One Golden Mean

"Auream quisquis mediocritatem", the courage stood between recklessness and cowardice. Dochia remembered Janos Csevi's teachings as she listened to the Dragon when he spoke to his grossly outnumbered army.

"Today, we have a choice: we stay hidden and die of hunger or we fall into the hands of the sultan. It would be a cruel death."

"No brave man deserves to die thus. We would prevail once more with a feat worthy of remembrance."

"Tonight we kill Mehmed and drive his army out of our lands."

The rest of his speech dimmed because she knew well what the Dragon had in mind.  Twenty four thousand horsemen against ninety thousand troops would have bordered on recklessness if not for the Dragon's genius.

She would lead the nimble gypsy contingent; Duncan would come with the heavier armored mercenaries while Stoian was to use his magic and deflect the blows aimed at the Dragon.

Then it was Galesh, who would attack from the other side.

She was the first one to answer the passionate call of the Dragon. Duncan was still brooding over the details, and Stoian seemed to take everything as it came.

As of Galesh, she never understood why the Dragon gave him the command of the cavalry contingent.

"We ride three hours after sundown." the Dragon's voice startled her as he ended his speech.

Dochia felt the thrill of the unknown; however, she needed to preserve her strength. Although she burned to, it was not the time to don her armor yet. She could only return to the tent she shared with Duncan.

In front on the tent Stoian studied the long scar on the side of his hand.

"Never leave Dragon's side. "

Stoian displayed his smug grin and Dochia's face shone with hope and excitement.

Stoian's grin disappeared; he studied again his scar then she heard the faintest whisper.

"Take care so that you do not fall."

Dochia turned  and Stoian snorted.

"The gypsy witch said it differently after she sewed my hand. Something about a cave. Never had the gift of tongues."

"Cave ne Cadas" she recited. That's what Janos used to tell her when she became too daring.

"I never saw her sewing the blade of grass in my hand. I try to not dwell much on why she needed to tell me that, if the magic of the grass is with me."

“And yet the iron never touched you.”

Stoian's face brightened at her encouraging smile.

She heard Duncan's voice as she entered the tent.

"You know well this is madness, Dochia. You'd never come alive from that camp. This is well beyond courage; it is recklessness"

"I've been accused of that, before." she huffed and left the tent.  There was reason in Duncan's words. However, she couldn't bear to surrender her lands to the Sultan.

The hour finally came and she surveyed her regiment. Quiet and nimble, they were to sneak in the Turkish tents and quietly slit the throats of their inhabitants. She wore her light, cuir bouilli armor that would help her blend with the night while it preserved the freedom of her movements.

Duncan prepared his contingent of mercenaries, that was to join the fight when the Turks panicked as they grasped they were under attack. Heavy armors glittered in the light of the bonfires.

After one more cursory look, Duncan approached her. He had been brooding over her armors from the very moment she offered to join the Dragon. Only then Duncan reluctantly enlisted to participate.  There was no mistake, he did it for her.

"As long as I breathe, you'd find me at your side, mo ghaol."

If Duncan should die, she'd never forgive herself.

Under the veil of the night, the Dragon, Stoian and Dochia with the contingent of gypsies entered the Turkish camp. Mehmed ordered his janissaries to stay inside their tents during the night, so they would avoid panic. Their plan counted on this detail, and it worked for a while. Soon, the Turkish soldiers chose to face the wrath of Mehmed to imminent death. They sounded the alarm, and all the hell broke loose. 

She should have known Duncan wouldn't wait for her signal as they agreed and offered a prayer to God in gratitude. It was time to retreat, and let the heavier armored knights finish the attack.

Galesh should have attacked through the left flank. One glance at Duncan told her about his frustration when the carefully built plan unraveled.  He faltered and turned to the mercenaries to command the retreat.

Dochia watched the Dragon and Stoian clear their way through the Turkish throng towards the Sultan's tent. It took only a moment to punish its inhabitants. However, the look on the Dragon's face was anything but victorious. 

"Oh God, it's the wrong tent." she whispered.

She looked in question at Stoian and saw his lips form "Cave ne Cadas." He was warning her to not do anything foolish. It was over.

Then the Dragon surged, and with a frightening snarl on his narrow face lounged at the Turkish army, now in a total disorder.

The impossible became possible. Today, falling would be an honor.

She caught the reins of a straying horse and lifted herself in the saddle. Duncan's mutinous look told her that if the Turks didn't kill her, he would see to it. Right after he saved her life, as he lounged at the group of Turks closing on her for an easy win.

There was little chance to find the Sultan in the confusion around them. Instead, they would take down as many janissaries as they could.

The fight continued into the early hours of the morning. Five thousand Valachian soldiers lay dead, and many were wounded. The Turkish toll was three times as much and the Sultan had fled in shame. 

Mehmed was later heard saying he cannot take the land away from a man who does such marvelous things.

Auream quisquis mediocritatem... That's what victory was.