Early the next morning.
On Huwayzeh's walls, soldiers and civilians carried timber and stone bricks salvaged from demolished houses to reinforce the defenses. Everyone was feverishly preparing for battle.
The imminent arrival of reinforcements and the aid of the demonic dragon gave them great confidence.
Even the nobles who had hoped to surrender to the Tatars knew there was no room left to retreat. Those with money contributed money, those with men contributed men, bringing their private troops into the city's defense force.
"Huwayzeh was once a rather beautiful town. Snowmelt from the Zagros Mountains gathered into the Karon River, carving out fertile land amid the mountain passes. We were born here and raised here. Had you come at another time, Huwayzeh's maidens would have offered you the sweetest grape juice and fragrant bread fresh from the oven."
"But now, nothing remains."
Governor Rumi looked somewhat sorrowful as he gazed at the village ruins still trailing wisps of smoke, the estates and fields that had been razed flat, and the Tatar cavalry busy felling orchards, breaching dikes, and destroying irrigation works.
Yet he, the so-called Governor of Huwayzeh, could only cower behind the city walls, unable to do anything.
"Building a city is difficult. Destroying one is easy."
The Frankish Emperor, wearing the Iron Crown of Lombardy, rested both hands on the battlements. "The Tatars are destroyers of civilization. They need neither cities nor farmland, only slaves and herds. There is a saying: when weighing two evils, choose the lesser. Compared to the Tatars, barbaric Franks do not seem quite so unacceptable, do they?"
Seeing that Governor Rumi did not dare speak, Lothar could not help laughing. "There is no need to be afraid. I am actually quite gratified that a zealous ghazi like you could make the right choice