The Turkish army, vast and relentless, encircled the Roman encampment almost threefold, creating a suffocating noose of steel and hooves. Wave after wave of the Sultan's horsemen galloped forward in a deadly rhythm—rushing toward the wooden walls, then pulling into a graceful arc just before impact, loosing volleys of arrows mid-turn.
These weren't just ordinary arrows—some were wrapped in oil-soaked cloth and sulfur, set alight before release. Each flaming arrow sailed over the walls with a hiss and a shriek, aiming not just to kill, but to sow terror and ignite chaos. The Roman outer defenses, hastily built and ill-prepared for a full-scale assault, offered little shelter. The rain of arrows pinned the defenders down, leaving them unable to even raise their heads.
