1444, Byzantium Resurrects

On the western section of the Great Wall of Corinth, Ottoman soldiers shouted, raised their shields, and carried ladders forward.

Behind them, the Ottoman cannons had just stopped firing, and the musketeers were firing in unison to provide cover.

The Black Corps and the Occitan Corps participating in the defence hid behind the battlements, waiting for the Ottomans to finish their first round of firing.

After a volley of gunfire, the Ottoman musketeers began reloading. The defenders raised their heads, some raising their muskets, others drawing their bows, and still others, the strongest among them, picked up stones and hurled them down.

On the city walls, cannons were being loaded in preparation for the next round of fire against the Ottomans.

Small catapults and ballista continuously fired, targeting the Ottoman siege engines.

On the city walls, Isaac had brought fire oil, lime, and rusty iron from the rear. As the Ottomans approached, strong soldiers threw them down in a heap.

In war, the defending side has a significant advantage. If the combat strength of the two sides is not too disparate, it is difficult for the attacking side to directly break through the city walls.

In medieval sieges, it was common to wait for the enemy to exhaust their supplies and surrender.

The enemy had about 5,000 soldiers of average quality, divided into several small teams that attacked in batches, with firearms providing cover from behind.

Isa also had four troops take turns attacking, in order to respond to the Ottoman offensive in the best possible condition.

A day passed quickly, and seeing that they had no hope of breaking through the city walls, the Ottomans sounded the retreat.

The laborers from both sides cleaned up the battlefield, collecting the bodies and damaged equipment.

The Ottomans estimated their casualties at over 500, while Isaac's side suffered a total of 109 casualties.

For a defensive battle, such a casualty ratio was indeed embarrassing.

'Your Highness, it is clear that the Ottomans did not give their all. They are not yet aware that we have reinforced our troops and are probably just sending small groups of soldiers to distract us.'

Knight Conte summarized after the battle.

Isaac nodded. Judging from the battles of the past few days, the Ottoman main force was not here, and there was not a single Janissary guard.

'Order the soldiers to rest quickly and send all monks skilled in medicine from nearby monasteries here.'

'Record the seriously wounded and dead soldiers, noting those who fought bravely first, and provide compensation and commendations after the battle.'

'Send a letter to Patras Port requesting Captain Fidel to transport the new batch of military supplies as soon as possible.'

Isaac issued several orders in quick succession.

'Yes, sir!'

The officers saluted and left.

Night fell, and the Great Wall of Corinth looked like a giant beast crawling on the ground, writhing restlessly in the light of the fires.

The soldiers sat in small groups around the fires, eating the food in the pots.

The food was plentiful. After looting the port of Nafpaktos and the transport ships, Isaac now had no shortage of military provisions.

The soldiers were somewhat silent. The ongoing war had taken the lives of their comrades today, and perhaps tomorrow it would take their own lives.

For an army, morale is the most important thing. Once morale collapses, no matter how many men there are, they are useless.

That was why veterans who had seen battle were the treasure of an army.

They were familiar with the cruelty of killing, accustomed to death and separation, and had begun to grow accustomed to war, even enjoying it.

Having one or two veterans in a squad was like having a backbone.

They could sit on fresh corpses to keep warm and sleep peacefully in blood.

The new recruits beside them will also feel at ease.

Among the four legions participating in today's battle, the Purple Guard is clearly stronger than the other armies and quickly adjusts itself.

The other three armies are not as good.

Isaac leads several senior generals and patrols among the soldiers.

From time to time, he sits down on the ground and asks the soldiers for something to eat.

'Hakan! You there! Bring me that bowl of soup!'

'Your Highness, do you remember me?'

Hakan, who had been called out, was a little surprised and handed the bowl of soup to Isaac.

"Of course... You're the Purple Guard's sharpshooter..."

Isaac gulped down the soup, which was heavily salted, and threw the bowl aside.

"Eat more! You need to eat to have strength!'

Isaac patted Hakan on the shoulder and noticed the short bow behind him.

"Someone bring me my powerful bow and give it to this brave warrior!"

A servant nearby took down the powerful bow and handed it to Hakan.

Hakan did not refuse, drew the bow to its fullest, then slowly lowered it, the veins on his arms bulging.

It was indeed a fine bow.

Isaac offered a few more words of encouragement and left with the officers.

The soldiers around them looked enviously at the powerful bow with the Paleologos emblem in Hakan's hands.

Isaac and Maruna walked briskly, talking loudly and cheerfully, their conversation vulgar, attracting the attention of the soldiers along the way.

Mikhail, who was walking behind them, frowned.

Isaac stopped from time to time and called out the names of soldiers who had distinguished themselves on the battlefield, presenting them with swords or armor.

"Your name is Aeolus, isn't it? I saw you behead an Ottoman squad leader today. This great sword is yours!"

"Lyon! Look here! You took the most blows today. Servant! Bring me my armor!"

Gradually, the soldiers came out of their initial lethargy and began to interact actively with their prince.

Isaac's strategy differed between the different legions.

In the Imperial Guard, Isaac emphasized defending the homeland, stirring up the Greek soldiers' patriotic feelings.

In the Purple Guard, Isaac emphasized personal charm, subtly treating them as his private army and expressing his favors towards them.

As for the Occitan Corps, which was mostly made up of Frenchmen, Isaac joked with them in French to build rapport.

It was the Black Corps' turn, so he didn't go.

After making a full round, Isaac was exhausted.

