The old Sultana Dowager kept her eyes closed, her silence speaking volumes. Her calm demeanor expressed her thoughts with crystal clarity—she would not support this reckless scheme.
The old Sultan sighed deeply, a man weighed down by both years and the burdens of his lineage. He turned to the men gathered before him and asked firmly, "How many men do you have here?"
The group of Ottoman loyalists hesitated, their confidence momentarily shaken by the question.
"Your Majesty," one of them began, recovering quickly. "We are in Thessaly, a land crawling with Rumelian officials and their agents. Every move we make is under their watchful eyes. Do you think those so-called random passersby near this fortress are just villagers out for a stroll?"
