Escape from Alamut

"They are planning to escape, and I discovered it. And him—he is also trying to run."

The sharp-faced boy pointed at Aryan.

At the sound of the commotion, the other bandits rushed in, torches in hand. But upon seeing that Firouzeh had already taken control of the situation, none dared intervene.

Aryan had once resolved to stop at nothing in his quest for vengeance, but now, faced with the sharp-faced boy's false accusations, he found himself uncertain of how to proceed. He hesitated for a moment, then chose not to defend himself, signaling his reluctance to betray the two brothers.

Firouzeh snorted dismissively, asking no questions. With a swift motion, she tossed the two brothers into the air, and then, in a single fluid motion, struck them both on their backs. Without uttering a sound, the two boys fell to the grass mats, their fates unknown.

The sharp-faced boy's eyes gleamed with excitement—though he hadn't delivered the punishment himself, the mere scene of it thrilled him.

Firouzeh walked swiftly to Aryan, and before he could react, her fingers—quick as lightning—jabbed on his shoulders. Aryan, sitting on the grass mat, was sent sprawling onto his back, a sharp pain radiating through his body. His arms went limp, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. A cry of pain escaped his lips, but he quickly stifled it, his resolve hardening.

The sharp-faced boy, his cheeks flushed with eager anticipation, nearly cheered aloud at the sight.

Firouzeh then turned to face the sharp-faced boy, who kneeled on the mat, his expression one of anxious anticipation. "Firouzeh, you can trust me, I—"

Before he could finish, Firouzeh raised her arm and slapped him with such force that the boy was sent tumbling backward, landing hard on the ground. He lay motionless, his fate uncertain.

"Traitorous little bastard," Firouzeh muttered, tossing the words over her shoulder as she walked away. Though she despised informants, she ordered one of the lower-ranking bandits to keep watch over the tent.

The two brothers and the sharp-faced boy were not dead, and by dawn, they stirred from unconsciousness. Aryan's shoulder still ached, but the pain no longer hindered his movement.

The other boys made a deliberate effort to avoid looking at or interacting with the three of them. They knew not what had transpired and wished only to stay out of it.

The sharp-faced boy's face bore the distinct mark of Firouzeh's slap, and as he cupped his face, confusion clouded his features. When he saw the brothers and Aryan approaching him, he quickly sat up.

"Sigh, I'm trying to help you," he muttered, his voice laced with urgency. "You can't escape—only death awaits if you try."

"I had no choice. We were bought as slaves; our duty is to serve our master,You could always expose me if you wish."

The brothers spoke to each other in their native tongue, and the sharp-faced boy's expression fluctuated between red and white. He responded with a few words, but before the conversation could continue, Firouzeh entered once more.

Everyone had already felt the weight of Firouzeh's formidable presence and knew better than to act out in her presence. Each one retreated to their own corner of the tent.

The entire morning passed in silence as the boys scrubbed incense burners outside the tent. It was not until near noon that an event occurred, one that made Aryan almost forget his hatred for the sharp-faced boy.

At some point, 'The Iron-headed Demon' returned, striding into his daughter's tent with grim determination etched on his face—a look only seen when he was prepared to kill.

The ban on men meeting the daughter, of course, did not apply to him.

A tense silence settled over the camp as the boys worked with greater fervor, their ears straining to catch any sounds. On this sixth day of serving as bridal attendants, it was the first time the boys heard the lady's voice.

"No, I will not marry him!"

The voice was as clear as a bell, like the first sip of ice water on a scorching summer's day. It was nothing like her father's rough voice, but it carried an unwavering, steely resolve—an inflection never before heard in the presence of 'The Iron-headed Demon.'

In contrast, 'The Iron-headed Demon's' voice grew low, as if he were trying to reason with her, but all he received in return was a sharper, more furious declaration:

"I will not marry a cripple. Father, cancel the engagement."

His voice almost vanished entirely, but then came a feral roar from within the tent. 'The Iron-headed Demon' could no longer contain his rage, his true nature finally spilling forth.

"Marry him, you will! Whether you like it or not, even if it means death!"

The lady's sobs were the only reply to her father's threat. 'The Iron-headed Demon' bent low and stormed out of the tent, letting out another animalistic roar as he made his way toward the main tent. Each step seemed to shake the earth beneath him, and all the men—whether leaders or lowly servants—kept their distance, none daring to approach him.

Inside the main tent, 'The Iron-headed Demon' grabbed his iron spear, ready to lash out in fury. But as he looked around, he found no one to vent his wrath upon. Holding the spear before him, he shouted,

"Rukn al-Din, damn you! If you've killed the wrong person, so do it again! But why the hell did you cut off my son-in-law's hand?!"

Even a ruthless bandit lord, who had dominated Central Asia, could only threaten the 'King of Assassins' with words, for in truth, he had no other choice.

"Who is Aryan Gulen? Bring that brat to me—let me puncture him a hundred times!"

'The Iron-headed Demon's' eyes were so bloodshot, they seemed on the verge of bleeding.

When Aryan suddenly heard his name, a wave of dread and terror washed over him. His head swam, and for a moment, he thought he might faint. In that instant, he realized who his enemy truly was. 

