those eyes, all fixated on him, on his small figure covered in expensive robe and golden crown. He was a symbol of the Empire, of many nations, of millions of people, yet he couldn't even encourage those he was supposed to represent.
No, he was. On his left side, he saw Jalinus on his horse, looking at him with expectant gaze. Bit in the distance, he saw Bahman Jaduya, looking grumpy yet somehow excited. Rostam was also awaiting the speech, and even though he was hiding it behind his iron expression, he too was nervous. Yazdegerd wasn't the only one nervous here. Many of the soldiers were much more nervous than him – after all, none of them knew whether they'd return alive, or stay here atop of the Towers of Silence. Yazdegerd had much higher probability of surviving due to his rank. The least thing he could do was to encourage them.
"Soldiers of the Empire! Iranians! Today, the invader is, once again trying to steal more of our land. They came to pillage, rob, kill, rape and murder! They want to replace us, to banish and destroy our way of living, the way our ancestors lived. They want to destroy our history, our nation and our religion. They have already spilled more blood of our brethren then we should've allowed. And today, they'll be put to an end by your spear, blade or arrow. We shall let them pay for the blood with which they sullied our land, our Empire. They acted like wolves killing off a herd of sheep. Little did they know that the sheep they were trying to kill were lions disguised as sheep. That's why they will meet their end today, with Ahura Mazda overseeing their defeat! Let's kill those barbarians, let them taste defeat today, so they know to never again go against the might of the Iranians, against the might of Ahura Mazda!"
The speech was met with a glorious roar from the army. Yazdegerd didn't know whether his speech worked so well or if he'd be met with the same roar should he say anything, but he chose to believe the former. They soon heard cheers from the Arab army too. It was time for prayers. Both of the armies held prayers before the battle, everyone praying to their own god. The Zoroastrian prayer was held by Bashir and the reincarnate, who acted as a medium. Silence fell upon the land, as both armies were praying to a being they didn't really knew existed, yet they still told them their wishes, their fears and their deepest secrets, for many of whom it was the last time they ever told anyone. But maybe it was exactly the knowledge, or at least hope, that someone is watching over you, guarding you and protecting you, guiding you towards the right path that made them trust their gods. If you think about it like that, sometimes it doesn't really matter whether the being really exists or not.
--
Rostam overlooked the battlefield. At first, he wanted to lead the charge personally, but after some convincing, even he himself had to admit that it's a foolish idea. He saw the two armies, clashing against each other, overlooking the mighty battle from afar. Yazdegerd was doing the same from somewhere. As soon as the battle begun, his pushtigban instantly surrounded him and guarded him so he wouldn't be harmed. No one knows what the Arabs might be planning. The battle was in early stages, so it was difficult, nearly impossible to say who will win. No one has made any breakthrough yet, so it all mattered on the minds of the commanders and swords of the soldiers. Rostam frowned and gestured for the herald to prepare himself. He was about to give commands.
--
Jalinus was deep in the enemy line, fighting together with men under his command. He charged with them on horseback to bring the morale even higher, but was planning to soon retreat and give commands from a safer distance. As he was slowly pulling back, his bodyguards creating an opening for him, he heard a sound of a war horn. A Persian one, to be exact. It was clear to him what that meant. New orders. He had to get back from the frontline to properly relay the commands. He turned around. The battle was intense. Men screaming, swords slashing and clashing, spears stabbing and swooshing and armour clunking. He still didn't get used to the sounds. To the atmosphere. He wondered whether he even was suited for such a role on the battlefield. But that lasted only a small moment, before he started to focus again. He was here to win the battle, not evaluate his life.
He rode from the bulk of his men and relayed the orders given to him from above. His men started to slowly retreat and let the Arabs push further in. Without them noticing The Immortals charging from the hill right into their flank.
--
Arabs reacted fairly quickly, but the damage was still done. Their flank was now in ruins and Jalinus's men used this opportunity to push in and start slaughtering the confused Arabs. At the same time as The Immortals charged, Jaduya's flank started to push into the enemy, forcing him to further divert his resources, making them fall back. As the flanks started to cut off and encircle parts of the Arab army, the centre was still fighting fiercely.
Rostam still oversaw the battle. He was certain victory is in his grasp, he just needed to make the right push. And so he ordered the centre to also start pushing. Putting their force into it, breakthroughs in Arab lines started to appear. Persians started flooding the Arabs, encircling parts of their army in pockets that were then promptly slaughtered. Arab army started mass fleeing, not even their commanders being able to do anything. How majestic yet simple. Just being caught off guard for a moment could mean doom. At this point, no resistance was left. Who could flee fled, and who didn't ended up as a blood stain on the desert sand, which had already turned red.
