Yet the force opposite them remained utterly unmoved, with no intention of making way. Imamoglu Pasha's family was one of the most powerful in the entire Ottoman Empire, and as the vanguard commander of the New Army, he was quite flushed with success, like a rider galloping proudly through the spring breeze.
Imamoglu Pasha urged his horse forward. Just as he was about to speak, he saw the other side raise their rifles. Only then did he realize that their uniforms seemed somewhat wrong.
But it was already too late. Though the Russian commander could not understand what the other side was saying, he had not come to negotiate.
Nearly every Russian officer knew that the enemy outnumbered them while they were few. Time was life. Time was everything.
If an enemy force three or four times their number were allowed to concentrate its defenses near the imperial palace, then even if they could win, it would take weeks, perhaps even months.
Such a lengthy delay was clearly unacceptable to the Russians at this moment, because the longer it dragged on, the lower their chances of victory.
Not to mention the reinforcements pouring in from every direction and the British, who might enter the war at any moment—even the more than 500,000 Ottoman civilians in Constantinople, once armed, would become an unstoppable force.
So the Russians had to create chaos at the first opportunity. They would not give the Ottomans any chance to stall.
Imamoglu Pasha was no superhuman. Without the aid of bullet time, trying to dodge the fire of dozens of rifles was nothing more than a fool's dream.
The reality was that the instant Imamoglu Pasha wheeled his horse around, several bullets struck him. Before he could even cry out, he was already dead.
Only then did