Imperial

9. Esfandar

Shiraz had fallen within a day. Soon after the sun had sunk behind the horizon, Esfandar's troops had pushed through the city gates. From there, the conquest had been easy. Seeing the finality of their defeat, the remaining defenders had surrendered in shame.

The city's governor had already had the sense to escape before Esfandar's men took the city. Only the old men who made up the city council remained, for they'd been either too proud or too weak to escape. The councilmen had been given a choice: support Esfandar or be thrown into a cell to rot. Most had wisely chosen to serve him and keep their positions.

Esfandar stood at the top of the city walls, the wind ruffling his hair as he stared down at Shiraz. It was a dizzying view. He wondered how long a fall from this height would be, how many seconds of torture a man would have to endure before finally embracing death.

Dozens of the Shirazi soldiers' corpses remained scattered around the ramparts. There hadn't been time to move them yet. Most of them had died from his archers' arrows or the blast of a catapulted rock. He was sure that some Shirazi citizens considered them the lucky ones; they hadn't lived long enough to witness the city's shameful surrender and occupation.

"The city is ours, your highness," Babak said from behind him. Esfandar dragged his gaze away from the view to turn around. Behind him, Babak and a handful of other high-ranking officers looked at him expectantly, the fresh victory alight in their eyes. Gita and Karim stood next to Babak, their gazes considerably less joyous.

Gita was battered and bruised from the battle, her face tired and her hair falling out of her braid. Her leather tunic was stained with blood that clearly wasn't her own. Karim looked considerably less damaged. It was to be expected of course- he was strictly an advisor on Esfandar's council and stayed far away whenever fighting was involved. He'd only just entered the city, after the battle had ended in decisive victory. Yet his expression was equally concerned. He frowned in Babak's direction, his eyes calculating.

Esfandar's two closest friends and advisors stayed silent for the moment, letting the general speak. They knew by now how to play this game.

"We've taken the remaining defenders prisoner. Shall they be executed?" Babak pressed.

Esfandar hesitated in his answer. The truth was, he didn't want to execute those men, though it was what all of his generals expected of him. They had been defending their home, as anyone would do in the face of invasion. They'd surrendered without resistance once the battle had been lost. They didn't deserve to die.

Esfandar met Karim's gaze, giving him a meaningful look. Karim appeared tired but alert. He wore an intricate blue kaftan embroidered in silver, his dark curly hair hidden beneath a dark green turban. He had a long, flat nose and wide forehead, a face that always somehow managed to look deep in thought. Looking back at him, Karim gave Esfandar an imperceptible nod.

"That wouldn't be wise, general," he said, stepping forward. Babak turned to him with an arched brow. "Our command of this city is tenuous at best. Our troops are depleted from the battle and it will be weeks before reinforcements arrive." He met the gaze of each of the officers there, then let his gaze land on Babak. "Mass executions now, so soon after their defeat, would almost certainly raise a revolt against us."

Babak's brows furrowed and he looked at the ground as if in shame. Esfandar felt his chest untighten.

"Councilor Karim speaks wisely, your highness," Babak said after a moment. "Forgive me for my mistake. The executions can certainly be delayed until our control of the city is strengthened."

Karim stepped back, bowing his head respectfully, although Esfandar caught the self-satisfied smirk on his face. Esfandar sighed. Another issue delayed to a later date. Well, this time at least it was one he could manage.