Chapter 391: 386: The Pocket

"Any wise enemy is better than an ignorant friend." 

-        Arabic Proverbs

The Ottoman forces have waited for almost one whole day for their preys, laying here before the sun rises. They have been strictly disciplined and ordered to not make a screech or tiniest movement when the enemies emerge to avoiding spoiling their cover. Hamza Pasha knows that this is tough for his men, and is already expecting the numbers of people getting frozen to death or incapable of further combat to be huge, but still he believes that this is only a necessary step to take in order to achieve a needed victory, as he remembers and quotes what the Sultan Dowager told him before he sets off in the Western front at mid night. 

"Honourable Hamza Pasha, the whole Sultanate, and every Osmananglu know depends on the support of you, the only pillar left preventing our sky from coming down. Please, descend us with our long wished victory, just one against the Romans. Their intention now is clear enough to us, they are not satisfied with just a few towns and city, they want to devour us wholly even including our bones! Please, honourable Hamza Pasha, now we shall offer you every thing we have, and in exchange please return with a victory." 

Before Hamza Pasha could say any thing, the Sultan Dowager tilted her head and gave her boy a look, the young Sultan struggled to pick up a sword that looked like nothing special up, and presented it in to the old crippled hands of Hamza Pasha. His mother by the side added on. "Now, Hamza Pasha, the Sultan has presented you with the blade that was once wielded by both Sultan Murad II and Mehmed II. I hope that you are able to deter the enemies wielding it too, giving it another mark of glory and honour… Please, we beg you." 

Looking at this blade Hamza Pasha could still remember the words and sceneries that day, he sighed and kept the blade back in to his waist. Indeed, the Ottomans do need a victory as soon as possible to break the myth that the Rumelians are invincible, to use the army of Constantinople as a tool to reenact the morales of all Ottomans through a simple victory and prepare themselves for the real test coming next, facing against the hordes of Antonius De'Ricci. 

"Honourable Pasha, signals from the front, there are at least five thousand Rumelians being spotted coming in our direction!" A signaler came reporting. Hamzas a Pasha nodded and acknowledged this message, a little bit surprised and shocked within his heart that the strategies laid down by the Sultan Dowager and the viziers did work, and now he just wanders who is the brave one who opted to take up the role of an undercover within the Rumelians, Hamza Pasha now wants to pour this man with rains of gold and medals. 

Slowly the shadows became more and more obvious, with finally the first Rumelians marching past the ambush positions. But this does not mean that the troubles of the Ottoman ambush are over, the Rumelians are smart enough to send out scouts and pioneers along the roads sweeping the flanks looking for traps and enemies, this ought to be a military instinct held by every military intellect, like wise for the case of Constantine. 

But of course, Hamza Pasha got a counter for this too. The Rumelian scouts who usually goes in twos would usually have their attentions attracted by a moving bush, for example, giving them the impression that there are Ottomans inside. Then the more experienced Rumelian scout would ask the less experienced Rumelian to stay put and watch his back while he moves forward to check on what is going on over there. Then the Ottomans would leap forward and attack both Rumelians when they shocked to find a man lying by his side from the sides in a group, tearing their throats before they could cry for help. 

"Honourable Pasha, the head of the Rumelians have entered in to our pocket." 

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"Inform me again once their commanding flag has passed the breaking point." 

…

Mauro, with his Latino heavy infantries too have passed the breaking point entering the mouth of the pocket, with them being vigilant as always keeping their armours always ready by their sides on a cart pulled by donkeys as they march along. The commanding flag of the Africanus lion too is within this compartment flying right beside the mount of Mauro. The commander of the Roman army felt some thing uneasy as he closely observed the environment, sniffing a dangerous scent in the air with the sixth sense he developed through the decades of battles big and small. 

The eight thousand strong forces continued to march along the road, the flanks kept a distance of two to three hundred meters distance from the light infantries that formed the core of the army in the central position. The soldiers on the other hand being different from their commanders, are mostly feeling pretty relaxed as they have almost met little to no resistance until now, some units are even organizing a chore to echo army songs out loud while marching, which might look pretty stupid indeed, but it is still a suitable way of grinding the army's cohesiveness and corporations. 

Amidst this atmosphere of relaxation heighted by the increasing temperature, a fellow soldier from one of the Roman heavy infantry units probably have drank a little too much water just now at the resting point, and went on to ask permission from his superior to release his biological waste by the fields and offer the land more nutrition to make the crops grow better next year. His request got approved, of course, and this man ran to a distance away avoiding any one familiar from seeing his ding dong and pulled his breeches down ready to let his water flow across the land. 

But as he looked his head down, he saw the bushes right beside him moved by an bit, he scrutinized the bush further and is absolutely horrified to find some thing that is definitely not supposed to be there – a man, looking around fifteen years old of age, laying there and staring at his ding dong with his eyes and mouth wide open. The Roman soldier gaped his mouth wide too, totally shocked by the appearance of this teenager and finally he let off a brisk but shrilling yell towards the sky. "Ahh!!!!" 

The teenager is of course an Ottoman soldier, who only allowed the Rumelian to get this close to him because he is drowsy and tiredness from losing way too much energy in the snow. But although he is young, he is already forced to become a killer in this kind of war time environment. The boy tried hard to recall the combat techniques taught to him a few weeks ago by the senior soldiers who are just four years older than him, he closed his eyes biting his teeth sharp, and poked his spear out right in to the chest of the Rumelian soldier. In the later's eyes of disturbance and dubiety, the bronze spear penetrated right through his chest, creating a puncture hole that slowly drained his life energy away from his body.

Nevertheless, this shout by the soldier is loud enough to attract the attention of his pals marching near by, and in their horror eyes they saw clearly that a spear penetrated the man's chest making him slowly tumble on to the ground. Immediately realizing that there is an ambush near by, the central flank guards started acting first. Those who have armours began donning their armours from the carts, the light infantries began scrambling in to temporary defensive positions, and the commanders are also panicking from this sudden change instructing their soldiers to go here and there, only to crash and conflict against other units in the process. The entire Roman army instantly entered a disorderly state by itself, showing the negative side of the poor training they received, and the lack of communications between each army. 

Hamza Pasha too noticed that the Rumelians have found out about his ambush and have entered a state of chaos from within itself, thus he wasted no more time standing up, and plucked out the blade of Sultan Murad II tied by his waist crying out to his signalers. "Sound the horns! Let's go! Every thing according to the plan! Today is the day when the Rumelians shall have their defeat!" 

A group of people who are sitting in the trenches by the side of Hamza Pasha stood up and lifted the goat horns to ground level, and with a blow the humming sound of the horns echoed through out the terrain even covering the cries of the Rumelians, spreading the order of the final attack to each and every Ottoman soldier ambushing here, and also sending a signal to the panicking Rumelians that now they are in deep trouble.

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