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daryun · 6 years

Text

Arslan Senki Summer Exchange Gift

Title: Tenderness

Author: Colle

Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jaswant and Zaravant

Rating: G

Warning(s): Angst (at least I tried)

Greetings, this is my @arslansenkifandomweek Arslan Senki Summer Exchange gift for @theunawesomeduck

Brief: Fanart or fanfiction with fluff and angst of Jaswant/Zaravant, after their fight in episode 21. They try to get along better by exchanging traditions.

Usually I would have gone for fanart, but I felt with a brief like this I needed to go on a journey with the characters, so I tried my hand at fanfiction. I took the liberty of setting it later, just from the flow of the anime they had the attack on St. Emmanuel to plan for and I felt like the natural time for getting to know each other would be after that battle on the way to Ecbatana. I hope you enjoy it!

ca. 6500 words beneath the cut

After the battle at St. Emmanuel Fortress, with supplies replenished and recovered troops, the Parsian army is riding towards Ecbatana. The sunset marks the end of a day’s long march and orders are given to set up a temporary camp in an area scouts had recommended.

As night fall the lights are kept low, but here and there soldiers talk amongst themselves, sharing stories over the nearest cooking pot. The delicious smell of a thick and tasty stew wafts on the night breeze.

“Ah, you can’t beat the military food!” says Zaravant sat in the dim firelight. Isfan only nods in agreement, his own mouth currently occupied with a mouthful of aromatic rice.

“Another reason why you should always aim for victory, you get the provisions your enemy left behind.” Says Tous, “perhaps we should thank Narsus”. Finishing his mouthful of food, Isfan protests “We can’t thank Narsus for everything he does, otherwise we’d be doing nothing else.” At this Tous smiles. It seems like his younger brother in arms had warmed up to Narsus. “He’s quite the man”.

The other soldiers start chiming in “I heard he paints in his spare time. Anyone know if he’s any good?”

“Do you think he has a sister I can marry? Would that make me a noble?”

“I think he set a man on fire once” - “He’d be lost without Elam, though…”

“Who’s governing Daylam these days anyway?”

“I heard he doesn’t stomach Shindhuran food well” - “Brother, you don’t understand, you weren’t there!”

Unlike Isfan, Zaravant frowns at the mention of Narsus. He can’t help but think of the confrontation on the day he received Narsus’ orders to make up the rear of the forces. The news had been delivered to him by Jaswant, the Shindhuran they had brought back from their campaign to in aid of King Rajendra. “Well, he couldn’t have disliked everything in Shindhura, they brought back a dog” he mumbles into his stew, just loud enough that Tous and Isfan could hear.

The soldiers are still telling stories of their expedition to Shindhura when the three friends finish their meals and excuse themselves. They hadn’t talked much since the conversation had shifted to Narsus, but Tous bids the two younger captains a good night, heading further down the row of tents while Isfan and Zaravant are left to unfumble the entrance to their shared tent in the dark.

Once inside, Zaravant absentmindedly gets ready to sleep. Isfan seems to be in a similar state of mind, as he breaks the silence with “I saw that minstrel that night, you know.”

It takes a moment for Zaravant to realise he means the night they had led their troops on Chassum Fortress. Surrounded by Lusitanian forces in the dark, had it not been for a charge of Parsian allies, they would have forfeited their lives then and there.

“What are you talking about? He was exiled by Prince Arslan himself.” Zaravant reminds him. “Why are you even thinking about that bastard?”

Pressing his head into his pillow, Isfan thinks for moment before replying. “What you said at dinner. Prince Arslan lets these vagabonds serve and follow him. Even at St. Emmanuel, we let those who surrendered live.”

Zaravant lies also down and makes himself comfortable. “And now they’re also eating our provisions on their way back to Lusitania.”

At this, Isfan turns away from Zaravant and closes his eyes. “I’m just saying, I don’t know about you, but what Prince Arslan said to us that night, I think about those words a lot.”

“Instead of throwing your life away, living with honour, huh?” Isfan doesn’t reply. Zaravant can’t see him in the dark but looks in his direction anyway to see if he’s already asleep. The question remained unanswered that night.

---

Closer to the centre of camp, Jaswant relieves a Guard of night watch duty and takes over. Lights around him are slowly going out one by one as Parsian soldiers retire to their tents. This was rather welcome, as the waxing moon is almost full, illuminating the tents and the landscape beyond. The air still carries a hint of stew, but unlike the majority of the camp’s troops, the Parsian cuisine did not remind him of home.

Jaswant is quite fluent in Parsian and had even begun to dream in this foreign language, but in the quiet hours of the night he finds comfort in reminding himself of home and who he is. Who he might be, at least.

Not that there aren’t plenty of occasions that reminded him he is not from here. He had been prepared to follow Prince Arslan into the midst of battle, to brave the most dangerous situations, to shield his Highness with his very body, and yet it is the small things that gnaw at his confidence. He was used to a life of servitude, but this was not the same as being looked down upon simply for being foreign. When he went to procure things for Lord Narsus, eyes followed him around as if he were there to steal them. When he couldn’t remember a word in Parsian people assumed he didn’t know what he was talking about. And when he relayed orders, they were challenged.

The instance with Captain Zaravant lingered in his mind. Had Lord Narsus not intervened that time it might have come to weapons being drawn again. Would besting Captain Zaravant in a fight have earned him respect or further scorn?

He would not back down from a challenge, but surely there had to be a better option. Prince Arslan had just taken over St Emmanuel Fortress and spared so many lives, taking the first steps to a peaceful resolution where possible. He couldn’t rely on Lord Daryun or Lord Narsus intervening on his behalf all the time, nor wait for Prince Arslan’s kindness and magnanimity to trickle through to even the lowest ranks of the army. So far, his sense of duty had brought him this far, got him through the jeering and disrespect. Parsian soldiers valued duty, did they not? But it was tiring.

