Arslan Senki

"I've come to borrow your power once more."

These were the first words spoken by the long-absent guest.

This was a dark, cold, and damp stone room, deep underground beneath the royal capital of Ecbatana. Piles of strange books towered in dusty corners, as well as minerals, animal remains, and plants used in magic rituals that all were steeped in a strange miasma. The unusual atmosphere filled the room, like a colorless, poisonous smoke. In the midst of the smoke was a man dressed in dark gray, who now appeared young, a newly painted portrait of an ancient being.

"Have you at last regained the strength of your youth? Happy now, aren't you? Then, you must also understand my desire to quickly reclaim my country and my throne."

Hilmes said, trying to keep the anxiousness from his voice, and the mage listened stoically.

"Restoring my power and youth is quite time-consuming and intensive. The human body is the vessel of life, and youth is the state when the vessel is full. Once the water level has depleted, it is not an easy task to fill it again.

His appearance seems to be around the same age as Hilmes, or a little younger. The newly restored young magician's face could even be said to be beautiful, if fake flowers could be considered as beautiful as real flowers… It was strange to hear a man this youthful speaking like an elderly man.

"Are you saying that you want me to make the Battle of Atropatene happen again?"

"You don’t need your magic to know that."

"Even so, I’m not sure I agree. How would another Battle of Atropatene benefit me?”

The mage asked mockingly, Hilmes' silver mask shone as he answered, undeterred.

"When I reclaim my rightful throne, I'll give you enough treasures to last ten lifetimes."

"Whose treasure? The Lusitanian army’s treasure?"

"It was the wealth of Pars to begin with."

"And is it yours now?"

"It belongs to whoever is king."

The mage chuckled lowly and ended his questioning. Another man began to murmur.

"Honesty is a virtue for those above-ground, but not too common down here. However, it should still be used once in a while. Honestly, I am not without my own resentment toward Arslan and his men. Two of my disciples were killed by them."

The mage’s eyes moved towards a dark corner, where only five of the former seven figures remained.

"Though they had not yet become anything great, they were so faithful that I still mourn for them.”

The five disciples could not help but bow their heads in shame. Hilmes hid a sneer behind his mask.

"Andragoras's little dog has formidable retainers with him, and some meager tricks won't be enough to deal with them. You should want to beat them for yourself too, right?"

The mage shook his head.

"No, there must be no haste. Arslan doesn't have wings, so he won't arrive at the royal capital that quickly. What's more, it is not a bad thing for you if Arslan has some degree of strength."

"What do you mean?"

"Do I need to make myself more clear? I always thought you were a smart man!"

"…"

Hilmes fell into deep thought under the mask, and quickly understood the meaning of the words. That was to say, Arslan and the Lusitanian army fighting each other would weaken them both.

Since capturing the royal capital, the Lusitanian army had not gained much strength. And since Arslan’s army had overtaken two fortresses in a row, the reputation of the Lusitanian army was on a decline. Nevertheless, there were still 300,000 Lusitanian troops. If they were allowed to retain such strength, it would not be a good thing for Hilmes, whose ultimate goal was to take back the country from Lusitania.

If Arslan continued to fight a long and bloody battle with Lusitania, Hilmes could take advantage of the situation and retake the royal capital, Ecbatana. This was what Guiscard feared. But then, in order to defeat the common enemy, Arslan and Guiscard might also join forces against Hilmes. Hilmes did not think it was a mistake to make his identity public, but politics were like a turbulent current, and it was hard to keep track of their movements.

"You seem to be making plans for yourself!"

The mage’s insightful voice pierced through Hilmes’s mask, causing a chill to run through him. His eyes shone, and the "rightful heir to the throne" was silent.

As the magician said, he was making calculations in his own favor. That is, to leave his own forces unharmed and to make himself the final victor in the near future.

The mage muttered.

"The Holy sword Rukhnabad."

These words shone with a great light as they reached Hilmes' ears. Hilmes' tall body shook slightly as if it had suddenly shrunk, shaking from the cold, wet air. The meaning of the words boomed out with a loud sound that was inaudible to the human ear and penetrated into Hilmes' soul.

