18 Carnage & Death In The Camp

Yazid's eyes saw the men as they entered Cyrus' camp, bloody and worn from a day of slaughter. The discipline that had so categorized the morning gave way to laxity and bloody sacking as men who had just killed found some way to justify what they had just done. Yazid asked no questions, nor did he so much as open his mouth. For it was hard to even express oneself when one's head was severed from the rest of one's body.

Just a few inches below the chin, the ripped and jacked skin that once connected Yazid's head to his torso had been impaled on a nearby spike, a grisly expression of fear and regret still written onto his corpse. Not far away, portly Amit's disemboweled body lay nearby, although his head had not quite been severed completely.

It wasn't only the merchants who had suffered such a fate. All those that had remained in Cyrus' tent had been slaughtered like mere animals. Papak's head also adorned such a spike, as well as that of other advisers and slaves to the Great King. Carnage greeted all those who entered the camp. Carnage and death in the camp of the Great King.

Great King, thought Artaxerxes, giving an ironic laugh at the tenacity of his dear stupid, dead brother. What their father would think of him now, had he not have been dead as well. His entire life had been spent in the shadow of his younger brother, Cyrus. So much that with their father's death, it wasn't long until Cyrus was persuaded to take up the banner of revolt against his own blood, finding themselves here on this very battlefield.

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Yet, almost all had predicted that Cyrus would triumph. After all, he was the one true son of Darius, and the one that was supposed to have inherited the throne. Not poor, stupid Artaxerxes. Yet, it was not poor, stupid Artaxerxes who charged headlong with cavalry into the center of a formation. It was not poor, stupid Artaxerxes who thought that charging headfirst into spears with just cavalry was a good idea. And it was not poor, stupid Artaxerxes who was cut down by the front ranks of his brother's troops, leading to his head being cut from his body and impaled on a spear that Artaxerxes now carried. The Great King looked up at the head that used to belong to his younger brother Cyrus. Yes, if only father could see us now, he thought.