“I don’t even know where I’m from. Why aren’t my deeds enough?” He asked the night in Shindhuran. But the night did not reply.

---

The first beams of sunlight splash across the camp, but a long, small shadow is spied by one of the sentinels. As the lone shape draws closer, the alert is called off as they recognise it as a Parsian messenger on horseback. Horse panting, the rider arrives and announces “I have an urgent message concerning Lord Munzhir of Oxus.” Before also trying to catch his own breath.

Zaravant is rudely woken up by a group of soldiers pouring into his tent. “What is this mess? Are we under attack?” Isfan and Zaravant proceed to grab the nearest weapon. "It's your father" one of the soldiers finally explains “It’s apparently urge-“ Zaravant pushes the whole group aside to head towards the messenger himself.

"What is this about my father? Ever heard of discretion?" Zaravant demands of the messenger, who had now dismounted his horse. “Forgive me, sir. But it is regarding-” He doesn’t get to end his sentence, Zaravant is too impatient and the parchment is virtually snatched from his hand. Turning around as he unrolls it and with every line read, Zaravant’s face darkens and the chattering of soldiers quiets down.

"Captain Zaravant, I can wait for you to formulate a reply, but time may be of the essence..."

Zaravant doesn't acknowledge the messenger any further, dumbstruck, he looks at the letter again. His stomach drops and he wished the words on the paper were different. But every time he looks at them they are the same.

He doesn’t notice the crowd now slowly broken up by Isfan, currently fighting his way through the goggling soldiers. "Don't you have a camp to pack up? Mind your own business!" This is enough to disperse most of the crowd. To the messenger Isfan says "We will let you know our reply before noon, you can rest your horse on the north side of the camp". "Thank you" the bewildered messenger replies and turns to lead his horse away from the two knights, the new arrival now leading the addressee of the letter to the side.

By the time Isfan finds a quieter spot between two tents, Zaravant had already scrunched up the parchment and put it in a pocket. "Are you being asked to return?" Isfan asks Zaravant, avoiding a direct question. Zaravant shakes his head and stares into the distance. "No. That’s not it. I'll continue to march with his Highness, but..." Isfan lays a hand on Zaravant's shoulder. "Tous and I can help you write a response to your family."

"I think they understand the importance of taking back the capital. Perhaps my father's health has improved again by then." Zaravant breathes.

Isfan had expected the dreadful news of Lord Munzhir's passing. Zaravant continued "he was already bedridden when I signed up for this. I just hadn't considered he'd take a turn for the worse..." he trailed off.

Isfan recalls the sense of loss on the day he received word of Shapur's death. Bad news can hit you out of the blue and pull the ground from underneath you. This wasn’t death, but it was still grave news. "Zaravant," he faces his friend and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I pray for your father's recovery. But let's also take back the capital from the Lusitanian swine as soon as possible. News of our victory would lift everyone's spirits, including your father's."

Zaravant takes another deep breath and tries to smile. "Thank you, my friend. We'll give it our best for all who cannot be with us" he says as he returns the gesture.

“Don’t worry about the tent, I have your back. I let the messenger know that you would have a reply to your family by noon.”

Zaravant wishes the problem had gone away with stuffing the parchment into his pocket. But this cannot be avoided. “Where do even I find writing utensils in this place?” he asks Isfan as he is about to leave. “You could try the centre camp, where the administration is. I will see you later!”. And Isfan was already hurrying away. The Parsian army did not have time to waste. Why did this have to happen now?

Zaravant walks into what is left of the centre camp. Pitching and packing up in the morning must be done at a fast pace, but he manages to obtain writing utensils and parchment. He suspects words has already got around camp because he was not questioned on his urgent need to write a letter. It grates on his mind. His family matters shouldn’t be this public. This was not what he wanted to be known as. He finds a place away from the bustling camp to sit down in the shade of a cart, preventing the still rising sun from blinding him. The creased letter he received now flattened out in front of him on a box, he goes through it again and thinks. “Your father is severely ill”, “It may be any day now…”, “Make your father proud by upholding peace”…

Zaravant goes over the words in his head. Had he acted honourably until now? He is lost for well wishes for his father. At least he still has the chance to do so. What to put into words? What if they are the last message his father ever receives from him? Should he downplay his fear and write to him as a proud warrior of Pars? Or write to him as a son, scared of losing his father? If he had wanted the former, he could easily consult Tous and Isfan. But he did seek out solitude to perhaps put down to paper words he might have never said out loud, or indeed may never get to say out loud. But nothing comes to him. He fidgets. He only has limited time to hand the messenger the letter. Looking at the parchment, his feelings simply will not spill onto the page into neat and concise words to do them justice.

Zaravant then becomes aware of footsteps approaching. He looks up from his makeshift desk to see Jaswant standing there. The last person he expected and frankly wanted in his presence right now. "Are you here to tell me to move?" He growls.

