"Anatolu Pasha, why did you order our army to stop the pursuit?" Rom Pasha, the Deputy General of the Ottoman Ankara Legion, sullenly asked his General about this on the evening of the day the skirmish ended.
"The priority is not to pursue the retreating enemy to the death, but to quickly rendezvous with Kandar Bey Isfendiyar and the Kandar people still in Sinop. Moreover, Sultan will personally lead the army to annihilate the enemy chieftain. All I am doing now is building momentum for Sultan. Since it is about building momentum, all the glory should rightfully be given to our respected Sultan." Arnavutlu Iskender Pasha answered his Commander of the Guard and subordinate while perusing the rough battle report from today's skirmish.
Rom Pasha could only scratch his head and accept it. Then, an unintentional mention from him piqued Anaftolu Pasha's interest, "It seems someone saw a body suspected to be that of the Bosporus monarch."
"Is that so?" Anaftolu Pasha put down the battle report, stroking his short beard, "Shall I go verify it myself?"
Meanwhile, the remnants of the Bosporus Army had retreated to Guerze Village, their closest stronghold under their control near Sinop. After comforting and settling the remaining soldiers, the Bosporus Generals and key military personnel quickly gathered in the central army camp to discuss the sudden skirmish that had occurred today.
"We were completely outmaneuvered by the Ottoman." Tukharovsky couldn't help but shiver with lingering fear, thinking about everything that happened this afternoon.
"Yes, the only thing that surprised all of us was that for some unknown reason, the opposing Ottoman General actually gave up the pursuit and instead returned to defend and collect spoils. This is not quite like the Ottoman army I've heard about." Dungar, who had been immersed in Asia Minor for some time, was completely baffled as he spoke of this.
"But these are all secondary," Badars was more concerned about another sudden development than the other Generals, "Have you seen Caesar?!"
When asked about their monarch, the other Generals shook their heads one after another, and their expressions grew even more serious and tense, and the camp fell silent.
After a long pause, Badars, as the Commander of the Guard, was the first to break the silence, "As Caesar's Commander of the Guard and a cabinet member, I have an obligation to find Caesar's whereabouts. I will now lead the guards to return to Caesar."
"We too. Caesar is the king who gave us new life. Being with Caesar is our sacred duty. Filakas can now dispatch hundreds of men to search for Caesar's whereabouts." Vladimir, a Filakas General, stood up and echoed Badars, and his colleagues from the Philaka Legion beside him also agreed repeatedly.
"Wait, what if the Ottoman attack the camp if you make such a big show? Commander Tukharovsky, you should say something!" Looking at his colleagues' current stance, Dungar opened his mouth in incomprehension to dissuade them, hoping his superior would also express something.
To his surprise, Tukharovsky, who he always considered calm and strategic, merely shook his head helplessly, "Although I really want to tell you to be rational, I am the only one who has no right to say so. Later, I will also personally lead a peasant army to search for Caesar's whereabouts. We must find him alive, or his body if he is dead."
Facing his incredulous subordinate, the Army Commander smiled and explained, "Mr. Dungar, haven't you noticed? A major reason why the entire army had such a standard before was because Caesar personally led us. Besides, I was also personally promoted by Caesar."
Before this Western European could react, Serenus, who had been pretending to be a clerk recording their conversation in the corner, also closed his notes, "I'll go too, after all, 'He is the King and Commander of all people' ①."
"Aren't you a civil official?!"
Finally, the Bosporus Army weighed the pros and cons and sent five Generals leading a total of over eight hundred men back the way they came to search for Caesar. About fifteen minutes after they set out, the Ottoman General, Arnavutlu Iskender Pasha, also personally led his personal guards back to the afternoon's battlefield, trying to confirm the veracity of the rumors.
About half an hour after both sides sent people to search for Manuel, the person in question happened to wake up from a coma.
"Oh, I feel like I had a very strange dream." The first thing he saw upon waking with this thought was the silvery-white full moon directly above him. Before he could appreciate the moonlight, he realized something was pressing down on him.
