Chapter 152: Ture

The mayor of Avlonya chose to submit to Crusader rules after seeing no hope in further defending the city with the Crusaders gushing in like an erupting volcano unable to be stopped by his force. The marshal of the city, a local leader, refused to give up the defence, and retreated to a hill side fortress where he can have a panoramic view of the entire city bleeding getting tormented beneath him, and put up a defence waiting for help from nearby cities.

Help will never arrive.

The last gate is finally handed over to the Crusaders after the messenger passed the key to the Gate to the leader of the Crusader, Prince of Taranto, Giovanni Antonio Del Balzo Orsini. The Prince graciously and leniently spared the mayor and other Ottoman defenders' life allowing them to leave the city with all their arms surrounded and their flag facing downwards. However, the mayor would prefer to end his own life.

The mayor was found dead in a cell of the keep with a slit wrist, sitting in a pile of his own dried blood, and his other hand holding a bronze dagger.

Instead of a quick and less painful death by a strike in the throat, the mayor chose a long enduring and cruel way of watching his own blood gushing out of his veins with his own eyes.

The Prince of Taranto entered the keep riding on a white horse with a white cloak and a duke's helm. Upon seeing the corpse of the mayor, he covered his face sighing for the tragic fate of the mayor, remarked to his followers and Ottoman opponents that this mayor, although did a sinful act of suicide, is truly a man of prestige, honour, pride and loyalty to his lord, a true noble even if he follows the wrong faith, he shall deserve a proper burial.

The corpse of the mayor is carried away by two knights with the Prince of Taranto and his followers watching, heads and the tip of sword facing downwards as a form of respect.

After that, the Prince of Taranto entered the city of Avlonya.

The scenery he saw is disastrous.

Bodies scattered around with some of them eyes still wide open, filled with horror and agony when facing their death. Blood, dense dark coloured dried blood everywhere on the roads making it difficult to walk on. All kinds of creatures rats, birds, flies, coming out of no where enjoying their feast under the light of the moon. A distance away some buildings are still burning with the cricking sound of structures unable to support itself and falling down, accompanied by occasional moaning sound of peasants who is still waiting to die.

The Prince of Taranto covered his nose with a hanker chief and eye brows frowning with disgust. Even his horse whined refusing to step its hooves in this dirt mess.

"Where is Tancred?" A Prince's knight caught a Norman foots man doing obscene stuff with a local lady by force in a courtyard and brought him upon the Prince for questioning.

"Tancred? Ah yes, our commander has… has…" The foots man speaks ambiguously with his eyes looking around random dodging the sight of the nobles.

"This man knows nothing." The Prince waves his hand in disgust ordering his guards to bring this half naked foot man away.

"Go find Tancred for me. I cannot recall how many times have I reminded him, killing a few peasants to strike fear into the peasants is fine, but killing too many will only weaken my foundation of rule in this city."

The Prince's guards bowed towards their lord and scattered around seeking the Norman commander in the city.

…

Meanwhile, in the port of Avlonya.

Antonius stands in front of hundreds of local refuges holding his cutlass, with a hundred Varangians, a hundred marines and some more armed sailors in formations by his side. Ahead of them is a few dead bodies of Norman Crusader, no, rogues, lying around lifelessly on the ground together with the peasants they have massacred.

The laughter and cheers is now fully gone from Antonius' face after he heard the shocking story from that sea faring kid called Fisnik, who is just standing by his side right now. If it is not for him to come on land himself to see the real situation over here, he would never had known the gruesome act these people he has been supplying and supporting can do.

Honestly speaking, he almost puked when he saw the hellish streets of the city.

Antonius simply cannot swallow the raging fire of anger into his stomach, the seed of fury has been planted into his heart and souls, deep. He grips on the handle of his cutlass hard, that even white knuckles appeared on his hands, his face completely red trying to suppress the boiling rage trying to maintain a rational mind. Antonius knows that by attacking these Crusaders it would be the same as a declaration of war, thus he is waiting, waiting for some random Crusader to attack him first so he can slaughter them in the name of self defence, just like these few rogues lying in front of him now.

"Raise my flag." Antonius instructed Julian and Anjelo. "Hang the purple flag of the emperor and the flag of the admiral, keep them high, so these blind bastards can see clearly."

"Yes, admiral."

More and more Norman soldiers gathered up in a distance away from Antonius, while small boats come back and forth transporting these local citizens and refuges back onto the ships in Antonius' fleet where they would be temporarily safe for now. While Antonius and his men creates a stand off with the Normans shielding the entire evacuation operations.

Slowly, the number of Crusaders, coming of different compositions, surpassed the number of men Antonius brought with him.

"You are right, my friend Abdullah." Antonius made a loud Tsk and said to Abdullah without turning back. "I ought to have brought more combatants before setting sail."

Abdullah made a bitter smile and shook his head. He too, did not expect such things to happen in the first place.

It seems like those stories and tales he learnt about the siege of Jerusalem in the first Crusade, is true.