Chapter 120: The Walls! The Walls! The Walls!

"Politicians are born to be natural actors;"

- SaberFate :D

Mehmed looked at Candarli Halil Pasha with shock and disbelief in his eyes.

The others might not have realised it, but he, Mehmed the Sultan, being a part of this accident, knew very clearly what has happened.

This man before him, Candarli Halil Pasha, who was dripping crocodile's tears kneeling before him just now and supporting his body, deliberately shifted his hands supporting the fragile body of the Sultan making the Sultan who is already using all of his energy supporting himself lose his balance on the bed, falling on one side and eventually, onto the icy cold floor, with his head facing down.

The impact was so large, that the moment Mehmed found himself on the ground, he found out that he has, undoubtedly, lost the ability to speak.

All he could do now is to keep staring at the man before him, hoping the mighty Allah will grant him the paranormal magical ability and strike this evil cunning brute before him into pieces.

But of course, staring at a person will not make a person die, and we still got to believe in science.

"Sultan! My Sultan! Are you alright!" Candarli Halil Pasha went howling at Mehmed's face as he tightly hugs the unmovable Sultan in his chest, his crying was thunderous and inspirational that it emotionalised everyone else in the tent making them howling as one just like a choir having an orchestra of a tragic story together. While the ones on the outer circles in the tent, not having a clear vision of what is going on inside, also followed the people in front and started weeping. The entire Ottoman royal tent became a mess weeping hall gathering almost every single Ottoman lord and noble throughout the country.

The influence seems to spur a little bit quicker into a much bigger case for Candarli Halil Pasha who still did not realise how powerful his crying sound is. Soon the weeping noises spread out of the royal tent which has presumably a very bad sound proof design making voices leak out easily. What is still remaining of the Janissaries, a mere two hundred of them, standing guard around the tent. They too hard the weeping and howling sounds coming inside the tent and began wandering if there are some epic events of history going on inside the tent.

Such as…. The demise of a Sultan?

Immediately after this thought came to their minds, the soldiers guarding the tent also began shedding tears and bellowing prayers for their Sultan. This kind of misunderstanding spread even further to the outside to the other Ottoman soldiers in the camp and they began sobbing of both the bitterness and hardships together with the demise of their beloved Sultan, which eventually spread the misunderstanding even further making the who camp covered in the sound of whining and bawling in an extraordinarily fast period of time.

Soon, the rumour of the Sultan's death spread through to the entire camp even attracting the attention of Roman guards prowling on the walls. Everyone is weeping, yelling, and some is even trying to escape. The morales of the entire army dropped by a tremendous amount with the rumour evolving more and more absurd. From 'The Sultan is severely injured by the explosion' to 'The Sultan has been brutally killed by the blast and is now conveying his last word to the pashas and viziers.

The sound of Ottoman soldiers running around crying and praying for their Sultan travelled back into the tent, to the ears of Mehmed and Candarli Halil Pasha, and the atmosphere of this tent soon lowered down to ice point as everyone can sense the level of awkwardness. The Sultan is physically still alive, but in the heart of the Ottoman soldiers, he is already pronounced dead.

But Candarli Halil Pasha soon realised that he could use this event as his atmosphere. He has never been so active in his emotions before today, as he hastily kneeled down and hugged Mehmed even tighter sinking his face deep into his chest and started blubbering. Under the double impact of both verbal and visual, Mehmed finally could not take it anymore. He fell unconscious once again.

…

It took Mehmed entirely two days to wake up this time around.

This time around, he partially regained his ability to utter a few words, and ordered the guards around him to get him off the bed and take a final inspection of the walls of Constantinople. As a Sultan of the most powerful Sultanate in the known world and a man who strives to be the best warrior, his self esteem does not allow him to die pitifully on a bed like others. Even at his death, he must be on the battlefield dying like a true man of noble standards.

Mehmed signalled the guards to stop when they reached the out skirts of the Ottoman camp, sitting down on a couch, examining the walls, the alluring walls, the skirt of the Queen of all cities, like how he used to scrutinise and enjoy the shapely body of his Sultana, Gulbahar Hatun, when they just married.

That was only seven years ago….

Mehmed suddenly feels that he has so much regret stuck in his chest but unable to utter them out, he is still too young to die, he has not surpassed his father, he has not had a fruitful life with Gulbahar Hatun, he is not a responsible father for Beyezid, he left a state in danger behind without a Sultan to lead them, most importantly, he is not the person in the hadith, because he did not manage to conquer Constantinople, and now he is not even able to articulate his voice properly and tell the guards beside him what did the Grand Vizier do to him the other day, all he could do, is hold his fist pointing towards the Theodosian walls of Constantinople, and utter raucously.

"The walls… the walls… the walls!..."

Then after a while, his fist dropped down lifelessly onto the couch, never to be able to raise it up again.

The Sultan of the Ottomans Turks, Mehmed bin Murad Han Ottoman, is now walking alongside with Allah, following the path of his father.