Chapter 221: Your Highness the Prince, This Is What They Call Professionalism

The battle beneath the stone city had already come to a temporary halt. After two rounds of fighting, both sides suddenly realized that neither could do anything to the other.

Prince Hamid, who had originally held the advantage, had been hit hard by a charge of the enemy's fully armored cavalry and suffered heavy losses, barely managing to hold his position.

Nasr II also discovered that his own armored cavalry could not break through the opposing Ghulam infantry formation, and immediately sank into deep self-doubt.

In his memory, this imperial guard, which he had built with his own hands, had followed him on campaigns east and west for over a decade, defeating countless enemies and never meeting a match.

In particular, back when they had successively seized White Water Hu City, Talas, and Balasagun, they had many times defeated tens of thousands of Karakhanid cavalry with only a few thousand horsemen.

They had also killed Bazir, father of Bughra Khan Satuq, and captured a great host of Satuq's brothers and sisters.

So how was it that now, they could not even break through infantry that wore hardly any armor?

"Emir, Your Highness! The gates of Bukhara have opened! The men coming out fly the golden steed banner — it is Sayyid and his people! They have taken control of Bukhara! Prince Hamid and the rebels are finished!"

The Grand Vizier Balami ran excitedly to Nasr II's side to report the good news, but Nasr II merely gave the aged Grand Vizier a calm glance, showing little excitement.

"I am the Emir of the kingdom. No rebellion against me will ever succeed. The people of Bukhara support me!"

Though he appeared perfectly composed on the surface, no one noticed that Nasr II was pressing hard on his knee with one hand, struggling to keep his thigh from trembling.

"My aunt has abandoned me! Now we have no way back!"

Prince Hamid watched the thousands of men pouring out of Bukhara in a mighty stream, and said with a bitter smile to General Hussein and Secretary Lahore beside him.

He had left three thousand Ghulams in the city. Though they could not seize the Alka Citadel, they should not have lost control of the southern and northern quarters.

For the present situation to arise — for the Alka Citadel guards and a great number of Bukhara noble escorts to march out together — Queen Aisha must have come forward.

Only she — only if this queen came forward — could break the will of the Ghulams in the city. And only if Queen Aisha promised to let bygones be bygones would the Ghulams in the city abandon him, Hamid.

The prince was now in agony. His mother had died young, and his aunt Aisha had always been his firm political ally.

The two were close in age, at once like mother and son, and like elder sister and younger brother. But he had never imagined that the first to betray Hamid would be Aisha.

"General Xue, I think that if the Gurkhan still means to keep hiding in the shadows, then he can only watch us be destroyed!"

Prince Hamid looked at Xue Shouli with a pale face, a hint of despair showing in his eyes.

Could it be that this Gurkhan harbored the intention of seizing Bukhara? Was that why he was allowing him to be wiped out, so that he could then take the opportunity to capture Bukhara?

Indeed! How could several million dinars in silver coins compare with occupying Bukhara?

"Hold the line! Do you think you still have a choice? Do you think Nasr will still spare you? If he were that merciful, Prince Hamid would never have led us down this road!"

The great upheaval in Bukhara dealt a severe blow to the Ghulams under Prince Hamid. Many of the wavering ones simply scattered and fled the moment the several thousand imperial guards marched out of Bukhara.

Hussein, blade in hand, cut down several of the fastest-fleeing deserters while roaring furiously without pause.

And it actually had some effect — for who did not know that Nasr II's cruel and sinister nature had been laid bare for all to see in recent years?

This Emir had never once let off anyone who dared resist him.

"Where is the Gurkhan? Where is the Gurkhan's great army?" Having barely steadied the line, Hussein immediately spurred his horse over to Xue Shouli.

They had Zhang Zhao as their hidden card, but apart from a few men, even many of the officers did not know of it — after all, it was not a glorious matter. But at this moment, Hussein could no longer care about any of that.

"Hussein, my brother, prepare for battle!" At this moment, Prince Hamid displayed the mental fortitude befitting a crown prince.

