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

Episode Twelve: Sabotaged Supply Lines — Venom Crawling Through the Dark

1. The Shadow Council

Far from the newly formed Market Legion’s camp, in a rock hollow untouched by sound or light, a small group gathered before Shahab.

They were thirty in number—former “beggars” and “acrobats” who once ruled the market’s back alleys, along with nimble youths handpicked by Kabir.

“From this night on, you are no longer human,” Shahab said, his voice cold as ice.

“You are scorpions crawling through the desert. Venomous insects carried on the night wind.”

At his feet, several deadly snakes raised their heads, as if sensing their master’s intent.

“Cyrus will stage the loud, glorious battles. Our task is different—

to destroy the king’s soldiers from the inside, until they no longer have the strength, or the will, to even grip their spears.”

2. Infiltration: The Desert’s Great Granary

Preparing for a renewed assault on the Oasis of Samarka, the Macedonian army had built massive supply depots at key desert junctions.

There lay enough wheat, dried meat, and—most precious of all in the sands—fresh water, to sustain tens of thousands of troops for half a year.

Midnight. Torches flickered within the Macedonian camp.

“…Now,” Shahab whispered.

At his signal, the shadows moved. Wrapped in cloth the color of sand, they advanced without sound, as though the ground itself were crawling forward.

The instant a sentry yawned, Shahab rose behind him and slit his throat without a single cry.

“Kabir—seed the water barrels,” Shahab ordered quietly.

“Inaz’s special blend. A full week of unending agony.”

3. Inaz’s Wisdom, Turned to Poison

Inaz, once the “mother” of the market, had used spices to heal and comfort.

Now, her knowledge had been reshaped into a weapon of attrition.

“…Forgive me,” she murmured. “But it was you who burned our market.”

What she provided was no mere laxative.

It was a mixture of potent hallucinogenic herbs and specialized spices that, once symptoms began, caused severe dehydration—leaving victims unable to stand.

Shahab’s team worked methodically, contaminating not only the cisterns but each sack of wheat, carefully and completely.

They never set fire to anything. Fire would raise alarms.

“Tomorrow, they’ll eat this bread and drink this water without suspicion,” Shahab muttered.

“…And that’s when hell begins.”

4. Erosion of the Mind

Shahab’s sabotage did not stop at supplies.

He stole letters from home, personal charms, and offerings to the gods—then deliberately placed them beside the bodies of slain comrades.

It was a cruel, calculated assault on the spirit.

By morning, an unnameable dread had spread through the Macedonian camp.

“…The gods are angry. This desert is cursed,” whispers passed from tent to tent.

Food spoiled, water turned poisonous, and unseen shadows dragged soldiers away one by one.

Fear became as lethal as any blade.

5. Cyrus’s Fearless Grin

From a distant hill, Cyrus observed the chaos through a spyglass—

a clever device Danesh had assembled from repurposed market lenses.

“…Excellent work, Shahab,” Cyrus said softly.

“Their footing’s grown weaker than those precious sarissas of theirs.”

Nilfar stood beside him, watching the same scene.

“…What Shahab is doing is terribly cruel,” she said.

“Yeah. It is,” Cyrus replied.

“But that’s how those fight whose market was burned, my queen.

Justice is something the winner writes later—neatly, in the ledger.”

Turning to the thousand soldiers gathered behind him, Cyrus shouted with a savage grin:

“Listen up! The enemy’s stomachs are empty! Their throats are dry!

Now then—let’s go collect our dividends!!”