Volume 5 - CH 1.4

While the Parsian army welcomed the result of the battle, the Turanians could not help but be filled with disappointment and rage. The Parsians’ morale had clearly been boosted by the fact that their reinforcements had successfully entered the fortress.

Prince Ilterish angrily rebuked his comrades.

“Can you still call yourselves warriors of Turan when a woman manages to break through our defenses? You should consider this a disgrace to your names and the achievements of your ancestors!”

Being scolded with such fury, Tarkhan’s generals were silent. It was true that what they’d done was disgraceful, but Ilterish could not say that he was not also partially responsible.

“Listen up! In order to restore our reputation, we must capture the fortress of Peshawar, bring that woman here, and show them what we’re capable of!”

Tarkhan countered Ilterish’s statement.

“Please don’t put the cart before the horse. Our aim is to take down the entire Parsian army and bring these years of rivalry to a conclusion. Isn’t it a bit trivial to capture a woman, while screaming about your own regrets? As soon as we destroy Pars, that woman will understand that we are not that easy to mess with.”

This argument was sound. Just when Ilterish was about to respond, Karluk spoke first.

“You are right. However, our current situation is extremely unfavorable. The king must be very unhappy too. Is there any good solution?”

“There’s always a solution. What do you all think of this plan?”

Tarkhan’s proposal was to abandon Peshawar and move west towards the continental highway. The main Parsian army would likely turn around from the west in order to rescue their fortress. Instead of continuously attacking Peshawar and consuming time and troops day and night, it would be better to abandon the fortress and advance westward and wait for the arrival of the rest of the Parsian army. As long as Pars’ main army was destroyed, Peshawar fortress would wither away without much effort, like a tree that has lost its roots.

“In other words, this will be a head-on battle with the Parsian army. Could we still lose to them?”

Tarkhan finished with a smile, and Ilterish interjected somewhat excitedly, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m confident that I won’t lose. However, the problem does not lie here. Please think about King Tokhtamysh. Is this what he would want?”

Having said that, Ilterish turned his horse and left. The generals who stayed behind whispered anxiously.

“The prince is too eager to get what he wants.”

“No wonder. It would be a disgrace to the Prince if he could not secure Peshawar before the King’s own expedition.”

“Not only the Prince, but we wouldn’t be off the hook either! The king is a stern man!”

The generals fell into a silence, which was soon broken by Tarkhan, who murmured.

“The Prince has a point. If we don’t save the credit for the destruction of Parsian army for the King, we may displease him, right?”

“That means we must fight in moderation.”

Karluk agreed with a deeply self-deprecating tone.

From the early morning the next day, the Turanian army’s attack seemed to become extra fierce. Once they decided to attack the fortress, they had to do their best. The strength of the Turanian army was 60,000 in total, all of them were cavalry. 30,000 now surrounded the fortress of Peshawar, shooting arrows at the fortress, hitting the gates with thick wood trunks, and nailing stakes on the walls in order to climb them. The Parsian army, on the other hand, was busy responding to the siege, and Kubard continued encouraging the soldiers.

“Don’t worry, I’m the Braggart Kubard! Only for a flock of beautiful women would I ever give the fortress to those grassland shepherds!”

This man seemed to equate his nickname of “The Braggart” with prestigious titles like “Warrior of Warriors” and “Twin Blade General”, and the soldiers couldn’t help but laugh. Because of such jokes, the soldiers forgot their fatigue and anxiety and raised their morale to face the onslaught of the Turanian army. This man, Kubard, helped the soldiers to face the difficulties with a unique approach different from that of Daryun and Kishward.

The Turanian army then brought out stone throwers. It was Turan’s usual practice to let the craftsmen of the lands they had previously occupied make weapons for them, and all the materials were locally sourced.

However, the performance of the stone throwers was not ideal. After throwing only fifty stones the size of a man’s head into the fortress of Peshawar, the contraption itself fell apart because it could no longer withstand the recoil, and the Turanian army brought out a second one. Farangis shot down the soldier who manned the stone thrower from a far distance away. Another soldier tried to man it instead, so this time Farangis aimed at the wooden joints that held the weapon together and shot an arrow. The screws broke loose, and the stone thrower burst into pieces on the ground.

Enemy and ally alike were impressed by Farangis’s skills. After this, the Turanian army, who had given up the stone thrower, started to dig a tunnel to make an invasion route into the fortress. Ten thousand soldiers lined up shields at the work site, blocked the rain of arrows, and violently dug up the earth. It seemed that there was no good strategy to deal with the Parsian army’s defenses. It was already dawn of the third day when Farangis thought of an idea. Her side could also dig a tunnel and then fill it with water.

“It’s the Parsian army!”

The loud shout startled the Turanian army. The generals leapt from their beds and jumped on their war horses.

The Turanian army originally thought that Pars would come from the west, so they had deployed the rest of their troops in the west to wait. However, according to Narsus’s plan, the Parsian army took a detour around the south side of the continental highway, crossed into the territory of the Kingdom of Sindhura, and approached the fortress of Peshawar from the east in the darkness of the night.

At dawn, the Parsian army and the Turanian army began to clash to the east of the fortress of Peshawar. From the Turanian army’s standpoint, they were pinned down between the Parsian army inside the fortress and the Parsian army outside the fortress. If they had been on the vast plains, they would have been able to fight on equal terms; however, at this time, they had lost their first chance and could only watch the Parsian army rush into their formation. A general of Pars lept to the head of the formation and called out.

“Rascals who take advantage of our misfortune and attack for no reason! We’re tired of hearing the name ‘Rulers of the Grasslands’, and in the future Turan should call itself the Scavengers of the Grasslands!”

