"To ensure victory the troops must have confidence in themselves as well as in their commanders."
- Niccoló Machiavelli
Hearing the three claps, the knight of John Hunyadi bolted up from his seat reaching for the drawer, taking the thing that the Despot was trying to hide all the well and revealing that it is actually… another letter?
"Despot!" John Hunyadi showed little respect this time as he walked towards the letter with a cold grin on his face. "I thought that you mentioned that you stopped receiving letters from the Ottomans? Who might the sender of this letter be? Is it… that famed daughter of yours Mara Branković?"
The Despot did not reply.
John Hunyadi, with increased suspicion, took a glance at the letter. But to his disappointment the letter seems like it has already been smudged with ink on almost every where on the page covering contents that looks like it is critical to some information. These smears makes the entire letter utterly unreadable, the only thing note take worthy is that exactly same beautify Ottoman court calligraphy that is exactly the same as the letter that John Hunyadi intercepted the other day.
John Hunyadi sighed waving the piece of letter before the Despot's eyes. "Despot! What information is so crucial in this letter that made you so nervous that you need to cover these words up with ink smudge?"
The Despot felt like this is the most desperate moment of his life as he tried to explain one more time. "Your Grace, my friend, if I tell you that the letter is like this the moment when I received it, and I did not make a single change to it, would you believe me?"
John Hunyadi took a deep breathe trying to prevent the rage of being fooled from taking over his clear mind making him shout at the top of his lungs, and tried to speak as softly as he can. "I would very like to believe you, trust me, I would very like to… Please give me some time to think about it, oh, yes, and please let me take this letter with me, for reference of course."
Seeing that his ally remains unconvinced, and the knight beside his ally is staring at him almost like wanting to eat him up raw, the Despot bite his lips and ran forward stopping John Hunyadi before he can walk out of the tent. "You need to believe that this is just another dirty tricks by the Ottomans… I know it is hard for you to entirely believe me, but how about this my friend, I shall gather my troops tomorrow, line in in formations, face the Ottomans myself and slain some infidels with my own hands to prove my loyalty! Will this prove my loyalty?"
John Hunyadi is just about to reject this nonsensical proposal of a battle that is of no practical use, but when he saw the burning eyes of the knight he brought, his mind changed.
Even if he, the general and leader of the coalition, continues to trust the Despot in consideration of the entire unity of the Balkan Crusade, his fellow Hungarian crusaders are not going to think in the same way as him, and thus perhaps a micro controlled engagement is probably a way out.
Thinking of this, John Hunyadi gave his ally a pat on the back and repeated his promise firmly. "Despot, despite all odds against you, I still have a certain amount of faith on you, but I worry that there might not be much left for my warriors… It is difficult for me, you know too, to soothe the minds of soldiers, thus I look forward to your performance at the next battle."
Leaving the despot with these words, John Hunyadi and his knights left the camps of the Serbian crusaders without ever looking back.
The next day, on the Sixteenth of June, The Despot Durad Branković kept his words gathering around two thousand of his finest troops and lining them in front of his camp in Dabravaka marching down the hills towards the fortress of Belogradchik in a typical late middle ages defensive formation of mounted scouts or calvaries scattered by the two flanks, infantries in the middle and the archers filling in the gaps between the calvaries and infantries. They marched off in early morning before the sun has even rise, and reached before the gates of the Belogradchik fortress before noon, with the Hungarian crusaders following close behind watching the 'battle of trust'.
"Zaganos!" The Logothete of the Despot, Stefan Ratković rode out of the battle line yelling and cursing in a near perfect Ottoman Turkish towards the fortress hoping that it would lure the Ottomans out of their turtle shells.
"Zaganos! Listen! You bastard! Show me! That you are no coward! Show me! That you are still a noble following the craft of Chivalry, come out for a duel with me! For I challenge thee! You low life, donkey, donkey! We will make you have a battle ten times more 'memorable' than Constantinople! The only difference is that, you will never be walk out of this place on your legs! Now come out! Show me that you are a man!"
Zaganos Pasha clenches his fists listening to these nasty vulgar coming from the cursed rider below these walls, after a while, he could no longer bare it and punched the solid brick walls with his bare knuckles to venge his fury, this man below has really provoked his most sensitive nerve marking his failure under the walls of Constantinople.
"Hold it, Zaganos Pasha!" Selim Pasha tried to consulate his superior's mood. "We are almost there, our plans are almost going to be completed, do not let all of them get wasted because of your thirst of revenge!"
"No worries." Zaganos Pasha gave the walls another punch with his knuckles, hard enough that it started bleeding. "I am able to resist myself from doing something stupid…. Just leave me be."
In the end of the day, Stefan Ratković yelled and cursed with all the vulgarities he knows until his throat began fuming with smoke.
But the gate of the fortress remains shut.