Chapter 472 - Lets Drink!

The Ottoman conscripts proved themselves again to be completely unable to cope in even a long intensity combat against the enemies that they fear. But that is completely acceptable in the eyes of the Ottoman nobles sitting high up there on the walls observing the commotions beneath them like how the Gods oversee their mass population. They do not really care about the process and the number of conscripts that have turned into casualties; they are dispensable in their eyes like slaves in the first place. The only thing they care about is the results, the trenches are now connected, and that is about it, their job here has been finished.

Semseddin deployed his finest warriors, all equipped with at least a set of full leather armour and Kilij blade with an arm round shield into the trenches under the cover of friendly archers. These troops are native Greek or let's say Romans too speaking the same tongue with little difference in dialect as the people they are against. But they did not show any signs of hesitation or delay whenever it is time for them to unleash their blade onto their former countrymen for a very simple reason, all the wealth, prestige and social statues they have now is gained through the head hunt of the Romans to appeal their Ottoman masters whom in turn granted them the opportunity to enslave the others of their own kind.

The joining of Semseddin's elite troops immediately changed the tide of the clash with the situation getting stagnant in the trenches with both side unable to push any place further.

"At last, some smart fellows among the Ottomans." Antonius sniggered observing the situation in a distance away on the hills. "That is a genuine method of halting our advance."

"Should I lead another charge to disperse their resistance, your majesty?"

"No, your men need some rest Julian, do not be so harsh on our brave young lads."

"Admiral! Your majesty!"

Suddenly a bellow came behind Antonius in an influent Greek language sounding like a bear that almost gave the Caesar a shock out of his mind, he turned around and found out that it is the new commander of the Varangians Fjodor who have kept silent for the most part of the time, similarly with his unit ever since the sorrowful decease of Yuri.

"What is it Fjodor? Indeed, a rare occasion to hear you open your mouth."

"I am sorry, your majesty." The gigantic man lowered his head with his cheeks glowing in a pinkish red in colour from the nervousness. "The three hundred Varangian Warriors 'ave now already fully recovered from the demise o' our beloved commander 'n creator o' the unit cap'n Yuri, 'n they 'ave sent words o' complaints t' me sayin' that thar bones 'n muscles are already rottin' away from the lack o' exercise! 'n I am sure they would love this kind o' battlefield in the trenches, so I am here t' remind ye, yer majesty that the Varangians still exist! Strong 'n proud!"

Antonius turned around and grabbed Fjodor's hands holding them tight. "Fjodor, I know that your Varangians are always keen to go onto the fields and prove yourselves, but I must be responsible towards my men, and I do not know whether the Varangians now are up to the standards that they had when Yuri was still around. And besides, Maximos has already promised to me that he is capable of handling the current situation."

"I swear that I can do the job much better than him! Your majesty!" Fjodor's eyes immediately became red being flushed with blood. "All of my brothers can drink at least five litres of wine each, lift up dumb bells up to a hundred kilograms, tear a whole sheep apart with only our arms!"

"The admiral is using the same old tactic of antagonising the commanders again." Alexios whispered beneath his breath to Julian, the later smirked and nodded his head slightly. All of these are done behind Fjodor's back making sure that he wont spot or hear them.

"Fine then! Fjodor!" Antonius turned around and walked briskly up the stage back to his seat. "I shall grant you the permission to march into battle alongside with the three hundred plus of your Varangians. Remember Fjodor, I only want to see a victory, not a defeat."

"I can swear to you in front of God, your majesty." Fjodor pointed towards the sky.

But his vow towards God is soon stopped by Antonius. "I do not need you to make any promise or vow towards God, Fjodor. This is a promise that is only between you and me, the Varangians and the entire army, not with anyone else. Now Fjodor, I will need you to write a personnel statement on the promise you have made to me with your stamp and signature, can you do it?"

Just as they are speaking, two guards approached from the sides with one carrying a plate with a paper stating clearly regarding the objectives that Fjodor is required to reach in this battle, with most importantly the list of punishment that shall be descended onto him if he fails to reach these targets on time. Apparently all of these things have already been prepared way before in time with everyone just waiting for him and his Varangians to jump into the trap. But there is no going back now, Fjodor bite his teeth hard, took up the stamp and thumped it hard onto the paper, then turned around going to leave the tent without saying a word.

"Wait! Fjodor!" Antonius called out to his Varangian stopping him in his tracks as he got up from his seat taking up the jar of mead and cup from a table. The Caesar then walked to the front of this Nordic giant, poured him a cup of mead himself and shoved it into his hands. "Come, drink this before you go Fjodor. I do not know about you, but Yuri once told me that in his hometown people drank alcohol before wars to soothe the pain they shall have later."

Fjodor grabbed hold of the cup, gulped it down and went out of the tent without looking back again.