It was the twelfth day of the second month of the year. The morning of that day rose pale, as if afraid; the dawn was bloody in the west; the sun looked a sickly red, casting a bloody reflection over the forests and hills. The matchless efforts of Donghae’s vanguard and the defenders of the wagons were evident on the uneven plain. Before the wagons lay a palisade of corpses — of men and horses, pierced, shot, hacked to pieces, beaten with sticks — all over the plain the advance of masses could be traced by the bodies lying about. Some died where they stood, some were merely unconscious from wounds or fatigue, and some, whose minds had snapped from the brutality, cowered and dug their heads into the ground. The fortification, which spread as wide as the base of a hill, held still and were filled with arrows; but countless had died within it as well; most of the horses had been slain and their carcasses pushed into the gaps of shattered wagons and vehicles to mend them; the piles of the dead were slick with blood, sweat, and dew-soaked soot. Donghae’s horsemen, having lost an astonishing number of their own, had encamped for the night a distance away from the fortification on all its sides. Unlike the mob with Yifan, the horsemen here were of greater discipline and respected the prowess and professionalism of the Headman greatly; he was endeared to them with his military achievements and noble spirit instead of fear and the promise of plunder, and was therefore similar to the loyalist commanders in authority and power rather than his own comrades. Come morning, they promised more deaths to the wagon-fort, and with renewed effort they were sure to overrun them and put them all to the sword. 

This was the sorry sight which greeted the scouts of the relief force from Silsa, and was reported back to its leaders: the Datar princelet Zasagt Sechen of the Darliq tribe, Stepan, Yeji, and Joohyun’s companions Youngjae, Namjoon and Ryujin. Seulgi was with them as well, who against her silent protests had been instructed by Joohyun to accompany the relieving force and ensure Sooyoung’s safety in her absence. Unbeknownst to Donghae due to the speed of their movement, they were encamped only eight kilometers away from the battlefield and had spent the night without campfires so as to conceal their approach. ‘Datarcraft’ was what Youngjae called it; the barbarians employed all manner of trickery and endured much more hardship for military gain if they were determined to do so. With Datarcraft Stepan had ensured that even the experienced Headman had failed to detect their presence even as their own scouts brought back continuous reports from the scene of the battlefield as early as the evening of the previous day. 

They learned of the wagon-fort, the great struggle which had taken place all around it, and the dire state of the defenders, who had been greatly reduced by death and exhaustion. It was early in the day, just at the crack of dawn; both sides of the struggle were resting themselves for the next day. 

“Lord Seungwan’s subjects are as valiant of stock as her,” remarked Youngjae admiringly. “Never in any part of this kingdom will you find peasants who decide as one with their masters to resist evil with their fists and fury.”

“But these are peasants, not soldiers. None of them deserve to die in such a gruesome manner even if they choose to do so; that is the duty of the warriors,” said Ryujin, whose heart was afflicted by the visions of the dead piled up high within the fortification. 

Stepan however was more concerned with his mission at hand. “We cannot make it to the battlefield before the rise of the sun. And thus we lose the element of surprise and fear, for the light of day diminishes the terrors of barbarous enemies.”

“Donghae’s vanguard is made up for the most part by his Niuche followers too,” said Yeji. “They will not be as intimidated by the approach of Datars.”

It seemed that there was no ingenious strategem for them; a direct assault appeared to be the only choice, and the only strategem in this case was their direction of approach and upon which groups of the vanguard they would fall upon. But Zasagt Sechen did not understand the perplexity with which the others beheld this situation, and said simply: “They have not had breakfast yet, have they?”

“No,” replied Stepan. 

“And they are still sleeping as we speak?”

“Yes.”

“And the large part of the Headman’s force is from Temur’s Fall?”

“Yes. But what are you getting at?”