The one who shouted at the enemy was the “Twin Blade General” Kishward. He wielded his two swords in his hands, and steered his horse with only his feet, and began to draw blood with his blades. Seeing this sight, a brave general of Turan advanced forward with his horse. Kishward spoke even more venomously when he saw this enemy present himself.

“He who does not grasp his own arrogance, who wants to invade another country out of ambition alone, will not only die in a foreign land, but will also bring about the destruction of his own country! Do you want to bring about your own end, a slave to your country, and go down in history as a fool?”

“You’re the man who…”

He could not finish this sentence, because he did not speak Parsian fluently enough. Because the only language considered the international common language on the continental highway was Parsian, if they wanted to communicate with each other, the Turanians had to use the Parsian language to do so. Boila knew he could not battle his opponent verbally.

“Whatever! Take this!”

Before the words left his mouth, the spear had swung and thrust out. The blow was exceptional in terms of attack and speed. Kishward cleverly blocked the blow with the sword in his left hand, and then sharply swung the sword in his right hand horizontally. The white blade should have sliced Boila’s throat, which was left wide open, but the brave Turanian general deftly swung his spear hilt and bounced the blow back. With a leap of a warhorse, the two opponents swapped positions.

While Kishward and Boila were fighting, Daryun rushed into the Turanian army’s camp. The generals to his left and right skillfully gave orders to disperse the Turanian army and make their way to the gates of Peshawar. Those who stood in the way were cut down one by one by Daryun’s longsword, blood spilling all over the ground. Even after witnessing this sight, there were still some soldiers who darted towards Daryun without fear.

“Hey! Guy in black! You are Daryun, right?”

A dangerous light emanated from the eyes of the Turanian warrior. He was the one who carried the title of Prince, Ilterish.

“In more than a thousand days, I have never given up my revenge for my father’s death! Now, I want you to pay with your life!”

Daryun had no intention of counting how many people’s hatred he carried. Taking the lives of others was certainly a sin, but every person he killed was the result of a dignified battle, and Daryun was not ashamed of what he had done. Nevertheless, the other side hated Daryun, as was a natural expression of human emotions.

“I don’t know who you are, but if I let you kill me, it wouldn’t be fair to the others who seek revenge. So I can’t let you kill me here.”

“Don’t you worry! I will apologize to those people for you.”

As soon as he said these words, Ilterish began to attack. Just at the moment when a fierce one-on-one fight was about to begin, several arrows fell down around them, and a stray arrow pierced the neck of Ilterish’s mount. The horse let out a wailing cry, while the rider let out a curse, and both fell back together in the sand and dust.

“Let’s fight another day!”

With these words, Daryun galloped his black horse toward his original destination, the fortress of Peshawar. The fortress gates had now opened, and he saw a familiar knight rushing out of the fortress wielding a greatsword.

“Ah, aren’t you Lord Kubard?”

Daryun’s eyes widened.

“I haven’t seen you since Atropatene, but it’s good to see you safe and sound! Have you also come to follow His Highness Prince Arslan?”

“By the look of things here, that seems to be the plan for now.”

In the midst of a reply, Kubard’s greatsword made a heavy metallic sound as it slashed at the armor of the Turanian soldiers, splitting the enemy’s head from their body, and splashing bloody patterns onto the ground. Daryun smiled after hearing Kubard’s reply, and also swung his longsword.

The rainbow of human blood in mid-air, and the image of Daryun and Kubard wielding their swords side by side was a most reassuring sight to the eyes of the Parsian soldiers. Of course, to the Turanian soldiers, these two men were like a calamity in human form. They began to run away from the two blades that played a melody of fear, cowering and death.

The horns of retreat sounded from Turan’s camp. Seeing that the situation had taken a turn, Karluk had ordered his soldiers to give the retreat signal. The order of Turan’s army remained well organized in the midst of the fighting. The retreat operation began. Boila, who had fought with Kishward for more than twenty rounds, also put away his spear and turned his horse around before the winner could be determined.

The Turanian army, which had been attacking non-stop until that point, had to halt its advance because of its failure to capture Peshawar.

When Crown Prince Arslan, who had the falcon Azrael resting on his left shoulder, entered the fortress, Peshawar erupted into wild cheers. Lucian, who welcomed the crown prince into the fortress, could not help but shed tears of relief. At this time, the Parsian army also received a message from King Rajendra of Sindhura, who knew that the Parsian army had entered the fortress, and that he would come with 10,000 infantry and 20,000 cavalry and war elephant troops to join them. The situation seemed to have improved very suddenly.

“Humph! This man still acts only according to his own convenience!”

Kishward said with a bitter smile, and the others also had a similar expression. There was no doubt that King Rajendra of Sindhura had stood by and watched the battle between the army of Turan and the army of Pars while doing his own calculations. Daryun’s argument was that Rajendra must have prayed to the gods of Sindhura for both of their nations to lose. No one disagreed.

However, the Turanian army regrouped a farsang (~5 km) west of Peshawar, and on June 8th they regrouped in front of the fortress gates. Just as the Parsians were about to face them, an earthquake struck.

It was a rather violent and lengthy earthquake. When the tremors stopped, the confidence of both the Parsian and Turanian armies were greatly affected, and both sides put away their blades and returned to their camps without fighting. The generals and soldiers of both countries whispered about such a huge earthquake that they had not experienced before. The Parsians in particular were not only amazed at the magnitude of the earthquake, but also had an inexplicable fear of this incident, and most couldn’t help but lower their voices. They just hoped that nothing unexpected would happen.

“The djin are really starting to clamor. A wind carrying a foul omen seems to be blowing towards the northwest…”

The kahina Farangis frowned and looked out from the top of the fortress wall to the northwest with a sad face. On the other side of the rugged mountain range, there was a high and steep peak with a strange aura and many unknown legends. This was Mount Damavand.