Chapter 1
We live on this humble sea, that drifts away at the slightest breeze. The people have dwelled here, almost as long as our sea. My father's father tilled our precious family soil many years ago. He found it and took it. For is it not our right, as the rulers of this land, to live well after the struggling so long to save ourselves from this sea? Now we look to the west. Those people, the masters of so many cultures, attempt to take our land. We will not lose a fight. These master races of culture and intelligence fight so ignorantly; they march in long lines and die in the desert heat. I myself, pity these people, who so blindly die for their western rulers.
My family has lived and prospered for a great number of years. When called for duty to the Crown, we merely pay for others to go in our place. Occasionally my brothers and I march and shoot the western men with the rest of our countrymen. It is strange the western men waste their soldiers to our arrows. Daily I receive news of our great victories and skirmishes. I have been preaparing the first son of my line to shoot the western men. He seems to scorn our people's use of our brilliance. He speaks to me daily of forming up in the ranks of our armoured soldiers and fighting like the westerners. It is such a waste of life though, that so many men would dos such a thing! He will not listen. He is headstrong like a mule, and tells me he will fight like this.
I weep to the death of my son. For him to die so horribly, even for our great Parthia! I now lay to rest as the sea has cooled and my light slowly goes away. May the god's bless my son and save him from the spears of those western men!