Chapter 152: The Intoxication of Victory and the Final Gamble
In the Median camp, a clamor of celebration and revelry reigned.
Their camp, like a massive and bustling city, was spread out half a league from the Persians.
Despite the heavy casualties of the first battle, the apparent victory and the continuous retreat of the Persians had turned their bruised pride into a dangerous intoxication.
Large fires blazed throughout the camp.
The soldiers, by drinking wine and eating roasted meat, were celebrating the final victory that was only a few hours away.
The sound of laughter, war songs, and arrogant boasting broke the silence of the night.
In the center of this clamor, Azhidahak was drinking wine in his magnificent tent, which was adorned with gold.
His face, in the dancing light of the torches, shone with pride and satisfaction.
He pointed with loud laughter to the hill where the Persians were encamped.
"Look!"
"Those mice have taken refuge in their final hole!"
"Little do they know that tomorrow, we will turn this hill into a graveyard for lions!"
The younger and more sycophantic commanders had gathered around him with shouts of approval.
One of them said with a greedy voice, "Soon we will be drinking in the halls of Pasargadae, my king! Their treasury and their women will be ours!"
Another added, "That arrogant child must be put in a cage and paraded through all the cities of Media so that everyone sees the result of rebellion against the great emperor!"
These words were like oil on the fire of Azhidahak's pride.
They made him even blinder to the truth.
Amidst this drunken clamor, Harpak stood a little farther away with a calm and cunning face.
Unlike the others who were immersed in this celebration, he was looking at the Persian hill and then at the drunken Median commanders with cold, calculating eyes.
He knew that this pride, this carelessness, was exactly what Kourosh was waiting for.
He was waiting for an opportunity.
An opportunity to execute the final and most deadly part of the plan.
Before sunrise, he cunningly approached Azhidahak, who was drinking a goblet of wine.
With a tone full of loyalty and ruthless anger, he said, "My king, this celebration is premature."
"We should not give these rebels even another hour to breathe."
Azhidahak looked at him in surprise.
"What do you mean, Harpak?"
Harpak continued, "My suggestion is that at sunrise, we attack them with all our forces and all at once."
"We should not give them the chance to form a defensive formation."
"We must surprise them and crush them."
"We must cut off all their escape routes from every side so that not a single one of these rebels can escape your justice."
This proposal, which on the surface showed ruthless anger and absolute loyalty, but in reality, was in favor of Kourosh's plan, was completely in line with Azhidahak's pride and thirst for revenge.
He raised the goblet in his hand and let out a loud laugh.
Then he clapped Harpak on the shoulder with satisfaction.
"Well done, Harpak! Well done!"
"I see that breaking your pride has turned you into a ruthless and efficient general!"
"This is the best suggestion I have heard!"
"We will do just that! Swiftly, all our men will trample this hill!"
At that moment, Mazares, the old general, tried to cautiously approach the king.
"Sire, allow me..."
But his voice was lost among the drunken and approving shouts of the other commanders, who were thrilled by Harpak's "ruthless" suggestion.
Azhidahak was no longer listening to any warnings.
He was drowned in the dream of his final victory.
And he did not know that his most loyal general was leading him towards the deepest valley of annihilation.