Escapade of the Sultan

Coordinating the movement of fifty thousand soldiers is a formidable endeavor. Attending to the logistical intricacies of such a massive force demands meticulous attention.

Regularly assessing the supply chain is imperative, for failing to meet the requirements could result in discontent, uprisings, or more direly, mutiny.

Moreover, the management of an extensive baggage train necessitates vigilant protection. The risk of raids and skirmishes looms large, threatening to dismantle the crucial supply line vital for sustaining the troops in the field.

It marked a significant departure for the Sultan, his first occasion commanding a force of such magnitude beyond the armies he had marshaled during his ascent to the throne.

Fortunately, a cadre of capable commanders stood at his disposal, guiding and overseeing the troops while he personally imparted his directives to his own contingent.

While the journey to Constantia held potential for a relatively swift commencement, the logistical challenge of moving tens of thousands of soldiers—each bearing their essential provisions—inevitably impeded their progress.

Ensuring his men were adequately rested, equipped, and nourished became paramount, a prerequisite for their triumph over adversaries.

Ordinarily, the Ottomans could readily mobilize a force exceeding a hundred thousand soldiers, yet the ongoing conflicts against insurgents, Romans, and Arabs necessitated the division of their armies into two, an approach tailored to effectively manage the multiple battlefronts.

Even so, the amassed forces were more than sufficient to assert dominion over the entirety of the Balkans, should they choose to do so.

This was precisely the reasoning behind Mehmed I's assembly of such extensive forces: to reclaim what he deemed as his rightful domain and to deliver a resolute message to those who dared challenge his rule.

As he inexorably pressed forward into the heart of the city, his forces methodically reducing the outlying regions to ruins, his unwavering gaze locked onto the sprawling plains that stretched toward the city's heart.

In his mind's eye, he envisioned the methods by which he would subjugate his adversaries once they lay defeated at his feet.

Little did he realize that his army's movements were under close surveillance by John's vigilant scouts. Every aspect, from troop compositions to the positioning of the baggage train, had already been meticulously gathered.

Despite the Sultan dispatching his own scouts and squads to neutralize any opposition, his lack of awareness left him in the dark, unable to detect any sign of their presence.

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"Your Highness, the Sultan's army is currently twenty miles away from the city," Giorgios reported. He had been overseeing the scouting party's progress. John nodded, then leaned in and whispered instructions into the commander's ear, ensuring privacy.

Upon receiving the whispered orders, Giorgios furrowed his brows, comprehending the weight of the instructions for his men if they decided to act upon them. Despite the gravity, he was impressed by the co-emperor's strategic insight.

With a salute to the co-emperor and the other attendants, Giorgios moved on to his next duties.

"Gentlemen, should we not also prepare ourselves to partake in the grand feast that Mehmed I has prepared for us?"

John inquired, a wide smile gracing his face. His demeanor exuded confidence and an unwavering assurance that this battle would ultimately tip in his favor.

Encircling him within the command camp were the Bulgarian commanders: Stefan, Petar, Simeon, Ivan, Nikolai, and their translator, Emil the Monk.

Alongside them stood his own commanders, Demetrius, Giorgios, and two others who led the legions provided by Gavriel: Alexios and Konstans.

The air was charged with anticipation, their expressions marked with confidence rather than nervousness. Their demeanor mirrored John's own unwavering resolve for the upcoming battle.

"In the upcoming battle, I plan to divide our 10,000 cavalry troopers into 10 regiments. The longbowmen will take the forefront to weaken the enemy from a distance. Following that, our infantry units will march forward to directly engage the enemy."

He commences by detailing the composition of his available forces, with a focus on the cavalry units at his disposal.

"With our forces consisting of 15,000 infantry, 10,000 archers, and 2,000 artillerymen, our initial line of attack will depend on the enemy's reactions. For now, we'll stick to our initial battle plan."

With these plans in mind, John meticulously formulated his battle formations.

He understood the need to utilize every available soldier to counter the numerically superior forces of Sultan Mehmed I. The tactical decisions made in the next moments would be crucial to maximize the effectiveness of their troops.

"I want all of you to execute what we've been drilling for the past few days," John said, arranging miniature pieces on the map.

Addressing his assembled officers, John issues instructions, his gaze fixed on the map as he arranges miniature pieces.

