The sun stretched over the Roman Reich. Children played in the streets of Vienna, as unbeknownst to them, the Ottomans planned to invade. I looked out of my window and saw the same sight I always saw; two statues. One of the Pope, and the other, Emperor Charlemagne being crowned.
There was a knock on the door behind me. It swung open, revealing a man’s face, red with exhaustion, and hair like gold. Without taking a breath, he spoke of huge dust clouds and rivers of men gowned in yellow silk, armed with sabres and arquebus. “We must rally the men!” he cried.