"How about that? Just that one sentence will give you a full understanding of what I mean, right?"

The mage wasn't completely sure.

The precious sword Rukhnabad was the sword used by the ancient hero king of the Parsian Kingdom, Kai Khosrow, which could be said to be a divine relic. Kai Khosrow had used this sword to defeat the tyranny of the Serpent King Zahhak and bring peace to the land of Pars. It is said that the sword Rukhnabad is a gift from the gods, who protect the well-being of Pars, as well as justice on earth.

The legend of the founding of the kingdom, as well as the origin of the sword is said to have been passed down in the poem "Heroic Deeds of Kai Khosrow", where it is written that "the sword Rukhnabad, which can cleave iron in two, was forged from a fragment of the sun.”

“Acquire the sword Rukhnabad for yourself!” The mage had instructed Hilmes. The meaning hidden in his eyes let out a strong light through the holes in the silver mask. After a few seconds of silence, Hilmes bowed his body.

"Excuse me. I'll return in the near future."

Hilmes' farewell speech seemed brief, and that was because his mind was occupied with other things. When the sound of his armor disappeared in the darkness, an artificial smile floated on the mage’s face.

A disciple poked his body out of the shadows as if he had made up his mind to speak.

"Master…"

"What is it? Speak up, Gurgin."

"Is that man truly planning to sneak into Kai Khosrow's tomb to steal the sword Rukhnabad?"

The mage narrowed both eyes.

"He will get it. For no other thing could be more symbolic of the kingship of Pars than the sword Rukhnabad."

How strongly Hilmes claimed to be the rightful heir to the throne of Pars, the descendant of the Hero King Kai Khosrow! With this, his life full of painful abominations could still blossom into something worthwhile. Hilmes' desire for legitimacy could be satisfied if he could get the sword Rukhnabad.

This time it was another disciple who asked a question. A disciple named Gustaham.

"Master, is it true that only by removing the sword Rukhnabad from its tomb can the Serpent King Zahhak reappear?"

"The seal is very strong, unexpectedly strong."

The mage frankly admitted his error in estimation. Twenty years after the Serpent King Zahhak was sealed beneath Mount Damavand, the holy sword Rukhnabad was dug up and reburied in the mausoleum of Kai Khosrow. After three hundred more years, the twenty slabs of rock constructed around his coffin had crumbled one by one, and the Serpent King Zahhak should have been resurrected. However, as long as Kai Khosrow has the sword Rukhnabad with him, its spiritual power combines with the hero king’s soul and binds the snake king. Thus, the only way is to remove the sword from the coffin, and separate its power from the tomb.

"How's that? Interesting, isn't it? It is laughable that Kai Khosrow, who opposed the rule of the Serpent King Zahhak and dominated the world for more than three hundred years should have his own descendant remove his ancestor’s seal and bring Zahhak into this world again."

The mage’s disciples did not seem to be as optimistic as their teacher. They exchanged glances with each other, and Gurgin spoke on behalf of the group.

"Sorry, honorable teacher, once he gets the sword Rukhnabad, will Hilmes still be constrained by us?"

Because he was afraid of his teacher's anger, he spoke politely, but the mage wearing dark gray clothes was surprisingly not angry at all.

"Yes! Our power may not be sufficient to fight against Rukhnabad's power."

"Then, are we just going to watch our future enemy’s power increase?"

"Don't say such foolish things, our power won't make any difference at all. Hilmes' opponent will be the Serpent King Zahhak the Great, and his power will once again descend into this world."

The disciples made sounds of joy and understanding at these words. They were nearly in a frendzy.

"As long as the Serpent King Zahhak descends again, the sword Rukhnabad will be but a broken key, and it will not be able to lock the Serpent King away again. We are going to make the descendants of Kai Khosrow atone for their ancestor’s unforgivable sin of rebelling against the Serpent King."

The five disciples stood up wordlessly and gave their master a respectful, but unmistakably bat-like bow.