A few days after the distribution of the treasury, the first joint coordination council was held.
A great goal lay ahead: the march to Ecbatana.
The atmosphere of the council tent was no longer that tense and distrustful space.
The Median commanders, who had now received their rewards and witnessed Kourosh's justice, sat with genuine respect beside their Persian counterparts.
The heavy glances and doubtful whispers were gone.
In their place was a silence full of focus and cooperation.
For the first time, they had gathered not as victor and vanquished, but as members of a single council.
Kourosh sat at the head of the table, on the command throne.
He calmly looked at the faces of his commanders, both Persian and Median.
"Elders, on the battlefield, we have proven the strength of our arms to each other."
"Today, it is time to unite the power of our minds."
He pointed to the large map spread on the table.
"Our goal is to reach Ecbatana."
"But this is not a campaign of conquest; this is a march to announce the birth of a kingdom."
"We must travel this path with such order and foresight that the people see us not as an enemy, but as their future government."
The main topic of the meeting was the logistics and planning of the route for this massive army.
An army consisting of more than fifty thousand soldiers, thousands of horses, and countless chariots.
This was a huge logistical challenge.
Arash, with his usual precision and order, explained the initial Persian plan.
"We can use the main royal road. Our logistical unit (the future Construction Corps) will move ahead and clear the way, and our supply caravans will bring provisions to the army from the depots."
This plan was flawless on paper.
But it was here that the value of the Median commanders' experience became clear.
Mazares, the elderly general, respectfully asked for permission to speak.
"Shahanshah, Commander Arash's plan is very intelligent."
"But the royal road, although it is the fastest route, passes through dry plains that, at this time of year, do not have sufficient water resources for such a massive army."
He rose from his seat and, with his calloused fingers, showed another route on the map.
"This route passes through the mountain valleys."
"It may be a few days longer, but along it, there are several rivers and abundant springs."
"Also, there are many villages on this route from which we can purchase fresh provisions directly."
This information, the result of decades of experience, was worth its weight in gold to the Persians.
Arash looked at Mazares with admiration.
"Master, your knowledge of this land is a treasure that cannot be found in any book."
He then turned to Kourosh.
"We can combine these two plans."
"We can use the route suggested by Commander Mazares and, at the same time, with our system of fast caravans, set up small depots along this new route."
This practical cooperation, this intelligent combination of experience and innovation, broke down the last walls of distrust.
The commanders of the two armies began to discuss and exchange ideas with excitement.
A Median commander identified the best pastures for the horses.
A Persian commander explained the fastest way to build temporary bridges.
They were no longer speaking in Persian or Median.
They were speaking the common language of reason and wisdom.
They were no longer two armies; they were the generals of a single army.
A march that was designed not only for the transfer of power but to display the efficiency of this nascent empire to the entire world.
Kourosh watched this scene in silence and with satisfaction.
This council was the first sweet fruit of the union that he, with his compassion, wisdom, and forgiveness, had made possible.