“In the Persian Bazaar: The Roar of an Empire”

Episode Ten: At the Gate of the Market — Clash of Blood

1. The True Face of the “Iron Wall”

The only hope leading east—the spring of life.

The Oasis of Samarka.

Yet what Cyrus and his companions beheld was not lush green, but a flawless formation of silver light cutting across the desert: the dense ranks of Macedonian heavy infantry, the phalanx.

“...That’s no mere vanguard,” Azad muttered, gripping the hilt of his beloved blade.

Before them stood Macedon’s finest—the Silver Shields (Argyraspides). Their sarissas rose like a forest of spears piercing the sky, while shields glimpsed between them reflected the sun, searing Cyrus’s eyes.

“The King is serious,” Danesh whispered, his voice trembling.

“He means to wipe out our ‘seeds’—our hope—right here.”

2. Cyrus’s First—and Final—Gamble

“There’s no escape, Cyrus,” Shahin said, checking the last three arrows left in his quiver.

“I’m not running,” Cyrus replied, flashing a fearless grin from atop his camel.

“They’re invincible head-on. But listen—those bastards don’t decide the rules of this deal. We do!”

Cyrus signaled to Inaz and Kabir.

“People of the market! Final clearance sale!”

“Dump everything you’ve got—everything but your lives!”

3. The Market’s Explosive Resolve

The signal to charge was not Shahab’s whistle—but a fire bomb hurled by Inaz.

The very flames that once devoured the market now rained down upon the enemy.

“This is the price for destroying my market—take it!” she cried.

Clay jars shattered above the Macedonian ranks, scattering blazing oil.

The weakness of the phalanx lay exposed: once broken, it could not move.

Soldiers engulfed in flame thrashed in panic, tearing open gaps in the once-perfect Iron Wall.

“Now! Charge!!”

With Azad’s mercenaries, Cyrus surged like a thunderbolt into the breach.

The market’s camel cavalry—fearless even of horses—plowed through the forest of spears, crushing the formation.

4. Nilfar’s Sanctuary

At the heart of the battlefield, amid blood and swirling sand, Nilfar reined in her white horse.

A Macedonian commander on a massive warhorse bore down on her.

“Persian fledgling! I’ll drag you before the King!”

His greatsword swung down—Nilfar barely evaded it.

“...I am no bird,” she declared coldly.

“I am the rain that will soak this land with your blood.”

Her blade grazed the commander’s throat.

In that instant, Shahab emerged from behind, his dagger slipping into the joint of the man’s armor.

“...Sorry, Princess. This one’s mine.”

Shahab’s icy eyes gleamed, savoring the madness of war.

5. Curtain Call of Part I: Ruts Toward the East

The savage battle raged until the sun sank below the horizon.

After crippling part of the Silver Shields and miraculously punching a hole through the Iron Wall, Cyrus and his companions fled eastward beyond the oasis—battered, bleeding, but alive.

Looking back, shattered Macedonian shields lay scattered across the desert under the moonlight.

They were the first scars ever carved by the people of the market into the invincible army of Alexander.

“...Cyrus,” Danesh asked, clutching his wound,

“Did we win?”

“No,” Cyrus said, staring into the eastern night sky.

“This is just the opening move.”

“Part One ends here. Now begins our true counterattack, my queen.”

Nilfar clenched her bloodstained hands and nodded silently.

Beyond the desert lay an even harsher fate—

Part II: Clash — Formations of the Sands.

History, now written with a blood-soaked pen, was about to turn a new page.

(End of Part I. To be continued in Episode Eleve.