After exerting himself to move them, Manuel discovered that what had been pressing down on him were familiar yet strange corpses. Under the bright moonlight, Caesar was only wearing armor and a military uniform, and the bloodstains on him contrasted with the bodies left on the battlefield, making him, the only living person, seem out of place.
"It seems I've crawled back from the gates of hell." Realizing this, he couldn't help but let out a few hollow, dry laughs. These sounds immediately attracted the attention of some uninvited guests.
"Who's there?" Sensing a strange figure approaching, Manuel, who could only barely move for the time being, immediately looked ahead vigilantly.
Realizing he had been exposed, the newcomer no longer concealed himself and walked directly into the moonlight. As it was late at night, the person's exact facial features were difficult to discern. Even so, Manuel could still make out the person's General appearance: this person had the face of an Albanian mountaineer, with a stern expression, incredibly resolute eyes in dark brown pupils, and features as clear and not unattractive as if carved by a knife. His short beard and hair were both black, his physique was robust, his shoulders broad, and the military uniform and armor he wore appeared to be dark-colored. In contrast was his fair skin, which even the moonlight could not conceal, as if unrelated to the word "soldier."
This person was also surrounded by a squad of Albanian-looking soldiers, like him, but compared to the leader, Manuel only felt that these accompanying soldiers were a bunch of riff-raff. Looking at this person of unclear position, Manuel suddenly remembered something and threw a question at him in a calm tone: "Arnavutlu Iskender Pasha?"
Looking at this person who directly spoke his name used while serving in the Ottoman army, Anaftolu Pasha was momentarily stunned. But he quickly calmed down and retorted, "You must be Caesar Manuel of Bosporus, Your Majesty?"
Manuel nodded in acknowledgment. Since they had already run into each other, he might as well take a gamble, especially since the other party seemed to have only Albanians around him.
"Are you here to kill me?" He gave a shallow laugh, then sat down on the spot, "Then come. It's just that there are some things I don't know if I should say."
"Actually, I don't necessarily have to kill you," Anaftrou frowned, "But since that's the case, then you may speak."
"How does it feel to serve the Ottoman?" Manuel smiled.
Anaftrou's eyes twitched a few times, then were quickly suppressed.
Under the cover of night, Manuel did not notice. He continued to speak according to the script he had temporarily concocted in his mind, "You are an Albanian, aren't you? Then you must have been our brother in the Lord. If so, why do you serve that hateful Sultan? Is it a voluntary choice for fame and fortune, or a hidden reason due to coercion?"
"Shut up, you don't understand how much he has sacrificed for his family and faith!" One of the Albanian personal guards standing beside Anaftrou couldn't hold back and began to reprimand the Greek in front of him.
But this personal guard was quickly stopped by Anaftrou himself, "Continue." The Pasha's dark brown pupils stared intently at Manuel, as if trying to read something from him.
"No matter what, at least this Greek in front of you is willing to give everything to oppose Murad." Manuel waved his hand, his expression becoming somewhat bleak, "What about you?"
With that, Manuel sat directly on the ground, like the prostrate saints in ancient texts, "If you want to kill me, do it now."
Upon hearing this, Anaftrou tightened his grip on the precious sword at his waist, drawing out a section of the blade. Manuel also closed his eyes nervously, awaiting the other's choice.
To his surprise, Anaftrou eventually sheathed his scimitar, sighed, and ordered his subordinates, "Let's go back. Just say we didn't encounter any living people."
"Are you not going to behead the Sultan's enemy?" Manuel opened his eyes, questioning the other seriously.
"No, you may go, Caesar Manuel." Anaftrou turned, his back to the young monarch who was his ostensible enemy. As he walked, he spoke softly, "Also, I will soon return to garrison Ankara or Rumelia. As for this legion, they will be handed over to Sultan, who will personally arrive soon. That will probably be in September, so prepare well. I hope you can live until I return to my hometown, if I can return."
"That is inevitable." Manuel responded, "If there is another chance, I hope that next time we meet, we will no longer be enemies."
After watching the gradually departing figure of Anaftrou Iskander, Manuel's expression grew even more solemn, "If there is a next time, I truly hope we are on the same side,
Skanderbeg."