CHAPTER 2: THE SHIT WILL HIT THE FAN 1453 "Rise!" The angry sergeant hooted into the barracks. The soldiers, fully clad in Janissary uniform forced themselves onto their feet, to the discomfort and displeasure of some. Again, he screamed. "He will be here in ten minutes, no more, no less, and I want you to sort every detail about your sorry selves! Cagatay! Your feather is crooked! Sort it now! Ozker! What on Earth is that stain!?! Get it out!" Mehmed lapsed into Greek; "You, son, are my favorite...." _____________________________________________________________ 1456 Later then evening....