The History of Hayasdan (fanfiction by 99KingHigh), part 1

Histories of the Hayasdan (272 BCE-255 BCE)

Saurmag of Karthuni

and

Meiternas of Karthuni

Introduction

Upon these blood stained fields of Sophene, I recall a man I once knew long ago. He was a soldier, a hardened cold man, who never understood the word no, and never wanted to. He was always angry, and yet always kind, in a strange paradoxical mix of emotions. This was the man who taught me how to handle my first bow, and my first pen. Here was the man who told me the stories of war, and the tales of peace.

When I was first born, in the year 498^th year after the first Olympiad, he named me Saurmag Terasanik, after my great-grandfather, a man similar in poise. The name was a decent reflection of my early childhood, miserable and undesirable. My father, Meiternas of the House of Karthuni, raised me like his father had grown him…in an endless stone prison, in truth a fortress high in the mountains. I knew very little people, besides the silent books and tablets that were laid out in front of me. I was unable to communicate well (especially to women), which despite all of my training, never gotten better.

33 years later, nothing seems to have changed. The court hates me, Samus hates me, my followers despise me as well, and yet here I am, with the task of writing myself a history that is only composed of hate.

I should introduce myself properly first. I am Saurmag Terasanik of the House of Karthuni, a diplomat of the Kingdom of Hayasdan, and of course: “loyal” servant to the King.

Chapter 1: Early Conquests of the Yervanduni (part 1)

            “When I was six years old, still locked up in the North of the mountains, history was in the making. The Kingdom of Hayasdan, a client ally of the Seleucid Empire, was recently emerging as a new autonomous state. The king, Yervand of the House of Yervanduni (60), an old but well respected leader, was preparing to lead his country into a period of economic prosperity and wealth.

            In the words of my father: “He was a fool.” His expensive upkeeps of his army and the endless drain of income by his son, Artavazd Yervanduni (30), on his forces in the south, brought the Hayasdan economy to a plunge.

            There was another son though, five years the older of Artavazd, the Crown Prince of Hayasdan. Even as a young boy, Meiternas was silent when the Crown Prince, Samus Yervanduni, was mentioned at the supper table. The 35-year-old heir apparent was a veteran warrior, a smooth speaker with a harsh tongue, and a diligent worker. He had dark black hair, with a beard that carefully swooped around his chin, and a complex series of dark facial features. When I first saw the man, when he was old and grey, I quickly scattered away, in fear of confronting a man who was a god amongst his people. Fear, that was the definition of the Prince. 

           

            The capital city of Armavir was a seemingly decaying plot of land. With the constant expenditures from the armies of Samus and Artavazd gobbling up the Royal Treasury, the only thing keeping the streets of the capital safe was a garrison force and the bureaucratic King, Yervand. It was clear to Yervand that in order to sustain the nation, it would be forced to expand. In the first days of his reformation years, Hayasdan began a vigorous recruitment campaign in order to construct the first standing army. The campaign drained the treasury even further, but the long-term advantages of a larger army looked more appeasing to Yervand. Of course, my father disagreed.

            In the summer of the same year, news reached a nearby town 16 miles away from my home in Katuni. My eldest brother returned with the report four days later, pronouncing that the Kingdom of Pahlava, an ally to Hayasdan, had invaded the Seleucid Empire, in a foolish act of stupidity. The elder’s mocked actions of Pahlava late into the evening, though in truth, soon enough, the darkness would ascend onto them.

            The destruction of the alliance and trade system between Hayasdan and Pahlava was the last gasp of the Royal treasury. By the time the news arrived at the capital, the gold stockpile had gone dry and by autumn the throne had fallen deep in debt, and would remain so for many years.

            These were the happiest days of my father’s life. He would chuckle at the foolishness of the king, and in truth, we all believed him. The countryside was ravished, the treasury was empty, and construction and production were at a standstill. My father would be proven wrong, so very wrong.

            Indeed he was. By wintertime, Samus and Artavazd had reached a large city west of our home, commonly known as Kotais, with the largest army in Hayasdan history. To make matters worse for my father, the King had secured peace with the northern tribes, and stabilized most of the insecure fronts.

            As a member of the King’s “courtiers” (though he was never present at court), Meiternas was called to war by Yervand, and by mid-winter, had arrived at his post as a cavalry man in Artavazd’s division. I recovered details from the battle from my father’s diaries, a collection of stories which I have drawn most of Hayasdan’s early information from:

            “We arrived at the siege with the largest Hayasdan force in recent memory, a 2058 man force: 218 Horsemen, 960 spearmen, and 880 missile troops. When we took up position in the morning, 480 spearmen had already taken up ground behind the battering rams, and the famous Hayasdan archers flanked them on both sides. The other half of the infantry was positioned behind the archers. Our cavalry was positioned far past the rest of the army, as it was clear by the formation that the archers would do most of the work. And indeed they did. Before the foolish Samus could even order his archers to fire, a string of arrows descended into the city. Only a few moments past before the stink of death had arrived within the city walls. When the archers advanced a few paces and continued their fire, that odor began to grow. The shrieks were surprisingly pleasant and loud, for I had never seen such a slaughter at such a distance. The archers advanced again, this time to rain death on the heavier units, the Armenian cavalry and Georgian heavy infantry. With the enemy distracted, the rest of the army moved forward, one ram to the left wall and one ram to the right wall. Fearing more arrow fire, the enemy retreated and then occasionally returned, only to be driven back by archer fire.

