Imperial

47. Soraya

"I have decided," Soraya announced to her assembled advisors.

As her gaze roved across the room, meeting each of their eyes, she marveled to herself at how so many people had suddenly come to serve her. In the beginning, it had truly felt like she was all alone. She almost couldn't believe that things had changed so much since then.

Standing stiff and straight in the center of the group was Parvana, her dark grey-streaked hair tied back from her sharp face. Once upon a time, Parvana had been a great general in Shah Jamshid's armies, and had been the mentor of Esfandar. But that had all been before her exile for treason. Now she served as Soraya's loyal general. With her unwavering devotion to their cause, she had managed to earn Soraya's trust, in addition to her respect.

Next to her was Dashna, now commander of Soraya's gifted soldiers. She, too, had proven herself as a soldier on the battlefield and as a friend off it. Soraya knew her opinion on this matter. She believed Soraya should abandon the war for the throne and travel to Turan, her homeland, where the wicked Daevas were rumored to be reawakening. Soraya met her gaze coolly.

Next to her, seated on a divan to avoid straining his injuries, was Massoud. The former bandit king looked a bit too aloof, in Soraya's opinion, for the severity of this meaning. But she'd come to understand that it was simply his way of things. In spite of his unconcerned attitude, which clashed often with Parvana, he was a valuable asset to Soraya's army.

Lastly, seated on another divan, was old Goshtab Varaz, head of the wealthy House Varaz. He was a cunning, manipulative old man who had little regard for anything other than his own self-interest... yet he had sacrificed much for Soraya, his home overrun by Roshani's forces and his youngest daughter Farah held captive by them. Soraya tried to remind herself of that fact in order to overcome her instinctive dislike of the man.

They all stared at her. Waiting for her ultimate decision. Awaiting her orders.

Soraya inhaled deeply. "I have decided that we will temporarily withdraw from the war for the throne," she said. "We will march to Turan to destroy the Daevas before they can grow too strong."

Dashna exhaled with palpable relief, her expression breaking into an elated smile. Massoud seemed to be content with whatever Dashna approved of, but Parvana and Goshtab's expressions both darkened instantly.

"If you do this, you will be surrendering the throne," Goshtab said in his rasping voice. "Do you understand that?"

"No, I do not," Soraya replied calmly. "Whoever sits on the throne when we return from Turan, we will depose. Until that time, Roshani and Esfandar can fight between themselves for all I care."

"It will deplete our resources and our forces," Parvana warned. "Time is a precious asset in war, your majesty. Your brother and sister will use it to increase their strength while we expend ours fighting monsters that are the stuff of legend. Even if we defeat them, we will be weakened. And that is a large 'if'. Like all Sazians, I have heard the stories of the daevas from the first great war. They are capable of destroying cities and massacring armies as if it were nothing. Their strength, according to legend, is ten times that of humans. How do you expect us to beat them by ourselves?"

"That's why it's so urgent for us to strike now!" Dashna interrupted passionately. "We must eliminate them before they grow in strength. We can't wait. My people are already suffering their attacks. They can't be allowed to grow stronger and destroy the entirety of the empire."

Soraya nodded. "Dashna is right. We simply can't afford to wait. As to how we fight them, we will do everything that Fereydun, my ancestor, did to defeat them millennia ago. We have our Mithra-blessed soldiers, whose fire will burn the Daeva's just as Fereydun's did. And in the Great Temple we have the relics of Fereydun's blessed weapons, blades that can kill a Daeva instantly. It will not be an easy battle by any means. But we are also not helpless."

Parvana's brow furrowed. She clearly wished to protest more, but also saw that Soraya had made up her mind. She could do little to change this decision, and as a loyal general she was obligated to obey it. She slowly inclined her head, and seeing her example Goshtab sighed and followed. The tension in Soraya's shoulders loosened. They would obey her decision. They would follow her, even into the unknown.

"She has a point, though," Massoud mused. All gazes snapped to him, surprised that he'd chosen to speak up at all and especially surprised that it was to agree with Parvana. He stared back at them with a roll of his eyes. "I agree, your majesty, that we must face the threat of the Daevas as soon as possible. But even with the aid of our gifted soldiers and blessed weapons, we are simply too weak. Our forces are already small in number. If the Daeva's are as powerful as the legends say, I'm hardly confident in our chances of victory."

Soraya hummed in consideration. "What are you suggesting? That we recruit and train new troops? That will be too difficult to do quickly."

"No, new troops aren't what I had in my mind."

Soraya frowned in confusion at his evasive answer. He seemed almost hesitant to voice his thoughts outright, but in the end he didn't need to. Parvana's spine straightened as if she had been hit by lighting, her eyes narrowing.

"You are suggesting we make an alliance with another army," she said stiffly. Soraya herself tensed at the suggestion.

Massoud sighed but nodded. "I am," he said. "I know your opposition to any compromises with your siblings. I know you refuse to give up your claim to the throne for anything... But if you truly want to defeat the Daevas, this may be our only realistic option. We need numbers, and we need them now."

Soraya was silent. His case was persuasive. She felt her mind wrapping around it even as her heart desperately sought to reject it. To ask for help from Roshani or Esfandar... Would they even consider it? It was a failed plan before it even began. No, they would never agree to a truce with her, not in a million years. It was pointless to even ask. And yet...

"Roshani would be out of the question," Soraya said slowly. She knew her sister would never agree to it. "Esfandar... If the terms were advantageous to him, then there's a chance." Her gaze lifted to meet Parvana's. She was still as stiff as a statue as she gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists at her side. But she was the only advisor Soraya had who knew Esfandar well. If anyone had a way to convince him to form an alliance, it was her.

"Parvana," Soraya said slowly. "Do you have any ideas?"

The general didn't answer for several moments. Soraya wondered if she would simply refuse to speak on the matter at all. But eventually, she managed to give a stunted answer.

"There is a prisoner of war we captured during the Battle of Shiraz who may be able to help us with this matter," Parvana answered reluctantly.

Soraya tilted her head in question. "Who is it?"

"She is a high-ranking officer in your brother's army," Parvana replied. "Her name is Gita."