At the first pale blush of dawn, Houman of Vayseh mounted his charger like a raging lion, bringing an interpreter to ride toward the encamped host of Iran. When Piran learned of his brother's solitary defiance, distress gripped his heart, for he recalled the wisdom of their ancestors—that he who leaps headlong into strife without counsel gathers only bitter remorse at the journey's end. Piran lifted his heart in prayer to the Sovereign of the World, entrusting the headstrong warrior to Divine Grace.
Houman reached the Iranian front where Goudarz, son of Kashvad, commanded the grand army. The Iranian outposts and scouts watched with suspicion as the giant warrior approached, heavy mace in hand and lasso coiled at his saddle. The interpreter called out, announcing that Houman—head of the Vaysagan clan—had come seeking single combat. Though the Iranian spear-men marveled at his majestic aura and mighty stature, they held their ground, declaring that no warrior could draw steel without the explicit order of Goudarz, pointing out the positions of the army's flanks and champions.
Houman galloped to the left wing and confronted Rohham, son of Goudarz, daring him or champions like Gustahm and Frohel to step forward into the fray. Rohham replied with measured wisdom, reminding him that a true warrior never violates the commander's martial strategy. Scornful of Rohham's words, Houman rode like a rushing wind to the main banner where Prince Fariborz stood. He taunted Fariborz bitterly, mocking him for wielding the golden shoes and the legendary Kavian Banner yet failing to avenge his fallen brother Siyavash. Fariborz held his temper, explaining that the retribution for Siyavash was entrusted to General Goudarz by royal decree, and he would not move without command.
Finally, Houman rode directly before Goudarz himself, hurling fierce insults and taunts. He accused the venerable commander of breaking his sacred oaths sworn by the sun and moon, hiding like a hunted mountain sheep behind the cliffs rather than meeting the Turanians in open battle on the plain. Goudarz answered with grim composure, stating that a raging lion does not soil its claws upon a fox, and that when two vast hosts assemble, victory comes through full army clash, not petty duels. Refusing to let Houman dictate the battle's terms, Goudarz denied him single combat.
Enraged yet exultant that no single Iranian warrior had stepped forward to accept his challenge, Houman turned his horse around. In a display of brutal defiance, he drew his bow and struck down four Iranian encampment guards, dropping them lifeless from their saddles. The remaining guards scattered in terror as Houman ascended a high ridge, brandishing his spear and roaring victory. The Turanian horns sounded from across the valley, and their warriors touched their helmets to the stars in triumph. Watching this humiliation, Goudarz was seized by profound shame and scorching rage. Sweating with dishonor, the ancient commander turned his eyes upon the noble champions of Iran, searching for one who would step forth to wash away this disgrace.