Beneath the Golden Horde's banner, Subutai spoke with some emotion:
"After only two days, these Sasanians have changed completely."
Morale was something intangible when spoken of, yet in reality, the difference was obvious at a glance.
Whether those standing atop the walls were cringing cowards, trembling in constant fear, or warriors standing tall, brimming with killing intent and eager for revenge—the gap between them was simply enormous.
"The Emperor of Rome certainly knows how to train soldiers. But no matter how fierce a sheep becomes, no matter how it bares its teeth, it cannot turn into a wolf. If raw courage alone could overcome heavy armor, the martial skill tempered through countless battles, and strict discipline, wouldn't that be a joke?"
Jochi was utterly disdainful.
The Tatars had slaughtered countless enemies throughout their western campaign. Every hateful gaze had eventually turned into fear.
But Subutai, standing nearby, looked troubled. "Yet in a siege, raw courage is these Sasanians' greatest reliance. So long as they do not fear death and throw tens of thousands of lives onto the battlements, how great a price must we pay, and how much time must we spend, to take this fortress?"
"Noyan Jochi, please do not forget that you command nearly a hundred thousand troops, along with herds numbering in the hundreds of thousands. How much grain and fodder does such an enormous army consume every day?"
Though they had plundered the villages around Huwayzeh, the supplies they gained were no more than a drop in the bucket for an army of a hundred thousand.
At present, the Tatar army's supplies were mainly transported from Hamadan. Every conquered Persian town had been burdened with heavy taxes. To prevent the people of Hamadan from rebelling again after being driven beyond endurance by the harsh levies and