Yes, My Sultan

"It is over, my Sultan."

"It is over."

In a distance, Sultan Mehmed watches blankly at the gate shutting closed.

He is here for the whole time, ever since the assault by his trusted commander and Janissaries began, preparing to see them march into the city in pride waving his flags, preparing to reward his sons of war with the loots and reward they deserve to take, preparing to welcome his Kudret Suvari back home, decorate him with the supreme honorary title of 'Ghazi' and 'Kapıcıbaşı'. And most importantly, he is awaiting his time to receive his own grand prize, the ripped apple.

He has already thought about his plans after he enter the city. He will take Constantine and his family as custody, grant him a small title to show the Sultan's power and mercy towards the foes of the past making him a solid icon of propaganda towards his future opponents. Then after three days of looting, he will pardon and forgive the citizens of Constantinople for their crime of doltishly resisting the mighty army of the Sultan, making them valuable assets of his empire, providing him with taxation, labour force and new recruits of his army. Lastly, he will make the queen of all cities, pearl connecting the black sea and the Mediterranean his brand new capital, he will crown himself the title of Kayser-i Rûm and Fatih, but this hope, together with all these thoughts, seems to have perished as the gate closes.

"My Sultan." Zaganos Pasha approached bowing from behind carefully observing facial expressions of Mehmed. "It is time to leave, this place is within Roman Ballista range."

Mehmed clenches the leather reins of his mount trying to control his resentment and discontent. He took a final look at the place that disappointed him by hard today, the Postern of Kerkaporta, the Theodosian walls, and the Genoese cheering and cursing him on the walls.

By this point of time Mehmed has a mindset some how similar to that of a gambler. He has not yet given up and waiting for some miracles to happen inside the city, such as his staunch warrior Kudret Suvari regaining control of the small gate. He anxiously awaits, he has paid a stake priced way too high too be lost. Kudret Suvari brought almost all of his Janissaries, if he is to lose them, it will be a protracted length of tiem to rebuild the army to its former standards, and most importantly, his foundation of rule shall be affected, leash over all the beys and pasha shall be loosened.

Mehmed stayed there on top of a hill for one more hour waiting for the surprise. But as more and more Yaya levies and Janissaries disperse away, his anticipation decreases. Finally, at the end of the day, he did get the surprise he is looking for, only it is a rather negative surprise.

Kudret Suvari came back, carried by two surviving junior officers. One holding his limbs and one holding his legs, with his hammer tied on top of his abdomen, eyes and mouth tightly shut according to ancient Turkish traditions.

Needless to say, he is dead.

The two men carrying the corps trudges past the hill under the eyes of Mehmed and the two Pashas. Realising the man staring at them on top is their Sultan, the two men hurriedly kneeled down throwing the corpse of Kudret Suvari onto the muddy dirt dampened by the early morning dew.

Mehmed continued staring, eyeing at the corpse of the burly man, leaving the two junior officers kneeling on the ground not daring to get up.

"What happened inside?" Mehmed suddenly felt quite disgusted examining the long dead corpse, looked up at the sky and asked the two officers in a gentle tone.

"My Sultan." An officer explained. "We failed you, our commander fought with us until the very last moment, blessed by the mighty Allah, his strength, spirit and courage shook the Romans. However, these filthy Romans used some dirty tricks on us, which caused the demise of the respected general…"

"There is no dirty tactics on the battlefield." Mehmed interrupted. "Only tactics that works and tactics that don't."

"Sorry my Sultan."

"Did you acquire the information about the brainless enemy leader who dares to defy my will?"

"I did not get the infidel's name… my Sultan, but I heard the infidel soldiers call him the 'admiral'…"

"Antonius… Antonius!" Mehmed bellowed towards the air out of a sudden scaring everyone on the spot, then drew out his Kilij blade and started wielding it blankly in the air. "Why is it always you! Why! Why are you always here resisting my conquest! You are not even supposed to exist!"

"Control your anger! My Sultan! Be careful of your image in front of the army!" Candarli Halil Pasha rode up and pressed down Mehmed's hands preventing him from venting his rage.

Mehmed stared at the eyes of Candarli Halil Pasha for a while panting up and down. The later stared back into the Sultan's eyes unmoved and press his arms even harder. After a while into this stand off, Mehmed gave up, drew his blade back by his waist.

But he has already achieved enough attention for the Romans on the walls. Those men operating ballistas, equipped with probably the best eye sight in the entire city, saw a man on high exposed grounds waving frantically an unknown thing, probably a twig or what, desperately trying to get some attention.

Since he wants so much attention, the sharp shooters operating the ballista shall give him the attention he seeks.

Load, aim, and shoot.

The vague figure in the distance went down, the other figures in the surrounding quickly went forward, carried the figure and galloped down the hill into a shelter safe from any bolts and arrows. Seeing this, the Roman sharp shooters operating the Ballista let out an annoyed tsk sound and walked away humming their tunes of melody celebrating the victory of the battle with absolutely no idea who they have taken down.