The massacre of the Gulen family had been carried out by none other than Alamut Castle, 

and The person who did it was the future son-in-law of "The Iron-headed Demon".

Fortune, or perhaps divine will, had guided him here. He was bought by "The Iron-headed Demon". He will be close to his enemy along with his enemy's fiancée.

"The Iron-headed Demon" ultimately failed to find the opportunity to kill, but the anger between father and daughter filled the entire camp, instilling fear in everyone. The first to suffer misfortune was a young slave girl.

The Iron-headed Demon's daughter's name was peculiar—"Vashti."

If you were a learned man, you would know that the last person with this name in the Bible was deposed for refusing her husband's orders, but "The Iron-headed Demon" was no scholar.

He forbade any man from laying eyes on his daughter, yet he showed no such restraint when it came to her name, which was often on the lips of the bandits. He cared little for it.

However, Miss Vashti herself was quite sensitive about it, especially when angered.

The young slave girl unwittingly brought about her own downfall in relation to this. She was from the mountains and spoke a dialect no one could understand. She struggled to adapt to her new surroundings, diligently learning the common language. One of the first words she learned was "Vashti," though she never grasped its meaning and had no idea it was the lady's name.

On the second day after the quarrel between father and daughter, the young slave girl muttered softly to herself, repeating the few phrases she had learned in the language of the Western Kingdom. When she reached "Vashti," she sighed without reason, and the lady heard it.

What followed is known to few. Aryan, like the others, was working outside when he heard the piercing screams from within the tent.

The screams went on relentlessly. After a while, the punished girl was dragged out, her face covered in blood, unrecognizable.

Her eyes and tongue were gone.

Aryan didn't know what others thought, but he was filled with righteous indignation. This Vashti "lady" was as cruel as her bloodthirsty father.

But that was where his fury ended. Even without personal grievances, even though he was still the young master of the Gulen family, Aryan lacked the courage to stand up for the young slave girl.

The girl did not die. Two days later, she returned to Miss Vashti's tent, unable to speak or see, her only remaining sense being hearing, yet she still served her cruel mistress.

As for why Vashti kept this girl alive, only she knew the answer.

Every time Aryan saw the blind, mute girl groping her way in and out of the tent, a chill spread from the depths of his heart to the very tips of his hairs. He felt both pity and fear, and he was certain the other boys shared the same sentiments.

Perhaps the girl's tragic fate reminded the boys of the need for unity. On the third day after the incident, the sharp-faced boy unexpectedly approached Aryan and the two brothers who had attempted to escape, seeking reconciliation.

"I've come to apologize," he said. "I hope you can understand my actions from that night. We live in the same tent, eat the same food, serve the same master—shouldn't we support one another like brothers?"

As he spoke, he touched the lingering handprint on his cheek, his expression sincere. He had this talent, to change his attitude so swiftly it seemed as though there were two of him.

He apologized in two languages, and Aryan and the brothers exchanged looks, nodding in agreement, signaling their forgiveness for the sharp-faced boy's betrayal.

They all had more important secrets to protect, and they cared little for the sharp-faced boy's antics.

But the boy's schemes weren't limited to seeking peace. That evening, when all ten boys had returned to the tent to rest, he cleared his throat and, in a tone of formal seriousness, began to speak.

He began in two languages of Central Asia, before switching to the language of the Western Kingdom:

"Since everyone agrees, let us formally swear brotherhood—sharing fortune and facing adversity together."

He cast a grand, theatrical gaze over the group, and seeing no objections, he continued in three languages:

"I, Bahman, from this day forward, shall regard the men in this tent as my brothers. Whatever I eat, I will share; whatever I wear, I will ensure they are not cold. If I rise to power, I will make sure my brothers rise with me."

There was no objection, not because of any deep brotherly affection, but because the boys didn't understand each other's languages, didn't know each other's thoughts, and feared speaking out. Moreover, this was "The Iron-headed Demon's" camp, and with both father and daughter in a state of rage, it was dangerous to provoke them.

The tent fell silent for a moment, before one boy spoke haltingly in his native tongue, likely taking an oath, as Bahman looked on, pleased.

One by one, the boys took their oaths, some reluctantly, others with more enthusiasm. Even the two brothers , though their words were brief and lacking sincerity.

Eight of the boys spoke in the languages of Central Asia, which Aryan couldn't understand, and he couldn't even recognize their names. When it came time for him to swear, he hesitated for a moment before speaking coldly:

"I, Nayra, will be your brother. Anyone who does anything behind your back will be punished by God."

This was no heartfelt vow; Aryan didn't even use his real name, reversing it instead.

Had this been a few days ago, the young master of the Gulen family would have eagerly participated in the brotherhood, taking every word seriously. Now, he swore a false oath, fully aware that none of the vows spoken that day were true.

Bahman knew this as well but was content. He knew better than to move too quickly. The journey to Alamut Castle would take time, and once they arrived, he would slowly take control of this small group. The lady may be the nominal hostess, but he would be the true leader.

Five days after the swearing of brotherhood, Miss Vashti could no longer defy her father's will. She dressed in splendid attire, preparing to marry into Alamut Castle. It was on this day that Aryan first laid eyes on the enemy of the Gulen family, Rashid.