"Before the battle begins, I want the cavalry to stay out of sight, both from us and the enemy. Your role will be pivotal. I'll give you a signal when it's time to enter the battle. Next, the artillerymen," he turned his attention to Ivan, the leader of the artillery unit.

"Your role starts as soon as the battle begins and the enemy starts moving. Fire the hwachas when the enemy reaches the 1000 yard mark," his words fluidly synchronize with the motion of the pieces.

The first phase of thinning the enemy forces begins with that initial volley. When the enemies are 500 yards away, have the trebuchets launch their stones in the first volley, followed by grenades in the second. Now, the longbowmen,"

After a detailed briefing, he looked towards Simeon and Dmitriv, who were in charge of the longbowmen.

"When the enemy is around 300 yards away, it's your turn. Use the lightest arrowheads to thin their ranks until they're within the effective range of 200 yards. Then switch to the war bodkins or other military-grade arrows that can hit that range."

With deftness, he continually marks his plan's specific ranges upon the map.

And finally, at 100 yards, use the heaviest piercing ammunition we have. We might use up our entire arsenal, but it's crucial."

Another briefing ended, and he turned to the infantry commanders: Konstans, Petar and Alexios

"After everything has been executed according to the plan I've outlined, we'll engage our infantry units. Here," he proceeds to select four additional miniature pieces, spreading them across the map's expanse, mimicking the movement of flanks at a steady pace.

"We'll start by committing our flanks. This will draw the enemy's focus to our sides. Their center will likely shift to help their flanks, creating an opening that our longbowmen can exploit."

"If the enemy sends their cavalry to oppose our longbowmen, the center will move to repel them and support the flanks."

"Of course, if needed, the longbowmen will join the fight too, especially if we run out of ammunition. After this phase, and only then, we sound the horns,"

At this point, his gaze settled on Demetrius and Stefan, the cavalry commanders, his warm smile growing, creating an air of anticipation that left the others a bit uneasy.

"When the horns sound, it's your moment to excel. But keep in mind, your approach needs to be aggressive and resolute. In this last phase of the battle, I need you to wreak havoc right in the heart of the enemy lines.

"Your task is to strike at their core and inflict the most damage where it truly counts."

John's unusual hand gestures left his attendants speechless, their baffled expressions mirroring the peculiar antics of their co-emperor.

An air of concern mingled with curiosity, as they pondered whether John's behavior hinted at madness or some unforeseen strategy.

Some couldn't help but wonder about the Sultan's fate when faced with the enigmatic and unpredictable man they served.

-----------------------

As the Sultan's march continued with a fervent determination, his thoughts remained consumed by grand visions of world domination.

Yet, his contemplation was abruptly shattered by a resounding explosion that echoed from behind him.

The jolt of this unexpected blast unleashed a surge of frantic shouts from the rear, snapping him out of his ambitious daydream.

"Our supply train has fallen into an ambush, an uncontrollable fire has consumed all of our provisions!" reported a janissary tasked with safeguarding the critical cargo.

"You incompetent fool! How did you allow this to happen? Where did this ambush originate, and why were you unable to prevent it?"

Mehmed I thundered, his anger ignited by the incompetence exhibited by his own men.

Hadn't they assured him that the area was secure? How could such a catastrophic failure occur within their own supply train?

"You, take immediate command of the men. Since our supplies are lost, hasten the pace of our march. I demand retribution for this catastrophe. Heads will roll today, or I am not worthy of the title Mehmed I of the House of Osman,"

he declared with a fervor that aimed to reaffirm his authority.

This action marked the Sultan's final bid to salvage his waning aspirations. However, it inadvertently fueled the flames of resentment among his troops, who were already reeling from the loss of their provisions. His excessive demands only intensified their frustration.

After several arduous hours of traversing the plains, the fatigued soldiers eventually rendezvoused with the assembled armed units.

As the incoming forces came into view, a satisfied smile graced John's countenance.

"It seems Giorgios's forces have achieved success," he commented.

Observing the scene, the incensed Sultan abruptly rose from his palanquin. His eyes blazed with fury at the sight before him – the united army assembled with ominous banners unfurled, bearing the golden twin-headed eagle fluttering in the breeze.

"ROMANS!"

Recognizing the pivotal moment, he signaled his commanders to initiate an assault immediately.

