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Darkness from an ancient grudge once again cast its bitter shadow over the borders of Turan. Envoys arrived at the royal court of the victorious King Kay Khosrow with dire tidings: Afrasiab, the villainous and malevolent ruler of Turan, bound by relentless vengeance, had raised a colossal host and dispatched forces from every quarter. The Turanian lancers had tipped their blades with poison, and nearly three hundred thousand horsemen stood assembled by the banks of the Oxus River, ready to shake the bedrock of Iran beneath their iron hooves. Afrasiab had entrusted his outer borders to the veteran commander Piran, while sending fifty thousand fierce warriors under the command of his own lion-hearted son, Shideh, toward the marches of Khwarazm—an army so dread that even mountains seemed to crumble before their tread.

Upon hearing these dispatches, Shah Kay Khosrow sat in deep contemplation. He summoned his wise mobads and astrologers, who recalled the celestial prophecies: though the moon of the Turks might rise high, it was destined to be eclipsed by the triumphant sun of Iran. The Shah then convened a sacred council of his greatest paladins—Zal son of Sam, Goudarz, Gie, Tous, Rostam, Fariborz, Bizhan, Zangeh, Gostahm, and all the noble champions of the realm. Kay Khosrow warned them that as the enemy had bared their talons, Iran must mobilize its ultimate might.

By royal decree, the brass horns, trumpets, and war drums echoed through the capitals. The King marched to the grand parade, and golden thrones were bound atop war elephants. Decrees were dispatched across the empire: any champion who failed to report to the Shah within forty days would forfeit his rank and glory. Within two weeks, the entire realm seethed with martial vigor. Warriors poured in from Rome, India, and the Arab plains. The ancient royal vaults were opened, and Kay Khosrow showered gold, jewels, and rich armaments upon his host until every knight stood clad in mail like an invincible mountain.

With preparations complete, Kay Khosrow divided his forces into four great grand hosts. The first legion of thirty thousand chosen swordsmen was entrusted to Rostam, tasked with marching through Sistan, India, Ghaznin, Kashmir, and Kabul to fortify Faramarz’s rule and secure the eastern borders. The second army was given to Prince Lohrasp of royal lineage, charged with sweeping toward the Alans and Ghazdagh. The third legion of thirty thousand savage lancers was granted to Ashkash, dispatched toward Khwarazm to confront the vengeful Shideh.

The fourth host—the main iron shield of Iran—was placed under the command of the venerable Goudarz son of Kashvad. Arrayed beneath his banner were Iran's noble heroes: Giv, Bizhan, Rohham, Gorgin, Zangeh, Gostahm, Fariborz, and Zovareh. Before their departure, Kay Khosrow bestowed profound ethical counsel upon Goudarz: he bade him never stretch forth his hand in injustice, nor lay waste to prosperous dwellings. He commanded him to deal charitably with non-combatants, to keep the Almighty in mind, and to send a wise, eloquent envoy to Piran to seek a peaceful resolution before resorting to war. Goudarz accepted the sacred charge with solemn reverence, mounted his golden throne atop a massive war elephant, and led the main host of Iran toward the Turanian frontier amidst a thundering storm of trumpets and rising war-dust.