The astonished silence that had fallen over the tent after Kourosh's words was fragile and brief.
Suddenly, this silence was shattered by the furious voice of Gashtasb, the elderly tribal chief.
He rose to his feet, his face flushed with anger, and slammed his clenched fist on the table.
"Retreat?" His voice trembled with disbelief and rage.
"You want us to give our entire land to the enemy without a fight and hide in Pasargadae like cowardly mice?"
"This is cowardice, not strategy!"
"This is a shame that will remain on the forehead of the Persians forever!"
His fiery words, like a spark in a powder keg, ignited the dormant fire in the hearts of the other older commanders.
Rostam, the chieftain of the Maraphii tribe, also rose.
"Gashtasb is right! Our men came here to fight, not to run!"
"How can we tell our soldiers that they must turn their backs to the enemy and flee for dozens of leagues? This will destroy their morale!"
"We will arrive at Pasargadae with a soulless and defeated army!"
A murmur of opposition spread through the tent.
The tribal commanders, for whom pride and courage were the greatest virtues in their culture, could not accept the logic behind this plan.
For them, war meant a direct confrontation, sword against sword, and blood against blood.
Retreat, especially on this scale, was nothing but an admission of weakness and fear.
They had come to avenge yesterday's defeat, not to hand their land over to the enemy.
But before Kourosh could say a word, the new generation that he himself had nurtured rose to his defense.
Arash, with a calm but steel-like certainty, stood before Gashtasb.
"Master, no one doubts the courage of you and your men. But blind courage is a path to annihilation."
He pointed to the map.
"This is not a flight. This is a calculated move."
"Is a hunter who lures his prey towards a trap a coward? Or is a fisherman who casts his net into the deep a craven?"
"We are not fleeing; we are hunting."
Bagpat also roared with his usual fervor and passion:
"We believe in the prince's wisdom!"
"It was he who, with his new weapons, gave us the power to inflict three times more casualties on the enemy than we suffered. It was he who, with his iron discipline, saved us from complete annihilation."
"If he says the path to victory lies this way, I will follow him with my eyes closed!"
This decisive support from the young commanders eased some of the heavy atmosphere in the tent, but the doubtful gazes of the elders still weighed heavily on Kourosh.
Kourosh maintained his calm.
He let everyone say their piece and vent their anger.
Then, with the same calm that was born from the heart of yesterday's defeat, he came to the center.
"Elders, I understand your anger and your wounded pride. I am a Persian too."
"I, too, would rather die on the battlefield than take a single step back."
He paused and looked into the eyes of each one of them.
"But my duty as a commander is victory, not an honorable death."
"My duty is to return your men to their homes, not to bury them on this plain."
Using logic, psychology, and his charisma, he answered them.
"Tell me, is it courage to die on this plain and leave our land defenseless before the Median army?"
"Or is it to destroy the enemy with an intelligent retreat and achieve the final victory?"
He appealed to their pride.
"Azhidahak considers me a proud and inexperienced child. Let us play this role for him!"
"Let us drown him in his own pride!"
"This will be the greatest deception in the history of war, and your names will be recorded not as brave warriors, but as the smartest chieftains in history."
He then looked at Cambyses.
"Father, you trusted me. Now I ask you and all these elders to trust me one more time."
He placed his hand on the map.
"I do not promise you that this path will be easy. This path will be full of apparent humiliation and patience."
"But I do promise you that at the end of this path, not only victory, but the complete defeat of the Median army awaits us."
These words, this absolute faith, broke the last resistances.
Gashtasb, with a face that was still grim but no longer showed any sign of anger, slowly sat back down.
A heavy silence fell over the tent.
No one spoke anymore.
The commanders looked at each other and then at the eleven-year-old child who stood before them with an ancient wisdom.
Finally, Cambyses rose. His voice was the voice of the king.
"We trust you, Commander."
Then he turned to the others.
"The plan is as Prince Kourosh has drawn it."
"From tomorrow, the retreat begins."
"Anyone who has doubt in his heart can stay here. But whoever comes must come with complete obedience."
No one moved from his place.
The pact, for the second time, was sealed.