Zasagt, who unlike most of the Datars familiar to the Sindeok was a believer of the religion of the Sibirs and Tegrek states to the west beyond the Gates of Qamdo, clapped his hands and sprang to his feet energetically. “Then it is not too late to march on them! God has willed it! — the Niuche near Temur’s Fall are effeminate and weak compared to their northern and wild brethren; we need not defer and vacillate with showers of arrows, since we shall disperse them with the charge of our lances.”

“They number in the thousands; we are only five hundred.”

“My friend, what has gotten into you? Just a week ago you volunteered to take only a hundred men to put to flight an entire army; now you are afraid of just a few woodsmen and fishers?”

“The Headman is no foe to be trifled with. A week ago I was daring, for I knew that my foe was no leader of men. But this Lee Donghae is different. Many Datars of the Uriatud fear him, even though they are of even tougher mettle than the wild Niuche.”

“But he has not faced the men of Great Jalir before. My Darliqs will show him how real warriors do battle.”

“Still we must draw up some kind of plan. This is no mere raid; our primary aim is the rescue of the Prince’s consort, and that requires us to fight through the masses to the fort and then out.”

“Stepan, you must be ill today! The Nanwians can take a small detachment and fight in first, give succour to the besieged; God has willed it; they are capable warriors and they can surely manage that. Then I will lead the main body of my men to drive off the Headman, and we shall avail the fort in no time.”

Stepan had his own protests in his head, but the coolness of the Datar princelet was tempting; and besides there really was no other strategem that could be employed quickly before the next day’s attack began. 

“Hopefully everything does turn out the way you envision it to be so simply.”

“God willing! All will be good.”

Having decided easily on his course of action, Zasagt gave Joohyun’s companions fifty men, all of whom were his kinsmen. 

“Continue down the direct approach to the battle,” instructed Zasagt. “Fight to the wagon-fort while the attackers are still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. I will come at the right moment.”

“What is the right moment?” asked Youngjae.

“Do not worry! You will know it when it comes.”

“How reassuring,” said Namjoon quietly to Ryujin. 

Thus they did set out with all due haste through the forest roads, not sparing their horses as they were Datar steeds of iron endurance. The westward approach to the plain was not guarded, and they went unopposed until the sun, burning red as struck iron, began its long climb into the heavens. Before they knew it, they had come up onto a mound, quite far away from the wagon-fort, but upon which the scouts earlier had surveyed the entire battlefield. Here they saw all that had transpired; the slaughter and the cruelty, but also hope — for the Prince’s banner still fluttered strongly in the wind. The wagons had not fallen yet. 

“It is bright in the morning now. They will see us,” said Namjoon. 

“And there is a contingent of men directly ahead of us. Look! They are already horsing themselves,” pointed out Ryujin. 

“But the Prince’s banner is still flying. They have resolved to fight on for one last day,” said Yeji.

“Then there is no time to waste! Give them the cold steel!” commanded Youngjae, who flashed his own blade first. The Datars promptly formed into a wedge, their horses neighing fiercely as they smelled the blood that was to come. Fifty lances pointed to the sky, then at the blow of a horn, were lowered together to the heads of the horses. Those who witnessed the forming up of these barbarians were astonished, not expecting them to be acquainted with drill and formations; but the Khan of Great Jalir was a cousin of the Karranid emperor of Hindh, and had therefore imparted the value of discipline and training to his own princes. Confused as to what kind of foes they were about to face, the Niuche regiment ahead of them — led by a captain named Alin — were quick to arm and horse themselves, but not to form into a battle-line, for they wondered if they should charge with swords or skirmish with bows.

Youngjae did not allow them to choose. “Kill! Slay!” he commanded, and his mount was first in its streaking gallop, careening straight at the enemy like a battering ram. With terrible cries and shouts the Datars followed behind, charging as a single black mass of steel points. The low groan of their horn, undulating like the bellow of some charging beast, echoed over the thumping of hooves. Like a legion of hell they emerged from the darkness into the red glow of morning and raged on towards their unready foes, who were so taken by surprise and fear that the command of Alin, ‘Stand fast! For