A Tale of a Vulture Winged Man

Within the city, there was little ease. Night by night, men watched the horizon burning where the kinji yet scoured the agonized land. In upper austria, less than a third of the inhabitants were left alive. But still suliman sat in his magnificent pavilion and glared at the frail barrier that barred his imperial path. None but ibrahim dared speak to him. His mood was black as the cold nights that crept down from the northern hills. The wind that moaned outside his tent seemed a dirge for his ambitions of conquest. He called off the janisaries and bade them retire to the ruined suburbs and rest. No more attacks were made that day.