"General Luo, please go inform His Majesty the Gurkhan that occupying Bukhara is by no means a good choice. It would turn Bukhara into a city of the dead.

The Samanid kingdom has several million people. They have their own pride, and will not allow any foreign people to rule over them. If the Gurkhan can keep his word, then I, Hamid, am willing to give everything!"

Prince Hamid practically ground these words out through his back teeth. As long as the Gurkhan appeared now, he was willing to pay any price.

For he now had only seven or eight thousand men left, and their morale had fallen almost to rock bottom.

If Nasr II were willing to come out at this moment and offer them amnesty, these men would all surrender on the spot very quickly.

The war drums thundered. The imperial guards from Bukhara and the army from the stone city advanced slowly together, pressing toward Prince Hamid.

But Prince Hamid instead breathed a sigh of relief, for this meant that Nasr II was unwilling to spare any rebel — he did not wish to pardon anyone.

"Father, your ruthlessness and arrogance have not changed in the slightest!" Prince Hamid wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Hussein, my brother, tell everyone — we still have reinforcements!"

An even more brutal battle began. Nasr II was determined not to let a single rebel escape.

Hamid's Bukhara Ghulams, too, had no choice but to fight desperately, for the sake of living a little longer and for the illusory hope of reinforcements the prince spoke of.

Ten li away, Zhang Zhao's six thousand troops had finished assembling. Any Ghulam horse-archers that appeared in the vicinity — no matter which side they belonged to — were mercilessly slaughtered by the Iron Horse Capital cavalry and the Baoda Camp cavalry.

Even the messengers Nasr II had sent out to requisition iqta lands were all chased down and killed.

Xue Shouli came galloping back on horseback, his horse running so hard that foam was beginning to fleck its mouth.

"Great King, someone in Bukhara has turned coat! Prince Hamid is on the verge of collapse!"

Zhang Zhao nodded. He had watched the show long enough — it was about time. Besides, he had observed the strength of both Nasr's and Hamid's forces about as much as he needed to.

To be fair, after a month of Ramadan's toll, the individual martial skill and equipment of the soldiers on both sides were still passable.

But they lacked war experience — they could not even match the standing army of Khujand. Moreover, they clearly lacked experience in large-scale formation warfare, and not just the soldiers — even the generals lacked it.

If one had to find a template for comparison, they were roughly on par with the professional cheerleading squad of the late Tang — the Great Tang's Divine Strategy Army — especially in the eras of Emperor Xizong and Emperor Zhaozong.

Both were armies of petty townsfolk from great cities serving as soldiers, with nobles of many generations serving as officers. Even if an occasional standout was promoted, it could not change the army's overall downward trajectory.

This is the common failing of troops from great cities. Not to mention this era — even a thousand years later it could not be solved, unless it developed to the high-technology, high-skill-demand era of the later republics.

"Yang Shouli!" Zhang Zhao barked.

"Your general is here!" Yang Shouli quickly spurred his horse to the front.

"Take your own one thousand cavalry and secure the north gate of Bukhara for me. That gate must be in our hands!"

Although Zhang Zhao had no intention of actually ruling Bukhara, he was not prepared to hand the initiative over to Prince Hamid either. With the north gate of Bukhara in hand, extortion would also be more convenient.

"Aye! I respectfully obey the Great King's command!" Yang Shouli saluted with folded hands and acknowledged the order.

This man had a strong point: his ability to lead troops on the attack was not particularly great, but he was very steady and meticulous. He was the most suitable man to go and secure the north gate of Bukhara.

"The rest of you, follow me! We strike first at the army that has marched out of Bukhara, then at Nasr II in the stone city!"

"Aye!" The men roared their assent in unison, their morale soaring like a rainbow!

One soldier after another fell, and even Prince Hamid was covered in blood.

The prince had lost all his former elegance and grace; the jewel-inlaid longsword in his hand was now only half a blade.

His trusted secretary, Lahore, had been struck in the thigh by a stray arrow and lay on the ground, unable even to groan, only his pale lips trembling ceaselessly.

