"Nuts!"
- General Anthony McAuliffe, commander of 101St Airborne Division's reply to German ultimatum.
The busiest soldier in the entire army today is probably the messengers carrying a little red flag running through different divisions and regiments passing the King Regent's order precisely before the ears of the various captains enabling them to do all sorts of maneuvers.
An hour into the battle, two regiments of the entire Hungarian crusader have lost their capabilities to continue engaging hostiles losing more than forty percent of their total strength which are like metal anvils that has been hammered into a spoilt state by enemy mallets. Thus they have to be recalled to the back and replaced to get better rests and replenishments before getting back to action.
When the captains of the two regiments approached John Hunyadi with their casualty reports, the King Regent torn the papers without even looking and scrapped it onto the ground ordering. "I do not want your casualty numbers! I only want your results! Did you manage to fulfil your tasks?"
"Aye! We did! Your Grace!"
"Good."
The second layer of defence started marching forward under the penetrating sound of goat horns and leather drums, being packed tightly together spears with spears, and shields together with shields. The entire army from all three sides started advancing slowly but steadily, pushing into the plains towards the woods where the Ottomans are, using precious time to pull back casualties wriggling on the ground under cover of shields. Their flanks, back and sides are guarded with composite archers recruited from the Transdanubia mountain ranges, ahead of them skirmishers prowls the plains scattering caltrops on the grounds.
In the never dispersing mists the trembles of hooves from mass amount of cavalries can be heard again, for people knows that those red feathers unbelieving demons are going to re-appear before their spear head showering them with rains of arrows at any minute. The moving rocks and dust, accompanied with the roars of their commanders, scent of blood, weight of steel and moans of pals makes them exceptionally nervous towards the unknown, some soldiers even shouted out trying to relieve their stress only to attract the whipping and reprimanding of their commanders.
"Your Grace…" Emeric Zápolya came summoned by John Hunyadi.
"Emeric… I have only a mission that you can do, would you want to take up the task?"
"Yes, of course, your Grace."
"Emeric, trust yourself that you are the holy warrior that the God himself, I have prayed to God to shine our path forward and clear these problematic mists put here by those non believers…." John Hunyadi detached the quiver and long sword sling from his back, manufactured in cohesive efforts by the most prominent black smith, tanner and craftsman. " Emeric, take my arrow, for you shall plunge it deep into the heart of that rebellious beast. Go into battle with my blade, for you shall slice it through his neck bringing the greatest threat of our Kingdom under control, take it, Emeric, for you shall be our only hope of walking out here alive."
"Say no more, your grace." Emeric Zápolya kneeled down with tears rolling in his eyes hugging his general's arms. "Just tell me, what shall I do?"
A glimpse of sunlight shined through the smeared hair of John Hunyadi, he raised his head in rejoice, it is almost like God himself has heard his words and thus gifted him with sunlight pulling the shabby sun finally out of those clouds casting rays of light and heat on the Earth dispersing the mist almost instantly. With the fog gone, The entire war ground became clearly observable, actually John Hunyadi can almost feel like he can see those hideously grave faces of his infidel foes. However, what appears to be even more shocking is that those Ottoman calvaries seems to have gotten ready for their fourth charge slowly strolling to an one Roman mile mark.
"Emeric!." John Hunyadi patted on the imperial baron's shoulder asking him to stand up and take a look. "How do you see our enemies?"
The imperial baron narrowed his eyes scrutinising the Ottoman infantries there cheering and roaring towards the Crusaders and gave a despicable smirk. "Looks like a bunch of rowdy primates to me."
"I see." John Hunyadi nodded shifting the imperial baron's sight towards the advancing Ottoman horse men hugging him by his shoulders. "Tell me, how do you see those Ottoman cavalries?"
The imperial baron sniggered. "Looks to me like a bunch of uncivilized tartars who have just came from the steppe yelling in their uncanny language needing to be educated with the sword of Christianity."
"Good, now, my dear Emeric." John Hunyadi turned facing the imperial baron. "I hereby put all cavalries under your command, and there is only one thing, one thing that I need you to do. Lead my cavalries, charge into the enemy horse men from the side when they charge breaking up their organisation, inflict a damage heavy enough so that they will not be able to threaten the lives of our infantries once more, can you do it for me?"
Without a single hesitation, the imperial baron grabbed John Hunyadi's long sword and quiver with both of his hands, bowed and turned back towards his mount, taking up the task.
John Hunyadi stands there and watches the imperial baron galloping back to his men, for he knows that the task he has just given the imperial baron is almost a mission impossible considering the huge difference between the quantity of riders on both sides. He watches the imperial baron until his shadows fades away, praying for the God for his blessings.
New changes are developing on the battle field, the enemies changed their plans seeing that the Crusaders are able to withstand three charges, now tried to concentrate all of their strike force into a fist going for a break through on the right wing.
But John Hunyadi is not afraid by a single bit.
Because the right wing, according to the plans, are reinforced by the Serbians, who have not been put into use since now.
It is time for them to join in.