In the Persian Bazaar: The Roar of an Empire

Episode Eight: The Desert Mercenaries, Eyes of Steel

1. Beyond the Mirage

As the chill of dawn abruptly turned into a scorching desert wind, a strange sight unfolded before Cyrus’s caravan.

Beyond the shimmering horizon stood rows of dark, orderly shapes. This was no mirage. They were real—armed men, waiting.

“…That’s not Macedonian,”

Shahin narrowed his eyes and raised his bow.

They were neither Persian heavy cavalry nor Alexander’s phalanx. Draped in faded brown cloaks, faces hidden behind cloth, massive curved blades strapped to their backs—this was the wandering mercenary band feared by desert tribes as reapers of death: the Habashi.

2. Cyrus’s Art of Negotiation

“Lower your weapons. Provoke them, and we’ll be buried in sand.”

Cyrus rode forward alone. Behind him, Nilfar watched in silence.

At the front of the mercenaries stood a giant with eyes like tempered steel. His skin, burned far beyond bronze, gleamed like iron.

“The Persian princess… and the remnants of the market. Macedon has placed a heavy bounty on your heads.”

“A bounty, huh?”

Cyrus smiled thinly.

“But tell me—what’s worth more? The trouble of hauling dead heads… or the wealth we can create alive?”

From his cloak, Cyrus produced not a gemstone, but a single bud of the finest clove.

“What is that?”

“A seed of eastern fragrance the Macedonians couldn’t obtain even if they stood on their heads. Hire us. Your strength and our ‘market wisdom’ together can control desert trade. Mercenaries who move for gold—why kill the source of gold?”

3. Nilfar’s Proof of Kingship

The mercenary leader snorted.

“Pretty words, merchant. But we don’t follow the weak. Let’s see if that woman truly has what it takes to lead.”

With a snap of his fingers, two massive men stepped toward Nilfar, pressing her with silent force to kneel.

If Hossein were alive, their heads would have fallen instantly. But he was gone.

Nilfar dismounted calmly.

She did not draw her sword. In her dust-stained dress, she met the leader’s gaze without flinching.

“I am not here to find a place to kneel. …I am here to dig a new Persian spring to quench your thirst. Follow me, and you will be more than killers—you will become the shield of a new empire.”

In her voice lived the resolve that had burned the market to ash.

After a long silence, the leader’s lips curled into a dangerous smile.

4. A Curious Alliance

“…Interesting. Market rats daring to bark at desert lions.”

His name was Azad. He sheathed his blade and extended his hand to Cyrus.

“Very well. I’ll buy your so-called wisdom. But if you prove useless, you’ll feed the sand.”

Thus, sharp new fangs joined the defeated caravan.

Danesh immediately seized the mercenaries’ crude maps, recalculating water sources and ambush points using the market’s surveying techniques.

Inaz seasoned the mercenaries’ meager rations, capturing their morale through their stomachs.

5. Stirring Shadows

That evening, at the edge of the camp, Shahab slipped like a shadow toward one of Azad’s men.

“Tell Azad this—lay a finger on the queen, and I’ll have you raising snakes in your sleep.”

“…Creepy bastard.”

An alliance had formed—but it was trust on thin ice.

Facing their shared enemy, Alexander, the people of the market began learning a new language: violence.

News arrived that the Macedonian forces were moving again.

Gazing at the burning sunset, Cyrus muttered,

“Next time… we strike first.”