1453: Revival of Byzantium
"Basileus! My emperor! Your majesty! Are you going to abandon us like this under the hooves of the infidels?!"
Pushed by the thirst for survival and the hope for the same kind of miracle in tales to happen again, some scattered shouts from the Romans themselves can be heard as they desperately try to fend off the incoming attacks by the Ottoman cavalries, totally unknowing that the first man who started all of these up is one of their enemies.
Emir Bey slowly decelerated his horse under the protection of his guards as he actively observed the direction where the emperor of Constantinople is last spotted, hoping to find some familiar faces. He is patient, knowing that this is the only chance he can to get what he wants and by acting anxious it shall only make his chance sip away faster. It seems like the God of fortune has gotten on to him today as after a few rounds of shout, he caught sight of a man dressed in plain armour, huddled by another group of people giving his direction a look.
Although the recognisable facial features on this man who turned back cannot be seen as he is wearing a helm, Emir Bey still managed to recognise this man as the emperor, as he is the only one over here that has that unique moustache which makes his face stands out from the other soldiers. Normally for combatants who lived in close proximity to one another in unruly settlements of this age, they tend to shave their beard and hair ever since there are rumours being spread from the famed academy in Thessaloniki saying that growing long beards can trap the harmful aura by the side of the person and attract evil creatures like fleas sucking their blood.
With the target set, the Ottoman cavalries under Emir Bey picked up their speed again right in the middle of the battle field, using the path just cleared by their buddies as a form of acceleration and charge towards the emperor with their spears up again. The man who is supposedly the emperor apparently felt that the cavalries fifty meters away now has their concentration on him and began picking up his speed, his guards too tried to gather around and form another line of defence between this man and the cavalries, all of these are caught in the sight of Emir Bey reaffirming his assumption, and clenched the spear he has in his hands.
"Do not move! Emperor!" Emir Bey cried out in a not so fluent Greek tongue. "The faster we settle this, the quicker we can end this suffering for people on both sides!"
The man in the front lowered his head and continued running forward with out turning back, although it is a known fact that a person on two legs cannot out run a horse running on four hooves, but Emir Bey got to admit that these group of guards who vowed to protect their master is indeed capable of causing a great trouble for them, as they took out a bag of caltrop out from no where, and spread it right on to the strip of land between them and the cavalries. The first two Ottoman horsemen fell in to the trap, colliding heavily on to the muddy ground looking like their chances of survival is crashed to a bare minimum, where the others reacted quickly halting their horses in time.
Seeing that the caltrops did not reach their effect as indented, the Roman guards took out their next set of armaments from their backs, a set of freshly made hand hold cross bows purchased from the Genoese. These bows, with the tiny projectile of theirs, can hardly penetrate the two layers of armour the Ottomans are fearing in such a close distance, but there is at least one weak spot the Ottomans have, their faces, which is completely uncovered unlike their western counterparts these days, making it a hard to aim but still vulnerable spot.
The emperor's guards only had one chance, and sadly for them they missed all of them with their projectiles either flying past the Ottoman rider's helmets or hitting on to body spots covered by armours. The Ottomans quickly maneuverer past the caltrops and surrounded these faithful guards, who still dared to raise the blades in their hands wishing for a fight stopping in the way of these horses. And they got what they want, all of them are brutally slaughtered by their opponents. However, they did achieve what they have sacrificed for, thanks to them the emperor has gotten away, completely untouched by the Ottomans and has gotten to forty meters away, now impossible to be chased down as the Ottoman cavalries have lost their advantage in speed.
Emir Bey almost broke that horse whip in his hands in to half, enraged by his own failure and also the things that might happen him after this battle. He has lost more than forty of the Sultanate's best predators on this offensive mission, every one of them has a title and is recorded in the portfolio of the Sultan meaning that these riders who just died are not peasants, instead they are nobles whose ancestors might have followed the Osman since the days of Anatolia, they might have friends and relatives in the Sultan's court, and each one of them is a valuable asset with a superb knowledge in mounted combat.
"Bey! What do we do next? Do we retreat?" Asked a concerned commander by Emir Bey's side. "The Rumelians have gathered around us like a herd of ants! There are just way too many of them!"
