Chapter 141: The Courage of Defeat and the Birth of a Trap
A few hours after the burial ceremony, the horn players throughout the fortress sounded the call for a war council.
The commanders, with tired faces and gazes full of doubt and bitterness, slowly made their way towards the central command tent.
They were expecting a meeting full of blame and justification.
They expected that "child" to blame others for the failure.
The air was heavy, and the silence between them was louder than any shout.
But upon entering the tent, they were faced with an unexpected scene.
Kourosh was not sitting on his chair; he was standing in the center of the tent, before everyone.
His face was no longer the proud and flawless face of the days before.
A cold calm and a steel-like focus surged in his gaze, accompanied by a halo of sorrow and maturity.
When everyone had gathered, Kourosh looked into the eyes of each one of them; from the elderly Gashtasb to the loyal Arash.
Then, with a calm but clear voice that echoed in the silence of the tent, he began his speech with words that no one had expected.
"I was wrong."
These three words landed like a sledgehammer on the high walls of the commanders' pride and anger.
"My plan was flawless on paper, but war does not happen on paper."
"My pride caused the spilling of the blood of five thousand of our best men."
"I underestimated my enemy. I underestimated war."
"And for this mistake, I apologize to all of you, to every single soldier who trusted me."
He bowed his head before them, before men many of whom were the age of his grandfather.
This was not a simple bow; it was a brave and unconditional admission of defeat.
This act disarmed all the anger and reproach that had accumulated in the hearts of the skeptical commanders in an instant.
They had come to face a proud genius, but instead, they were faced with a leader who had the courage to accept his mistake.
Gashtasb, who moments before had been his harshest critic, involuntarily took a step forward, as if he wanted to say something, but the words were caught in his throat.
The silence of the tent was no longer the silence of anger; it was the silence of astonishment.
Kourosh raised his head.
"But this defeat will not be our end. This defeat will be our greatest lesson."
He walked towards the large map.
"Yesterday, we fought with the strength of our arms and were defeated. From today, we will fight with our minds."
He pointed to the border fortress with his wooden staff.
"We will not stay here. We will retreat."
A murmur of disbelief spread through the tent.
Retreat? This meant surrender.
Before the objections could rise, Kourosh continued with certainty:
"This is not a flight. This is a deception."
He drew a long line from the border fortress to the heart of Pars, to the vicinity of Pasargadae.
"We will begin a long and deceptive retreat. We will lure the Median army after us, deep into our land."
"We will draw them away from their supply bases. We will tire and wear them down in unfamiliar lands."
He looked at the astonished faces of his commanders.
"Azhidahak is now at the peak of his pride. He considers us a defeated and demoralized army."
"We will reinforce this image for him."
"Along the way, we will create small skirmishes and deliberately lose. We will leave equipment behind. We will spread rumors of rebellion and insubordination among our own army."
"We will make him so sure of the final victory that he will blindly follow us."
Then, he brought his staff down with a firm strike on a point near Pasargadae.
"And here, on a plain of our choosing, we will set our trap."
He explained the details of his new and intelligent plan, the "Pasargadae Trap."
"When the tired and disorderly Median army reaches us, we will face them again. But this time, the battle will be different."
"At the height of the battle, when they think they are crushing us, our central corps will suddenly retreat."
"This tactical retreat will completely shatter their military formation, which will already be disorganized from the long pursuit."
"They will charge after our center in disarray, to achieve the final victory."
"And right at the foot of the walls of Pasargadae, where they are trapped in a bottleneck, our counter-attack from the flanks will begin."
"We will crush them between our two steel arms."
The tent was sunk in a silence full of astonishment.
This was no longer a battle plan.
It was a ruthless and intelligent conspiracy.