Chapter 498 ·Upheaval (2)

Far ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍from the battlefield in the east lay the Capital of the Khalas Empire, Baghdad

"Are ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍you telling me those Christian zealots have finally begun to stir?"

"Y-yes, ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Your Highness."

The ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍first report concerned military movements from Europe.

They ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍had already learned that the enemy had begun holding councils and expected those talks to drag on with little progress. But it seemed those interminable talks had finally concluded since the enemy had begun mobilizing their armies.

The ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Crusades.

Just hearing the name was enough to evoke dread and loathing to Muslim, and it was now beginning again.

Fury rose in the Sultan's chest at these Europeans who meddled at every turn whenever the empire tried to grow stronger, but he forced the anger back down.

"How long can Barhim stall them by himself?"

"It is not that I doubt Amir Barhim, but the front lines are far too vast. Lord Barhim alone will find it a heavy burden to bear responsibility for all of them."

“Hah.”

Just as the Sultan was about to lose his mind from frustration, the sound of urgent footsteps came from beyond the door.

It was yet another piece of intelligence.

The messenger's news brightened Sultan Muhammad's face.

"The Grand General has captured Merv, Your Highness. He reports that he and the two Emirs are preparing to cross the Amu River and wipe out the apostates!"

His ultimate dream of conquering every last inch of Islamic territory was right in front of him. Just a little more push, and the entire continent would be his.

And the good news didn't even stop there.

"Also, the Old Man of the Mountain has completely exterminated the rebels in the occupied zones. He took the Brotherhood of Purity and marched out to hunt down the pagans worshipping that Evil God."

"Hahahahaha!" The Sultan threw his head back and laughed until his lungs burned.

The news that Amir Zayd had fallen to the Avatar of that Evil God did not trouble him in the slightest. If the Old Man of the Mountain had gone himself, then that avatar was as good as dead.

With his anxiety dissolved, the Sultan's brain moved on to the next step.

"Draft more soldiers and ship them West immediately. Relay to Barhim that the East will be settled before long, so all he has to do is stall those westerners. If circumstances turn against him, tell him to poison the water and burn the grains. Tell him to do whatever it takes to stall the western forces' advance."

"As you command!"

"And get a message to the Grand General! Tell him the Christian zealots have marched on the West, so he needs to wrap up the eastern front quickly!"

Sultan Muhammad spent the following days in a state of mingled anxiety and tension as he waited for reports from both the west and the east while he struggled to calm his own mind.

He told himself over and over that he must ignore whatever news came from the West, that any defeats suffered there while the East was being dealt with were an unavoidable price, and that the West could simply be retaken once the East was settled.

He spent his days practically hypnotizing himself with this rationale when a report reached him.

Yet, the first message to arrive came not from the West but from the East, and it carried entirely unexpected news.

"T-the Old Man of the Mountain has fallen in battle, Your Highness! The Brotherhood of Purity has likewise suffered catastrophic losses!"

“…”

For a moment, Sultan Muhammad's mind went completely blank.

He couldn’t process a single word of that report.

Then one rose unbidden.

‘Should I have ordered a retreat?’

When he had received word that the Far East infidels had joined the war, he should have swallowed his pride for a moment and made a ceasefire then and there and taken the territories around Nishapur and called it done.

If he had done that, it would never have come to this.

But it was already too late.

The imperial army had already suffered heavy losses at the hands of those Far East infidels, and one of the five Amirs died at their hands.

And now even the Old Man of the Mountain had been slain.

All manner of ill omens crowded his thoughts before the Sultan shook his head frantically.

‘Not yet. It is not yet too late.’

He still had Grand General Talib.

But that also meant he had to limit aggression in the East.

‘The Amu River. We will absorb the territory up to the river and leave the rest for the future.’

He was going to pressure the eastern coalition into a peace treaty.

Of course, there was no chance those people would meekly surrender the territories they had lost, but that was not a minor detail.

‘If they try to drag the talks out, I'll give up the Amu River completely. As long as we walk away with Nishapur, Merv, and Herat, we take the deal.’

Once he had settled his thoughts, the Sultan immediately barked out his new orders to his officers.

Soon, a courier carrying a letter that bore the Sultan's will departed Baghdad and rode east.

From a high window of the imperial palace, the Sultan watched the departing courier with anxious eyes.

‘Please. Let it not be too late.’

The distance between Baghdad and the front where the Grand General was fighting was vast beyond measure. Even if a rider changed horses and camels without stopping, the journey would take at least ten days.

There was no way to know what might happen in that time.

Perhaps it had already happened, for even the report of the Old Man of the Mountain's death had taken more than ten days to travel the same distance.

"No. It must not be so. Please, O Allah, please, have mercy on us."

The Sultan offered prayers to Allah as he always did, but the terror within him was unlike any other.

***

It was some ten days before the news of the Old Man of the Mountain's death would reach Baghdad.

The long night of blood and screaming gave way to the break of dawn.

Il-mok stepped out of his quarters and went to look for Jong-ri Chu and Dokgo Ryong.

After listening to a brief report on how the aftermath had been settled, Il-mok spoke.

"You two hardly slept. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

"What kind of indulgent talk is that on a battlefield, Grand Preceptor? The sun is up. We should be advancing!"

Il-mok just shook his head at the battle-crazed old man itching for battle.