"What do you mean by retreating?" Emir Bey bellowed towards this rider, with his eyes entirely reddened not just from the amount of killing, but also because he is dismayed by the words of the minor commander. "Are you out of your mind? Exposing your vulnerable back to these enemies. Remember kid! We cavalries can only go forward, and we must go forward…"
"Honourable bey!" Seeing that this fifty plus years old bey is going in to his lecture mode again in the middle of the war, the young cavalry interrupted and took out his bow. "Bey stop! I know that you are here for that man, and now you still have a chance of ending your rivalry here…"
Emir Bey's words became stuck in his throat, he looked at the determined look from his soldier, gave a look at the bow, and gave a look at the minute figure now sixty meters plus away, trying to further squeeze himself through the crowd. The bey gave a humph, grabbed the bow and an arrow from the soldier's quiver, and started aiming at a point slightly higher than the target's helmet, confident that his arrow shall never miss he pulled the arrow string to the fullest and released it never giving a second thought, and sent the arrow flying towards the target who is still on the wrong not knowing that a crisis is now looming above his head.
The aiming point for the arrow by Emir Bey is at the point between the head and the neck, as his experience tells him that if a person gets an arrow here he would lose any more ability to remain standing almost immediately. Indeed Constantine is now on the run with his back facing the enemies but that certainly does not mean that he has lost his consciousness on what are going on behind his back. In fact, if he does not have the consciousness to actively find possible danger or threat around him, he would have died long time ago in Thessaly.
The emperor felt what it seems to be a sudden goose bumps showing up on his neck, with the back of his head feeling tensed. Knowing that it is his sixth sense warning him of a danger Constantine tried his best to lay down, but still human reaction speed is much slower than a flying projectile at a sixty five meters mark. The arrow soared past countless heads and made a direct hit on to the head of the emperor missing the intended hit point. But still, under the eager urging eyes of Emir Bey, the figure ran for a few more steps and slowly fell on to the ground.
All of these actions took place in a mere three seconds' time.
Emir Bey's body is shivering with joy and anxiety knowing that he has probably slain an emperor, he raised the bow in to the sky and let off a wild battle roar asserting his dominance and prestige to every one on the field. Unable to control the achievement and joy in his heart he bellowed out a sentence, a sentence that the Romans would definitely not want and not expected to hear.
"I! Emir Katirci, have slain the Basileus of the Rumelians! Your emperor is dead! I repeat Rumelians! Your emperor is now dead! Put down your arms and surrender!"
Chapter 396: 391: The Diadem Has Dropped
Pushed by the thirst for survival and the hope for the same kind of miracle in tales to happen again, some scattered shouts from the Romans themselves can be heard as they desperately try to fend off the incoming attacks by the Ottoman cavalries, totally unknowing that the first man who started all of these up is one of their enemies.
Emir Bey slowly decelerated his horse under the protection of his guards as he actively observed the direction where the emperor of Constantinople is last spotted, hoping to find some familiar faces. He is patient, knowing that this is the only chance he can to get what he wants and by acting anxious it shall only make his chance sip away faster. It seems like the God of fortune has gotten on to him today as after a few rounds of shout, he caught sight of a man dressed in plain armour, huddled by another group of people giving his direction a look.
Although the recognisable facial features on this man who turned back cannot be seen as he is wearing a helm, Emir Bey still managed to recognise this man as the emperor, as he is the only one over here that has that unique moustache which makes his face stands out from the other soldiers. Normally for combatants who lived in close proximity to one another in unruly settlements of this age, they tend to shave their beard and hair ever since there are rumours being spread from the famed academy in Thessaloniki saying that growing long beards can trap the harmful aura by the side of the person and attract evil creatures like fleas sucking their blood.
With the target set, the Ottoman cavalries under Emir Bey picked up their speed again right in the middle of the battle field, using the path just cleared by their buddies as a form of acceleration and charge towards the emperor with their spears up again. The man who is supposedly the emperor apparently felt that the cavalries fifty meters away now has their concentration on him and began picking up his speed, his guards too tried to gather around and form another line of defence between this man and the cavalries, all of these are caught in the sight of Emir Bey reaffirming his assumption, and clenched the spear he has in his hands.
"Do not move! Emperor!" Emir Bey cried out in a not so fluent Greek tongue. "The faster we settle this, the quicker we can end this suffering for people on both sides!"
