Chapter 592: Caesar vs Sultan Part 6
"In hoc signo vinces"
"In this sign thou shalt conquer".
- Constantine the Great
As the sun ascended from the horizon, its rays spread across the battlefield, illuminating the aftermath of the night’s gruesome conflict. Once a serene and picturesque expanse of land, the plains now lay littered with the lifeless bodies of both men and horses. The scene was a chaotic amalgamation of debris, dirt, shattered weapons, and scattered arrows. The verdant landscape, once teeming with vibrant greenery, had been transformed into a macabre tableau. A haunting red hue enveloped the entire battlefield, sending shivers down the spines of any who dared to pass by. The only signs of life were the circling seagulls, Aegypius vultures, and buzzing flies, drawn to the heat of the summer and the remains of the fallen.
The once-productive fields, bursting with promising sprouts and the hopes of a bountiful harvest, now lay contaminated and ravaged. The toil and labour of the diligent farmers had been tragically undermined, but there remained a glimmer of hope for future harvests to come.
If only there still exist farmers who can still come and work on the crop fields, of course.
Antonius’ army has been crashed.
As the first light of day broke through, the Ottoman cavalry, having defeated Khalid’s forces, returned swiftly to their Sultan. They launched a powerful charge, mercilessly striking the already weakened Roman infantry formation on the right flank.
The artilleries were helpless to halt their advance, after receiving cracks on the barrel on firing for the whole night. The entire Roman left flank are encircled, with Helios willingly jumping into the encirclement to continue fulfilling his roles as their commander and try to make his troops in the encirclement sustain for as long as possible – Antonius, on the other hand, remained at the central of the army, regrouping the three remaining regiments by the seaside, which is the only thing he can think of now.
The channel of communication between the stranded Ottoman forces in the remaining three fortresses and the Sultan has been re-established, with that the Sultan had to drop the power of the command to his Aghas and Beys, and he rushed into the forts to meet Alaüddin Bey, and of course his soldiers, with some minimal level of supplies desperately requested by the trapped forces.
Sultan Beyezid II has switched his role from a fighter back to their Sultan. However, his appearance has drastically changed. Gone are his usual elegant white robes and clean face. Instead, he is now clad in battle-worn armour, with two Kilij blades at his side and a bow on his back. The Sultan’s face is smeared with dried blood, a testament to the fierce fighting he has endured. He is no longer surrounded by his guards and majestic banners, but rather by the bruises of war.
One always said that the main purpose of a monarch is to lead, and in order to lead well one got to set an example for his rules.
The Sultan Beyezid II, despite being only less than twenty years old, has made a perfect example on how an Ottoman man should, an Ottoman warrior, a Sultan, a Mujahadeen, a knight, a descendant of the House of Osmangulu, the son of Mehmed II and grandson of Murad II, should behave.
With his charismatic presence and visible actions on the battlefield, the Sultan becomes a radiant beacon, commanding respect, attention, and love from every soldier who crosses his path. As he marches into the fortress, the Sultan raises his right hand, and the troops on his right erupt in cheers and praise. When he raises his left hand, the troops on his left whistle in admiration. And when he speaks his first word, the entire fortress trembles with the unified roar of the troops:
"Padişahımız! Efendimiz! Beyazıt II! Kurtarıcımız!"
Facing the troopers cheering for him, the young Sultan felt that this must be the high tide of his life, for he has achieved an achievement that no Ottoman has ever accomplished ever since Mehmed II, by defeating the Roman troops led by Antonius De’Ricci on battlefield.
"Warriors!" The Sultan raised the Kilij blade high up in the air.
"For Allah, for the Sultanate, for each and every of your family members living peacefully behind these lines! Let the fire of courage burn within each of you. Together, we shall break these chains of siege, unleash our fury upon the enemy, and reclaim our destiny! Onward, my sons, for Allah, for our Sultanate, and for glory! Allah is the greatest!"
The Ottoman troopers beneath him immediately exploded into another round of cheers and war cries. "Allah is the greatest! In the name of the Sultan!" They cried out as one, and then sprouted into actions squeezing through the gates of the fortress and coming into a violent clash with the Roman troopers on the outside.
The Sultan nodded in pleasure, he knows that his job in this fortress is already accomplished, and he shall do the exact same thing for the other two remaining fortresses.
A leader, a Sultan, especially a Sultan of a state that is always in war, will always need to flash his masculinity, martial skills and ability to lead. And it is only today, after a whole fourteen years of reign as a Sultan, he has finally gained the love and respect from his army.
It is not easy, not at all.
Beyezid II lived the first half of his reign under the shadows of Candarli Halil Pasha, and lived the second half of his reign under the shadows of his mother, and it is only now is he finally an independent man, a rightful Sultan, that is loved and respected by everyone living under his wings. Beyezid II believes that with time, he can consolidate all the broken pieces and parts of the failing Sultanate back to together and accomplish the destiny that lies on the path of all Ottoman Sultans: Conquer the red apple (Constantinople).
As a young, confident, and robust Sultan, he knows that time is on his side, granting him an advantage over his competitors.
The Sultan took a peek beneath the walls, the tide of the battle has turned; The troops from the forts have regained their morales and is now violently clashing with the Rumelian regiment on the outside, the Roman flanks are slowly getting eaten up by the recruited slaves and peasants, while the main rival, the one who was taunting and jeering him just the previous night, the man whom Beyezid II sworn to kill, Antonius De’Ricci, is being encircled inside out with nowhere to go. The Sultan is merely giving him a couple more hours to breathe, before leading the very last charge with his warriors, donned in his elegant robes, repaired armours, white horse, surrounded by all of his royal standards, just like what a Sultan would do as described in lore and arts.
It took Beyezid II to find the whereabouts of the Rumelian Caesar beneath the walls, he is like a tiny figure, being stuck between a bunch of his other war torn Rumelian little friends, yelling and panicking to try to hold as long as possible being squeezed in the middle – how pathetic, totally unlike what he was the night before.
The Sultan stared at Antonius with his eyes filled with despise, with his hands wide open.
Till now he has still no idea why this Caesar decided to intrude his Sultanate with absolutely no cause belli at all, with such an ill prepared army that almost caught the Sultan by surprise – if he did not act fast enough. If this man, Antonius De’Ricci, did really trigger the invasion because of the plain rage of Giovanni being killed in Constantinople and the Sultan refusing to let his army march their boots across his land, then Sultan Beyezid II must say that he disdain this man, and find it shocking that this man managed to inflict such a hefty damage on the Sultanate.
No monarch should ever start a war out of pure rage.
"Sultan! My Sultan!" The Sultan is awoken from his daydreams by his Janissary guards.
"Large number of ships are detected on the seas! Hanging Genoese flags!"
"Genoese flags? What the hell are they doing here?" The Sultan is confused.
"My Sultan! These ships refused to have any forms of communications with our men! And they failed to declare their purpose of intruding our seas!"
The Sultan’s face turned, there is only one possible reason that a Genoese fleet would appear, at this point of time, that is --.
"Where is our Venetian friend Don Vittoria Contarini?"
The supposed Venetian friend of the Sultan, Don Vittoria Contarini, is a supposedly ’ambassador’ sent by the Serene Republic. But in fact he is a supervisor from the Serene Doge ’helping’ the Sultan in making policies of commerce and trade that are beneficial for the interest of the Venetians, after the Sultan sold all the rights of the ports and customs to the Venetians in exchange for their naval protections.
