Chapter 145: The Red Eyes

The Crusaders immediately set up a camp outside of the city of Avlonya, blockading the three gates of the city and the castle on land and sea without letting even a rat slipping past the defences, trying to suffocate and starve the city into submission just like what Mehmed once planned to do to Constantinople.

Although they did make one death threatening negligence of putting up a lesser defence towards threats from their back, not knowing whether this is done deliberately by the camp officer or it is simply because of their inexperience as one charge by Ottoman light calvaries over here can drive them all the way back into sea water. But they got away lucky this time as there are no impending threats from the back, the Ottoman court now has much more things to worry rather than caring about a mere two thousands 'Crusaders' off the coast of Epirus.

The phoney siege continued. Rather peaceful one as how people describes it, no exchange of bolts and arrows, or boulders and rocks unlike the one Antonius faced in Constantinople. The loudest thing ongoing every day is perhaps the head splitting Norman knight Tancred going near the gate shouting and cursing the Ottoman mayor inside the city with all the vulgarities he can think of hoping that this will provoke that mayor leading him outside for a field battle.

Of course, the Ottoman mayor will not give him an opportunity like this, so he got nothing in the end except a dried throat.

The Prince of Taranto shot his arrow of letter into the city but received no response,

Meanwhile news arrived from a passing by Ragusa merchant ship who came here selling the Crusaders necessary supplements for the survival of Crusaders such as wine, grains, and salt. They brought the news of what is happening in Bulgaria, the Orthodox crusaders of Serbia and Catholic crusaders of Hungary joined forces and advanced onto Ottoman territories crossing the river of Danube. The Ottoman forces in the areas did not stop the Hungarians.

Any further information about this crusader is yet unknown, and the ship also brought information from Constantinople that there are some chaos in Ottoman Anatolia, but that part of the Earth is covered in the mist of war too.

The conclusion from all of these intel acquired is that the Ottomans are probably too busy to handle the two thousand of them over here at the moment.

And they are indeed right.

For the next entire week, no Ottoman reinforcements came bothering them except some scattered scouts from nearby Ottoman forts and cities in Epirus. The Prince of Taranto is worried about them initially but his worries are soon blew away after the fleet of that Genoese admiral deployed by the emperor of the Greeks transported another one thousand and five hundred professional soldiers from the prince's demesne.

But even they remained clueless in front of the walls of Avlonya, and apparently Antonius is uncooperative in launching an assault on the port side.

The siege is still revolving between an attacker and defender, only that they have swept sides.

Meanwhile inside the city, dark unseen tides beneath the surface moves around between different neighborhoods.

After sun set on the Twenty Ninth of May, several young men with blades hidden in their cloth climbed through the walls of a white tall building into a cemetery and quickly hid themselves within the tall grass around the walls as a fleet of Ottoman Yaya infantries holding torches patrolling around this area.

A young man bitted his lips and slowly pulled out his dagger from his waist as he eyes the patrolling Ottoman like a leopard eyeing his prey, but a senior member of the gang grabbed hold of his arm tightly and whispered beside him. "Durim, Fisnik, durim dhe këmbëngulje."

The young man laid his head low once more into the grass biting his teeth.

They waited till the group of Ottoman patrols went further away, then sneaked out of the hiding ground and crawled down into the cellar of the building, where they came across a man who are already waiting for them over there holding a candle wearing a clergy's robe.

These people nodded towards each other without saying a word, then the clergy with a candle ushered these men up stairs into a room, where they met a long beard old man that just looks like a regular elderly on the streets, full of wrinkles but amiable, seating down there looking at the moon and stars outside the window. Upon realising that he got visitors in the room, he smiled and pointed towards the seats.

"Have a seat please, my children."

The elder one among the gang grabbed the chair and sat down in front of the elderly. "Your Eminence! We have no more time to hesitate!"

The old man, or better known as the Most Reverend Bishop of Avlonya, His Eminence Balša of Avlonya. He knocked his fingers on the wooden table frowning squeezing his wrinkles even tighter together. "We cannot take risks, I understand that you boys want to take back the city, but we still got our families, women and children behind…."

"We must take risks! Your Eminence! Everyday when I wake up seeing that white horse flag flying over my head, I feel like my life, my wife, my child, and my beautiful little lamb and dog is threatened! Even at night I make dreams of my lamb being dragged out of my fence!"

"Calm down, my child." The Bishop had to stand up and pat the shoulders of the man before him. "There are three hundred of Ottomans soldiers well equipped inside this city, with many… sympathisers of Ottomans…"

"More like traitors of our people." The man sneered.

The Bishop ignored his words. "And the Ottomans accepted our faith, we are still allowed to keep our belief, our chantry, our properties, why? My child why?"

"As I have said earlier, your Eminence." The man stood up before the bishop with his eyes reflecting an eerie red light in the darkness.