The taller of the two bowed at her and her comrades. The second merely tilted his head, as though forced to do so out of necessity, rather than by choice.
“Welcome back to the Armada, my friends. I am Cyrus,” said the man as he turned to his comrade. “This is Tissaphernes, Satrap of this region and the Lord of the Cilician Gates.”
The second noble nodded again before speaking.
“I thank you, all of you, for your part in clearing my domain of these Mulacs.”
Clearchus stepped forward and alongside them.
“These are the survivors of the Night Blades, an Arcadian unit who have almost proved themselves worthy of fighting alongside Laconians,” he said in jest. Those near enough to hear him, chuckled with amusement at the sarcasm, but it appeared to be totally lost on the Medes.
A loud hiss from the second dromon to land announced the opening of its doors. From the steam and dust moved the figure of Dukas Xenias. He walked down the ramp, assisted by his personal guards. A medical team rushed up to assist him, but he brushed them aside and continued down to reach the line of senior officers. He started to kneel before Clearchus, but the old General reached out and grabbed the man’s arm.
“Really, Xenias, that will not be necessary,” he said with a genuine smile, something that was rare between rival nations such as theirs. Lord Cyrus approached and placed his hand on the man’s arm.
“Thank you, Dukas Xenias. Your forces have cleared the Cilician Gates and removed a great evil from these lands. Neither Satrap Tissaphernes, the commander of this region, nor I will forget your service.”
Xenias nodded politely and turned to the medics, speaking quietly to them. It was clear he was in great pain, and with the help of his guards he was able to continue onwards and away from the dromons. Clearchus looked back to Xenophon and the other Night Blades.
“Lord Cyrus has offered to pay all those involved with the action at the Cilician Gates double the offered salary. This is intended as compensation for your struggles and for your great efforts to preserve his domain. Tissaphernes had also offered to make an offering to the fleet of fifty ships, as well as a large contingent of his own automatons to our project.”
Xenophon smiled as best he could, but the news that such a contingent was being given to them rankled.
Why could they have not been used to stop the Mulacs to start with?
The two topoteretes moved around them to speak with the other members of the group. Clearchus, however, stayed where he was. He seemed particularly interested in Xenophon and Glaucon.
“Your efforts were impressive, very impressive. You destroyed the wall, eliminated the shield generator and held, when all hope seemed lost. It is clear to me that with these kinds of skills, we will be able to breach any defence and crush any fleet that opposes us. For your efforts, you are all to commended.”
A dekarchos stepped forward with a box, and he lifted the lid to reveal a series of stripes. He held up the first two to Clearchus, who took them and then handed them to Xenophon and Roxana.
“For your efforts, you have been promoted to Dekarchos. This is a position you have both earned and already acted under. You will be responsible for a full ten-man unit in the Night Blades.”
He then took more insignia from the box and moved to Glaucon.
“You and your new Dekarchos are inseparable. I cannot see how a pair of warriors could be any more effective. You are immediately promoted to his side as Pentarchos. This is an important and honoured position in the unit.”
Glaucon took the stripes and smiled at Xenophon and Roxana. Clearchus stepped back but noticed the look on Tamara’s face. She looked both disappointed and anguished at being left out.
“Child, you are not yet ready for the rigors of command. What is it that you wish?”
Tamara looked at him, dumbfounded at the request.
“I want my own unit,” she spluttered.
Clearchus laughed, amused at her comment.
“Not yet, perhaps after a few more battles!” he added with a laugh.
The Strategos walked away along with his entourage, leaving the members of the Night Blades to the still cheering crowd. Dukas Sophaenetus, a man they had never even met before, approached.
“Come with me, please. We have somewhere for you to rest before your victory meal with the Strategos later this evening.”
Xenophon nodded and glanced to the others. They all looked equally exhausted to him. The bulk of the Night Blades followed the Dukas, but Glaucon, Roxana and Tamara stayed back for a few more seconds. Roxana spoke quietly in his ear.
“So, what do you think about being a mercenary?” she asked him with a coy expression.
Glaucon interrupted him before he could speak.
“I think he likes it quite enough. Now, I don’t know about you lot, but I need a shower and then food, a lot of food.”
Tamara nodded feverishly in agreement. “And drink!”
Glaucon and Tamara moved off, leaving Xenophon and Roxana amongst the last few near the dromon. Xenophon looked to her and beckoned towards the others.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
Roxana said nothing, but she simply nodded and pulled him forward and towards the rest of the unit.
“That will do for starters!” she laughed.
The briefing room chosen by Strategos Clearchus had been cleared so that only he and Lord Cyrus were present. It was an intricately detailed room, often used to entertain high-ranking dignitaries. It operated as an antechamber to the great hall that was embedded deep within the heart of the Titan. Sculptures and trophies taken from scores of defeated enemies covered the walls. In one cabinet was a complete set of armour taken from the fallen Mulac commander. The hole created by the pulse rifle and wounds caused by Xenophon and Glaucon were still present. The room was designed to remind the Laconians of their past, just as much as to remind their friends and enemies as to their power. Clearchus smiled to himself as he looked at the Mulac.
We have the trophy even though the victor was actually a previous member of the Terran Alliance. Ironic that the trophy falls to us.
In the centre of the room was a lavishly decorated wooden and stone granite table. It was excessive for a starship, even more so for a Laconic ship. Floating above it was a detailed star map. It was more than ten metres wide and coloured with all the stars and nebulae in the known galaxy. The Cilician Gates were prominent to the left, and the remainder taken up by the vast realm of the Median Empire. The small amount of space taken up on the far left showed up markedly compared to the vastness of the Empire.
“You realise that Tissaphernes must have had a hand in what happened at the Gates?” he asked.
Cyrus looked at him, surprised that the Terran had thought that far ahead.
“Yes, I agree. He is no friend of mine, and I am suspicious that this was an attempt to weaken or discredit me.”
Clearchus said nothing for a moment, confused at the Medes suggestion.
“You think he did this as a trap, to corner and kill you?”
“Perhaps, at the very least to weaken me so that I would not be a threat to him. It can hardly be advantageous to his position or ego to have the brother of the Emperor running about doing his dirty work. If I had been defeated and humiliated by raiders, it would have left me isolated.”
Clearchus shook his head in confusion.
“And yet you let him leave in one piece?”
Cyrus laughed loudly and stepped forward, placing his hand on the Strategos’ shoulder.
“My friend, you have much to learn about politics. He feels safer, and we can go about our business. It will be worth bearing this in mind when we next have to deal with him though. Median politics has always been a little, well, how do you day it?” he asked, pausing as he tried to think of the words. “Yes, there is much cloak and dagger in my lands.”