I've just spent the last hour finishing my RE essay, so guess what. I've done almost all of my work, so I now have time to update! But first, replies...
Quintillian, Grundius, SunZyl- I don't really know. I haven't thought much about it until now...
Duke of Wellington- You''l like this next "accident" then...
CSK- I was wondering how long it would take for someone to pick it up. Perhaps they're imported...
The Real Deal- I have a stash of updates that I write in my free time

. So that means it only takes me five minutes to update.
Specialist290- Thanks.
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November 19th 1436
Murad smiled. The final touches were in place. He’d spent the last eleven months at the gates of Beograd, Serbia’s capital, and was finally ready to set alight to the city. A couple of soldiers were running about, carrying branches and rags to the city gates. Archers were covering them, but hardly any defenders were left on the walls after a sergeant (now a captain) had an accident involving a dead donkey, a ballista and two kegs of water (Murad knew better than to ask). He went over to a box hung on a tree near the walls and tapped it. A parrot popped out, obviously irritated by the noise.
“Yes?” it asked.
Murad’s hand dug into his pocket and pulled out two silver deben. “I need you to send a message to…”
“Sire! The Moldovians are attacking! The Moldovians are atta…”
The startled soldier ran straight into Murad. The sultan snarled.
“The Moldovians? I fought Ca Sa Ka dealt with their main raiding party in Wallachia back in March?”
The soldier was clearly dazed. “Whaaaa…bu…”
“Oh string a sentence together you…”
He stopped as he realised he’d started strangling the poor soldier. He let him fall to the ground and asked again.
“The Moldovians have come in force this time sire. Mustafa thinks there’s about 5,000 of them…”
But Murad was striding off towards his bemused army. He barked orders at them and they slowly lined up as a battalion.
“Right you lot!” Murad shouted. “This is a major battle! The Moldovians have come to stop us from torching Beograd and may very well do so unless we stop them.”
He made a quick mental calculation before continuing. “There are 7,200 of us and only 5,000 of them. They have just come across a river and are therefore very likely to…”
“Yaarghhh!”
Murad was startled as a man in the bottom rank of his army fell, transfixed by an arrow. From over the hills charged an army wearing red, armed with spears and swords. The sultan could just about make out a foot soldier who was trying his hardest to fall off his horse.
“Must be contagious.” he muttered, then turned to his bemused men.
“ATTACK!” he screamed.