Time: One year after Kourosh's return and the forging of the Persian pact
Location: One league from the city of Pasargadae, the battlefield of Pars and Media
Before the sunrise of the next day, after a month-long grueling march, the walls of Pasargadae finally appeared on the horizon.
Upon seeing the city, a whisper of relief and hope spread among the troops.
But this hope was fragile and pale.
The soldiers' faces were a mask of fatigue, dust, and despair.
Their armor had lost its shine, and their clothes were the color of dust.
They scattered across the plain like a defeated flock that has returned to its final sanctuary.
They began their final formation at the foot of a strategic hill, one league from the city walls.
This hill had been chosen by Kourosh on the map weeks ago.
Among the soldiers, it was named the "Eagle's Nest."
A name that simultaneously conveyed a sense of security and power.
Its slope towards the plain provided a unique defensive advantage for the Persians.
Any attacking force would have to climb this slope to reach them.
And all the while, they would be completely defenseless against the spears and arrows of the defenders.
This choice showed Kourosh's deep thinking.
He knew that to successfully execute the counter-attack, he had to preserve the energy of his tired army until the last possible moment.
The soldiers, with reluctance and fatigue, carried out their commanders' orders to climb the hill.
Arta, while helping Bahram pull his shield up the slope, growled with a ragged breath:
"The last bastion... so we're finally going to die here."
Bahram, despite his fatigue, tried to keep his spirits up.
"Don't say that, brother. Maybe the prince has a plan we don't understand."
But even in his own voice, there were traces of doubt.
This feeling was surging through the entire army.
They were tired of running.
And now, this hill looked more like a sacrificial altar to them than a fortress.
In silence, they set up their final formation on the flat top of the hill.
The iron discipline of the Anshan camp was gone.
The tired soldiers threw themselves on the ground.
They looked at the walls of their city, at their homes that were just a few steps away.
And they did not understand why they had to stand on this cold plain, against an enemy that outnumbered them two to one.
This was the final and hardest test of their faith in their young commander.
Kourosh, who was watching his tired army with a cold calm from the highest point of the hill, sensed this doubt.
He turned to Arash, who stood beside him with a worried face.
"Do not worry, Arash."
"A tired soldier, if he has the hope of rest, fights better than a soldier drunk on pride."
He then issued his final commands with a calm but firm voice.
"Bring all the food and water reserves to the top of the hill."
"Light large fires. I want the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread to spread throughout the entire army."
"There will be no extra drills or guard duties."
He then continued in a more serious tone:
"Let the men rest as much as possible. Give them hot food and plenty of water."
"I want that in a few hours, when the battle reaches its peak, every Persian soldier will have the strength of ten Median men in his arms."
Arsh now understood his commander's intention.
This was a two-sided psychological war.
Both to deceive the enemy and to restore the morale of his own army.
He bowed with confidence. "Your command will be executed, my lord."
Kourosh knew that tomorrow's battle would be a battle not only of tactics, but of will and endurance.
And the Eagle's Nest was the best place to restore both.
He looked at his city, at Pasargadae, and in his heart, he spoke to his people:
"Endure just a little longer."
"Soon, the eagle will rise from its nest."