"No," Jaswant replies calmly. He sits down to be at eye level with Zaravant. "I wanted to convey my commiserations and express my sincere well wishes for your father." Zaravant couldn’t believe it! How news spread so quickly amongst the camp and now the Shindhuran is now involved. "Tch, what do you know? Can't you see I'm busy?" Jaswant is taken aback. Surely wishing the best for your family could not be so different for Parsians. Even if this was Captain Zaravant, he would still have feelings. The loss of Mahendra, the closest thing to a father figure Jaswant ever had, was something Jaswant was still coming to terms with. And he had wanted to build his own bridges. In the end, perhaps this is a bad time after all. He had considered waiting to express his condolences, but later on the march it would be more difficult... "I didn't mean to sound presumptuous. I just heard from the soldiers and saw you walking by earlier." He sees the empty parchment next to the creased letter, a quill still in Zaravant’s hand. "I didn't mean to intrude. I'll be on my way again. May the words come to you easily." Jaswant rises to leave, but Zaravant cuts in "Yeah, you better get out of here, what's with you anyway? First you get in the way of my duties and now you're prying into my family business?! As if you'd even know what to say, you stray!" In his eyes, Jaswant had given up service to the Shindhuran royal family and came to Pars, taking up a position a Parsian soldier might as well fulfil, probably bringing shame on his own entire family, so what would Jaswant know about family. "This was probably you in the first place, with some sort of jinx!" Zaravant spits. Jaswant gets up to his full height. His face a forced calm, but eyes looking down, fixed on Zaravant's. Jaswant knows he does not need to take abuse anymore. But it was hard. Zaravant's words hit their mark in a recent, bloodstained memory, now threatening to resurface again as tears. "I bid you good day" Jaswant manages dryly and walks away. "good riddance to you, too!" Zaravant calls after him. He bites his finger to avoid any further jinxing and looks back down at the parchment as soon as Jaswant is out of sight. But no words want to fall of the cloud of anger now over him, so he gathers his things up and decides to talk to Isfan and Tous after all.

---

It was past noon now and the Parsian army is on the move again. Another march, another day closer to the capital. The scouts had not seen enemy forces and according to Lord Narsus, an allied castle is only two days away now. Jaswant rides beside Prince Arslan in silence. Ever vigilant, his reserve isn’t perceived as anything unusual, but his uncharacteristic bad temper is picked up by Azrael, who circles him in concern. Meanwhile, Zaravant is nowhere in the vicinity, leading his own troops further in the rear. The day is fortunately uneventful, but Jaswant couldn’t shake off the thought that an ambush would have been a welcome distraction.

Dusk falls and the camp is set up again. By a small collection of trees at the edge of camp Jaswant is brushing one of the many warhorses when Daryun approaches with Shabrang. Tethering up his own horse, Daryun asks "Are you alright? If we had been attacked today I dare say you would have taken out half of the enemy forces all by yourself, you're tense as a strung bow." Jaswant sighs. Someone had noticed after all.

After the battle at St Emmanuel it had been Jaswant who had tended to Daryun's wounds. During those hours they had time to get to know each other closer, yet Jaswant still isn't sure how close to class their comradery. Could he burden Daryun with yet another one of his confrontations within the Parsian ranks? Would Daryun have to step in on his behalf again? Yet, if he hadn't wanted Daryun to notice, he should have concealed his displeasure better that day. Right here, there is no way around it. "Apologies if I made the already tense journey even tenser. I... was just lost in thought."

Daryun considers this as he removes Shabrang’s saddle. "I’ll be in the armoury tent later on. There's still plenty of swords that need to be brought up to scratch." Jaswant can sense an invitation in his voice, but what he longs for right now is a fellow Shindhuran countryman to let out his frustrations. He isn't sure if Daryun could even understand how he feels right now.

Daryun makes sure Shabrang has some water and feed before he leaves, nodding to Jaswant as he does. “At least I could ask for advice.” Jaswant reasons under his breath.

When Jaswant enters the makeshift armoury, Daryun is already there, inspecting swords and picking out the ones he deems in need of maintenance. "It's a small, but important job, and I find it rather relaxing" He says on Jaswant's entry with a smile.

Jaswant nods in polite silent agreement and takes the sword Daryun is handing to him. Two cushions and a pair of honing steels are already laid out on the floor. Jaswant is motioned to sit down, clearly Daryun had been expecting him.

For a while the only sound in the tent is the scraping of metal. Jaswant tries to focus and act nonchalantly, but Daryun's presence is pressing upon him, as if the silence is thick with expectation. Had Daryun's offer been an invitation to talk? Or is this just to keep an eye on him? Also, is Daryun so naïve to think he is just going to pour out all his thoughts to him right then and there? "Zaravant's letter has caused quite a stir." says Daryun eventually. "Parsian soldiers like to gossip" Concludes Jaswant. Maybe he had been spared that morning if he hadn’t overheard anything. "Many armies like to gossip, Narsus has made use of that many times." "How much do you know?" "About the letter? Or this morning? …I heard that you went to Zaravant after he received news of his father’s illness and that you left in bad spirits." Jaswant stays silent. He doesn’t hold it against him, but how did Daryun go to Shindhura and singlehandedly earn the title of Sher Senani, given to him by common soldiers, while all Jaswant receives is unkind names and scorn? "I think you did the right thing.” Daryun says, “It was wrong of Zaravant to turn you away." "And yet it didn't stop him." The bluntness of Jaswant’s tone gives Daryun an inkling of the frustration Jaswant is experiencing.

"He certainly carries his heart on his sleeve. You on the other hand, I feel usually don't. He must have insulted you gravely to leave you in such a mood.”

Jaswant is carefully inspecting his work on the sword.

Daryun puts his sword down and picks up the next. “Narsus and I are aware that there are disputes within our own camp. We sent Gieve away to alleviate some of the tension-" "Are you going you send me away, too?" Jaswant cuts in, with a hint of panic. "No. Apologies for making you worry. I sleep much more soundly at night knowing you're at his Highness' side when I can't be." Jaswant now meets Daryun’s eyes for the first time since he entered the tent. Daryun's faith in him reassures him, but unfortunately does little to erase feeling like an outsider within allied ranks.

