Last King of Kings

Chapter 71: The offensive begins

"My Shahanshah, may I?" asked Rostam before opening the door to Yazdegerd's chambers ever so slightly.

"Come inside, Rostam. No need to be shy." He chuckled. Rostam opened the door and slipped inside with a smile.

"We need to go, my Shahanshah. The carriage is waiting."

Of course. They had to go already. The visit was only for a few days, just so Yazdegerd and Roxane could meet. Nothing more. And yet, Yazdegerd felt a sense of unease and sadness upon the thought of leaving. He knew he had to go – and he wasn't about to refuse that. But he hoped that he could take her with him. Or that he could regularly visit him. Or she him. Perhaps letters would suffice.

But no matter. Right now, he had to leave to take care of the responsibilities he had left behind. He had already patched things up – he already said his farewells to Heraclius, Roxane and Bonus. He only returned to his chambers to have his things packed and loaded unto the carriage.

"Rostam, could I hear your insight? You've been fairly quiet the whole visit, which I can understand, but I am sure you weren't just idle, right?"

Rostam let out a weak laugh.

"I was quiet mainly due to the language barrier. I am not skilled in Greek as you are, but otherwise, you are right. I made some observations and some research. I have ordered some od my men, those who are sufficient in Greek, to ask around the court and even the city. I myself have been observing the happenings during the whole visit. I can, with confidence say that Emperor Heraclius can be trusted. Same as your future Shahanshahbanu. The man that welcomed us and led us to the palace, Bonus, seemed also like a good fellow. But my men have found out some sensitive information that may well be very dangerous. Apparently, Roman Emperor isn't on the same wavelength with some of the members of his council. I am not sure whether they are planning a rebellion or are simply dissatisfied, but we should be vary."

"Truly? Shouldn't we tell Heraclius then?"

"My Shahanshah, if I may, I don't think that is a good idea. If even the common folk know about it, there is almost non-existent chance for the Emperor not to know. Telling him this would simply provoke unneeded outrage and perhaps even a misunderstanding. I believe we should simply be ready to help, but leave everything to the Emperor."

"Alright. If you say so, Rostam, I will believe you. Anything else?"

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

"Nothing more to report, my Shahanshah."

Rostam then left the room, and so did Yazdegerd just a moment after. Then they embarked upon the journey back. The journey seemed to be much swifter than the journey there. Perhaps it was because Yazdegerd had many things to think about. Not only about his future Shahanshahbanu, but also about the next steps he would take against the Arabs. After all, he left them alone for a decent while, and Piruz should have already finished preparing the troops for the Great Traversal, as they called it.

Piruz has, in Yazdegerd's and Rostam's absence, been in charge of the military. He had been commissioning new weapons and armour, he began a recruitment campaign and he also stacked on equipment against heat, like water canteens, camels and such – all for the sake of crossing the Arabian desert and attacking Mecca and Medina from the south. They would take Usama with them, who would help them incentivise natives and to join their cause of liberating the Muslim land from the warmongers. And the army, together with the plan were almost ready – they only had to wait for Shahanshah's agreement. And Shahanshah was closer each day.

When Yazdegerd arrived into Ctesiphon, he didn't waste any time. He, together with Rostam, immediately visited Piruz, and listened to his plan once again. Without any prior preparations, it sounded suicidal. But with the effort that went into it, the plan may have actually work. Instead of doing a naval invasion or following the coastline, which would be lengthy and predictable, a direct assault through the desert would be unprecedented and unpredictable. Yazdegerd, having little experience in warfare, believed in his general. After all, his role wasn't planning the strategy or tactics, his role was to rule over his subjects. And that role he fulfilled brilliantly.

He also met with Usama, to discuss not only the attack, but the consequences and what will follow.

"I have to say, Usama, that you are a very ambitious person. But I assume you know what has to happen, should we win this war, right? That Arabs can't be a fully independent nation. You surely know that, right?"

"My Shahanshah, when I have first arrived here, I was confident that I will swear fealty to you, one way or another. I wasn't intending to take charity here. I knew well that it'll come to this, someday."

"You did, huh." Smiled Yazdegerd. "That's great then. I hope you'll offer your native knowledge of the land to our commanders."

"Your word is my command, my Shahanshah."

Yazdegerd stoop atop of the small hill that was overlooking the encampment. The soldiers were all ready and knew what followed – only sweat, heat and pain. But they were still cheerful, despite the dreadful temperatures of the desert. Once the march began, the cheerfulness disappeared to conserve energy in case of sudden ambush. The march was exhausting itself, with hot days and cold nights, it wasn't easy. But it was doable. Once in a while, they came upon an oasis, where they could recover their strength and their supplies. Of course, without Usama leading them, it would be impossible. Marching tens of thousands of men through the desert was no easy feat. But they made it work.

Yazdegerd was happy that everything was progressing according to the plan. Ever since he returned from Trebizond, he felt a bit uneasy about returning to the leadership position again, but everything went so smoothly he felt his worries were meaningless. The army was in great shape, his commanders were experienced and skilled and the supply chain and logistics were well-planned. No reason to worry about anything. But that was it. Yazdegerd felt like everything was proceeding way too smoothly for his liking. In the end, though, it was the role of a ruler to needlessly worry about anything. After all, should the ruler not worry, it meant two things – either something was wrong, or the ruler was na?ve. And Yazdegerd hoped it wasn't any of those.

The first bigger city they arrived in was Hajr. Well, it wasn't really a city. More of a bigger town, housing no more than few thousand inhabitants. The town defences weren't really something the great Persian army should be afraid of – the town fell in mere hours. The overwhelming force couldn't be stopped by something so basic. Rostam decided that this town would be the base of their operations for now. After all, he was confident that the opposing party already knows of them, and that they are preparing for them. And he was right.

