Jeleladin looked at the bare palace around him, it barely deserved the name, its wealth stripped to pay for a long lost war.
The tribes of Ghanzi didn't care about that though, vultures that they were, beseiging the last remaining city of Khwarezm, even merchants had taken to adding the word doomed before they uttered the shahdoms name nowadays.

What a city it was though, almost as rich as Baghdad, in a crossroads between the harsh north and Iran, won by Jeleladin himself, he would see to its defense himself.
He looked at the ghulam strapping on the last of his armoured plates "how many?"
"the scouts report, they outnumber us 4 to 1, mostly steppe cavalrymen"
Jeleladin swore for the first time in his life.

twenty minutes later he was at the head of his army, which also barely deserved the name, mostly a collection of those too brave, honourable, or stupid to leave the militia at an earlier date, and 50 personal guards

"men!" he shouted from his horse
"I wont lie to you... we will see our end today!
but the immans say that defense of the innocent is a sure path to paradise, then what better path than this?
We are outnumbered by four to every one of us!

What an end this will be!
Our chance to scream out into the night our valour!
forward men!
Show these traitors of Islam what it truly means to be doomed!"

then he prepared to die in the saddle, like his ancestors before him.


five hours later

Blood was everywhere, the ground was stained with it, armour of the surviving cavalry was tinted with it and jeleladins own sabre had been rendered dull from overuse.
He stood on the husk of a once mighty indian elephant, his army around him, he raised his sword and shouted

"I was wrong to think I'd enter paradise today when such fine men make up my army"

then, looking around at the blood soaked battleground that was the remains of his shahdom, he swore from the second time in his life.