"Daryun, is there something I can do, something Parsians do, to prevent these disagreements? They must be inconvenient to you and Lord Narsus"

Daryun furrows his brows in thought for a moment. Eventually he admits "I can't really see you joining in the raucous of what some of the troops get up to in their spare time." A troubled look flickers across Jaswants face, but Daryun reassures him "the path we are on will most likely always be the deviant one until we've reached our goal. You don't have to force yourself to be something you are not." Jaswant looks disappointed. It’s true, but not helpful right now. He has a hard time imagining Daryun ever being on the deviant path. Wherever he went he seemed to exude so much confidence his reality seems like his own. "It's easy for you to say." Jaswant admits to thinking.

“Hm.” Daryun begins honing sword he is holding again. "I once invited Narsus over to my uncle Eran Vahriz’ home. Marzban Bahman was there, too. When it was just Narsus and I it was easy to talk about the future, how it could change, the possibilities. But with my elder Marzban there, they sure put us in our place, saying how we shouldn’t be so brazen.”

“But Narsus was eventually banished, so I hear. You weren’t.”

Daryun smiles a bitter smile “Officially he was banished, but I believe saw and chose his time to leave. While I was out of the country, no less, the fox.”

“I see.” And Jaswant does. Serving the royal family of Pars was part of Daryun’s family, leaving court would have not only brought dishonour upon him, but could have endangered everything they had every stood for. “It sounds like they were all looking out for you.” "It turns out, my uncle certainly did, but the details of that he and Bahman took with them to the grave". Daryun sighs. Jaswant vaguely remembers Marzban Bahman. He and Mahendra had died on the same day, in the same skirmish. Jaswant gulped. Bahman wasn't the only one who took a secret with him. Mahendra had died in his arms. Jaswant puts down the sword he is finished with. His vision becomes blurry as he feels the tears well in his eyes again. Turning away, he pretends to look for another sword to sharpen when he feels Daryun place a hand on his shoulder. "Jaswant, I know we’re not the same, but Prince Arslan said it himself and I also don't care if you don't know your family's name. What matters is that you keep striving forward and I hope we will be on the same road for a long time."

Jaswant doesn’t have the heart to turn to Daryun as a few tears fall to the floor. “Thank you, Daryun, it means a lot to me.” He slowly picks up the next sword and starts working on it. While it’s silent Daryun also turns back to sharpening a particularly worn blade.

It’s only after Jaswant regains his composure he asks “I keep hearing a word the soldiers use. What does it mean? It’s something like %!$$€%^&”.

Daryun almost cuts his finger.

They spend the rest of the evening talking until it is also time for them to retire. Jaswant is not on night watch tonight and bids Daryun a good night as he leaves the armoury.

Daryun's words hadn't solved the problem, nor could he fully understand what Jaswant is going through. But thinking about Mahendra, it struck him that although Zaravant's remarks had hurt, they didn't matter. He knows who he is, what he is capable of, what he has been through, and how he got here right now. No one could take that away from him. Leaving Shindhura was a big step and he will continue forging his own future.

---

Zaravant is lying on a mattress in his tent, staring at the ceiling. Isfan had brought in some rice and dried fruit for him to eat before going out on an errand again, but he hasn’t touched them yet. Although he had finished his letter with the help of Isfan that morning, he can't shake the nagging feeling that he hadn't written down everything he had wanted to say.

He sits up and scratches his head. He wasn’t good with these things. And he can’t stop thinking about that Shindhuran. He annoys him. And it annoys him that while he should be thinking of his father he’s thinking of him.

Tous is reading one of his own letters when Zaravant enters his tent. The candlelight flickers with the motion of the tentflap, making the visitor’s face seem gloomier than it already is. "Good evening, Tous. I trust you had a better day than mine?"

"It was calm enough." Noticing Zaravant's sighing voice he adds "I'm sure the messenger will relay your letter swiftly. He seemed dependable." Tous folds the parchment up and places it out of sight. Yes, Zaravant had written his letter, indeed. "I can't believe that no good cat disturbed me this morning." "Is this about the Shindhuran? Jaswant, I believe his name is. I heard he came to see you." Tous motions to a cushion near to him. Sitting down, Zaravant explains "He claimed to wish for my father's recovery, but he probably only came to gloat in my family's misfortune." Tous tries to imagine the scenario. "He doesn't strike me as a man who would do that. Perhaps he was sent by Narsus again." "Nah, he came out of his own accord. Told me so. But why would he do that? He knows I can't stand him. Is he just constantly out to teach me lessons in humility? I'm here to save my country, Tous, I don’t have time for this!" Maybe he shouldn't have come in his father's stead at all. He could have joined other lords against the Lusitanians, surely. If only his father's health had been better. He wouldn't have sent him to this army led by men with their heads in the clouds and vagabonds they had picked up along the way. Why did his father send him here? "No one doubts that you're here in the name of Pars. I think we proved that when we are a little overzealous at Chassum Fortress." "Well, we should have been given the chance to prove ourselves on the first place. Not given orders second hand by What's His Face. You should have seen him this morning, Tous. Eyes like venom. He's more like a snake than that Black Panther thing." "You may have insulted him" states Tous. "Why are you taking his side and why is everything about him when I was the one who received bad news this morning?" Zaravant is positively scowling, but Tus remains calm. "Zaravant, the fact that you keep bringing him up is enough to show that he's on your mind." Zaravant grunts in protest, but Tous continues "if it didn't matter to you, it would not linger so. What are you accusing him of, exactly? Showing compassion?" He raises one brow, genuinely curious curious to know why Zaravant is behaving like this. He had expressed his own condolences to him that very morning. Zaravant huffs again. "I didn't come here to be lectured." "If you had wanted to have your existing thoughts affirmed, you could have gone to anyone here in camp. They would gladly tell you that Shindhurans are wild animals and constantly scheming, always up to no good, and that you are right to chase him away. Yet you came to me." Says Tous more sternly, but he gets out a bottle of nabid and pours a drink for his guest and himself. The tent is then silent for a while. The sounds of dining soldiers outside too far away to distract from what Tous had just said, so Zaravant drinks from his cup to avoid replying for a bit.

