There was a man dressed in white, with a white oriental headdress on his head.
His hair was streaked with brown, and his beard was also gray.
Despite this, his face did not look very old.
He was on his white horse, high on the hill, casting his shadow on the walls of the cities before him.
He carried the banner of Akkad on his back.
One of the inhabitants, dressed in ornate clothing, came out and said in a haughty tone:
— The Emperor of Akkad himself?
You come to us afraid of our threat?
Manishtushu… son of Sargon…
The man turned his heavy spear over in his hands and said mockingly:
— You think you can defeat the nine cities of Elam?
Pffft! Return to your family's grave and weep for it…
He added mockingly:
— And pay us tribute… so that we may keep you alive on your throne…
Manishtushu looked at him calmly and patiently:
— Return the Akkadian people you kidnapped… and pay reparations for what you did to them… and the empire will have mercy on you…
The nobleman scoffed arrogantly:
— Manishtushu! Do you think you can negotiate with nine cities of Elam?!
We will crush you!
We will dance on the corpses of your soldiers!
And we will cut off your lineage!
He shouted, announcing:
— Attack!
Don't give this fool who has advanced ahead of his army a chance!
The gates opened and the Elamite soldiers poured out, like a raging flood bursting from the walls.
While the nobles smiled arrogantly as they held their brass spears.
One of the city lords, a young man, sat atop the wall, observing the scene with a mocking smile:
— We've won…
Manishtushu looked at them calmly.
The sun began to rise behind him, casting its shadow upon them even more intensely.
He raised one hand… The sun rested upon it… and said in a quiet voice:
— Begin now.
Silence fell.
Even the mountains seemed to listen… The footsteps of the Elamites slowed, and some froze in place as if their hearts had been ripped from their chests…
It seemed as if the sky was raining arrows…
No… rather, the arrows seemed to separate the sky from the earth… and another sky descended upon them.
The Elamites realized that Manishtushu had not come alone.
His army was behind the hill… awaiting his signal…
The Elamites began to scramble for shields among themselves.
Some even used their friends as shields, but… it was no use…
After a few seconds, the arrows fell.
Silence fell…
The only sound was the gushing of blood from the corpses…
The Akkadian army began to move.
With their heavy equipment, the earth seemed to tremble in awe and reverence…
They struck the shields with their weapons once, then twice more, shouting:
— Heydar!
Which means: There is no escape…
They repeated the action like a war chant.
The people of Elam were terrified. The men searched for a way out.
The mothers began to beat their faces.
The children wept.
Meanwhile, the last lord of the city…
His eyes trembled.
His jaw opened as if it had never closed…
He muttered:
— Now my brothers are dead… and I am the only one responsible who will be held accountable…
He fell silent and scoffed, sweating:
— No… I will sell some of the people… to survive…
The city's clamor was broken by the calm, stern voice of Manishtushu:
— Bring me the rest of your nine lords…
The people fell silent.
The mothers stopped beating their faces.
The children stopped crying.
Everyone looked at the nobleman, like wolves who had found their prey…
They surrounded him from all sides, intent on throwing him down…
The nobleman's body trembled, and he began to run.
He tried to jump to the other side of the wall, but he fell to the ground, covered in mud.
The people seized him and began to drag him by his feet, his body completely covered in mud… He tried to kick them, spat at them, and cried out, almost in tears:
"Leave me alone, you fools! Do you want to hand me over to my death? I am your prince!"
No one answered him.
They threw him over the wall and closed the gate, as if they were driving away a stubborn dog.
He looked up, his body lying on the ground.
Manishtushu remained mounted on his horse, the sun behind him… while he knelt beneath the horse's knee…
The prince bowed down, and before he could say anything…
Manishtushu said calmly:
— From now on… your land belongs to Akkad… and the Akkadians you captured will be the masters of your cities…
The nobleman was taken aback, looking at him in confusion, sweat pouring down his face:
— Excuse me? What did you say?
Manishtushu looked at him and said calmly:
— Should I repeat what I said?
The nobleman stammered:
— I didn't mean it, Your Majesty… but… wouldn't you want to enslave us?
— And kill us and mutilate us?
He replied calmly:
— Those are the actions of barbarians…
The nobleman fell silent, looking down at the ground, thinking.
Even if we wanted to do that to you…?
Manishtushu continued, throwing him a leather bag:
— I now declare that I have purchased your city.
The nobleman's eyes widened in confusion, and he stammered, "M-Your Majesty… but you are the most powerful here! Why do you buy our land and show us mercy?"
Manishtushu replied calmly, with a merciful air, "Power is not cutting off the head of your enemy while he kneels before you…"
He looked at the city's inhabitants and announced, "I am Manishtushu, Emperor of Akkad. I declare my mercy upon you… and you are now inhabitants of Mesopotamia…"
Silence fell, and without the usual cries of joy.
Yes… their loved ones had died… but those who sought to humiliate and kill them… were shown mercy instead…
Manishtushu then instructed a long-haired man behind him, saying calmly, "Ensure that the procedures are carried out meticulously…"
He looked at the corpses and said quietly, "Take the bodies as spoils of war, so that the people will know that we have crushed the coup.
And strip them of everything… so that they will have no sword left to raise against the hand that showed them mercy."
He added with a smile,
"And tell me about my golden heir… Naram."
The man said with a bewildered smile, "Well, he skinned a lion, butchered it, and threw its carcass behind the palace… again."
As the sun cast its light upon the Akkadian banner above the Elamite fortress,
a soldier murmured with a proud smile,
"Nine cities submitted to one emperor… not by the clash of swords, but by the stroke of a single hand."