The Grand Army laid siege on the magnificent city, with its walls rising high above the rushing waters of the Danube, resembling the citadel of Aleppo. The tent was strategically positioned close enough to command the army, yet far enough to avoid the defenders' fire. Two banners of the Sultan stood tall at the entrance of the tent, boldly waving in front of the enemy's face for months. As the defending forces dwindled in supplies and wore out from the terror of war and desperation of the siege, Pasha grew impatient to capture the city. He was not the only one losing patience; the Sultan's final decree compelled him to succeed in his mission before winter arrived to avoid severe atrocities. He knew that defying the Sultan's greatness would result in a penalty of losing his life. In fact, he could have taken the settlement long before autumn, but he feared losing the wealth of the emperors to the Sultan's soldiers. He could envision chests full of gold and halls filled with gems. He could even imagine the touch of a crimson robe being placed on him by the Khalifa himself when Pasha presented the chests and the key at the feet of the throne. So he waited and sent letters of peace repeatedly, demanding the surrender of the settlement without resistance. However, he was consistently refused by the commander in charge of the enemy's defense. Pasha was at a standstill and grew nervous when his sergeant informed him of rumors of an enemy army coming to aid the fortification. As the sun rose, he realized he had two options: abandon his lust for the treasures awaiting in the city or keep his head on his shoulders. He chose the latter and commanded the army to launch an assault on the enemy. At noon, the two armies collided; countless bodies of believers and non-believers lay intertwined, forming artificial hills leaning against the walls. Soldiers on both sides fought relentlessly with religious fervor to defeat the other. Yet, it was the Anatolian soldiers who gained the upper hand in the battle, and the banner of the three crescents waved on one of the bastions facing south. Pasha was proud to seize such a wonder for the sake of the House of Osman and hastily wrote a report of his most recent achievement. Destiny, however, is a cruel trickster that enjoys playing with those who rush the most. At the peak of the war, the tide turned as enemy reinforcements encircled the besiegers. Hussars descended from the hills like tidal waves, overwhelming the earth in a different age. They were a punishment from God, preparing a place in the deepest depths of hell for the greedy. Pasha was paralyzed by the unexpectedness of the attack; he could neither retreat nor defend. Others were not as fortunate to survive, let alone be shocked. The battle concluded with the massacre of the invading army and the retreat of the ashamed commanders. As the cheers of the victorious echoed through the palace halls, peasants walked among the remnants of the dead, already pillaged by those who defeated them, hoping to find a few overlooked silver coins or a fine piece of cloth to help them through another winter. One of the wanderers, seeking bread in a graveyard, was a disgraced servant of a lord who lived in a castle near the saved capital. He cursed his fate as he scavenged. The servant imagined the warmth of his bed and dreamed of the smell of baked bread filling his room next to the kitchen, reminiscing about a time when life was pleasurable. However, his dream was interrupted by the coughs of a wounded soldier. The man was clad in tightly knit Ottoman fabric soaked with blood, severely injured in the stomach by a lance. Yet, he was strong enough to survive, but in desperate need of water. When the servant approached, the wounded soldier begged in agonizing pain for help. The steward hushed him, knowing that being wounded would not spare the life of an enemy. He decided to wait until the battlefield scavengers left, then planned to move the wounded man to his house in secret, if he was still alive. The following night, he was relieved to see his prize still clinging to life, seeing it as his chance for redemption.
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