Eventually Zaravant mumbles a question. "Do you think I can make my father proud before he dies?" His eyes do not leave the floor. "Didn’t you mention our victory at St Emmanu-" "That's not it! I mean. He probably sent me here because he wanted to serve Prince Arslan's cause. All of it. Not just chasing out the Lusitanians, but also freeing the Gholams, and making peace with everybody. How is that supposed to work? How can we find honour in battle if there are no more battles? I'm not going to start wars, you just can't be too careful with neighbours like these. They're way too different." "Hm. Too different to recognise that the loss of a father is a grave thing?" at Tous' words Zaravant looks up to him. Tous meets his gaze. "King Andragoras may be a mighty warrior and we have always followed him, but has Prince Arslan not also kept his integrity in the face of adversity? How many men who have crossed him came out looking the more noble man?" Zaravant shifts a little, but Tous doesn’t stop there. "That night after we are foolhardy enough to think we could take on Chassum all on our own. It is true we promised to live with honour rather than to die for it. However, I do not think Prince Arslan meant for this to only be victory in battle." Zaravant hasn’t made any signs of wanting to contradict yet. "There will always be battles and to learn from them. Not all of them are fought with swords on battlefields." Tous concludes. "What are you saying?" "If you think you've acted in a way that would bring shame to your name, you have no one to battle but yourself to set it right." "I didn't-" Zaravant starts. There it is. Tous interrupts him. "You sought my advice and I have given it. Go and think about it before you dismiss it." Zaravant considers speaking up again but thinks better of it. “Fine, I’ll go.” He puts his cup down and gets up to leave. At the flap he stops and asks, "Why do you know so much about this, anyway?" "I have three wives, Zaravant. I won’t show you the letter I received when they found out about Chassum". In the dark, Zaravant is lying on his mattress and staring at the ceiling again. Isfan’s steady breathing tells him that he’s probably already asleep. So when Zaravant sits up and scrambles around to light a candle, he tries to do this as quietly as possible. He flinches when some leftover parchment from this morning rasps loudly against the chest lid he aims to use as a desk, but Isfan doesn’t stir.

Carefully, Zaravant starts writing another letter.

---

The camp is still silent when the first of the sun’s rays begin to peek across the distant mountain range. The shadows of the trees at the edge of the camp are long, reaching over a group of horses who prick up their ears up in curiosity as Jaswant walks pass their tethers carrying a bag. Although he only got a few hours of sleep he feels more at ease, certainly more than when he was here last evening.

He strokes one of the horses and several others begin contending for his attention and hopefully food. “I’m sorry, friends, but I have nothing with me at the moment, but I do have this.” Out of the bag he gets a brush and he leads one of the stallions to a separate tether. Humming a Shindhuran song to himself, he brushes the desert dust off the beautiful animal.

Before long the horse alerts Jaswant to somebody approaching. “Good mor—ning.” Jaswant hesitates. Who else but Zaravant is walking out of the sea of tents straight in his direction? Which god is trying to test him now? Jaswant isn’t sure what to do. He tenses up and hold the brush behind his back. Sensing the tension, the horse fidgets and looks around nervously.

Zaravant is now about thirty feet away, holding some sort of basket in his hand. Why was he feeding the horses this early in the morning? He usually never bothered to do so.

At about ten feet distance Zaravant stops and holds out the basket in front. The sun is in his face, Jaswant can’t really make out his expression, but should it come to a confrontation, he reasons Zaravant would be at a disadvantage.

The Parsian knight gulps. He could just call it off, say he’s here to feed the horses. But no, he told himself he’d do this. In the long run it would be worth it.

"Please forgive my rudeness. …I accept your well wishes for my father."

Jaswant is taken aback, but he instantly loosens his grip on the brush. He went through the wording. He would gladly accept an apology, but Zaravant was asking for forgiveness. Was this just a Parsian expression? Was it the same thing? He seems earnest enough.

Zaravant stands there. Jaswant hadn’t said anything yet. This was stupid. Of course he wasn’t going to-

“I forgive you.”

“Huh? I mean, I brought you something…” But Zaravant doesn’t offer it forward. Just like that? Was this a joke? Was he not taking this seriously? Did he, what was his name again, just want what was in the basket?

Jaswant realises something wasn’t right. Did he reply too quickly? But compared to what Prince Arslan has forgiven him for, this was nothing. But how could Captain Zaravant know?

The horse now shifts uncomfortably and Jaswant has difficulty holding it place. But when he moves to untether it, it nudges him closer to Zaravant and snorts.

Zaravant and Jaswant look into each other’s eyes. Both uncertain of the other’s sincerity.

Jaswant knows that it was his turn in this awkward dance, Zaravant had offered him a gift, but just taking it would seem impolite at this rate. He glances around. The horses can’t help him… but there is something else.

“Captain Zaravant, I have a proposition. Do you see that tree over there? The tallest one where the horses are?”

“Yes?” Zaravant looks down to the basket, confused by this development. “Is this going to be a race?” he asks with suspicion.

“No. We will both walk around it together three times.”

“What for?”

“In my homeland, there is a way to settle arguments and mark a new beginning between two people. We walk around the tree together three times in a kind of ceremony of reconciliation.”

It sounds a bit silly, but at least it sounds like a literal step forward. “Do I need to do anything?” Zaravant asks.

“It is customary to leave something by the tree, but you needn’t do anything in particular, except walk with me”.

“I don’t really have anything with me aside from this” Zaravant gently wiggles the basket.