However, due to the forced march, their formations were in disarray, and some initially hesitated. Fueled by his unchecked rage, the Sultan struck down one of them indiscriminately.

"When I give an order, execute it without unnecessary delay. Do you understand?"

The commanders trembled, bowing to the overwhelming force of the Sultan's fury, fearing they might become targets of his wrath.

Beneath the weight of this pressure, the commanders reluctantly issued the order to initiate the assault, forgoing any premeditated tactical maneuvers.

Nevertheless, this army was honed to perfection through rigorous training, rendering external aid unnecessary.

The Ottoman forces were already privy to the fact that their opponents possessed an array of weaponry, prompting them to prepare with precision.

Yet, the question lingered: were their preparations truly comprehensive?

And so the battle commenced.

The initial commands resonated through the field as the Ottoman forces set their plan into motion, moving in coordinated harmony.

"Restless upon their arrival to confront the enemy, what compels their actions?" John's brow furrowed, taken aback by the unexpected disarray in what should have been a well-disciplined army.

The mind behind the Ottoman Sultan's decisions remained a puzzle to John—did it spring from underestimation, or perhaps a misguided sense of assurance? Regardless, John knew he must adhere to his own strategies.

"Prepare the artillery!" His voice cut through the air, initiating the first stage of action.

Ivan and his team promptly sprang into motion, loading the hwachas and trebuchets, ready to unleash their calculated might.

As the army reached its intended position, John swiftly commanded the artillery to release their ammunition as planned.

In an instant, volleys of explosive arrows from the hwachas soared into the sky, then falling to the ground where the Ottoman's marching band of companies were ruthlessly laid waste in their path but it does little to deter the determined march.

"Is that the extent of it? A remarkable weapon indeed. It seems the Romans possess hidden ingenuity," remarked the Sultan with a mocking tone, addressing those around him at his court.

"However, my forces have encountered an array of ingenious contraptions. If this were all it took to vanquish them, the Turks would have been erased from existence long ago," he added derisively.

"In light of this, it is only fitting that we respond in kind, Ilyad! Instruct the cannoneers to open fire!" he commanded.

Suddenly, the Ottoman ranks erupted in volleys of explosions, each blast a thunderous announcement of the cannons' formidable presence. John's eyes widened in astonishment – cannons?

In this era, while cannons were not entirely unheard of, they remained a rarity. A few smaller-caliber versions did exist, but the realization that the Ottomans possessed such weaponry caught John completely off guard.

"Men, maintain loose formations! Avoid the cannonballs at all costs!" John's command sliced through the air with urgency.

It was a well-justified response, considering the inherent danger posed by cannons from their very inception.

Throughout their history, cannons had claimed countless lives and razed numerous cities during their evolution.

Unfortunately, cannons stand as one of humanity's more devastating inventions, albeit deemed necessary from a military standpoint.

This unexpected development stir some mild panic in the ranks of the Bulgarians while the Romans stood with discipline.

Despite that, however, the whirlwind of this rapid battle, commands cascaded one after another, introducing a relentless array of weapons onto the field.

"Slow the march! Longbowmen, ready!" his voice commanded, issuing another set of orders, this time directed at the longbowmen.

The ebb and flow of battle unfolded in a manner closely aligned with John's meticulously crafted expectations and strategies.

Not long thereafter, the long awaited battle commenced as the infantry units began to propel themselves into the action, replacing the role that the longbowmen had been assigned to.

Progress had unfolded almost too seamlessly, propelling them into the climactic phase of this open-field engagement, where infantry forces surged into action.

Yet, amidst this intricate choreography, one crucial element remained absent—the cavalry units had yet to seize their role.

Nonetheless, the tide of battle continued to sway in favor of the combined forces, leaving the Ottoman ranks struggling to find traction.

They found themselves being repeatedly pushed back, their advance slowed, and their numbers dwindling under the relentless barrage of heavy weaponry unleashed by John and the Bulgarian forces.

The Sultan's countenance twisted in a mixture of frustration and displeasure, his expectations far from met.

"Why has this battle extended far beyond the reasonable, and why do my forces seem to falter?"

His voice carried a tone of exasperation and anger, casting a heavy weight upon the gathered commanders who now found themselves drenched in nervous sweat, incapable of producing answers worthy of the Sultan's scrutiny.

