Time: The end of the fourth month of training
Location: The grand camp of Anshan
Four months had passed since the training began.
In the heavy silence of midnight at the Anshan camp, only the voices of the guards and the occasional neigh of a horse broke the silence.
But in the command tent, a flickering light was awake late into the night.
In this strategic sanctuary, Kourosh was explaining the final reports that had arrived from Aban's and Fariborz's networks to his father, Cambyses.
This was a three-person strategy session.
Fariborz, who had emerged from the darkness of the night like a shadow an hour earlier, stood before them in simple clothes, his face tired but his eyes keen.
Cambyses paced the tent restlessly.
"We have been training the army for four months, but we still do not know what is happening in the west. Will the Elamites join us, or will they be a dagger in our side?"
Kourosh calmly pointed to a map spread on the table.
"Fariborz, recount the news for the king."
Fariborz took a step forward and began his report with a calm, deliberate voice:
"Our messengers have returned from Susa and other Elamite towns. The responses, just as you predicted, my lord, have been cautious."
He continued, "The Elamite rulers have received your letter as the rightful heir of Anshan and Susa with respect."
"The promise of rebuilding Susa and reviving their civilization has made the hearts of many nobles and priests tremble."
"They are fearful of the Medes' power and do not dare to declare an open alliance."
Fariborz paused, and a cunning smile appeared on his lips.
"But secretly, they have promised our messengers that they will remain completely neutral in the coming war."
"Not only will they send no forces to help Azhidahak, but they will also block the Median supply routes that pass through their land."
"This is a great diplomatic victory for us."
Upon hearing this news, Cambyses stopped for a moment.
His worried face relaxed slightly.
"Neutrality... this is better than I expected. This means we can focus on the Medes with all our strength."
He then looked at Kourosh, with a gaze that was a mixture of admiration and disbelief.
"You knew this. You knew from the very beginning that they would respond this way."
Kourosh only replied with a calm smile and signaled for Fariborz to continue.
"But our greater victory has been won in the heart of the enemy's land."
Fariborz continued with controlled excitement.
"Your open letter, the Cry for Justice, has spread like wildfire in the land of Media."
"Your printing press worked day and night, and thousands of copies were distributed by Aban's network in every caravanserai, market, and village."
"Now, among the common people, you are no longer just a Persian prince; you are 'the Median Kourosh,' the oppressed grandson of Azhidahak and the savior sent by Ahura Mazda."
He gave a report on the popular reactions:
"In the villages of Media, the people secretly pray for your victory."
"They pass your letter and books from hand to hand like sacred words."
"More importantly, among the Median army, this letter has acted like a deadly poison."
"The non-Median soldiers, especially the Scythians and Urartians who were forcibly conscripted, now look at their Median commanders with distrust."
"We have received reports of small skirmishes and insubordination in the garrisons."
"Your name has planted the seed of division in the heart of the enemy's army."
Cambyses said with a clenched fist, "This means their army is rotting from within before it even reaches the battlefield."
Fariborz nodded his head in confirmation and reached the final and most terrifying part of his report.
"And this rot has begun from the head of this army."
"Our spies' reports from within the court of Ecbatana show that Azhidahak is at the peak of paranoia and madness."
"He has nightmares every night and screams. He distrusts even his most loyal commanders."
"Two weeks ago, he dismissed 'Ariobarzanes,' the brave commander of the Paraetaceni, on the false pretext of conspiracy and imprisoned him in his home."
"In his place, he has appointed a cowardly but sycophantic man to command one of his most important corps."
"He has purged the court of anyone who shows the slightest sign of independent thought and has surrounded himself with weak but loyal individuals."
Fariborz stared at Kourosh with a penetrating gaze.
"My lord, the enemy's command structure is his most vital weakness."
"The Median army is now a giant body without a head."
A deep silence fell over the tent.
Cambyses thought about the scope and depth of this secret war that his son had launched.
This was no longer a battle of swords.
This was a battle of minds, and his son was the unrivaled master of this field.
He looked at Kourosh, but he no longer saw a ten-year-old child.
He saw a king who brought kingdoms to their knees with his intellect.
After a moment of reflection, Kourosh rose and went to his father.
He placed his hand on Cambyses's arm and, with a voice that now had the firmness of a victorious commander, said:
"Father, we have won half the war before a single sword has been drawn."
"Our enemy is collapsing from within, and his allies have abandoned him."
"Now is the time to prepare for the other half."
"It is time to bring down this headless body forever with the final blow of Persian steel."