Özil's words stemmed not only from his absolute confidence as a Janissaries officer but also from an undeniable fact: since the Battle of Ankara more than 30 years ago, the Ottoman Janissaries had never suffered any defeat in a major campaign outside of civil wars.
He even dared to guarantee that without the more than 3,000 auxiliary troops, just his 750 Janissaries forming a small team could directly assault the enemy's heartland and capture their monarch and General alive.
During this time, the enemy's so-called Philaka Soldiers would certainly have no practical effect other than to give the other side some false confidence. It was nothing; didn't the Ottoman's former old adversary, the Karaman Beylik, also have a guard legion composed of Armenian Christians, and wasn't it beaten into its current pathetic state under the Ottoman's iron hooves? To Özil, organizing legions from infidel and foreign slaves was merely a clumsy imitation of Turk and even Muslim traditions.
Thinking of this, the Pasha casually put aside the information Janik had given him, then cleared his mind, planning to find some beautiful women in the local area later to enjoy himself.
It was not until a few days later, when Özil Pasha and Janik Bey Emir were discussing the situation in Ordu Palace, that he unexpectedly learned that the enemy forces stationed in Taripuri seemed to have significantly decreased in number. And when discussing this, the Emir smiled confidently.
Although Özil secretly looked down on these Romans who were his enemies in this campaign, he was somewhat skeptical of his friend and ally's source of information, as he hadn't found any related intelligence on his side. "Emir, where did you get this information?"
The Emir chuckled, spreading his hands. "We must thank Allah's protection. Under our continuous pressure, some Pontus Greeks who couldn't withstand the pressure defected to my side at night two days ago. Thanks to these turncoats who abandoned the darkness for the light, I was able to promptly learn the cowardly true nature of these infidels."
It sounded plausible, but Özil Pasha always felt something was not quite right. After a moment of thought, he frowned and muttered to himself, "So why didn't they defect to my side?"
"Who knows," the Emir said, as a servant brought him a bottle of fermented grape juice. "Perhaps it's because the Janissaries are all stationed on the Black Sea, while we are in the wooded hills? Anyway, they emerged from the woods." With that, he specifically offered a cup of fermented grape juice to the other party.
"Although the Roman armies are useless," Özil took the cup of "juice" from his old friend and drank it in one gulp, "they are too fond of tricks. While there won't be any huge losses in a real fight, we still have to be careful."
"Don't worry," the Emir chuckled a few times. "I had my subordinates investigate these defectors. They are all farmers with no significant background, so rest assured."
"Allah above, I hope so." Özil could only mumble this prayer. Then, noticing something, he couldn't help but ask, "By the way, did you just leave the Kandar people behind?"
"Isfendiyar, that old man, is truly useless. He even took time to negotiate with the Latins and the Komnenos's stray dogs. Really, what's the use of talking to those Christians? My assessment is that it's better to rely on the Janissaries." When talking about his colleague and ally, the Emir shook his head so vigorously that his beard trembled.
Özil vaguely sensed the rift between the two Beys, but as he considered himself merely a Janissaries General, he ultimately remained silent, letting them handle it themselves, and then began to plan with the Emir how to break through the Bosporus defense line.
In the early hours of the next day, the southern Black Sea, which had been silent for nearly a week, once again erupted in war. According to the plan Özil had set yesterday, to ensure the enemy was driven from the Black Sea in one go, he would personally lead his Janissaries troops, under the cover of the Emir's Turk conscripts, to assault Taripuri, which was very likely to be lightly defended.
At the same moment he launched his charge, the mountainous woodlands of the Black Sea region were entirely entrusted to Janik's army, familiar with the local terrain, and the Kandar army sent by Isfendiyar to conquer. Advancing in two directions, coupled with "concrete" intelligence, they believed they could utterly defeat the enemy in one fell swoop.
Initially, as planned, after nearly five hours of fierce assault from Özil's side, the Bosporus soldiers stationed there were indeed routed, as he had predicted. They abandoned their armor and weapons, leaving behind over a hundred bodies and wounded, and fled east. After triumphantly entering Taripuri, through interrogating prisoners, Özil confirmed that the information provided by the defectors he learned of yesterday was indeed accurate. Starting five days ago, a large number of Bosporus soldiers had indeed begun to withdraw from the area, a process that only stopped two days ago when only 700 men remained.
But then Özil got a headache. These prisoners were all ordinary soldiers; the highest-ranking was only a junior officer. And according to their testimonies, they had no idea of the specific locations of their withdrawn comrades and superiors.
"What cunning tricks are those damned Romans playing now?!" Özil Pasha, resting briefly in the village, punched the oak table in front of him, gnashing his teeth in angry curses.
Facing their General, who was in a fit of rage, the subordinate Generals all stood quietly to the side, no one daring to step forward to interrupt or persuade him.
Sure enough, that evening, surprising news arrived. Unlike the loosely defended Black Sea, the opposite side seemed to be particularly well-defended in the hilly woodlands; Janik Bey's offensive not only achieved no results but was even pushed back by about ten stadia.
"Is this the Bosporus's plan, to win in the mountains what they can't win on the Black Sea?" After confirming the information was true, Özil instead burst into hearty laughter, feeling relieved. "Does he think we won't divide our forces? I was worried before that they might have solid defenses on both sides, but now it seems I was just overthinking it!"
While Özil was laughing uncontrollably, believing he had seen through the enemy's movements, in Trabzon City, the old scholar John Anagnostes, personally granted a civil post by Caesar Manuel, was in his room compiling books and articles based on various first-hand and second-hand materials collected recently.
His student, Bagrat, who had recovered somewhat from the tragic past, sat beside him, diligently assisting his mentor. After a while, having converted from the Armenian Apostolic Church to the orthodox faith, he couldn't help but worry about the future, "Teacher, do you think His Majesty can achieve final victory?"
Facing his student's question, Anagnostes, whose health had improved considerably and whose attire had returned to his previous Thessaloniki standard, raised his slightly cloudy eyes and slowly said, "I don't know, but I hope His Majesty can do it. May the Holy Father bless him."