Parthian Vengeance

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It had been three years now — many months spent preparing for an attack I was sure would come. While the trade caravans travelled east and west along the Silk Road transporting the precious material, ivory and spices from China through the Parthian Empire to fulfil the insatiable demand of Egypt and Rome, my army prepared. Every day the mud-brick forts that had been built north and south of Dura kept watch for an army that might attempt to approach the city by surprise; every day I received the same reports — there was no sign of any hostile forces. It had been over three years since the death of Phraates, the king of kings who had supposedly died of a broken heart, brought on by my having stormed the city of Uruk. This city was the capital of the Kingdom of Mesene and the residence of King Chosroes, the man who had marched an army to Dura and had attempted to storm it. But his army had been destroyed in front of my city and then I had captured Uruk and Phraates had supposedly taken his own life. The empire was now ruled by his son Mithridates, the man I had long suspected of being responsible for the death of his father. And ever since I had waited and prepared for the day when Mithridates would send an army against me. The days, weeks and months passed and nothing happened.

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