Two weeks later. One Roman Mile away from the city of Constantinople.
A group consisting of around fifty wood cutters are outside in the dense forest trying to seek some twigs, chop down some woods to be sell to the citizens as firewood to last them through this harsh winter, while they can also earn a few copper to buy bread and feed their own family and children, it is there only hope of surviving.
Situation has been growing tense recently, occasional stand offs between Roman and Ottoman scouts take place, it is even said that Ottoman horse archers would even shoot at Roman farmers who ventured too far into the fields. Thus, the wood cutters dare not go into the forest too far.
The ground is shaking and vibrating slightly, but they did not take notice of it. They only know that they got to finish collecting the woods and leave here as fast as possible. The wood cutters only got a thin coat on them which definitely cannot sustain their own temperature. While in their sight, there's nothing, except white snow, trees after trees and their fellow wood cutters
A wood cutter finished his load and trudged towards another wood cutter, carrying a basket full of twigs.
When the wood cutter is about to reach his pal, his pal suddenly raised his head. A vibrant but horrendous flower formed by pure fresh blood appeared in front of him, followed by the crispy sound of his ribs cracking. He fell forward onto the snow, showing an arrow behind on his back. His blood soon turned the snow surrounding him red giving the snow and the forest another colour. His eyes still peeled open in shock, probably because he still do not know what just happened.
The wood cutter is also stunned on his feet, still trying to process the information in his head. While in a distance, a dozen black figures on horsebacks showed up. The horse, galloping in extreme speed, together with the riders on horsebacks yelling and shouting in an unfamiliar tone, soon caught up with the wood cutter. One ridder pulled out his sabre, and with just a slight slice through the throat, it ended the miserable life of the wood cutter.
The rest of the wood cutters got scared out of their life, they started pulling their feet and dispersed in various directions. However, it is pretty obvious that two feet cannot outrun four hooves of horses. They soon got caught down one by one, their lives ending with either a slice on the neck or an arrow on the back.
The massacre soon ended, the riders returned, and it seems like no one has survived.
Except one.
Amidst the snow, a figure moved in the snow. A wood cutter managed to survive as the arrow got stuck between the twigs and the basket on his back. By some quick thinking he pretends to drop dead and lied still in the snow, withstanding the harsh temperature, and waited for the riders to go away.
After a while, he got up from the ground, scrubbed the snow off his coat and pants, then trudged towards the rest of the pals checking on them.
They are all dead.
The wood cutter cannot cry, as tears will freeze further depleting his energy. He threw all the twigs from his basket away which might get him three loaves of black bread for his family, took something from each and every wood cutter as memorials. Then he moved through the snow difficultly, slowly but steadily back to the city of Constantinople.
…
"War!"
"We cannot accept this act!"
"Those barbarians just massacred our people!"
"We need to declare war!"
"If they kill fifty of us today and got away with no consequences, they will kill a hundred of our people tomorrow!"
"War! War! War!"
Constantine's courtiers crowd before the emperor's room, shouting out one single word in protest of the Ottoman action, persuading their emperor to punish the Ottomans. All raged by the fact that some nasty Ottoman riders just brutally massacred fifty of their own people earlier this day.
After a while, the door to the emperor's room is opened. Constantine came out and swept his eyes across the courtiers waiting for his response. Constantine declared.
"We shall declare a retaliation war on Mehmed II"
…
In Edirne.
Mehmed II reads the letter of war declaration by Constantine leaning on a couch, drinking grape wine from Cyprus. The Grand Vizier Candarli Halil Pasha, chief of army on Constantinople frontier Zaganos Pasha, a bunch of other Pashas and Beys standing on the sides, with their head down in silence.
"Zaganos Pasha…"
Zaganos Pasha hastily came out of the line and bowed. "Yes, my Sultan."
"I ordered you to kill civilians?"
"No, my Sultan!"
"Then?"
"It is my fault! Sultan!"
"I thought I did tell you that those citizens will become my properties after I take the city."
"Sorry, my Sultan."
"So you just killed fifty of my subjects, who could have continued to pay tax to me, raised by me as levy, and you also killed fifty families who will continue to bear children which are my future subjects."
"My deepest apologies, my Sultan."
Mehmed sighed and looked at Zaganos Pasha, who is kneeling down on the carpet with his head lying low on the ground. He ordered. "Zaganos Pasha… go feed my imperial horses for one week, that shall be your punishment."
"Yes… My Sultan, may I know who is going to replace me as the commander in chief?"
"Me." Mehmed stood up from the couch tossing the war declaration letter into the furnace and answers. "I shall take command of the army, after one week meet me by the walls of Constantinople."
The Grand Vizier, upon hearing this, stepped forward and complained. "This is too dangerous Sultan! You cannot risk yourself! It is a battlefield….!"
Mehmed smiled and stopped the Grand Vizier and replied. "Candarli Halil Pasha, it is the time to take the Red Apple."
"And I shall take it with my own hands."