Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks

Chapter 719 25: Duel of Champions

Orhan stationed his army at the Myrrh Gate, feeling both honored and pressured by His Majesty the Emperor's decision to entrust the defense of the four southern gates entirely to him.

The soldiers under his command were mostly Greeks.

After being baptized at the Saint Sophia Cathedral and displaying the bravery befitting a Dragon Blood descendant, backed by the emperor's support, he had earned the recognition of his officers and soldiers.

Genoa's reinforcements were concentrated on the northern section of the city wall, supplemented by Greek militia. Venice and Genoa were long-time enemies, so the Venetian militia from the concession area mostly gathered at the section of the wall personally defended by His Majesty the Emperor.

Receiving the order, Orhan instinctively showed a trace of apprehension on his face.

"Does His Majesty want me to fight?"

He carefully examined the fire-sealed stamp on the command document, took a deep breath, and made up his mind.

"Prepare the horses, to the beast stables!"

He rushed to the stables, seeing the Sharp Claw Dragon already restless and anxious due to the tense atmosphere of the battlefield, pacing back and forth. He quickly reached inside to soothe it by stroking its scales.

"Buddy, you feel it too, right? But don't worry, I'll fight alongside you!"

He ordered the stables opened, vaulted onto the dragon's back, and received the massive lance, kite shield, javelin, and longsword handed by the attendant, hanging them one by one on the hooks of the dragon saddle.

Roar—

The Sharp Claw Dragon, freed from its confines, left two deep marks on the ground with its knife-like foreclaws before advancing toward the city gate under Orhan's urging.

Among the guards nearby, one spoke worriedly: "Sir, why don't you ask His Majesty to rescind the order?"

In the guards' eyes, Orhan was undoubtedly a thorn and a pest to Mahmud II, and if Orhan went into battle like this, Murad, that young but brutal son, would certainly make every effort to send people to assassinate him.

"This is the opportunity given to me by His Majesty, the chance to proclaim to my subjects that I am still alive."

Orhan's expression was solemn; he had fantasized about this scene countless times, yet when the day truly arrived, he couldn't help but feel a trace of trepidation. Who among the Osmanoglu family wouldn't harbor fear for this nephew, who had tamed Murad II's Three-headed Demon Dragon at such a young age?

He looked up at the clouds where a black shadow loomed distantly, his eyes instantly transforming into golden beast pupils. Raising his voice, his fear was overshadowed by the boiling Dragon Blood, and he spoke with vigor: "Mahmud, your uncle has arrived!"

The iron city gate rose with a creak.

With a loud cry, the Sharp Claw Dragon, over three meters tall and more than five meters long, roared and charged out.

Although Losa called it a little fellow, compared to warhorses, it was still an impressive beast. Moreover, after receiving supplements from Losa's blood and devouring large quantities of flesh, the Sharp Claw Dragon's emaciated body had been restored.

Furthermore, with bloodline linkage to Orhan, they could communicate telepathically, and their combined combat power was far beyond the sum of their parts.

The enemy general outside the city continued his relentless curses.

Suddenly, charging forward, Orhan launched an assault, bridging the thousand-meter distance in less than a minute with the Sharp Claw Dragon: "Vile knave, dare you insult the great emperor and his subjects!"

Orhan's shout exploded like thunder in the enemy general's ears.

"Dragon..."

The enemy, unbelieving of the scene, squeezed his horse's sides fiercely, trying to flee.

But as he drew nearer, the dragon, previously thought to be at full speed, truly unleashed its rapid pace. The Sharp Claw Dragon pushed off with its hind legs, leaping into the air directly behind him.

He hastily thrust his lance, only for Orhan to catch the shaft barehanded and sever his head with a sword.

Triumphant, Orhan hoisted the enemy general's head high, shouting by the city wall: "The heretics are slain, Rome will triumph!"

The morale of the defending army soared.

"God bless me!"

"Rome will triumph!"

On the other side, the atmosphere was rather solemn.

Some old ministers murmured in low voices in unseen corners: "Is it Orhan?"

"Indeed, it's the bloodline of the Dragon Taming Family."

Their minds were awash with myriad thoughts, recalling the letter sent previously by the Emperor of Greece, yet none dared voice much, as the young Mahmud II had already purged the court of dissenters and gained control over the Janissaries, holding great power.

Losa dispatched Orhan to oversee the southern city wall and actively engage at such times to bolster Orhan's reputation, as his loyalty, upon transforming into a Dragon Blood descendant, was beyond question.