The man in the front lowered his head and continued running forward with out turning back, although it is a known fact that a person on two legs cannot out run a horse running on four hooves, but Emir Bey got to admit that these group of guards who vowed to protect their master is indeed capable of causing a great trouble for them, as they took out a bag of caltrop out from no where, and spread it right on to the strip of land between them and the cavalries. The first two Ottoman horsemen fell in to the trap, colliding heavily on to the muddy ground looking like their chances of survival is crashed to a bare minimum, where the others reacted quickly halting their horses in time.
Seeing that the caltrops did not reach their effect as indented, the Roman guards took out their next set of armaments from their backs, a set of freshly made hand hold cross bows purchased from the Genoese. These bows, with the tiny projectile of theirs, can hardly penetrate the two layers of armour the Ottomans are fearing in such a close distance, but there is at least one weak spot the Ottomans have, their faces, which is completely uncovered unlike their western counterparts these days, making it a hard to aim but still vulnerable spot.
The emperor's guards only had one chance, and sadly for them they missed all of them with their projectiles either flying past the Ottoman rider's helmets or hitting on to body spots covered by armours. The Ottomans quickly maneuverer past the caltrops and surrounded these faithful guards, who still dared to raise the blades in their hands wishing for a fight stopping in the way of these horses. And they got what they want, all of them are brutally slaughtered by their opponents. However, they did achieve what they have sacrificed for, thanks to them the emperor has gotten away, completely untouched by the Ottomans and has gotten to forty meters away, now impossible to be chased down as the Ottoman cavalries have lost their advantage in speed.
Emir Bey almost broke that horse whip in his hands in to half, enraged by his own failure and also the things that might happen him after this battle. He has lost more than forty of the Sultanate's best predators on this offensive mission, every one of them has a title and is recorded in the portfolio of the Sultan meaning that these riders who just died are not peasants, instead they are nobles whose ancestors might have followed the Osman since the days of Anatolia, they might have friends and relatives in the Sultan's court, and each one of them is a valuable asset with a superb knowledge in mounted combat.
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"What do you mean by retreating?" Emir Bey bellowed towards this rider, with his eyes entirely reddened not just from the amount of killing, but also because he is dismayed by the words of the minor commander. "Are you out of your mind? Exposing your vulnerable back to these enemies. Remember kid! We cavalries can only go forward, and we must go forward…"
"Honourable bey!" Seeing that this fifty plus years old bey is going in to his lecture mode again in the middle of the war, the young cavalry interrupted and took out his bow. "Bey stop! I know that you are here for that man, and now you still have a chance of ending your rivalry here…"
Emir Bey's words became stuck in his throat, he looked at the determined look from his soldier, gave a look at the bow, and gave a look at the minute figure now sixty meters plus away, trying to further squeeze himself through the crowd. The bey gave a humph, grabbed the bow and an arrow from the soldier's quiver, and started aiming at a point slightly higher than the target's helmet, confident that his arrow shall never miss he pulled the arrow string to the fullest and released it never giving a second thought, and sent the arrow flying towards the target who is still on the wrong not knowing that a crisis is now looming above his head.
The aiming point for the arrow by Emir Bey is at the point between the head and the neck, as his experience tells him that if a person gets an arrow here he would lose any more ability to remain standing almost immediately. Indeed Constantine is now on the run with his back facing the enemies but that certainly does not mean that he has lost his consciousness on what are going on behind his back. In fact, if he does not have the consciousness to actively find possible danger or threat around him, he would have died long time ago in Thessaly.
The emperor felt what it seems to be a sudden goose bumps showing up on his neck, with the back of his head feeling tensed. Knowing that it is his sixth sense warning him of a danger Constantine tried his best to lay down, but still human reaction speed is much slower than a flying projectile at a sixty five meters mark. The arrow soared past countless heads and made a direct hit on to the head of the emperor missing the intended hit point. But still, under the eager urging eyes of Emir Bey, the figure ran for a few more steps and slowly fell on to the ground.
All of these actions took place in a mere three seconds' time.
Emir Bey's body is shivering with joy and anxiety knowing that he has probably slain an emperor, he raised the bow in to the sky and let off a wild battle roar asserting his dominance and prestige to every one on the field. Unable to control the achievement and joy in his heart he bellowed out a sentence, a sentence that the Romans would definitely not want and not expected to hear.
"I! Emir Katirci, have slain the Basileus of the Rumelians! Your emperor is dead! I repeat Rumelians! Your emperor is now dead! Put down your arms and surrender!"
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