            Finally, their wooden walls fell and the infantry poured in, still under archer cover. The soldiers then blocked the streets, forcing the enemy army into a small-enclosed space, which made them easy targets for archer fire. However, the relentless opponent was able to push through, and engaged the spearmen on the left side while simultaneously attempting to avoid the constant stream of arrows. It was quite frightful when the Kartveli Dashnit Meombrebi (Georgian Medium Infantry), attempted to push through as well. The foolish enemies did not attack the left side though, and in response our infantry smashed theirs from the other side. Their line broke under the immense pressure, and fled back into the town center. The courage of their army returned though, and they thought it intelligent to charge back into the fray. They never made it to the infantry. The last arrows of the archers drove them into a rout once more, this time, with even heavier casualties.

            The foolish Samus then ordered our infantry through the small gap that the enemy had previously used, without archer or cavalry support. The spearmen were bogged down in very heavy fighting, over hundred of our spearman perished. Finally, the young bastard ordered us into the city. We rode hard, in fear that our soldiers might break. Luckily, we arrived in time, and entered the city center with a large contingency of cavalry. Then, the fool charged us directly into heavy infantry, where we could barely harm them. One of the bastards took a slice at my leg, so I put a sword between his eyes, my first kill in nearly 5 years.

             Finally, cavalry reinforcements arrived, and smashed the Georgians from their flanks. Casualties were very heavy, and the incompetence of the young general was proven. Finally, the infantry were able to break through, and we trapped the remains of their army in the center. It was not a pretty fight though; a series of failed charges and misunderstood orders led to a messy ending, though a victory is a victory. At the end, hundreds from our army had perished, and the remains of our forces numbered approximately 1500. Though the casualties were high, and the general’s incompetent, the loot was quite…pleasurable. 

The battle at Kotais is recognized today as a holiday, the first victory of Samus. In truth, it is a day for failed men to convince themselves that they have succeeded.

            The victory at Kotais failed to bring any substantial income to Hayasdan, and so the Kingdom fell deeper into debt. To make matters worse for my father (besides the leg injury), another Yervanduni had propped up, the 16-year-old son of the youngest Prince. He was named Mher, almost as bad a name as Saumag. The boy resided at Kotais with Samus and his brother for some time, overseeing the newly implemented tax rates that had begun to lower the growth of Royal debt. His father began to see his worth early on in his new political life, but refused to grant him the governorship of Kotais, which Artavazd had taken for himself. Instead, the young leader joined Samus in his army, to which my father remained assigned.

            In the summer of the same year, the royal family continued to expand. Anabid, the first and only child (at that time) of Samus, was married off to a young 16-year-old noble, Sanasar of the House of Tashratsi. He was a promising young man, but like all the rest of them, he would sit and watch his father-in-law win the glory.

            In the mean time, Samus and Mher had marched North with the remains of the last army, along with some new recruits, numbering around 1,600 men in total, though that number would jump to 1,700 with later that month reinforcements. They had besieged the city-state of Mishketa, only a few days after Anabid’s marriage.

            Winter passed by and soon the years changed, and it was the 506^th year after the first Olympiad. The first action of the New Year was the re-opening of negotiations with Pahlava, who remained in a conflict with the Seleucids. Trade routes were re-established, and friendly relations were restored, all under the diplomatic eye of Artashes Yervanduni, a distinct relative of the royal family.

            In late wintertime, Samus and his army attacked Mishketa (I bare no reference in this battle besides the stories told to me by my father near his death), or rather the Mishketans attacked him, sallying forth against the besiegers. The infantry took the first line, and the archers behind them, as Samus had desired a defensive position. It was a smart move by the Crown Prince, as the attacking army could not advance too far without getting struck by a rain of arrows.

            After a division of enemy spearmen had become very weakened by the archer fire, the spearmen would advance and force them to rout, in fear of total annihilation. A few times did the enemy divisions actually arrive at the first line of defense, though they were usually thrust back by a careful flanking maneuver by Hayasdan Kavakaza Sparbara.

            Eventually, with most of the enemy army outside the walls, the cavalry were able to hit the enemy infantry from behind, causing a massive panic leading to rout rout that Samus was able to successfully handle, running over routers en masse. However, opposing cavalry forced Samus’s horses back before he could pursue the enemy inside the walls. The enemy cavalry consisted of the Mishketan King, who made a perfect target for the Hayasdan archers, and his most loyal. Despite taking heavy casualties, the Mishketan leader was able to flee “safely” inside the city walls.

            A series of skirmishes outside the walls of Mishketa resulted in a near total Mishketan defeat. The fleeing garrisons rushed inside the walls, leaving the gates open to the perusing heavy cavalry. By the end of the day, the Mishketan force had been totally destroyed, but the Mishketan King, the last man alive, rushed into the walls to save what remained of his honor. Charging into the Hayasdan lines, he was able to kill 4 cavalrymen before he was brought down by one of Samus’s horseman.

            Only about hundred Hayasdan warriors died on that day, while nearly 1,400 Mishketan defenders were slaughtered in the battle. The victory in Mishketa gave Samus a clear route through the Caucasus Mountains, to a large town to the northeast, known as Kabalaka. The Kabalakan people had long been a rival of the Hayasdan Tribes, but neither state had even been able to pull a full campaign against the other, until now. With the rapid expansion of the Hayasdan territory, and the capture of Mishketa, Yervand ordered his son to march on their old rival.

            With Mishketa under the governorship of the newly adopted Sanasar, Samus and Mher continued their military campaign with 1,600 men, a fourth of a standard Hayasdan city. 

(author: 99KingHigh, small editations by Alfapiomega)