Shortly after Cardinal Cesarini's death, and just before Hunyadi's complete defeat, on the eastern flank of the Varna battlefield, Vlad II, Prince of Wallachia, watched the friendly forces collapse like a mountain, his face ashen, not uttering a word.
For a moment, he resented himself for not knowing when to quit and for getting involved in this Catholic-dominated mess.
"Stop spacing out, it's your turn to fight the Ottoman!"
Seeing his ally's current disoriented state, Stephen II, Prince of Moldavia, whose own condition was not much better, rode his chestnut warhorse and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to encourage the other.
"Me, fight the Ottoman? Eh... Really?" Upon hearing his ally's words, Vlad II's entire face twisted.
Władysław III, the joint sovereign of Poland and Hungary, and "White Knight" Hunyadi János, the calm, experienced general who commanded troops like a god, along with tens of thousands of heavily armored warriors, had not achieved even a shred of victory against the Ottoman!
Now, he, a weak Prince with only five thousand men, was supposed to face the strongest Ottoman in his eyes? No, subtracting those called by Hunyadi and those already defeated and fleeing the battlefield, he probably had less than two thousand usable men...
"Your Highness Stephen, how many troops do you still have?" Vlad II asked, his face stiff.
"Five thousand when we arrived."
"And now?"
"..."
"Your Highness Stephen..."
"Around three thousand; the rest were lost in skirmishes with the infidels." Stephen II couldn't stand his ally's almost desperate look and revealed his own situation completely.
"So that means we only have five thousand men left in total," Vlad said, covering his face, his voice growing weaker.
"What do we do?" Stephen finally exposed his inner anxiety.
"Will we win?"
"We will die!"
Vlad II almost cried out these words with a mournful face.
What else could he do? Lead the Wallachians to their deaths? But if they chose to flee the battlefield immediately, they would surely be caught by the Ottoman, and then everything would be lost.
"Should we take a gamble? For ourselves." As if seeing his ally's hesitation, Stephen II asked him.
"Let's cooperate, so we can both retreat safely." Vlad II gritted his teeth and accepted the Prince of Moldavia's proposal.
After reaching a consensus, they immediately discussed their strategy against the enemy—
"Although the Turk is about to win against the Catholic, they are not without losses.
Look, their formations are in disarray, and the Turk cannon fodder used to block attacks is almost completely exhausted; even the frequency of cannon fire has noticeably decreased, probably because their ammunition reserves are running low." The Prince of Wallachia, who had dealt with the Ottoman numerous times, displayed his talent on the spot, analyzing the enemy's true current situation.
"Then it's time for the cavalry to charge; if our cavalry can break through the Ottoman, then at least we can retreat in one piece." The Prince of Moldavia suggested, "Speaking of which, Your Highness Vlad, how many cavalry do you still have?"
"I still have two to three hundred light cavalry, but all my hussars were given to 'White Knight' Hunyadi to use.
What about you?" Vlad II revealed the truth, his lips trembling slightly.
"I still have seven hundred and fifty leather-armored hussars; I have no other cavalry." Stephen II answered him, almost trembling.
Clearly, the Prince of Moldavia's condition was not much better than his.
"Then what do we do?" Vlad felt they were suddenly in a predicament.
"...Let's go.
If we want to maintain a foothold in Eastern Europe, this is our last chance!" Stephen II finally chose to go all out.
And his ally, after careful consideration, eventually bit the bullet and joined forces with him, launching an assault on the Ottoman!
From the start of their conversation to the beginning of this final push, less than three minutes had passed.
Just as these two Princes of the Danube Principality chose to charge the Ottoman, at the Sultan's imperial carriage in the Ottoman center, the Ottoman Sultan was praising the enemies he had encountered.
"Truly remarkable, whether it's Władysław of Poland, or Hunyadi of Hungary, or Cardinal Cesarini of Rome, all are wise and brave individuals comparable to Ghazi Warriors," Murad said, closing his eyes and smiling, muttering,
"I doubt I will ever forget you."
"Sultan, we have detected enemy presence to our northeast, possibly Wallachians." Kasim Pasha's timely report interrupted the Sultan's praise.
And the information he brought made Murad II regain his previous seriousness and tension when facing the enemy.
"Wallachia and Moldavia? They actually didn't choose to flee?" Murad patted the sword at his waist, "A wise choice; immediately fleeing and then being hunted down by our army would be the most foolish act.
"Of course, their current choice isn't much better.
Even if our army is not as strong as before the battle, they cannot contend with us.
Allah is above, Ghazi Warriors, Devshirme soldiers, prepare to meet the enemy!"
"Yes, Sultan!"
Soon, the combined forces of the two Wallachia Principalities clashed with the Ottoman.
Initially, as both monarchs expected, the Ottoman's combat strength had indeed declined after several hours of fighting, and since the conscripted Turk tribal members had been almost completely expended earlier, the Wallachians' cavalry charges and slashes now felt like they were chipping away at their health bar.
But even with this war of attrition, these two weak Principalities could not outlast their enemy.
When the Ottoman's cannons turned their muzzles, all remaining gunpowder and stone shot were fired at them, hindering the Wallachians' cavalry.
And the Ottoman's Sipahi heavy cavalry seized the opportunity when a weakness appeared, rushing forward and cutting down the opposing light cavalry or hussars with a single blow.
Against absolute power, no matter how brilliant the tactics, nothing could be salvaged.
About fifteen minutes later, Vlad II and Stephen II were forced to retreat with their respective central forces, cowering to the north.
If the Ottoman's Sipahi launched another swift charge, they would be forced to scatter their troops like birds and beasts.
But just then, on the eastern horizon of Varna, a fleet of warships stopped near the beach, beginning to disembark well-equipped, high-spirited warriors.
And all these ships flew a yellow banner with a pure black double-headed eagle.