“I only have this.” Jaswant holds up the horse brush. After a short silence Jaswant suggests “We could both put down our swords” Zaravant looks alarmed, but Jaswant continues, “and pick them up again after we have completed our three rounds.”

For the first time, Zaravant sees Jaswant smiling. “I think it would still count.”

Zaravant can’t help but smile himself. “Shall we get started then?”

They both walk towards the tree Jaswant had picked out. At its shady trunk they both place their swords next to each other and make promises to lay aside past differences. Zaravant is relieved that Jaswant uses his own name to do this. To his embarrassment, he had already forgotten it even though Tous had just mentioned it last night. Then they start walking around the tree side by side.

The nearby horses prick their ears once more as the two men start talking on their rounds.

On the first round Jaswant asks if Zaravant finished his letter. Zaravant explains that he did, but he wrote a new one and aims to send it off early this morning as well.

By the second round Zaravant asks Jaswant how he came to Pars. Jaswant summarises the day of Daryun’s duel against Bahadur.

By the third round Zaravant gives his condolences to Jaswant and Jaswant asks Zaravant about his home region of Oxus.

“May the next time we draw swords in each other’s presence be as brothers in arms together against enemies of Pars.” Jaswant says as he picks up his sword.

“You’re a very serious fellow, aren’t you?” Zaravant sheathes his sword again. “What if I wanted to show you the fancy metal work while we share a drink together? Which reminds me, before I forget.” Zaravant hands the basket over to Jaswant.

“Thank you, but the true gift you have given me today is your tenderness, my new friend.”

“Well, I had a bit of nudge…” Zaravant gets out his new letter.

“You should get that sent out as soon as possible, the camp messengers should be awake by now.”

Zaravant nods. “I’ll see you around, no doubt, Jaswant.” It was the first time Zaravant had said his name. This does not go unnoticed. “May your letter arrive swiftly and carry blessings to your family, son of Munzhir.”

As Zaravant heads back to camp, he breathes out. He had thought about how his apology would play out all night. Jaswant would laugh. Perhaps even challenge him to another dual. Forgive him, but not mean it. He had painted Jaswant to be so many things he was not. The tree thing had been an interesting custom, so he had taken the apology seriously and they both did it so it hadn’t been embarrassing.

… Only “Tenderness”? Is that what he thought of me? “The poor guy must have it pretty rough, then.” Zaravant thinks aloud before trying to remember where the messengers stayed.

Jaswant walks back to the tethered horse. Today’s ride would be far more enjoyable knowing he had another friend on his side. The stallion had calmed down and allows Jaswant to resume his brushing.

Had “Tenderness” been the right word Parsian?

But what did it matter?

In a world of approaching war, tenderness is a nice thing.

------ -------- ------ ------ -------- -------

_____________________________________________________________

AND THEN ANDRAGORAS EXILES ARSLAN & CO BUT ZARAVANT AT LEAST GETS TO KNOW JIMSA WITH HIS NEW AND IMPROVED INTERPERSONAL SKILLS.

Gosh, my writing style reads like minutes from meetings.

My general impression of what the fandom thinks about these characters: Zaravant = We like him, but we wish he was ‘better’ (Also the 2015 anime didn’t really do much for him, surprise). Tous = Reliable and sound. I now associate him with “Familiar Hell” by Battle Beast.

I got the idea about the tree ritual from a presentation given at the International Medieval Congress 2018, titled ‘Adorned and Adored: India's Sacred Trees’ by Louise Fowler-Smith (University of New South Wales). I took liberties with it, though. I didn’t know where to place Jaswant’s heritage exactly, so it seemed like a universal thing even many other cultures (i.e. Irish) do.

I tried to incorporate a few things I had read on http://www.mypersiancorner.com, https://www.chaiandconversation.com, and elsewhere into the fic, where reasonable.

I’m not from either culture and I wish I had more time to polish it off, but this was a great opportunity to do some more reading. I really want Persian food right now, good thing we have a restaurant in town.

#arslansenkifandomweek #Arslan Senki #The Heroic Legend of Arslan #Jaswant #Zaravant #fandom #Daryun #Tous #Isfan #fanfiction

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allspark · 5 years

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It’s time for our weekly Diamond Comics Shipping List! Check out some great titles IDW has in store for us next week like Transformers, Transformers/Ghostbusters, G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero, Godzilla: Kingdom of Monsters, Usagi Yojimbo, and more! All coming your way for July 17th!

TRANSFORMERS #9

Brian Ruckley (A) Cachet Whitman, Bethany McGuire-Smith (CVR A) Umi Miyao (CVR B) Priscilla Tramontano

Time is running out! Orion Pax, his friends, and the Autobot security forces have to get a grip on their murder investigations as their superior, Sentinel Prime, makes his return to Cybertron! Secrets are revealed as loyalties shift! Sentinel Prime and his diplomatic entourage return!

TRANSFORMERS/GHOSTBUSTERS #2

Erik Burnham (A/CVR A) Dan Schoening (CVR B) Priscilla Tramontano

“GHOSTS OF CYBERTRON” Part 2! Okay. So. It seems as though there are giant robots who can disguise themselves as vehicles out there in the universe, and, as it happens, one of them as taken the place of Ecto-1. When the Ghostbusters discover this replacement, they naturally have a lot of questions-and this time, even the boys in gray might not believe the answers!

