"Treat Every Firearms as if they are loaded;"
"Be Sure the Firearm's Barrel is clear of any obstructions;"
- Firearm Safety Regulation of almost every army on Earth
Where is the Sultan?
Zaganos Pasha, the one with a more well built physical standard as compared with others, struggled to get up among the smoke, in the middle of the smoky atmosphere worsened by the smile of the discharge from sulphur, and the burning surroundings accompanied with long lasting tiny explosions after the impact of the initial one. Zaganos Pasha got up staring at the surrounding blankly still trying to figure out what has happened. He tried to reach out for his hands and touch the ground to navigate himself, only to realise that he is not able to find his fingers among the black smoke. At first he thought that it is because his vision has been affected by the smoke, but to his horror, he found out that three fingers from his left hand is totally gone out of place.
However, there is no time for Zaganos Pasha to agonise about his fingers, he got stuff much more important to do at the present moment. As the most trusted pasha and vizier of his Sultan's government, he always deems himself as the standard for loyalty to his Sultan setting an example for his sub coordinates in the court. Thus, the most important thing in his head is not finding his fingers but finding his Sultan.
Zaganos Pasha trudged through the burnt ground, trying open his eyes to the biggest extent among the poisonous smoke and resisting the tears and mucus flowing out of his eyes.
"Sultan! Sultan! May I hear your voice?" Zaganos Pasha shouted out desperately while coughing as the dusty smoke enters his lungs.
But Zaganos Pasha cannot hear a single thing resembling the life symptoms of his Sultan, not a single word, not a single breathe.
The soldiers who hurriedly went inside the area just now found Zaganos Pasha, and pushed him onto a stretcher while the others speedily applied some herbs on the injured spots of Zaganos Pasha and sent him to the back, while he is still mumbling the sentence. "I must find my Sultan." On the way to field medic.
So, where is our Sultan Mehmed?
I am afraid he cannot get an answer by himself too.
First, he thought he has transformed into an eagle, like the age old legends of the Seljik, soaring high up into the clouds.
Next, he felt himself, the 'eagle' has been shot with an unknown substance. It feels like suddenly a tremendous force of energy impacted his chest breaking all of his ribs as he falls from the skies back to the ground.
Lastly, his unconscious mind made him visualise the impact he just received, it is like a thousand war horses galloping on the plains with their hooves stepping right onto him, the Sultan vomited blood spitting his royal gore onto the darkened ground.
After a while of trying to support himself up, he gave up, for the final time, and felling again on the ground failing to regain conscious again.
…
"Sultan…. Sultan…."
"Sultan…."
In the midst of the void consisting of only shadows but nothing else, Mehmed heard a voice.
"Sultan…."
It sounded so damn familiar, but also seems to be so damn far away. Mehmed reached out his hands and tried to grip it, but he could only feel the void.
"Sultan… Sultan!"
Mehmed saw a glimpse of light in the void, and he reached for it, slowly he felt the light coming closer and closer, until it covered his entire body.
"Sultan!"
Mehmed slowly opened his eyes.
"Sultan is awake! The Sultan is awake!"
The various beys, viziers and pashas in the tent encircled around Mehmed's bed cheers and laughed as if they have just achieved yet another victory on the grounds.
"Water…" The Sultan murmured with his dried lips which cracked like the Grant Canyon.
"Pardon me, my Sultan?" Candarli Halil Pasha carefully approached and held the Sultan by his hands, with tears flowing out from the side of his eyes that makes him look like the most loyal subject of the Sultan in the tent at the moment.
"Water…." The Sultan murmured again.
"Quick!" Candarli Halil Pasha tilted back and screamed at the crowd. "Have you not heard our Sultan's instructions? Get some wine over here!"
The stewards rushed to get their sultan some wine and passed the jar to Candarli Halil Pasha, the later gently opened the Sultan's mouth and sipped the grape wine from Cyprus inside, then with a pair of tender hands he wiped the mouth of Mehmed with a beautifully Arab style handkerchief.
"Are you feeling better, my honourable Sultan?" Candarli Halil Pasha carefully approached the Sultan on the bed and asked with care and concerns in his eyes and age old wrinkles tightly squeezed together.
Mehmed is too weak to reply his grand vizier at the moment, but his determination and perseverance through years of training and hardship did not allow him to just lay down there like a weakling that he often used to jeer about. Holding the hands of Candarli Halil Pasha, he used all of his body strength trying to lift himself up from the royal bed decorated with Babylonia cushions that looks so familiar yet so foreign to him.
After a while of trying, Mehmed finally managed to lift himself up by an inch on the bed supporting his body weight on the hands of Candarli Halil Pasha, Even with his full body strength, it seems lik it is not possible to sit back up straight like how the image of a Sultan of the Ottomans is supposed to be.
Gradually after countless tries, Mehmed felt so depressed of himself, feeling that this is the lowest point in his life, no other things can end up being more tragic than this time.
However, he soon proved himself wrong, the next second he knows, the Sultan fell heavily onto the ground in the screams of everyone behind.