Time: The seventh week of training
Location: The plains around Anshan
Seven weeks had passed since the day the first tribal warriors had lined up before Arash with doubt and pride.
Now, the plain of Anshan had a different face.
There was no sign of those scattered and disparate groups.
Thousands of soldiers moved with coordinated and orderly movements, like a single body.
They had learned the art of obeying the sound of the horn and understanding the language of the flags.
But one thing was still missing.
The soul of their army was tied to wooden training weapons.
It had not yet tasted real steel.
Right in the middle of a sunny morning, a thick dust appeared on the horizon.
Gradually, a long caravan of heavy carts pulled by sturdy oxen emerged from the dust.
The carts were covered with thick canvas tarps and escorted by armed horsemen.
Upon the caravan's arrival at the camp, Arash ordered the training to halt.
A silence full of curiosity fell over the plain.
The soldiers stared at this mysterious caravan with questioning eyes.
Arash, Bagpat, and the other young commanders gathered in front of the command tent.
The head of the caravan, one of Cambyses's trusted men, dismounted and, with a deep bow, presented a scroll to Arash.
"Commander, this is the first shipment from the Shahbaz workshop. By order of Prince Kourosh, to equip the Persian army."
Arash excitedly broke the scroll's seal.
Then, with his signal, the workers pulled the canvas tarps off the carts.
As the covers were removed, the sun shone upon thousands of deadly blades.
But this was not the gleam of polished bronze or iron.
It was a dark, matte, and ominous light that emanated from a gray and heavy metal.
Thousands of cast iron spearheads, tens of thousands of arrowheads, and hundreds of short swords were arranged in the carts with flawless order.
The commanders stared at this sea of steel with their mouths agape in astonishment.
Bagpat stepped forward with trembling steps and picked up one of the short swords.
Its weight was much greater than ordinary iron swords.
"This... is this from that magic metal?" he whispered in disbelief.
Arash, whose heart was pounding with excitement, picked up one of the long spears.
Its cast iron tip was heavy and deadly.
He thought back to that day in the secret workshop and the devastating power of this metal.
He turned to his commanders and, with a voice trembling with pride, shouted:
"Today is the day our army gains a soul of steel!"
He ordered two soldiers to hold up a large Median bronze shield fifty paces away.
Then he turned to his soldiers and said, "Watch closely! This is the power of Pars!"
He threw the spear with all the strength in his arms.
The cast iron spear cut through the air with a sound like a howling wind.
It struck the shield with a mighty roar.
In an instant, the bronze shield shattered like a piece of pottery, and the spear, with the same force, embedded itself in the dirt ground behind it.
An absolute silence fell over the plain.
Then, a coordinated shout full of fervor and excitement rose from thousands of throats, shaking the earth.
The other commanders who had witnessed this scene were frozen.
Bagpat, with wide eyes, clenched the short sword in his hand and walked towards a Median iron helmet.
He brought the sword down with all his might.
The helmet split in two with a ringing sound.
Bagpat raised the sword to the sky and, with a voice trembling with excitement, roared:
"With these weapons... we don't just fight. We reap!"
The belief in a decisive victory in the coming war ignited like a fire in the hearts of all the commanders.
In the following days, the Persian forces were equipped with these new weapons.
The soldiers touched their new spears and swords with wonder and pride.
Their weight and power injected a sense of invincibility into their being.
The sound of cast iron striking training shields heralded the roar of a storm that would soon rise from the plains of Pars.
In a corner of the training field, Hirad, Harpagus's son, was practicing with one of the new short swords.
With every strike he made, he remembered his father and the revenge that awaited him.
His eyes burned with anger.
He approached Arash, who was supervising the training, and said with deep respect:
"Commander, allow me to fight in the front line. I want to be the first to raise the Persian flag in Ecbatana with this sword."
Arash smiled and placed his hand on his shoulder.
His gaze was warm and brotherly.
"Your courage is admirable, young man. The blood of your father flows in your veins."
"But remember, our greatest duty is to follow the plan of our lord Kourosh."
"He has a role for each of us in this great battle."
"Your day of revenge will also come, but at the right time and in a way that will guarantee our victory."
Hirad bowed his head in obedience, but the fire of vengeance still burned in his eyes.