Afterwards, even if he gave up micro-control, letting the world self-evolve, Orhan would not betray him.

If this battle ultimately is won, Orhan will become an important bargaining chip in Losa's hands. By then, he might even consider granting Orhan the title of co-emperor to gain the utmost service from the Ottoman subjects.

The template obtained from simulated battles is closely related to the accomplishments achieved.

If possible, he didn't want just a narrowly won victory, suffering mutual destruction with the Ottomans, and eventually seeing Constantinople fall into the hands of the Latins or new Turkic warlords.

…

Amidst the clouds, the young and ambitious Mahmud II watched the unfolding situation below, a hint of a mocking smile appearing on his face.

He recalled the extortion by this Greek Emperor towards him initially.

"A delusional fool who actually thought I would care about that useless Orhan."

Pretending to agree to the Greek Emperor's demands was merely to display his rebellion and disloyalty to the kingdom's heavyweights, making it impossible for those conservative factions, who since his father Murad's death, were reluctant to initiate war and prioritized maintaining the kingdom's stability, to oppose his proposed reason for war.

The conservative faction, represented by these old things, was quite numerous. Some took Roman money; others feared another Varna Crusade.

This attack on Constantinople saw a massive number of Fire Worshipers, from the Balkans to Asia Minor, who unhesitatingly participated in this jihad of conquest under the call of the Sufi order and numerous Brotherhoods.

If he won, he would gain supreme prestige, accruing honor no less than that of the Great Shepherd of the Fire Worship.

But should he lose...

Ha, how could it be possible.

Mahmud II coldly laughed.

As for Orhan, who held royal blood but was merely a loser in the previous throne struggle, he'd never valued him. Even as a Dragon Knight, a mere Sharp Claw Dragon was just an ant compared to his Three-headed Black Dragon.

Those old folks, no matter how foolish, still know the difference in magnitude and wouldn't support Orhan because of such a little thing.

According to his original plan, he should have ridden the Three-headed Demon Dragon today, imposing over Constantinople. No matter how solid those walls embedded with magic arrays, they couldn't possibly protect against the skies. Yet, he felt things might not proceed so smoothly.

From below the city, a faint aura like that of anxiety reached him.

But this aura was definitely not from the two adversaries he once acknowledged.

In the entire Roman Region (as the Balkan Peninsula was called at this time), the two opponents he valued were just that.

Hunyadi and his Dragon Knight Order accounted for one.

The Piercing Duke, harboring terrifying blood magic, was only half an opponent unless his True Spirit awakened.

As for Albania's Skanderbeg, that contemptible traitor, merely relied on terrain to win a few insignificant small victories, which, in his view, made him at most half an adversary.

"Is it the Dragon Slayer Crossbow?"

Mahmud II suddenly recalled this piece of intelligence.

He looked at the emperor on the walls, serenely composed, and a sliver of displeasure welled up within him.

In his view, the Greek Emperor should now be full of despair, maybe even crying in agony—the Crusaders he hoped to rely on hadn't been reinitiated, no matter how the Pope rallied them.

The merchants of Venice and Genoa, though constantly scheming in private, dared not truly break with him.

"Hopeless, poor worm."

"If all you have to rely on is that Dragon Slayer Crossbow, the Empress of all cities will soon be mine."

Mahmud II murmured softly.

However, the subsequent development of the situation was somewhat beyond his expectation.

This uncle of his, whom he had never met, surprisingly displayed no weakness at all. Unlike himself, who mainly relied on enhancing the giant dragon's combat power and commanding it in battle, Orhan's style was more like that of a "Dragon Knight" akin to Hunyadi.

After winning, he did not return to Constantinople but instead, holding a head in hand, went to taunt his camp.

"I see, you intend to provoke me through this method, lure me into a fight, and then use the Dragon Slayer Crossbow against me."

Mahmud II suppressed the hot-bloodedness expected from a youth, calmed his emotions, and sent down orders: "Dispatch Zahir Pasha and his pet to fight, and tell him not to return unless he takes Orhan's head."

The army had just arrived, and building the camp, assembling the siege weapons, would take at least a week.

Unless he personally took action, or disregarded casualties, let those cannon fodder troops carry ladders and march to their slaughter by the defenders.

Otherwise, during this period, the major confrontations would be limited to this kind of general challenge before the formations.