Ecbatana,the golden jewel of the Parthian Empire,slept under the soft light of the moon.Its imposing walls,once plated with precious metals,seemed to guard centuries-old secrets.In the torch-lit squares,merchants gathered their wares,and a few soldiers patrolled the stone alleys.Only the moving shadows of the night knew that,that evening,the fate of the city would be touched by the hand of a thief.On the top of a roof,with his gaze fixed on the royal palace,a young man regulated his breathing.Arsames was no ordinary thief.He was a shadow,a myth whispered among the dark streets,a name spoken only with fear or admiration.He had grown up in the poor quarters of the city,among deceitful merchants and unscrupulous usurers.He had learned to steal first from hunger,then from necessity,and ultimately for his own pleasure.But that night was unlike any other.That night,Arsames ventured into the heart of danger, the palace of King Antiochus.
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