Satisfied that his orders would be followed, Papak went next to guide the Greeks to the exact spot, issuing orders for the construction of camp for the night. By the looks of the setting sun, they would only have an hour, or two at most, to construct camp before darkness would descend. He supervised the creation of the basic defenses of camp while most of the men set about their various tasks, from erecting the tents, to the preparation of rations for the evening.

Right as the sun was about to dip below the western sky, Clearchus approached as well, giving a curt nod to Papak to indicate his readiness.

"This way," replied Papak, beginning to walk over to the Great King's grand pavilion. "We will meet with Ariaeus as well." Ariaeus was the commander of the Persian contingent of the Great King's army.

"Eh? So we will join battle tomorrow then?" Clearchus asked, a hopeful inflection within his voice and a smile forming on his grizzled face.

Spartans, thought Papak, while rolling his eyes, "That may be Cyrus' intention. Or perhaps our might will convince his brother to quit while he still has his life."

"We can hope not. The men are ready for a fight. It would be a pity to have them march all the way from Greece for a surrender," replied Clearchus, grimly.

Papak didn't respond, and continued to lead the way over to the tent. Outside, the guards from Cyrus' hastily formed Immortals unit gave entry to those deemed important enough to approach the Great King. Once inside, Papak saw a familiar face that gave welcome right away.

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"Ah, Papak, there you are," replied Ariaeus, a small smile forming on his face. The Persian commander cast his hand out to grasp Papak's. "Is the Greek dog here as well?"

"You can call him Clearchus," Papak corrected. "And he is on our side, for now. I would choose your words wisely, lest he find a reason to run you through."

Ariaeus spit on the ground before letting out a hearty chuckle, "I will take my chances in front of the Greek dogs. Besides, today they may be our allies. But tomorrow? Who knows?"

"That's the kind of talk that might get you killed, you old fool," replied Papak, with a hint of a grin beginning to form on his face.

"There is not a man alive that can kill the great warrior, Ariaeus," he chuckled, pointing out the long scar that ran from his ear down to his neck, the result of a spear thrust that came too close.

Papak could not help but laugh, having known Ariaeus for many years, and being well used to his brand of humor.

"So, are the rumors true? Will we offer battle tomorrow?" Ariaeus pressed.

"You sound like the Greek dog," replied Papak, "So eager to see blood spilled?"

"More like so eager to go back home to my comfortable bed and my wh.o.r.es," retorted Ariaeus. "Might as well get this over with."

"Wait here. Let me see if the Great King is ready to see you both," said Papak, pus.h.i.+ng forward through the tent flaps into Cyrus' personal chamber. Few men alive were allowed this far into the personal chambers of the king, as evident by the amount of guards that Papak had to pa.s.s. As he winded around the last corner, an unmistakable sound began to form: the sound of flesh upon flesh.