TRANSFORMERS #1 3RD PTG

Brian Ruckley (A) Angel Hernandez, Cachet Whitman (CVR) Gabriel Rodriguez

TRANSFORMERS #3 2ND PTG

Brian Ruckley (A) Angel Hernandez, Cachet Whitman (CVR) Nick Roche

TRANSFORMERS #4 2ND PTG

Brian Ruckley (A) Angel Hernandez, Andrew Griffith (A/CVR) Sara Pitre-Durocher

GI JOE A REAL AMERICAN HERO #264

Larry Hama (A/CVR A) Netho Diaz (CVR B) Dan Fraga

G.I. Joe battles for justice, liberty, and freedom around the globe, and with the evil terrorist organization known as Cobra slithering around every corner, the stakes have never been higher! Living Legend Larry Hama and superstar artist Netho Diaz continue the latest explosive arc of… G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero! The first of two connecting B covers by artist Dan Fraga!

AMBER BLAKE #4 2ND PTG

Jade Lagard?re (A/CVR) Butch Guice

BRAM STOKER’S DRACULA TP

Roy Thomas (A) John Nyberg (A/CVR) Mike Mignola

Advance solicited for July release! The comics adaptation based on the film from Columbia Pictures (Sony) and Zoetrope Studios returns with all-new colors. Mike Mignola is one of the most popular comic book artists of the past thirty years, known for such important works as Batman: Gotham by Gaslight, Cosmic Odyssey, and, of course, Hellboy. Considered to be among Mignola’s greatest works, Bram Stoker’s Dracula was his last project before Hellboy launched and was originally released as a full-color four issue adaptation of Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 movie. Updated with all-new colors! New cover by Mignola!

FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE COMP LIBRARY HC VOL 03

Lynn Johnston (A/CVR) Lynn Johnston

No phone, no light, no motor car, not a single luxury-John and Phil’s canoe trip turns them into castaways on an island! Once back in civilization, John solves his mid-life crisis by buying a sportscar, and Elly improbably winds up in front of a judge as a result! Michael enters junior high school, but not before learning a different sort of life lesson at summer camp with a girl named Martha, while Liz loses her first tooth, gets her ears pierced, and finds herself in a “Mean Girls” situation with her friends at school. Then it’s wedding bells for Uncle Phil, and Lawrence moves back to town-with a new family of his own! Volume Three, which collects the complete daily and Sunday comics from July 6, 1986 through December 9, 1989, brings to a close the first decade of Lynn Johnston’s modern masterwork, but of course, the story is just getting started…

• Advance solicited for April release! • “An exquisite tome… Fans of the highest virtuosity in cartooning will relish this deluxe introduction to the Patterson’s heartfelt and delightful story”-Library Journal • The beloved newspaper comic strip that chronicled the saga of the Patterson family in real time, over three decades, continues in this, the definitive edition.

FROM HELL MASTER EDITION #6

Alan Moore (A/CA) Eddie Campbell

“From Hell.” The narrative makes room for such figures as Aleister Crowley and William Butler Yeats while the killer writes the note which gives our work its title. Five unsolved murders. Two of the greatest creators in the history of comics. One sprawling conspiracy, one metropolis on the brink of the 20th century, and one bloody-minded Ripper ushering London into the modern age of terror. The award-winning bestseller FROM HELL, often ranked among the greatest graphic novels of all time, takes on haunting new dimensions in FROM HELL: The Master Edition, enhanced with impressionistic hues by Eddie Campbell himself. This volume contains Chapter 9, as well as all the original annotations.

GHOST TREE #4

Bobby Curnow (A/CVR A) Simon Gane

Mysteries are solved as an ancient evil rises. Will Brandt and his family be able to come to terms with their actions before the present is ruined? What does the future hold for those trapped in the past? The heartfelt conclusion to a most unusual tale!

GODZILLA KINGDOM OF MONSTERS TP

Eric Powell, Tracy Marsh, Jason Ciaramella (A) Phil Hester, Victor Santos, Bruce McCorkindale (CVR) Eric Powell

Advance solicited for July release! The King of the Monsters rises again, and he’s bringing lots of other beloved Toho monsters with him in one destructive saga! When Godzilla appears off the coast of Japan, the Japanese government must respond quickly to contain the disaster… but before long, other monsters begin appearing all over the world. Can humanity survive this mysterious onslaught of giant beasts? Featuring Anguirus, Battra, Destroyah, Gigan, Hedorah, King Ghidorah, Kumonga, Mechagodzilla, Mothra, Rodan, Spacegodzilla, and Titanosaurus. Collects the entire 12-issue series for the first time.

LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMEN: TEMPEST #6

Alan Moore (A/CVR) Kevin O’Neill

In Moore and O’Neill’s final comic book, this issue masquerading as a British science-fiction weekly, the plot-strands of our concluding volume and loose ends from twenty years of continuity are tied in an ingenious starry bow, as Mina Murray and her legendary confederates transition from the world of fiction past and present to the world of fiction future. Planets end in visual spectacle, lovers are united in the matrimonial event of the millennium, and deadly enemies draw close in the conclusion of their fatal dances. This is your last call for the immaculate crescendo of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Vol. IV, The Tempest.

MARVEL ACTION CLASSICS CAPTAIN AMERICA

Scott Gray, Roger Langridge (A) Craig Russeau, Matteo Lolli (CVR) Clayton Henry

Four tales for the price of one! Captain America, living legend of World War II, battles spies in Hollywood and M.O.D.O.K.’s predecessor P.R.O.D.O.K…. but nothing prepares him for spending the next few decades frozen in ice! When he comes to in the present day, Hydra strikes and Cap learns the action hasn’t let up-the Marvel Action, that is!

• Classic Captain America tales from the legendary vault of heroes! • All-ages action in the past and present! • Reprints Marvel Adventures Super Heroes #8 and #12!

