When Rumi ascended to the city walls, despite having mentally prepared himself earlier, he was still startled by the surging crowd below.
His subjects driven by slaughter, like a great river, heedlessly poured into the narrow passage, tightly squeezing the river valley under the city of Hovezan.
Looking around, the once peaceful and harmonious villages had all been set ablaze, flames blazed into the sky, thick smoke billowed.
"Raise the drawbridge!"
Governor Rumi ordered without hesitation.
Refugees driven forward, losing this only path, began to plead desperately toward the city walls.
"Please lower the drawbridge, the Tatars are still far away!"
"Ali, let me in, for the sake of my father."