"You may be fine, Grand Marshal, but the soldiers cannot march. Don't you think we should let them sleep for a couple of hours after fighting all night?"

After talking Dokgo Ryong off his bloodlust, Il-mok shooed the two of them away to get some rest. He then issued a few instructions to the soldiers and returned to his quarters to pen some letters while the army finally caught their breath.

Il-mok first composed one letter summarizing the course of the war and the plans going forward. That letter was addressed to the Holy Emperor Wi Jin-hak.

He then prepared a second letter, this one addressed to his Third Brother.

This second letter contained a detailed account of his battle against the Old Man of the Mountain, the assassin who had attained the pinnacle of concealment arts.

Il-mok wanted to explain to Seo Wan-pyeong the bizarre technique by which the old man had cut his very existence from the world through the power of will.

Seo Wan-pyeong might eventually reach that level on his own through relentless training, but Il-mok knew there was a world of difference between knowing exactly where one is headed and groping blindly into the dark.

Since he was already sending letters home, he saw no reason not to share what he had learned with his brother.

After finishing the letters and resting for a short while, Il-mok noticed the soldiers beginning to reassemble after their hours of rest.

Knowing the appointed hour had come, he left the quarters and made his way to the city gates.

The force gathered at the gates was noticeably smaller than before.

Roughly six thousand soldiers were missing.

Three thousand had been killed or wounded in the Hashashin night assault, and another three thousand had been left behind to care for the wounded and keep order in the city.

But this number also means over fifty thousand men left the city and set out northward toward Merv.

As the war drums thundered with their familiar beat, the soldiers marched and sang hymns at the top of their voices.

***

At the same time the Hong Dynasty's forces were in the midst of their advance toward Merv.

A few days' ride away lay the massive metropolis of Bukhara, the heart of the eastern coalition’s main camp.

The city was locked in a brutal defensive siege.

Screams and shouts rose from every direction.

Blood ran through the streets, and countless corpses lay strewn about.

The scene was so horrific that it called to mind every hell described in the scriptures of every religion.

As the evening sun sank below the horizon and a crimson glow settled over the sea of corpses piled around the walls, the sound of war drums rose from the Khalas Empire army's encampment.

It was the call to withdraw.

To that beat, the imperial fanatics who had survived the day's assault began to fall back one by one. Some among the eastern coalition's soldiers wanted to pursue and strike the retreating enemy, but they were all too exhausted after half a day of desperate defense.

Grand General Talib gazed at the city walls that had yet to fall with an impassive expression.

‘At this rate, I can end it within five days at the latest.’

It had been only three days since the siege of Bukhara had begun, yet the walls were already crumbling here and there, and the defenders appeared to lack even the capacity to clear the bodies piled high in their surroundings.

He even found himself thinking that the assault on Merv had been more difficult than this.

"Distribute food to the soldiers who fought in the war, and send the women we brought along to each of the barracks."

His adjutant flinched before answering carefully. "Grand General, those women might not survive the night if we sent them to the barracks now. The men are too riled up with bloodlust.”

Talib showed no displeasure at his adjutant's observation.

As a being who had long since stepped beyond the bounds of ordinary humanity, he was lacking in certain subtler aspects of human consideration. His adjutant's role was to handle precisely those finer details, and so Talib was generally tolerant of such professional counsel.

That said, this did not mean he always followed the adjutant's advice.

"It doesn't matter. Once the city falls, there will be more than enough women and children to go around," Talib answered with an indifferent gaze at Bukhara's walls.

Shortly after, sounds that had no business being on a battlefield began to echo through the camps.

For some it was a time of pleasure; for others it was a time more horrifying than hell itself.

When the sun had fully set and darkness had descended, the adjutant approached the Grand General's tent in urgent haste.

"Grand General, envoys have come from the apostate side."

Talib furrowed his brow

"Envoys?"

Were they trying to negotiate a ceasefire now that defeat loomed over them?

"Kill them."

At Talib's indifferent reply, the adjutant spoke carefully.

"It appears they have come not for ceasefire negotiations, but to surrender."

Talib cocked his head in interest. "Very well. Let us hear what they have to say."

The adjutant bowed and left before returning shortly with several figures in tow.

Those who had presented themselves as envoys from Bukhara were led by none other than the Lord of Herat.

"Salah of Herat pays his respects to the Sword of the Empire."

He was the very man who had suffered a crushing humiliation at the hands of Il-mok.

Salah bowed to the Grand General with the deepest deference.

The Grand General acknowledged him with a slight nod.

"I hear you wish to surrender. Is this the collective will of all the apostates?"

Salah shook his head.

"It is our will alone."

He gestured to the men behind him and introduced them one by one.

All of them were lords of the southeastern territories around Herat, men whose lands had already been seized by the Empire.

“A betrayal, then," Talib muttered with a sneer.

The Lord of Herat's face flushed for a moment, but he quickly composed his expression and replied. "The betrayal was not committed by us, but by those remaining in Bukhara. How dare they bring foreign heretics into a war between Muslims?!"

Only then did the impassive Talib show a flicker of interest.

"You would surrender to the Empire rather than join hands with heretics?"

"That is correct, Grand General."

Salah, Lord of Herat, answered with the obsequiousness of a petty merchant.

But behind his deferential facade, an emotion called vengeance churned within his eyes.

Vengeance against the man who had dared to subject him to a great humiliation.

The man those Far East infidels hail as the Grand Preceptor.

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