"I demand a concentrated assault on the skirmishers and artillery in the rear ranks. Execute this directive, and victory will be all but assured. Relay the orders,"

The Sultan's words emerged slowly, his visage darkening with each precious moment squandered.

Thus, the Ottomans unleashed their formidable Sipahi cavalry into the battle, their mission clear – to raid the skirmishers and artillerymen as dictated by their Sultan's orders.

Yet, in executing this strategic maneuver, an unintended consequence unfolded: their heavily guarded flanks were unwittingly exposed and laid bare, a vulnerability ripe for exploitation.

This created a fleeting window of opportunity for swift, decisive attacks aimed at disrupting their vulnerable center.

"The time is ripe. Signal the horns, and unleash Demetrius's and Stefan's cavalry units onto the field,"

John's voice commanded, his eyes intently tracing the ebb and flow of the battlefield. A tapestry of strategies unfurled within his mind, weaving together countless potential moves and countermoves.

As orchestrated movements unfolded upon the flanks of the Ottoman forces, John's perceptive gaze discerned the distant horizon birthing a procession of cavalry units.

It became evident that this choreographed action was intended to eliminate his skirmishers and artillerymen, a calculated gambit to erode his tactical stance.

In response, the core of infantrymen swiftly pivoted, countering the adversary's maneuver while safeguarding the rear where their weightier armaments and nimble auxiliary forces resided.

This dual-edged motion both mitigated the harm incurred and afforded time for their own cavalry units to converge.

"Hold! Stand firm, men!"

"Bowmen, lend your support here!"

"Perish, infidels!"

"You first, fiends!"

A tumultuous blend of shouts and defiant roars erupted among the combatants, their collective determination solidifying to uphold the lines against the approaching Sipahi onslaught. Amidst the chaos, a steadfast defense materialized.

Petar, a bold Bulgarian infantry commander, charged recklessly into the midst of the mounted Ottomans, defying expectations by skillfully evading the charging horses.

His exuberant laughter resonated, creating a disquiet among his adversaries and compelling them to swerve away from the impassioned Bulgarian. 

"Where do you think you're going, infidel scum! Face me!" Petar's roar echoed, realizing the Ottomans were attempting to escape. He seized one unfortunate cavalryman, mercilessly hacking his sword at their abdomen.

Amidst the valorous struggle, John's inner sanctum remained precarious.

The infantry flanks whose position were now more advanced than the rest of the army, bereft of the presence of skirmishers and their potent armament, found themselves teetering on the edge of jeopardy.

The frontlines, tasked with weathering the brunt of the battle, teetered on the brink of being dangerously overwhelmed, underscoring the dire urgency of their plight.

Then, as if divine intervention had answered their pleas, the thunderous sound of hooves reverberated across the battlefield.

A tidal wave of heavy cavalry, numbering 10,000 strong, surged forth to crush the heart of the Ottoman forces.

Demetrius and Stefan cavalry charge shook the very earth where the Ottoman army stood.

Caught off guard and thrown into disarray by this sudden emergence, the Ottoman soldiers hastily rallied their pikes to protect their exposed flanks.

However, their endeavors proved fruitless against the unwavering might of the Roman Kataphractoi and the swift, lightly armed chargers of the Bulgarians.

In an instant, in stark contrast to the unified forces that effectively guarded their rear, the Ottoman core crumbled beneath the unrelenting charge.

Stefan and his spirited battalions of horsemen methodically encircled the exposed heart of the Ottoman army, diminishing their numbers and creating opportunities for the Kataphractoi, led by Demetrius, to exploit the weakened position and breach the Sultan's sanctuary.

In a remarkably brief span, the enemy's rear succumbed helplessly to the force of the assault, securing the artillery batteries and forging a path toward the center of the battlefield.

Here, the Sultan's position awaited—a pivotal target representing the culmination of the conflict.

However, this path was anything but straightforward.

A formidable obstacle loomed in their way—the janissary corps, an unwavering bulwark staunchly guarding the Sultan's palanquin.

Nonetheless, this posed no issue for the mounted elites of the Imperial Marine Corps and the Emperor's personal guards, known as the formidable Cataphracts.

In terms of strength and prowess, they were, quite literally, on par with or even superior to the janissaries.

In a heartbeat, these exceptional warriors clashed with one another, presenting a stark contrast to the ongoing battlefield.

