Bonfires spit sparks into the night air. The sharp strum of sitars and insistent banging of kettle-drums punctured the noise of soldiers and common people laughing and talking. Five main fires burned in the open square, two in the northern and southern ends, and one in the very center.

The fires provided light and warmth in the cold, but they were also signs of gratitude to Mithra for granting them victory. Soldiers tossed small, worthless coins and wilting flowers into the fires as offerings to the god. It was an old tradition, one that the Parthian army had been practicing since the beginning of the empire.

Esfandar sat upon a chair on an elevated platform in the back of the square. He faced toward the northern fire, and he had a clear view of the festivities. His high generals and officers were seated around him, and they too were in a brighter mood thanks to the happy atmosphere.

Esfandar wished he could be as affected as the men around him, but he wasn’t in the mood for celebration. Too many dark thoughts swirled around his mind- he was winning this war militarily, but only dark news reached him. Homeira’s failed escape attempt was only the start of it. News soon reached Shiraz of Roshani’s strict crackdown of the capitol. It was difficult for anyone to get in or out of the city now, Roshani fearing enemy spies would enter. Stories spread about those caught trying to leave being whipped in the streets.

Soraya was not playing at this war either. She had somehow communicated with the fire priests of Shiraz and enlisted their help. They were urging the Shirazi people to support Soraya’s claim, calling it the gods’ will and Esfandar’s rule blasphemous. He scoffed to himself; as if the people of the city hadn’t already been looking for any excuse to turn against him. More and more reports came in of patrolling soldiers harassed by people on the streets. A few incidences had nearly turned to violence, though by some miracle no full-scale riots had begun. At this rate, however, it was only a matter of time.

A table was placed next to his seat with various delicacies spread across it. Esfandar reached over to pick up a date. He hadn’t raised his hand halfway to his mouth when he was interrupted.

“Stop!”

Esfandar froze, date still in his hand. To his left, Karim was staring him down with a grim expression.

Karim held out his hand, nodding to the plate of dates. “Give it to me,” he said, voice deathly serious.

Esfandar carefully placed the date back on the plate and handed it to Karim. His brows creased together as his friend gingerly placed the platter on his lap and picked up a date.

“Is it poison?” He asked. His mind was already churning with possible conspiracies and mutinies, men he thought he could trust who were really spies for his sisters.

Karim considered one of the dates for a moment before tossing it into his mouth and chewing contentedly.

“No,” he said with a playful shrug. “Just wanted the dates. You always hog them, Es.”

Esfandar let out a sound of exasperation, letting the stiffness leave his shoulders. He shook his head in disapproval but even he couldn’t keep the small smile from his face. He wondered what this war would have been like without Karim’s antics to make him forget his responsibilities every once in a while and shuddered at the thought.

He looked out at the revelry of his armies without really seeing it. His eyes were picturing a place far away from the rolling hills and plains of the north, towards the south and his home in the royal palace of Nishapur.

Somewhere in the palace, Homeira was now locked away in a cell awaiting execution. Kasra, his brother, would be hidden away like a prized treasure, to make sure he stayed trapped in that place for the rest of his life. Thinking about it made Esfandar want to rip something apart or simply fall to his knees and mourn.

“Speaking of food,” Esfandar said, watching several soldiers link arms and begin to dance in a large circle. “We’re going to find ourselves in trouble soon if Roshani’s blockade doesn’t let up.”

Karim grimaced as he swallowed another date. He handled most affairs of finance for the army, and so he knew all too well the situation. Roshani had ordered all houses loyal to her to cease any trade in the northern province. It was a sharp, biting blow. The province of house Pahlavi were not as prosperous as most of the others. Their lands were divided between the mountains to the south and the wide open plains to the north. The weather was cold, the earth hard, and the land sparsely populated. Feeding a civilian population was difficult enough. But to feed an entire army with all outside trade cut off? Esfandar was painfully aware of the problems that would soon arise.

“Gods willing, the smugglers will keep us afloat until we march to the capital,” Karim muttered, a frustrated scowl crossing his features. “Unfortunately, even then we’ll have to ration carefully. And I have a feeling the Shirazi people won’t take it well.”

Esfandar bit back a curse, instead idly throwing his dagger into the air and catching it over and over again, an activity to focus his mind and draw his attention away from such heavy troubles. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, finding that the natural rhythm of the blade calmed him down.

“This city can’t riot, Karim,” Esfandar said. “If it does, we’re done for.”

“That’s for me and Gita to worry about,” Karim protested. “We’ll keep the people in check, make sure nothing happens. You need to focus on training the men, making plans with Babak and the other generals. I know it’s hard, but you can’t let it get to you.”

Esfandar nodded once and caught the dagger, slipping it back into his belt. Karim’s words had suddenly reminded him of something else.

He glanced around, frowning to himself when he still didn’t find who he was looking for. “And where is Gita?”

Karim shrugged. “Said she was training at the central grounds.” He sighed, leaning his chin on his palm, a bored look crossing his face. “Can’t say I blame her for ditching. Where’s the fun in watching a bunch of drunk soldiers trip over themselves and drink ‘til they’re red in the face? Now a real Nishapur ball- that is something I’d like to see.”

Esfandar laughed. “I promise when we take back the capital, you can throw a ball whenever you feel like it.”

Karim narrowed his eyes. “You’re only saying that because our chances of taking back the capital are next to nothing.”

“I won’t confirm or deny anything.”

“You bastard- next time, I’ll make you promise me in writing.”

Esfandar snorted, shaking his head with a smile. His eyes passed over the scattered bonfires and the joyous men dancing around them to the pounding of the drums. He could understand why Gita would pass up attending such an event- it wasn’t her style. But why would she be training so late, and in the central grounds? She always insisted that the central training ground hours should be strictly enforced. Esfandar’s frown deepened as he grew more curious.

“I’m taking my leave, now,” he announced to Karim. “Feel free to leave when you want. It seems like some of the men are beginning to wander off.” Karim waved a hand in acknowledgement, continuing to pick through the bowl of dates. Esfandar turned to the generals gathered in the back of the dais. He thanked them, shook a few hands, received a few congratulations. Then he left the celebration behind him, making his way through the streets and toward the central grounds.