Today We March For Constantinople

The following day, after dawn, the Ottoman army is packed and ready to march.

Mehmed stands on a mobile platform carrying his golden tent, pulled by forty oxen, facing his soldiers. He looks happier than any days he has been, donned in a well embroidered Kaftan, with a cloth armour mintan on the outside. Behind him flies the flag of white crescent and the flag of the white horse. He has a vibrant colour on his face and smiling with a wide grin, ready to give his men a speech before they set off.

In every fifty steps apart stands a Janissary that is ready to convey the Sultan's message, loud and clear. They shall make sure that the words of the Sultan reach the mind of every single person.

"My sons! my friends! And my men of my Sultanate! You people all remember very well, that our honourable ancestors conquered and secured this land below our feet, with the cost of many forefathers' blood and lives, giving us a country that we can call home!"

Mehmed shouted out on the platform with his hands on his waist, took a glance at the massive army beneath him while he waited for all the Janissaries to finish conveying his message.

"The piece of land, passed on by a Primogeniture succession, father to son, from Murad II to me, Mehmed, they have descended me with the weight and trust of this throne. Some of you, my sons – those of you who have long beards growing on your chins, must know that there are still fate and mission ahead of us for us to accomplish."

The more matured of Mehmed soldiers began howling and shouting in support of their Sultan, roaring words and slogans like "We never forget." And "We must reach for our destiny." Mehmed looked at them with satisfaction in his eyes. He then noticed that there is a young boy without hair growing on his chins, perhaps someone from the younger age coming here seeking for glory, fame and wealth, in the middle of a bunch of elders. Mehmed heaved a deep breathe and continued.

"Those younger ones must have heard of stories and myths from your father and mothers. These stories are not very ancient yet thus it has not – and will never be, forgotten by the lapse of time. The eyewitnesses of our forefathers still live on, and walks between us, hearing deeds that happened yesterday or the day before."

The Ottoman soldiers with ashen beard cries loudly, shouting out war cries, prayers for Allah and their Sultan. They raise their blades and axes high into the air, their cries eventually formed into one making people's bones shriek by the terror of their war cries. It can be said that each one of them have killed at least a few people in their life, their cries carry the scent of blood.

"I, Mehmed bin Murad Han Ottoman, the Sultan of Two Lands and the Khan of Two Seas, brother of the sun and the moon, son of Muhammad, shall lead you to grab and conquer the Kizil Elma, the Red Apple, and fulfill the prophecies by the Great Prophet a millennium ago!"

Mehmed then kneeled down to the direction of the holy city, Makkah al-Mukarramah, with his hands hugging the sky, and yelled out his prayers in passion.

"Muhammad with his force! Allahu Akbar!"

The massive army behind him kneeled down as one behind their Sultan, and sang their prayers of the Takbir, reciting the Arabic phrase "God is the Greatest" and "Magnification of God." With their hand palms beside their ears, heads lying low on the ground.

After the prayers, Mehmed looked up at the rising sun, felt the surrounding temperatures and the morale of his army, concluding that it is the best time to set off now. He climbed up and shouted facing the crowd.

"Now let's go, my sons!"

"Today we march for Constantinople!"

…

Meanwhile back in Constantinople, later in afternoon.

Antonius, Orban and Jacob are busy instructing Roman soldiers on how to put artilleries on the towers surrounding the walls.

"Hey, you, yes, you, get up, move that canon slightly towards the left!"

"Be careful with those black powders! If those powders go exploding you shall perish into thin air!"

Jacob has specially designed a Hungarian style crane and bult four of them on the various sections of the Theodosian walls in order to better aid the soldiers in carrying the canons, explosives and shells. If not it would be hell of a task for human to carry those artillery pieces onto the walls just by bare hands.

"Move the canon by five degrees to the left for a better angle… What? You don't know what is five degrees? Who taught you Math? Huh? What is Mathematics? Fine…." Orban can be heard ordering in an influent Greek tongue.

Antonius strolls around the walls watching the soldiers buzz and busy around like a bunch of bees, while he is left with nothing to do, walking up and down biting a dog-tail grass he found growing by the walls, in a state of total boredom.

Antonius feels like he has been replaced or something as the admiral, the commander of the navy. The technological stuff is done by Orban and Jacob, the logistics, paper works, and financial stuff are done by Abdullah, who is perhaps the most educated man among his crew. The training of new marines and Varangians are left with Yuri and his fellows. Antonius need not to worry about the daily routines of his sailors and the collection of protection fees as well, as those can be done by captains like Julian and Abraham.

In other words, he is perhaps the most not-busy person in the city whereas everyone else is busy with their tasks.

After helping that poor soldier move his canon by five degrees, he went to the arrow slit, spit out the dog-tail and enjoyed the afternoon breeze. Suddenly he heard the ground shaking and trembling, he immediately went into alert and brought up his periscope and observed.

He saw something shocking.