Last King of Kings

"Rostam, what's with you? It's bad manners to suddenly barge into someone's chambers and not even accept his hospitality. Come on, drink some wine with me. It'll put you in ease."

Rostam raised his head and reluctantly picked up a cup of wine, before gobbling it up in an instant. Then he poured himself another cup. Farrukhzad, the man in who's chambers they were, smiled and also drank a bit from his cup, before taking a chunk of a grilled chicken he had on the table. After a few cups, Rostam was already a bit drunk, but he started talking despite that. It seemed alcohol opened his heart to Farrukhzad.

"You know, Farrukhzad, you have it damn easy. You're just a wuzurg framadar, you know? Such and easy job, especially in the times of war. You just sit around, sometimes you sign some paper or you ride somewhere to solve some issue, but other than that, you don't have to do anything. I, on the other hand, as a commander of the whole damn military, I have to take care of recruitment, logistics, equipment, I have to ensure that recruits have proper training and that commanders aren't a complete idiots. And now, that Arabs plan to launch a whole damn invasion, who do you think is tasked with making the necessary preparations? And who do you think got that Armenian Jalinus assigned to him? Of course it was me. Who else? Seriously, Farrukhzad, I'd swap my position with you at anytime."

Farrukhzad wanted to laugh really hard, but had to hold himself back. He noticed wine was running out, so he tasked Sam, who was standing nearby to bring them another jug. After Sam left, Farrukhzad looked on Rostam.

"Rostam, my dear brother, if I understand correctly, you were tasked only with preparing the defences, not taking part in any battles. Or am I wrong?"

Rostam, again, raised his head in attention.

"You're not wrong. What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is, that if you don't want to fight alongside Jalinus, you don't have to. You're not a field commander, you're a spahbed. You don't have to fight on the frontlines."

"And who is supposed to take my place on the frontlines then? Surely you don't mean Jalinus?"

Farrukhzad looked away for a while, as if suddenly being disinterested in this topic. Then he picked up again his cup of wine and sipped a bit. Then he looked on Rostam again.

"That depends on you, doesn't it? Brother, I feel like you're very underestimating your own powers and abilities. You're not a commander anymore. Not even general. You're more than that. You're spahbed, and as spahbed you have much more power than a regular general. In terms of military, the only one that has more influence than you is Shahanshah himself, may he be immortal. But, after all, he has influence over all of us."

Rostam was in sheer awe from what his brother told him. He felt as if he was a complete ignorant until now. It was true though. Rostam really was one of the most powerful people in the Empire. And he never fully realized it.

"I am not sure whether I should thank you or not. But for the sake of decency, thank you, brother. I need to go. I have a lot to think about."

Farrukhzad smiled and watched his brother leave the room. He was thinking about something, but only he himself knew about what.

Rostam exited the room and met Sam, who was bringing a new jug of wine, just outside of the door. Sam bowed as he met now leaving Rostam.

"Leaving already, my lord?"

"Yes, I have some urgent matters I have to take care of. Thank you for your hospitality."

"That's nothing, my lord."

Rostam then nodded on Sam and swiftly left. Sam then entered the room where Farrukkhzad still was, bringing him the jug of wine.

Rostam resorted to his chambers, still thinking about what he should do. It wasn't anything serious, but his pride and honour couldn't let him just run away from the battlefield. But on the other hand, his position allowed just that. And without suffering any loss on both pride and honour. He just had to find someone suitable to lead the army into the battle. Rostam only had to hope his Shahanshah didn't expect from him to lead the army himself.

He peeked out of the door and tasked one of the guards with delivering him a wine. Guard immediately ran off, most likely in search of some servants. Then he sat down again and thought hard. It was his own pride and selfishness that drove him to this very point. But why does that matter? He would still bear full responsibility; it didn't matter whether he would be on the frontlines on in the backlines. He still would be the one responsible for the outcome of the battle.

What mattered was the environment in which he would be supposed to lead. And Rostam knew that issues would arise should he be forced to work and cooperate with Jalinus – after all, those two were completely different. Or so he believed. And he also knew that Jalinus will come – it was his Shahanshah's wish, after all. But if he himself didn't come, he'd avoid a lot of complications.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Enter." shouted Rostam. A servant emerged from the door, bringing a jug of wine and a single cup.

"Put it here, on the table. Yes, right there. Thank you."

The servant bowed and just before he started to leave, Rostam stopped him.

"Send for general Bahman Jaduya. And, while you're at it, bring another cup."

"As you wish, my lord."

Rostam waited a bit nervously for Bahman to show up. It was already over 15 minutes, during which another cup he asked for was brought. Oh, what fool he made out of himself, being nervous just for such small thing as waiting for someone. He had a jug of wine to enjoy, after all.

After another five or so minutes, he heard a knock. It was surely Bahman.

"Enter." shouted Rostam yet again. And, of course, it was Bahman. He looked a bit angry, perhaps he was interrupted from some leisuring.

"Rostam, what do you want? You have interrupted my sleep, so you'd better explain yourself."

"Bahman, calm down, calm down and come here and sit with me. Let me offer you some wine."

"Wine, hmm. Well, I'd never refuse a good wine. Alright then. So, what exactly do you want?"

"I want you to lead the army against Arabs."

"Oh, I see, you... you want what? Have you gone mad?"

"No, I have not. Why would I?"

"You want such an old man to be in charge of what would perhaps be the biggest battle of this war?"

"You'll have help. Our Shahanshah will send you his hazarbed, Jalinus. So you have nothing to fear, you won't be alone."

"Ah, I see. Now I understand why you want me to do it. I guess I don't have a choice, do I? Haha."

"Yes, but just one thing. Were you, and this is only hypothetical, for I believe you won't, but were you to lose, I want you to do one thing. If Jalinus returns to the like of his defeat, then cut off his head."