Chapter 180: They Are Coming

"Wars begin when you will, but they do not end when you please."

- "Florentine Histories" by Niccolò Machiavelli, 1526AD,

"I am, the master mind behind all of your, well, unfortunate encounters."

The Despot sat there staring at the floor remaining complete silent for a while, just as Selim Pasha is thinking that the old man went back asleep or something, the Despot suddenly bolted up grabbing a dagger for cutting meat and dashed right to Selim Pasha, completely unlike the agility a seventy plus years old man has.

"You better believe that I can kill you." The Despot murmured biting his teeth gasping for air rapidly with his chest going up and down.

"Well." Selim Pasha startled for a second, and then moved one step backwards away from the dagger. "Your majesty, I trust that you won't slit my throat with that dagger."

"How can you be so sure?"

"For I have an offer that you cannot refuse." The same familiar cunning grin reappeared on Selim Pasha's face.

"Speak."

"Very simple." Selim Pasha bowed forward reaching out his hands. "Work with us."

"I am a warrior of God." The Despot replied callously. "The crusaders shall not, and never, turn my blade towards my fellow disciples of the bible."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I am sure."

"Anyways… We are not asking you to turn your blade towards your so called 'allies' your majesty." Selim Pasha wiped the sweat off his face. "We have a simple request, in the battle tomorrow, we request you and your army to stay put, hold your grounds, wait and see how emerged to be victorious, and then, you can choose whether you want to help the victor or not, be it the Crusaders or your friend the Ottomans."

"You would not really expect me to agree on your idea of stupidity, wouldn't you?"

"Of course, I am not asking you to make such an important decision right on the spot, your majesty." Seeing that the Despot has no intention of giving him a hug, Selim Pasha stood back up.

"Then?"

"I am merely offering you another way out, because I trust that you would very much like to have you and your men out of this place am I right?"

The Despot remained complete silent.

"Of course, we understand that feeling, because we also want to return to Edirne fast… Like what I have always believed, a deal should always be beneficial to both sides, if you did exactly what we told at that battle, even if you chose not to help the mighty Ottoman army, we would escort you and your army safely and courteously out of the border without even inflicting a single bit of damage, and we shall even provide supplies, and most importantly, medicines… Don't look at me like that your majesty, there is an ongoing plague spreading in your camp, right?"

"Hmph." The Despot tilted his head facing the other side, but Selim Pasha quickly walked in the direction of his looks and continued convincing.

"Not only that, your majesty, we would also terminate the suzerain relationship between the empire and the Despotate of Serbia, you will be completely independent!"

"Hmph…"

"Despot~"

"Oh for the blessing of Christ stop bugging around in my tent!" The despot roared as he picked up a wooden cup from his table and flung it at Selim Pasha. "Now get your ass off my tent before I change my mind and mince you into minced meat!"

"Yes, yes, your majesty…" Selim Pasha walked backwards leaving the tent, and just after he left, he poked his head back inside the curtains and reminded. "I look forward to our coorporat… ahhh!"

…

Back in the fortress of Belogradchik, Zaganos Pasha is almost rolling on the floor laughing as a medic applies a layer of bandage on Selim Pasha's forehead.

"I am deeply sorry for what you have encountered… Selim Pasha, but please do tell me, how is the plan going?"

"Hehe… Just go ahead, that… Ouch! Ouch! … Yes, just go ahead now, I can guarantee you."

"I have full trust in your words. Thank you for your effort, now rest here and leave the rest to me." Zaganos Pasha nodded, worn his Kulah Khud helmet and went out of the room.

Outside the room.

Soldiers grouped in various units trooped slowly towards the assembly point, fully equipped and armoured, marching, singing, chattering in one unified voice comparing who is the loudest. It is a sea of giggles and laughter, their boots knocking against the Earth forms a symbolic chorus of an seemingly unstoppable army which is probably still one of the most advanced fighting force in Europe at the moment even after multiple defeats since the Siege of Constantinople.

Yes, the thing that makes the Ottoman army stand out from other feudal armies in Europe at this point in time is that they still have that nomadic habit and behaviour back in the steppe of Transovannia. These men are jovial and delighted when they go onto the battlefield, because unlike their counterparts in traditional Europe, they have a rule that allows them to earn real interests after winning a battle or breaking into a city, they are allowed to loot, ransack, snatch any valuables, gold, jewels, men or women for usually three days. And they usually do it with honour in their mind, no guilt. Thus war for them is always an express way to becoming rich and prestigious.

Up the hills, down the slopes, streams after streams of Ottoman soldiers joins and mixes with the main branch down to the assembly point. After a long time of waiting behind the fortress in their camp they finally get a chance to unleash those boredom and thirst for loot inside themselves. They lined up behind the gate eyeing for it to open, for they know, that once the gate opens, the world outside shall never be the same as yesterday.

…

"There is something not right."

Around two hundred meters away from the fortress, John Hunyadi listens to the Earth shaking as he leans his ears on the ground, frowning.

"There are movements, lots of movements, over there."

He stood up, clapping the dirt off his hand and sighed with a complicated look. "They are coming."