Rostam sighed. It was as if several rocks suddenly rolled off of his back. He felt much lighter and relieved. For a moment, he wanted to scream because of the joy, but he resorted to just smiling. Brimming with joy and confidence, he set off to bring the message to Yazdegerd.
--
"General Jaduya!"
Bahman turned around to see Jalinus riding towards him on a horseback.
"Commander Jalinus. Good to see you alive. What brings you here?"
They were both still on the battlefield, their soldiers scattered across, scavenging the enemy dead or searching for their fallen comrades. Jalinus looked around a bit, then set his gaze on Jaduya.
"We have won, didn't we?" n.-o-/v)/e.-l./b.-1/-n
Jaduya chuckled.
"We sure did. It all happened so fast. One moment we were on par with them, the next they were running like rabbits! Ha ha!."
Jalinus smiled and looked upon the battlefield, ridden with people who lost their lives and with people that lost everything but their lives. He wasn't sure how was this worth any goal. And to be fair, no one was.
Chapter 63: The battle of Al-Quadissiyah Yazdegerd seemed to be alerted. He quickly turned his gaze towards the Arab army who looked as if they were preparing their formations. As Yadzegerd was slowly realizing the gravity of the situation, Rostam was already gone, shouting commands for the soldiers to prepare. He didn't waste any time and he quickly gathered the high command to discuss the upcoming battle with them, as well as sending lower commanders and sergeants to gather the army into formation and prepare them. Yazdegerd simply looked astonished, but deep inside him a rage was brewing. Maybe not rage, but rather frustration. Frustration on how powerless he was in these situations, where skill mattered more than rank or education. And he wasn't very skilled in warfare. From the few lessons on strategy and tactics he managed to get he wasn't very wise, and he wasn't very much skilled with a blade either. He was merely a figurehead at this point, like a king in chess. Valuable, but dependent on others to protect him as he could do very little. Just as the frustration was getting better of him, Rostam suddenly looked his way. "My Shahanshah, I'd like you to take part of the discussion, if that's possible." Yazdegerd simply nodded and started walking Rostam's way. He felt a bit relieved. Of course he wouldn't refuse Rostam. After a brisk but effective discussion about the tactics, which Yazdegerd didn't understand as well, Rostam turned to him. "My Shahanshah, I'd like you to give a speech to the soldiers. I believe I told you before, but it'll drastically boost the troops morale." Yes, he told him before. But not only Rostam. He remembered from his lessons on strategy, that ruler or a general giving a speech to the army before will brighten up the soldiers tremendously. Every great general in history was giving them. The question is whether it were those speeches that helped them win the battle, or whether it was their own skill. Yazdegerd didn't know, but he hoped that the speeches played a significant role, because that was the only thing he could do at the moment. "No issues, my spahbed. But bring me Bashir and the boy here. They'll accompany me during the speech. Having one of the most important representants of the clergy couldn't be harmful." Rostam nodded. "I'll call for him." Then he turned around back to the officers. "You know what to do, right? Then go to your posts and wait for further instructions." Yazdegerd was surprised at how quickly men can change. Just yesterday had Rostam held Bahman Jaduya with high respect, and now he was commanding him like a common soldier. There was a huge and obvious difference between Rostam during battles and outside of them. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the thrill that changed him so much. But that didn't really matter. Perhaps it was even good he was able to adapt so quickly and so well, thinking quickly but still rationally. Perhaps it was this ability that was the dividing line between good and bad commander. -- It was now clear the Arabs were certainly preparing for an attack. The Persian formation was almost finished and so they were more than ready for the Arab attack. But that wasn't going to happen. Yazdegerd stood on an elevated spot, overseeing most of the army. Rostam stood next to him, making sure the formation is completed well. Bashir was also present, together with the kid. It was dawn of the battle and Yazdegerd was nervous more than ever. He stood there, his knees shaking, his throat sore. Far in the distance, heralds were standing. They were supposed to relay Shahanshah's message into the faraway ranks of the army. It wasn't possible for the whole army to hear him, so he had to rely on these heralds. But he was at a loss of words. The pressure, the stress, all those eyes, all fixated on him, on his small figure covered in expensive robe and golden crown. He was a symbol of the Empire, of many nations, of millions of people, yet he couldn't even encourage those he was supposed to represent. No, he was. On his left side, he saw Jalinus on his horse, looking at him with expectant gaze. Bit in the distance, he saw Bahman Jaduya, looking grumpy yet somehow excited. Rostam was also awaiting the speech, and even though he was hiding it behind his iron expression, he too was nervous. Yazdegerd wasn't the only one nervous here. Many of the soldiers were much more nervous than him after all, none of them knew whether they'd return alive, or stay here atop of the Towers of Silence. Yazdegerd had much higher probability of surviving due to his rank. The least thing he could do was to encourage them. "Soldiers of the Empire! Iranians! Today, the invader is, once again trying to steal more of our land. They came to pillage, rob, kill, rape