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.”
He smiled at the Laconian commander and then turned back to the map.
“So, as you can see, our Empire contains hundreds of races and incorporates many domains and empires. There is nothing else like my lands in the known Galaxy. At the centre lies the old Median worlds, and these are the oldest, richest and most heavily defended planets you can imagine. It is also the home of the Royal Fleet, commanded by none other than, the Emperor.”
Strategos Clearchus smiled at the hubris, but chose to ignore it. He gazed at the map, and the vast disparity between the hundreds of smaller Terran worlds and the great collective Empire of the Medes. They were so different, yet the Terrans had much strength, something he had so far failed to see in the Medes.
“I appreciate the breadth of your brother’s domain, but I do not see why I need to know this to continue our operation to clear the borders of pirates and raiders.”
Cyrus looked at the star map and then back to Clearchus.
Is he ready for what I must tell him? he thought. Would he rise to the challenge, or demand his money and return to the Terran world, an exile of Laconia, but a rich one?
He pressed a button and altered the map to show the centre of the Empire. He brought up the Imperial capital, the ancient world and centre of the Galaxy to his people. Clearchus was busy examining a series of reports from the fleet concerning the new arrivals from Arcadia. Cyrus looked back to the Capital world and smiled to himself.
My brother, Emperor of the Medes. I am coming for you.
