Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

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Long ago, in a land far away,

there once rose an empire,

that stretched from the steppes of China,

to the shores of the Mediterranean.

That empire was Persia.

Fierce in battle,

wise in victory,

where the Persian sword went,

order followed.

The Persian King Sharaman,

ruled with his brother Nizam

upon the principles of loyalty and brotherhood.

The King had two sons

who gave him great joy.

Rejoice!

But in the eyes of the gods,

the King's family was not yet complete.

Not until the day he

witnessed a single act of courage

by an orphan boy

from the streets of Nasaf.

Get out of the way!

Stop!

Stop!

Run!

Run, Bis!

Run!

Stay here.

He's getting away!

Let go of me!

In the King's name!

- What is your name, boy?

- Dastan, Sir.

And your parents?

Boy...

Brother, take him up.

Moved by what he saw, the King

adopted the boy Dastan into his family.

A son with no royal blood,

and no eye on his throne.

But perhaps, there was something

else that worked that day.

Something beyond simple understanding.

The day, a boy from

the unlikeliest of places,

became...

a Prince of Persia.

The fabled Alamut,

even more stunning than I imagine.

Don't be fooled by its beauty prince Tates.

It's a city like any others.

Soft countries make soft men.

They stooped to treachery, and now must pay for it.

The father made clear,

Alamut is not to be touched.

Some consider it sacred.

But since our wise father isn't here,

the decision rests with me.

I'll have one last counsel

with my noble uncle,

and my two brothers,

trusted Garsiv, and...

Where's Dastan?

Come on! I bet my entire month's

allowance on this!

- This is embarrassing!

- Why don't you give it a try?

Give it in here!

Is that all you got?

Prince Dastan!

Where's prince Dastan?

Prince Dastan isn't here.

Your Highness, please.

Prince Tus has convened the war council.

I'm on my way.

Our finest spy, intercepted

a caravan leaving Alamut.

Swords, of the best workmanship.

Steel tipped arrows.

A promise of payment from the

Warlord Kosh, to Alamut.

They're selling weapons

to our enemies, Dastan.

An arrow such as this

slew my horse in Kushkan.

Blood will run

in Alamut's streets for this.

Or our soldiers will fall

from its walls.

Our orders were to subdue Kushkan,

not to attack Alamut.

- Wise words, little brother.

- Words won't stop our enemies,

once they're armed

with Alamutian blades.

We attack at dawn.

Well, if that's your decision,

then let me go in first.

- Who wants to share, Garsiv?

- I'll ride at the head of the Persian Army!

Dastan leads the company

of street rabble!

They may not be much for manners,

but they're pretty handy in a fight.

- The honor of first blood should be mine.

- Garsiv, you've got your hands on your sword again.

- Where's it should be.

- Oh, my brothers...

Ever eager.

It's said the princess of Alamut,

is a beauty without equal.

We'll march into her palace

and see for ourselves.

There'll be no doubt of your courage

Dastan, but you're not ready for this.

Garsiv's cavalry will lead the way.

Princess Tamina, the Persian Army

my princess, has not moved on.

Their faith has little love

for any truth, other than its own.

Or perhaps it would be safer

if you didn't stand so close.

Whatever their faith,

their bows aren't that strong,

Nor it's their aim.

Gather the council.

Tell them, I sit in the High Temple,

I must pray.

The High Temple? Alamut hasn't been

breached in a thousand years.

Everything changes with time.

We should know this

best of all.

Remind me why we're

disobeying your brother's orders?

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