As for General Hussein, Prince Hamid had no idea where he had gone either.

At most, Prince Hamid's ghulams now numbered four or five thousand, cut into several encircled pockets. Hussein had most likely not fled, but had been split off and surrounded, or even killed in battle.

The Gur-khan still had not appeared. He was already doomed. Tears welled from his dry, stinging eyes. For a failed conspirator, only death awaited.

And not his death alone. His understanding principal wife, his charming and lovely concubine, his clever son and well-behaved daughter — none of them would have any chance of survival. Even everyone closely connected to him would die.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" The sound of metal signaling retreat rang out, and Prince Hamid's spirits instantly lifted. Had the Gur-khan's great army arrived?

But he was quickly disappointed. What came was not the Gur-khan's army, but an envoy from Stone City.

The army belonging to Nasr II stopped its continued advance, because victory was already firmly in their grasp.

The envoy rode a white horse straight up to a point less than two hundred meters from Prince Hamid.

"The Emir has decreed! Hamid Abu bin Nasr, for rebellion against your sovereign, for plotting against your father, your crimes are monstrous. But if you are willing to come out now, kneel and beg for punishment, and admit your wrongs to the great Emir, your family may yet be spared."

Prince Hamid laughed bitterly. It was indeed his father — always wanting to seize every advantage.

By making him confess now to save his family, his father would avoid the charge of being unable to tolerate even his own grandchildren.

If he refused to confess and his whole family was executed, then it would not be Nasr II's cruelty, but his own failure to know what was good for him.

"Father! You have always been like this — always so hypocritical! I will not come out and confess. I will never confess to you!

Because I have committed no crime. You drove me to all of this! You drove your own son to death! I want you to become the pitiful man who killed his own son and grandchildren."

Prince Hamid felt an indescribable rush of relief through his whole body. Ten years — for ten years he had toiled diligently as crown prince, every moment thinking of how to please his father and hold onto his position, and in the end it had still come to this.

Perhaps without the Gur-khan as a catalyst, he might never have found the courage to resist. He might have died without ever finding his own voice, silently vanishing from everyone's sight.

But today, he would endure no longer. With his heart thrown open, Prince Hamid sat down directly on a large rock and continued cursing loudly in the direction of Stone City.

From Nasr II's sinister arrogance to his hypocrisy and cruelty — he cursed with great satisfaction!

Inside Stone City, Nasr II's face had gone black. Prince Hamid's voice was so loud it was practically ripping the face from his body and grinding it into the dirt!

"Attack! Attack! Send that unfilial wretch and all his men to the fires of hell!" The enraged old Emir nearly took the field himself.

Suddenly, just as Nasr II was roaring with blackened face, the sound of thunder came from the distance. The churning earth raised clouds of dust across the sky, and banner after banner — red with a sun and moon, the likes of which he had never seen — loomed faintly in the dust.

"Enemy cavalry! Enemy cavalry! Enemy cavalry!" At the very top of Stone City, the sentry frantically struck the great alarm bell.

Almost in an instant, overwhelming cavalry charged in from three directions. The light cavalry racing swiftly on both flanks were like the two great pincers of a crab reaching out.

Nasr II's light cavalry charged forward howling, buying time for the other units.

The infantry besieging Prince Hamid also hurriedly contracted their formations. Many fled in disarray, all wanting to reach the base of Stone City before reforming ranks.

But it was all too late. Before the light cavalry on the flanks could even close with the enemy, the opposing light cavalry had already loosed a perfect volley of arrows.

They were using a wedge formation. Not a single arrow was wasted — the locust-swarm of shafts poured down entirely upon the heads of the ghulam light cavalry.

At once, these ghulam light cavalrymen, who had already been fighting for more than two hours, fell in swathes. The survivors were closed upon by the enemy light cavalry and slashed apart with sabers until they scattered in pieces.

Meanwhile, the infantry retreating toward the base of Stone City fell into even greater chaos. The opposing light cavalry did not charge their formation directly to kill them, but instead used their mobility to weave through in dazzling, bewildering maneuvers.

