Last King of Kings

Chapter 64: The storm has perished

Yazdegerd was looking through the battlefield. It all seemed to happen so fast – even though the battle lasted more than half the day. He has been preparing for this battle for a long time, yet here he stood, his army victorious and marching forward to reconquer lost territory. But he was still thinking. About the battles his army has fought before, the battles they lost. They lost a lot of them – and most of them harshly. But somehow, someway, they won today. A turning battle no less. But he found it strange. It just seemed to be so easy – at least for him, for an observer. It certainly wasn't easy for the regular soldier, fighting on the frontlines. Without even evaluating his input and his actions that had sprung the chain of events that led them to this victory, he put all the praise on his soldiers and generals, without acknowledging himself. Such a man he was.

In the end, he was just glad they won. No need to think too strong about it, and no need to worry about it. Just leave it as it is and rejoice. This, after all, isn't the end, but merely the beginning.

--

A day before.

"It seems the Persians have anticipated us. Again. That doesn't matter though. We will crush them just like we always did."

Khalid was talking to himself, as usual. He was already devising a plan in his head to defeat Persians. And he had good feeling about this. Their and their enemy's position, the weather, his soldiers and the terrain, he had a good feeling about all of this. He left the observation of the enemy encampment for another day and went back into his tent, intending to get some rest. Tomorrow will be a big day for them. He can't afford to be tired.

He managed to get barely two hours of sleep before he was interrupted by an urgent message.

"General, a messenger came. He says he has an important message for you."

"I'm going, I'm going. Lead me to him."

"No need. He is waiting for you in front of the tent."

Khalid frowned and exited the tent, to find a clearly tired, lightly clothed man standing in front of him.

"So, what message do you bring me?"

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Messenger looked him in the eye.

"General, it's the Romans! Out of nowhere, they invaded from Judea and are pushing into Arabia! Caliph sent me to get you. If Arabia falls, we are lost!"

Of course, Khalid knew that. And he also knew he had to go. But it was hard, to leave before giving the Persians the final, crushing defeat. He only had to trust his commanders that they will win the battle without him. After all, they should, if they follow his plan and strategy, they should have no issue. And even if something went wrong, they all are experienced commanders. It shouldn't be an issue.

"Then, let us go. Prepare everything we will need for our journey."

"Of course, general."

What Khalid underestimated wasn't the Persian army, but the man the Arabs had to face. Rostam Farrukhzad.

--

After a day and a half of travelling, Khalid and his army reached Tabuk, which was already besieged by the Roman army. But it looked strange. As if they really didn't want to take the city. No siege equipment was seen, not even unfinished. The army had their distance from the city and was just sitting and waiting there. At least that's what it looked like from distance. The reality was completely different.

Jabal knew he wouldn't be able to take Khalid on his own, and he knew the Persians also don't have much bigger chance of doing so. At least he thought that. So he simply provided distraction, as he knew Khalid wouldn't stay to fight the Persians if Arabia was endangered. And should Tabuk fall, any invasion further into Arabia wouldn't be an issue. Jabal knew all of that, thanks to extensive preparations. And Khalid fell right into the trap set up by the Romans and Persians. He focused only on one enemy at time, ignoring the other one. And that mistake was his fatal one.

--

"My Emperor, we have new reports about the Persians. It seems they have won against the Arabs."

Heraclius was enjoying the little bit of the free time he had with his daughter, Roxane, when a messenger came up to him, informing about the war in the Middle East. It seems the Persians have won another big battle against the Arabs. Smile crawled on his face. It seems the distraction worked.

"What about general Jabalah ibn al-Aiham? How did he fare?"

"It seems he's now safe in Judea. It was him who sent this message."

"Of course. I could've thought so. You can go now, thank you."

The messenger bowed and promptly left.

Heraclius then turned on Roxane, who was in the background, simply listening, as if interested.

"It seems you'll see your future husband sooner than we've thought." said Heraclius with a smirk.

She simply frowned and sulked. "Don't forget what you promised, father."

Heraclius laughed. "Of course, my dear. But I believe it won't be needed." Answered Heraclius and smiled.

Roxane simply scoffed. It must've been hard on her, thought Heraclius, but he was sure he was making the right choice. After all, when the time comes, he'll much rather have her safe in an Imperial Palace of another country, then vulnerable here, in his own palace.

"Alright then. I must now go, my dear. I think you have your lessons on Middle Persian starting now, don't you? Then go and educate yourself."

With that, Heraclius left and went towards his throne room, where few not-so-liked faces gawked at him. It was Philippicus and Nicetas, unruly people, even though one of them was Heraclius' own cousin. They were advocating against the alliance with Persians from the beginning, and weren't happy to see the Persians winning.

Heraclius entered the room nonchalantly, still happy about the success he saw against the Arabs. He sat down on his throne and began to speak.

"Good day, gentlemen. As you may have already heard, the Persians were able to repel and crushingly defeat the Arabs in not one, but two battles. I believe this only proves the importance and value of our alliance against the common foe. If you still have anything to say against this idea, I will gladly hear you out."

No one had the guts to say anything, especially when confronted with pure facts. But Philippicus realized something.

"My Emperor, excuse me for asking such a question, but how do we seal the alliance? After all, as it stands now, Persians, nor we, have no reason to respect this alliance, as it hasn't been sealed yet."

"My dear magister militum, I think you know well how alliances work. I have already promised my daughter, Roxane, to the Persian Shahanshah."

The whole room was stunned. Most of them, at least. Some have already expected it, but the truth is that Heraclius hasn't really told anyone, because of the value such an agreement held. Should it get out before both parties formally agreed to it, Heraclius didn't know what could've happened.

"But my Emperor, are you sure? She's your last daughter! Wouldn't it be better to marry her off to the Franks or the Italians to strengthen the relationship with them?"

Heraclius looked firmly on Nicetas, who proposed such an outrageous idea.

"My dear cousin, I believe she is my daughter, meaning I have the say about to whom I'll marry her. And I decided for the Persian Shahanshah. I believe him to be the best choice. For both her and us."

The whole room fell into silence. After a while, Philippicus and Nicetas left, and then so did the others. Heraclius stayed there, sitting on his throne, thinking. Thinking whether he really made the right choice.