This was a clash of elites, a confrontation that revealed a distinct tableau from the typical skirmishes of common soldiers.

Demetrius found himself locked in a tense confrontation with the janissary captain, a man of Greek origin who had been forcefully conscripted into the ranks of the janissaries through the oppressive devshirme system, a practice that had torn him from his own family, like many children before him.

The present conflict pitted him against his own countrymen, a battle with far-reaching consequences that would determine the fates of all involved.

The unfolding events seemed to be driven by a preordained destiny, a manifestation of the very necessity for such clashes.

Ultimately, the outcome of this war held the power to propel the Roman Empire onto a grander stage, should victory favor their side.

"You, a betrayer of the empire, shall meet your end under my blade,"

Demetrius scornfully remarked to the janissary captain. While he understood the circumstances that had led the man down this path, he struggled to muster any sympathy for the adversary before him.

Jabir, the janissary captain, his face adorned with a sinister grin, responded to Demetrius with a malicious undertone, his words dripping with contempt,

"Traitor? Quite the audacious accusation from a remnant of a fallen empire. My parents bartered my future away, so why must I carry the burden of their decisions?"

He continued, his tone growing colder,

"Instead, it is you who should garner my pity. Aligning yourself with an empire consigned to history's annals, serving a feeble Emperor who likely bowed at the whims of the powerful."

The words struck a nerve within Demetrius, stoking the fires of his anger.

"Silence your poisonous mouth! Your understanding of the current empire is baseless. I won't allow you to live and tarnish the name of our Emperor any longer! Today, you shall meet your end, traitor!"

With those words, Demetrius plunged forward, launching barrage of slashes at the janissary captain, who deftly parried with the swings of his scimitar.

Thus commenced a furious dance between the Roman captain and the Janissary leader, a clash that raged on unabated.

The outcome of the battle between the Ottoman army and the combined armies rested on the fight between two men.

If Demetrius emerged victorious, it would result in a decisive win.

However, if he were to lose, the battle would continue until the last man, most likely ending in the defeat of the smaller forces.

Hence, this fight held great importance, potentially altering the overall course of the war.

The longer it dragged on, the more lives would be lost.

During the fight, Demetrius relentlessly attacked the janissary captain, attempting to find weak points in his defense through strikes, lashes, and thrusts.

However, he was unable to find any vulnerabilities.

The janissary captain proved to be a highly skilled and worthy opponent.

Jabir, on the other hand, was completely astonished by the strength displayed by his opponent.

In his mind, he whispered, "How?".

He struggled to comprehend the exceptional skill and power possessed by the man he was up against.

Despite the similarities in the backgrounds and the high intensity of the soldiers' battle, the janissaries were completely overwhelmed.

One by one, they were struck down, ultimately opening a path towards the palanquin where the Sultan was located.

"NO! STOP THEM!" he bellowed, his voice resounding in a desperate plea.

Yet, within the echoes of his cry, a chilling blade found its mark on his exposed neck, ruthlessly severing his head from his body. In an instant, Demetrius's swift strike had silenced the janissary captain's commands.

"Men, seize the moment! Seize the enemy Sultan!"

With the palanquin exposed, the Imperial Marine Corps swiftly moved in, poised to capture the Sultan.

Yet, as they moved to carry out their mission, a stark realization unfolded—the palanquin stood empty, devoid of its intended occupant. The Sultan was nowhere to be found.

"Sire, it appears that the target has eluded us!" the men in pursuit relayed in a tone tinged with disappointment.

"Damn it!" Demetrius cursed, his frustration palpable. Yet, he swiftly composed himself, his resolve unshaken.

"If that's the case, then let's take down their flag and hoist our own! Send a signal to our troops on the battlefield – victory is ours."

In an instant, a jubilant roar erupted from the ranks as the Palaiologan banner soared above the Ottoman command center.

Witnessing this spectacle, the Ottoman soldiers in the midst of combat began to waver in their determination.

Some relinquished their weapons and surrendered, while others persisted in their resistance but met their demise. As for those who fled, John commanded his men to halt their pursuit.

The colossal battle had culminated in a triumphant combined arms victory, albeit with the primary target eluding them.

Yet, John's countenance remained unwaveringly confident. He had foreseen this development. A confident smile graced his lips as he awaited news from his trusted confidant, Giorgios.