1453: Revival of Byzantium

Chapter 148: The Red Night

Suddenly, his laughter stopped.

The leader of the revolt feels like the world before his eyes has turned into a slow motion as he watches a Crusader archer draws an arrow from his quiver, places it on the bow string, aims at him and shoots. He stopped laughing and dancing, stood there like a scare scrow without a spirit, and watched the arrow head coming in his direction. Finally, the arrow penetrated through his shoulder pinning him falling down to the ground.

The singing and cheering among the crowd stopped. Within a few seconds, more arrows came from the sky downwards pouring onto the heads of the rioters instantly tearing down dozens of lives, and together with it the morales and spirit of the rioters.

The crowd cannot believe what is going on in front of their eyes. Last minute they are here opening the gate welcoming their supposed saviours and liberators. Then the next second they know, arrows are pouring onto their head. Soon the cheerful atmosphere dwindled and sentiments of terror, fright, disappointment, confusion, ignorance, shock soon filled the air. People started screaming helplessly, running around trying to squeeze back into the city through the gates, this caused a stampede as everyone is trying to run through the relatively narrow gate.

Cries of anger and desperateness erupted. People cannot understand why their saviours the crusaders are attacking the people that awaits to be saved by the army sent by the Holy See and God. This question appeared even among the Crusader themselves as they charge towards these bunch of people, these Crusaders, especially those on the first line as they tries their hard to scrutinise these people in the night with their Nyctalopia eyes, are equally as baffled in the mind as everyone can see that these people do not have the looks of Ottoman soldiers, they are even dressed like fellow Christians and singing Church rhythms, but orders are orders, and they kept on marching towards the gate.

Their commander Tancred of Foggia too knew that perhaps his judgement is wrong when these people started singing holy rhymes, but honestly speaking he does not really care whether they are enemies or helpers, he just wants to get past this gate, occupy the fortress, and proclaim this city his according to the rules of the Crusade; Whoever conquers a city shall has the right to decide the ownership of this city.

Although it did cause a pain in his heart thinking that there will be less peasants to pay taxes, labours and levies for him, but a noble being a noble, cannot retract his words, especially if it is a military order as it will deeply decrease his prestige among his peasants, this has been engraved into the deepest part of his memories since young.

In the eyes of the noble, these people dying under their blades are not human beings, they are taxpayers, free labourers, conscripted soldiers.

Thing escalated out of control pretty fast for the rioters. Seeing that they cannot possibly get back into the city without slashing the blades in their hands onto their neighbours, friends, families. They turned back with tears in their eyes charging back towards the Crusaders, only that this time there is no more anticipation and appreciation in their mind as they charge, it is replaced with hatred and the thirst for revenge. Although their resistance proved futile, at least they fulfilled their oath dying for their people like a true man.

This move made rage build up in the minds of Tancred which is already influenced by that gloomy red moon, it did not take long before mild mannered his brain, unleashing all unthinkable actions without ever thinking about consequences. He whipped his horse charging forward, lifting his Norman arming sword high up in the air hacking it down with all of his might, landing right on the neck of a rioter who is holding a pitch fork against him. The head of the pitch fork rioter is sent rolling down beside the hooves of Tancred's mount, but he did not just stop there, he continued cutting people down like a mad Castilian bull as if he is in a no man's land.

The last resistance by the rioters is crushed by the merciless blood and steel forces of the Crusaders, they rampaged through their way brutally mutilating any person who dares to stop them in their path, whether intentional or not, creating a pond of fresh blood getting soaked by the Earth as they walk.

The slaughter continued even after they entered the city after their commander Tancred charged into the city first swooping his blade onto the necks of these folks. The soldiers, affected by the scent of blood, their lust for battle and wealth, with the eerie light reflected by the Bloody Red Moon into their eyes, it made them even more frightening in the eyes of Avlonya town folks who lined up here waiting to welcome the Crusaders and their lords into the city than the Ottoman invaders. Fearing for their own lives, they soon scattered away running, but the Crusaders have lost their mind, they catches up with the town folks piercing the blades into their backs, refusing to let any person run away in their sight alive.

Perhaps after all of this has ended, these soldiers, together with their commander Tancred, will be ravaged, sorrowful, regretful, filled with grief of the brutality they have caused to their brothers and sisters following the teachings of Christ and God, but not now. There are broken limbs every where on the ground, after the soldiers stab a town folk running away from the back, he would pull out his blade and then push the civilian aside into the ditch of the city where it is supposed to lead polluted water out of the city for hygienic purposes, but now it has blood flowing in it instead.

Tonight, is a night of scarlet red, with the fresh chalky blood on the ground forming a pool of fresh blood, the Vermilion moon that is reflected in the blood, the redness reflected in the Crusader's eyes, but that heart connected into their eyes, pumping in their chests, perhaps have already into an inky coal rock.