--

General Khalid ibn al-Walid was already aware of the encroaching Persian army and was desperately building a force that stood at least some chance against the foe. The Arab fiasco at al-Quadisiyyah was a deafening blow to the Arab ability to gather men – after all, they didn't have the large pool of manpower Persians hat at their disposition. He had to gather any man he could – even those unwilling, even those too young, even those too old, even those that were disabled and even those that weren't faithful. He even pleaded the Caliph to release some criminals in exchange for them serving in the army. He simply had to resort to any means of acquiring sufficient manpower.

But that had its downsides. Long gone was the day where hordes of zealots flocked to the recruitment offices, hoping that they would conquer the world, all in the name of their new-found God. All those lads and men now lay slain at Walaja, The Bridge or at al-Quadisiyyah, so far from their own home, and without accomplishing anything that they hoped to accomplish. Now, Khalid had to recruit men the normal way – that was to take fathers, brothers and sons from their families.

Khalid was still blaming himself for the crushing defeats that Arabs suffered – for both of them. He felt as if he could do much, much more in those battles. As if he didn't do enough. But, alas, it was too late for such a way of thinking. It wasn't as if he could do anything about it anymore. And now, that Abu Bakr was dead and Umar ibn al-Khattab took his place, the Caliphate was more chaotic than ever. And even though that these issues would go away with time, time was something they didn't have. Khalid was whacking his brain over how would he be able to defeat, or simply stop Persians in their attack. The roles were now reversed and he decided to take advantage of that. He would wait for them, just as they waited for him, and defeat them.

--

As Persians were repurposing the town hall into something more suitable for the base of their operations, Usama was in the town, convincing people that Persians aren't the villains they thought they were. After all, should he rule the Caliphate as a puppet to the Persian Shahanshah, he had to gain peoples trust somehow. And the best way to do that was to use the fact that he is related to the Prophet, Mohammad. Rostam, Piruz, Jaduya and Jalinus, on the other hand, were discussing their tactics and the strategy they should devote themselves to, because each of them knew that they can't fight the way they fought before – because now they are the ones attacking, and so they had to repurpose their leadership style to suit that fact.

Yazdegerd was also there, even though he would soon go back to Ctesiphon. It was far too dangerous for him to be there, completely in foreign territory, almost defenceless. It was also due to that that the fact about his presence was a secret. Only the highest command knew of the fact. And he was feeling anxious. It was his decision that he saw the need to go with the whole army – at least until they gain some place they could call their base. Now, that the goal was fulfilled, he had to return back, because he had other responsibilities to take care of. After all, it wasn't rulers duty to fight wars, he only declared them. Then, it was up to his loyal generals and soldiers to go and fight his battles for him.

The journey back was tiresome, especially considering what awaited Yazdegerd at home. He had agreed with Farrukhzad to come up with some reforms, especially taxation, for which was Farrukhzad travelling the country and collecting data. Reforms of conscription and some land reforms were also needed, but not as much as tax reforms. The way it was, the taxation wasn't based on how many plots of land one owned, but only on how large they were. It was then easy for landowners to legally split their large parcels into smaller plots of land, and boom – they paid lower taxes. Yazdegerd didn't really understand as to why and who made it this way, because how to overcome it was obvious even to the most average of peasant.

When he arrived, he went to sleep. The next day, he had met with Farrukhzad and they started to discuss the changes. And it was pretty clear. The way taxation should be made is to tax the size of the plots combined, not individually. So even if someone owned several smaller parcels, he would pay the same as someone who owned one large parcel. And that was only fair, Yazdegerd thought.

"My Shahanshah, if I may, I don't think we should do it this way. It favours large landowners more that smaller ones."

"What do you mean, my wuzurg framadar? Is it not equal if everyone pays the same price?"

"In theory, it is. But think about it from a different angle. What you're essentially doing is making small farmers pay more than they can afford. If someone has a large plantation, with dates, for example, he usually sells them all for a profit, thus making it reasonable for him to pay the tax. But a small farmer, who takes half of the yield for feeding his family, the half of the other half he dries and saves for winter, and the rest he has he sells for a small profit on the market. Having almost no profit from the land itself, why should he pay the same taxes as the big landowners?"

Yazdegerd finally understood it. The way taxes worked were to fairly tax both self-sufficient farmers, who were the backbone of the economy, and large landowners, who owned vast plantations and fields purely for profit. The issue is that the creative and deceptive human mind was always able to find some way around this.

"What if we make an exception for self-sufficient farmers, then?"

"How do you want to define a 'self-sufficient farmer,' my Shahanshah? A big landowner is also a 'self-sufficient farmer,' in a sense."

That was true. In both cases, farming was their livelihood. The difference was in scale. It would be much more profitable to simply take the large fields and plantations from their owners and distribute them to the people, should the taxes be equal. But that wasn't something anyone wanted, so the difference in taxes was needed. Then, Yazdegerd got an idea.

"What if the amount taxed scaled with the fields size? Not constantly, but by bigger margins. That way, small farmers will be taxed fairly, and so will bigger landowners, and nobody should suffer a loss."

"A good idea, my Shahanshah. I believe there will be people angry with this proposal, but one can never satisfy everybody. I will take care of the rest, if you allow it."

Of course Yazdegerd would allow it. He was happy his idea had merit, he didn't have enough experience to devise the reform properly. But he did have one condition.

"Of course I will, but I want to see. I want to see how reforms are made, so that next time, I can be of more help."

Farrukhzad smiled. "As you wish, my Shahanshah."