RAGNAROK BREAKING OF HELHEIM #1

Walter Simonson (A/CVR A) Walter Simonson

In the end, the gods gathered together and met their foes on the Battle Plain of Vigrid. There, so the stories tell, the gods and their great enemies slaughtered each other, the stars fell from the sky, Midgard itself sank into the all-encompassing ocean, and the Nine worlds were destroyed. In this issue, Thor hears a voice out of the past and learns that not all the old stories are true, and that the path before him now leads to Helheim, the land of the Dead. Walter Simonson, legendary creator of Star Slammers, Manhunter and the Alien film adaptation (with Archie Goodwin), and the definitive version (after Stan and Jack) of Marvel’s Thor, presents the next thrilling chapter of his own post-Ragnarok Thor saga!

RIP KIRBY HC VOL 11 1973-1975

Fred Dickenson (A/CVR) John Prentice

The longest-running modern adventure strip continues with 11 new stories starring the debonair private detective, reproduced from the original King Features Syndicate proofs. In these stories, Rip Kirby takes part in an old-style shoot-out in a nearly deserted Western ghost town, battles the deadly Owl and the Pussycat over a hidden stash of heroin, and rubs a magic lamp the wrong way in a Turkish bazaar. After learning he is the doppelganger of the crown prince of a postage stamp-sized country, the bespectacled detective follows the train of a counterfeit two million before being framed by a paroled con man who wants to get even with Rip for making him play second fiddle in the prison orchestra. Plus-the long-awaited return of Rip’s original girlfriend, Honey Dorian, as well as his arch-nemesis, the deadly Mangler! The more than 800 sequential comics from January 22, 1974 to October 11, 1975 also feature Rip’s new girlfriend, Holly Glowstep, and standbys such as Desmond, Wiggins, and Ma Casino.

• Advance solicited for July release! • “John Prentice’s work is superb. He’s one of the few cartoonists who took an important strip by a great cartoonist and did it not only justice, but in some ways, was as good as-and in some cases better than-the originator.”-Tom De Haven, author of the Derby Dugan trilogy

ROAD OF BONES #3

Rich Douek (A/CVR A) Alex Cormack

There is no god but hunger. And the loss of their food has driven Roman, Grigori, and Sergei to the absolute extreme. Knives are sharpened and souls are searched as each man decides just how far he is willing to go in order to survive the brutal tundra. One thing is certain, though-one must die for the others to live. Escape from the gulag takes a brutal and horrific turn in Road of Bones #3, from writer Rich Douek (Gutter Magic) and artist Alex Cormack (SINK).

SONS OF CHAOS HC GN

Chris Jaymes (A) Alejandro Aragon

Oversized, panoramic graphic novel Sons of Chaos, exposes the quiet agenda of the Ottoman Empire’s most brutal dictator, and his fascination with a young Greek boy that led to a war that would define the Western World.

An immersion into the moments we never see, and the self-serving motivations that convince a nation that violence is warranted, and that war is necessary.

In honor of the 200 Year anniversary of the Greek War for Independence, Sons of Chaos presents the story of 1821 through the eyes of Marcos Botsaris, the son of a respected Greek leader taken prisoner as a child and raised within the dungeons of history’s most infamous Ottoman Pasha, known as the “Napoleon of the East”– Ali Pasha of Ioannina. Over the next ten years, the bond formed between them would define history.

The Greek War for Independence was a conflict that quietly influenced the entire world and participants ranged from the London Stock Exchange to celebrities such as Lord Byron, as well as average impassioned Americans willing to transport themselves across the Atlantic to fight alongside the Greeks.

This conflict was the pinnacle of what we now know as the Romantic Period and yet, it’s a war that few know ever existed outside of the Greek and Turkish cultures; a war that stimulated the fall of the Ottoman Empire and shaped Western Civilization as we now know it, and in a sense is being fought today under a different heading amongst today’s political world leaders.

Hundreds of years of Ottoman rule gave the Greeks a reason to fight. Marcos Botsaris gave them a leader.

THEY CALLED US ENEMY TP

George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steve Scott (A/CVR) Harmony Becker

Advance solicited for July release! George Takei has captured hearts and minds worldwide with his captivating stage presence and outspoken commitment to equal rights. But long before he braved new frontiers in Star Trek, he woke up as a four-year-old boy to find his own birth country at war with his father’s-and their entire family forced from their home into an uncertain future.

In a stunning graphic memoir, Takei revisits his haunting childhood in American concentration camps, as one of over 100,000 Japanese Americans imprisoned by the U.S. government during World War II. Experience the forces that shaped an American icon-and America itself-in this gripping tale of courage, country, loyalty, and love.

TREASURES RETOLD: THE LOST ART OF ALEX TOTH HC

Alex Toth (A/CVR) Alex Toth

A blockbuster collection of rare and little seen stories and artwork by the legendary Alex Toth. Included are complete stories from the 1950s and beyond, recently discovered color animation storyboards and presentation drawings, sketches and doodles, industrial comics, and individual pages from obscure comics and magazines. It’s a treasure trove that makes a fitting companion to the three-time Eisner Award-winning Alex Toth: Genius trilogy.

Toth’s significance to comics and animation art cannot be overstated. During his career, he was the comics field’s foremost proponent of modern design and composition. His work influenced almost every one of his contemporaries and has continued to work its magic on the generations that followed.

• Advance solicited for March release! • The Alex Toth: Genius trilogy won the Harvey award and three Eisner awards!

USAGI YOJIMBO #2

Stan Sakai (A/CVR) Stan Sakai

“Bunraku,” Part 2. Strange circumstances continue to surround a travelling puppet show as Usagi becomes embroiled in one of his most eerie adventures yet! Will the aid of a supernatural ally be enough for Usagi to prevent more death? Stan Sakai’s long-running epic continues its first thrilling storyline at IDW Publishing! Exciting samurai action, now in color!

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IDW Comics Shipping List for July 17th! It’s time for our weekly Diamond Comics Shipping List! Check out some great titles IDW has in store for us next week like…

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