The junior officer observed from above as throngs of men bustled through the streets below, each engrossed in daily chores. These individuals represented a cross-section of society, their lives reshaped by the war's end in the west. With Mehmed Bey's return to his command, he had begun the process of discharging his soldiers in stages. The streets now brimmed with men, some still in uniform, others bearing arms, their aimless wandering underscored by a descent into vices, their presence a burgeoning chaos on the pathways.
Fearing unwanted attention from these disenfranchised soldiers, who might assign blame for their hardships to any observer, the officer hastily drew the curtains closed.
He then addressed his superior, Apostolos, who was engrossed in documents. "Have you noticed how long we've been stalled here without making progress in the task our responsibilities lies, your highness?"
Apostolos replied without lifting his head. "Not long, six days."
