What happened next was simple.
After a heartfelt conversation, in that excellent atmosphere, they made love that night after a long time.
Waking up the next morning, Manuel first felt relieved as he looked at Barbara sleeping beside him, then he started trembling with shock.
It's over; he actually slept with his wife in the military camp, and he's still fighting foreign enemies!
If this were recorded by future historians, his Caesar career would be over!
"My image in later generations is completely ruined…" Just as he was tearing at his hair in vexation, Barbara, lying beside him, also woke up, her clothes disheveled.
Seeing her Little husband's flustered expression, she shyly buried her face in the bedding, "Did staying last night make things difficult for you? Um, I'm sorry…"
Before she could finish speaking, Manuel interrupted her somewhat urgently, "No such thing; rather, it was I who insisted on keeping you by my side yesterday.
It's I who should be saying sorry.
It's just, I don't know what later generations will say…"
"But Manuel," Barbara asked, puzzled, "you are the monarch.
Logically speaking, you should be the one asking others to prioritize the bigger picture, not the other way around, right?"
"Hmm," Manuel stroked his chin, pondering, "it seems that's right."
Feeling like he understood something, his entire thought process suddenly became clear, "That's right!"
Looking at his wife's approving smile, he had intended to continue discussing the topics they had opened up about last night.
But on second thought, he subtly shifted to other matters, "Never mind, let's not talk about this; let's talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Like, let's do it again."
"Where did that righteous look you had when you first woke up go? Down there."
As a result, it wasn't until this morning that Manuel formally began preparing his plan again.
That morning, after leaving Barbara in the central camp, Caesar went to another central military tent accompanied by his guards.
There, he would gather his generals to inform them of and refine his strategic plan.
Facing the once again invigorated Caesar, the generals of Bosporus had all arrived at the appointed place in advance this time.
Seeing their monarch regain his usual demeanor, these generals felt a deep sense of relief and reliability.
Manuel, too, keenly noticed his subordinates' attitudes.
After roughly guessing a few things, he smiled faintly with a hint of bitterness in his heart, then turned his attention to the upcoming military deployment.
"According to reliable intelligence, the domestic and international situation of the Ottoman does not seem to be so stable."
At this, he immediately demonstrated the tactics on the sand table, based on the final results from yesterday.
After the demonstration, he glanced at his subordinates, cleared his throat a few times, and encouraged them to speak freely to refine the plan.
The first to speak was his Commander of the Guard and head of intelligence, Badars.
Out of his professional habit as the head of the secret department, he first tried to doubt the authenticity of the intelligence his Caesar possessed, but with a quick thought, he suppressed his related questions.
Upon careful consideration, although the intelligence reported by the secret department did not directly mention these points, if one were to deduce slightly, it did not seem difficult to arrive at these conclusions.
Was it because they had been constrained by fixed mindsets before? Thinking of this possibility, Badars had a sudden realization: Caesar was indeed Caesar, far surpassing ordinary subjects like them.
As a result, Manuel inexplicably felt that Badars' gaze at him was filled with piercing admiration, which left him speechless, and he could only ignore it as usual.
Fortunately, Army Commander Tukharovsky, who spoke next, diverted his attention, "Caesar, while there is some truth to it, in my humble opinion, this relies heavily on the enemy's reaction.
If the Ottoman took us seriously and simply crushed us with fifty thousand troops, this trickery would not hold up at all."
"If that's the case," Manuel retorted, "Your Excellency Izhyaravich Tukharovsky, please propose a better method."
Facing his monarch's statement, Tukharovsky initially wanted to propose his own strategy as a counter-argument.
But after careful consideration, he found that he could not find any better method than the one proposed by his monarch.
Ultimately, he could only quietly lower his head, indicating that he was retracting the doubts he had just raised.
Afterward, Manuel answered some of the concerns raised by the generals and supplemented and refined the plan based on their questions.
Just as he was about to issue formal military orders to implement his plan, Dungar's abrupt question interrupted him.
"Caesar, this is a military gamble; this is risking our army's current controlled areas and the core territories of the Autocratic State."
This Western Europe general, who had recently joined the Bosporus Army, rose with great concern, intending to warn his monarch.
Manuel smiled somewhat helplessly at this resolute opposition, then nodded slightly, acknowledging his statement, "Naturally," he said, looking towards the west outside the tent, "this is gambling with all of Bosporus.
We might lose, but if we don't do this, we won't even have the right to fail."
… … … … … … … … … … … … … …
In mid-September afternoon, Sultan Murad II, believing he was fully prepared, confidently led his troops to Sinop.
After being welcomed by his subordinates and his father-in-law's family, he officially took command of the Ankara Legion, ready to deliver the final blow to the weak enemy in his eyes, the Bosphorus Despotate.
That evening, before letting his Xudivendagar Legion merge with the Ankara Legion, Murad also carefully reviewed Arnavutlu Iskender Pasha's reports on fighting the enemy.
The overall results were quite satisfactory to him; there was nothing that concerned him, except for the deliberate lack of pursuit to allow him, the Sultan, to claim the credit for completely defeating the enemy.
"While I should be satisfied with such an attitude, I still need to remind this Albanian that pursuing the infidels relentlessly would please me more than sacrificing a good opportunity to give me credit."
Having muttered this to himself, the Sultan casually laughed again.
His thinking was still overestimating the enemy.
If these Christian could find an opportunity to turn the tide in less than a month, then he would not call himself Sultan Murad II, but rather, like those jurists, call himself Grand Teacher Murad.
He had brought 15,000 men for this war, which was already a significant force for such a weak, small country.
While the Ottoman Sultan was mockingly laughing at his enemy, Bosphorus Caesar Manuel was praying in a dilapidated church.
Finally, he opened his eyes and coldly murmured towards the west: "'A king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength.' Murad II, even if the opponent is you, I still have no, and cannot have, any reason to fail."