On the sixth morning.
A thin mist descended over Constantinople, obscuring the vast Ottoman camp below, which seemed as endless as the sea.
The expressions of the defenders became much more relaxed, chatting casually while trying to stomach their breakfast amid the pungent smell of blood in the air.
Conservative estimates suggest that just yesterday, thousands of corpses had been cast under the city walls.
The temperature had already warmed up, and the experienced mercenaries believed that today they only smelled blood, but in a few days, they would be smelling stench, and those who couldn't eat today would find it even more difficult then.
"Oh no, if you can't even stand a little smell of blood, you won't survive until then."
By noon, the fog gradually dissipated.
The massive siege camp once again came into view, and the laughter on the defenders' faces was replaced by oppression.
With a loud boom.