and murder! They want to replace us, to banish and destroy our way of living, the way our ancestors lived. They want to destroy our history, our nation and our religion. They have already spilled more blood of our brethren then we should've allowed. And today, they'll be put to an end by your spear, blade or arrow. We shall let them pay for the blood with which they sullied our land, our Empire. They acted like wolves killing off a herd of sheep. Little did they know that the sheep they were trying to kill were lions disguised as sheep. That's why they will meet their end today, with Ahura Mazda overseeing their defeat! Let's kill those barbarians, let them taste defeat today, so they know to never again go against the might of the Iranians, against the might of Ahura Mazda!" The speech was met with a glorious roar from the army. Yazdegerd didn't know whether his speech worked so well or if he'd be met with the same roar should he say anything, but he chose to believe the former. They soon heard cheers from the Arab army too. It was time for prayers. Both of the armies held prayers before the battle, everyone praying to their own god. The Zoroastrian prayer was held by Bashir and the reincarnate, who acted as a medium. Silence fell upon the land, as both armies were praying to a being they didn't really knew existed, yet they still told them their wishes, their fears and their deepest secrets, for many of whom it was the last time they ever told anyone. But maybe it was exactly the knowledge, or at least hope, that someone is watching over you, guarding you and protecting you, guiding you towards the right path that made them trust their gods. If you think about it like that, sometimes it doesn't really matter whether the being really exists or not. -- Rostam overlooked the battlefield. At first, he wanted to lead the charge personally, but after some convincing, even he himself had to admit that it's a foolish idea. He saw the two armies, clashing against each other, overlooking the mighty battle from afar. Yazdegerd was doing the same from somewhere. As soon as the battle begun, his pushtigban instantly surrounded him and guarded him so he wouldn't be harmed. No one knows what the Arabs might be planning. The battle was in early stages, so it was difficult, nearly impossible to say who will win. No one has made any breakthrough yet, so it all mattered on the minds of the commanders and swords of the soldiers. Rostam frowned and gestured for the herald to prepare himself. He was about to give commands. -- Jalinus was deep in the enemy line, fighting together with men under his command. He charged with them on horseback to bring the morale even higher, but was planning to soon retreat and give commands from a safer distance. As he was slowly pulling back, his bodyguards creating an opening for him, he heard a sound of a war horn. A Persian one, to be exact. It was clear to him what that meant. New orders. He had to get back from the frontline to properly relay the commands. He turned around. The battle was intense. Men screaming, swords slashing and clashing, spears stabbing and swooshing and armour clunking. He still didn't get used to the sounds. To the atmosphere. He wondered whether he even was suited for such a role on the battlefield. But that lasted only a small moment, before he started to focus again. He was here to win the battle, not evaluate his life. He rode from the bulk of his men and relayed the orders given to him from above. His men started to slowly retreat and let the Arabs push further in. Without them noticing The Immortals charging from the hill right into their flank. -- Arabs reacted fairly quickly, but the damage was still done. Their flank was now in ruins and Jalinus's men used this opportunity to push in and start slaughtering the confused Arabs. At the same time as The Immortals charged, Jaduya's flank started to push into the enemy, forcing him to further divert his resources, making them fall back. As the flanks started to cut off and encircle parts of the Arab army, the centre was still fighting fiercely. Rostam still oversaw the battle. He was certain victory is in his grasp, he just needed to make the right push. And so he ordered the centre to also start pushing. Putting their force into it, breakthroughs in Arab lines started to appear. Persians started flooding the Arabs, encircling parts of their army in pockets that were then promptly slaughtered. Arab army started mass fleeing, not even their commanders being able to do anything. How majestic yet simple. Just being caught off guard for a moment could mean doom. At this point, no resistance was left. Who could flee fled, and who didn't ended up as a blood stain on the desert sand, which had already turned red. Rostam sighed. It was as if several rocks suddenly rolled off of his back. He felt much lighter and relieved. For a moment, he wanted to scream because of the joy, but he resorted to just smiling. Brimming with joy and confidence, he set off to bring the message to Yazdegerd. -- "General Jaduya!" Bahman turned around to see Jalinus riding towards him on a horseback. "Commander Jalinus. Good to see you alive. What brings you here?" They were both still on the battlefield, their soldiers scattered across, scavenging the enemy dead or searching for their fallen comrades. Jalinus looked around a bit, then set his gaze on Jaduya. "We have won, didn't we?" n.-o-/v/e.-l./b.-1/-nJaduya chuckled. "We sure did. It all happened so fast. One moment we were on par with them, the next they were running like rabbits! Ha ha!." Jalinus smiled and looked upon the battlefield, ridden with people who lost their lives and with people that lost everything but their lives. He wasn't sure how was this worth any goal. And to be fair, no one was.