The light cavalry kept shrieking and loosing arrows to terrorize the infantry, cutting the retreating foot soldiers into one small pocket after another.

These panicked infantrymen could only huddle together in a disorderly crush.

Then, armored cavalry in tight charging formation appeared. They wore black iron lamellar armor that struck dread into the heart at a single glance, and in their hands they uniformly carried long lances.

"Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!" At about thirty paces, the armored riders abruptly accelerated — they seemed almost to be flying.

How could infantry crowded together in chaos have the nerve to face such armored cavalry?

Usually, the moment the armored cavalry began their charge, the infantry scattered wailing in all directions — and were then easily skewered through the back.

After several disordered infantry blocks had been shattered like this, the entire battlefield descended into even greater chaos.

No one resisted. Everyone was crying out and fleeing for their lives! Everyone had been stunned senseless by this sudden battle — or rather, this one-sided slaughter.

The commander of Nasr II's imperial guard division could only hurriedly gather the four or five thousand men beneath Stone City and prepare for a final resistance.

There was a stretch of slope below Stone City, unfavorable for cavalry charges and more convenient for infantry defense. Moreover, once cavalry lost their speed, mounted bows were certainly no match for infantry bows.

But he immediately realized the thought was pointless, because the enemy's main force was not cavalry at all, but mounted heavy infantry.

Zhang Zhao stood among the crowd in golden armor. The Persians opposite had no trebuchets, and they could not build ballistae either, so dressing a bit flashily should not be a problem.

Five hundred sets of cotton armor had all been distributed to the soldiers around him. With this epoch-making armor, the front-rank soldiers could wear a suit of mail underneath as well, doubling their defensive strength.

"Wind! Wind! Wind!" Three thousand heavy infantry roared in unison, then drew arrows from their quivers and, almost simultaneously, drew their long-eared bows to full draw.

All of this was accomplished within a few minutes — including forming the battle array.

Zhang Zhao narrowed his eyes and drew back the bowstring. Then his thumb snapped loose, and the nearly fully drawn string sprang back at tremendous speed, transmitting enormous force into the arrow.

The arrow shot out with the humming of the bowstring. The shaft even twisted in the air under the immense stress, like a carp lashing its tail furiously as it tried to leap over the Dragon Gate.

"Boom!" The sound of three thousand bowstrings vibrating at once was like thunder exploding at the edge of the sky. A sky-filling rain of arrows fell from the clear blue heavens amid the thunderclap.

On the slope outside Stone City, arrow shafts with fletchings still quivering sprouted up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.

The four or five thousand ghulams and imperial guards of Nasr II were as fragile as straw men, toppling in swathes beneath the terrifying arrow storm.

First volley, second volley, third volley, fourth volley.

The warriors, as if possessed of limitless stamina, did not even need their officers to command them. After Zhang Zhao loosed his first arrow, they simply followed with their own volleys.

After four consecutive volleys, the enemy opposite had not even managed to organize a single effective return volley.

Blood streamed down the slope of Stone City with a rushing sound, nearly gathering into a small creek.

The arrow volleys complete, four thousand men in orderly battle lines raised their long spears and lances and advanced in formation.

The enemy, already on the verge of collapse, offered no organized resistance and were killed one after another like puppets.

The occasional brave one was quickly picked off by the Hanshan Capital armored soldiers in the rear ranks wielding divine-arm crossbows.

Prince Hamid had gone completely numb. He stared blankly at everything before him. Even the wild joy of escaping certain death could not mask his shock at this moment.

It turned out that the guards of the Arka Forbidden City, who had seemed almost invincible in his eyes, were so fragile when facing the army of the Gurkhan — hunting them down was as easy as a fierce tiger pouncing on a gazelle.

"Your Highness, there! This... is what you call professionalism!"

Xue Shouli darted over to Prince Hamid in a few swift strides and even gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

"Just wait to become Emir! Though the premise is that you'll honor your promises."

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