In the Persian Market: The Roar of an Empire

Episode Seventeen: The Desert Siege, the Weight of a Single Drop

1. A Circle With No Escape

Alexander did not force an assault.

He understood the desert too well. Around the ancient fortress ruins where the market battalion had taken refuge, the Macedonian army formed three concentric rings of encirclement.

“They’re not trying to kill us,” Danesh reported, licking his cracked lips.

“They’re just waiting for us to dry out.”

The sun burned without mercy. The only water source lay firmly under Macedonian control.

Four thousand soldiers and horses. With their current reserves, they had no more than three days.

2. Cyrus’s “Reversal of Thought”

“If we wait any longer, the men will riot,” Azad warned.

“Should I charge and carve us a path?”

Cyrus shook his head.

“Breaking through Alexander’s lines head-on is the same as marching to our deaths. A merchant doesn’t cry when goods run out. He turns the trash at his feet into gold.”

He summoned Inaz and Kabir.

“Use market wisdom. There’s no water in the desert—but the air holds moisture. Danesh, bring your lenses. The old market tents. Every empty spice bottle we have.”

3. Opening the “Market of Life”

Night fell, and desert temperatures dropped sharply.

Danesh and Inaz spread the tents wide, lining empty bottles beneath them.

Heat stored in stone met the chill of night air.

That difference birthed faint condensation along the tent’s inner skin.

“One drop… another drop… Collect it! Don’t waste a single one!”

Cyrus went further. Using thin pipes once carried by market beggars, he assembled a crude distillation device to draw moisture from deep underground.

It was a technique once used to make cheap perfume.

Now, it produced holy water—enough to bind four thousand lives together.

4. Nirfar’s “Equal Distribution”

There was never enough water. The question was—who would drink first?

“We should prioritize the soldiers,” Azad insisted.

Nirfar stepped forward.

“No. The most wounded, and the youngest. Cyrus and I can survive on the last drop.”

She carried the water jar herself, moistening each soldier’s lips.

“Your Majesty…”

A young mercenary, his throat scorched by thirst, clutched her hand.

“Live,” she said softly.

“This water is our wisdom—and our hope for tomorrow.”

Grumbling faded from the ranks.

In its place grew a quiet, ferocious will to fight Alexander.

5. The Song That Shook the Siege

In the Macedonian camp—

“…Why?”

Alexander stared at the small fires still burning within the fortress.

“They should have been dead within a week.”

From afar drifted a faint but undeniable melody—the Ketelby.

“Great King,” a general reported uneasily,

“the men say they are surviving by eating their shadows and drinking mist. They fear those inside are not human… but desert spirits, djinn.”

For the first time, Alexander felt not anxiety, but respect.

“Cyrus… You turn the desert into a market, and even death into a commodity.”

Rising, he issued an order to Hephaestion.

“Lift the siege. We attack them head-on.”

Cyrus’s endurance had finally moved the Great King’s reason.

The siege was over.

Ahead lay the largest frontal clash yet—one that would stain the desert red.