However, looking at the camp gradually becoming lively, Isaac felt that it was all worth it.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that this was political posturing, and the soldiers probably knew it too.

But they were still buying it.

Because it meant that the commander-in-chief valued his soldiers and was willing to lower himself to get closer to them.

At a time when the empire's authority was in tatters, Isaac could only use such methods to maintain the cohesion of his army.

Back at the main camp, Isaac fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, Osman's tactics remained unchanged, and by noon, his troops withdrew.

Just as Isaac and the others were puzzled, a messenger arrived from the middle section of the Great Wall.

"Your Highness! Grand Duke Thomas is requesting reinforcements! Osman's army is gathering in large numbers with many siege weapons!"

Isaac exchanged glances with Conte and the others.

"You go rest first. We will send reinforcements."

"Your Highness! You must hurry! Thomas's troops are already few in number. They have no way of dealing with a large-scale offensive!"

"Don't worry, I will definitely go."

The messenger left, and Conte immediately asked in confusion.

"Your Highness, I have seen the terrain in the middle section. There are many obstacles. If the Ottomans want to attack here, they will suffer heavy casualties. How can they be so foolish?"

Isaac was already giving orders to prepare the horses.

"No matter what, we must save them."

"Mikhail, you and Maruna stay behind and command the defense of the western section."

"Conte, Ibrahim, come with me!"

"Messenger! Assemble the army!"

"Yes!"

...

It was early spring at noon, and the sun was shining brightly.

On the parade ground of the western section of the Great Wall of Corinth, banners fluttered in the wind, and rows of soldiers stood in formation, fully armed.

The soldiers waited there in silence.

Suddenly, a young man rode up from a distance on a tall horse.

The knight and his warhorse were covered in purple cloaks, with shiny armor underneath.

A cape covered his body, fluttering in the wind.

Looking at the soldiers, he swept his gaze across them, and the soldiers stood up straight.

He walked from west to east, and the soldiers of the westernmost guard unit struck their spear handles on the ground and shouted.

"Victory!"

First, it was the First Guard Legion, then the Purple Guard, the Oak Corps, and finally even the mercenary battalion of the Black Corps was infected, shouting 'Victory!'

Isaac walked to the center of the parade ground, drew his sword, and raised it high above his head.

"Victory!"

The soldiers shouted.

Isaac nodded and scanned the various legions.

"We will rescue our allies. Those who are willing to follow me, come with me!"

Isaac shouted.

On the battlefield, there was no need for flowery speeches.

"I will follow you!"

Ibrahim rode out on horseback and stood beside Isaac.

"I will follow you!"

Mehmet rushed out of the legion.

"We will follow you, Your Highness!"

Conte and the remaining French knights shouted as they rode out.

One after another, soldiers stepped forward and stood beside Isaac.

"We have enough men! Three hundred cavalry will be my vanguard, and 800 infantry will be led by Ibrahim!"

"Bring enough food for a week, and leave all heavy weapons behind!"

"Let's go!"

The young prince led the way, riding eastward.

...

In the middle of Corinth, in Grand Duke Thomas's command post.

"Your Excellency, Osman's catapults and cannons are too fierce! Our soldiers can't even lift their heads!"

Grand Duke Thomas looked at the situation on the Great Wall in the distance and felt very anxious.

The middle section of the Great Wall was the most stable, and it was equipped with many cannons and muskets. He had even specially adopted the advice of his good nephew Isaac and built many anti-bombardment facilities.

However, his army was too small. Out of the 1,200-strong force, more than half were farmers conscripted from his own fiefdom. They were fine in peacetime, but once they were frightened by the cannons, they huddled inside the walls and began praying to God.

"Have the reinforcements been dispatched?"

Thomas asked his aide.

"They left a long time ago. By now, Prince Constantine and Prince Isaac's reinforcements should be on their way. Just hold on a little longer!"

Despite this, the situation on the battlefield was rapidly deteriorating. Some of the peasant soldiers had already begun to flee, and the Ottoman soldiers took advantage of this to set up ladders and climb onto the city walls.

Thomas gritted his teeth.

"Arm me! I'll take my personal guard and drive them back!"

But it was too late. The Ottoman squad had already taken up advantageous positions, and Thomas's personal guard forced them to the edge of the city wall, but they were unable to drive them off completely.

"The battering rams are coming!"

shouted a sharp-eyed soldier.

An Ottoman battering ram took advantage of the opportunity to break through the line of cannons and Greek fire and rammed into a city gate.

Boom—boom—boom—

Thomas on the city wall felt the tremors and immediately realised that something was wrong.

He had no reserves left.

If the battering ram broke through the gate, he would have no way to block it again.

He wanted to turn back to help, but he was held back by a small group of Ottomans.

Thomas cut off the head of an Ottoman soldier with a single blow, but the dying man's eyes were filled with glee, as if mocking the Greeks' incompetence.

Bang!

One impact after another completely destroyed the city gate, and the Ottomans cheered while the Eastern Romans were in gloom.

The farmers blocking the gate were cut down by the Ottomans in no time and retreated with cries.

More Ottomans began to enter.

Suddenly, the battlefield began to shake with the sound of hooves.

"Make way! Make way!"

The purple-clad youth at the front shouted.

The soldiers around him scattered.

"Soldiers! This is your chance to make a name for yourselves!"

"Charge!"

Isaac rode up to the high ground, leaving the battlefield to Conte.

He would not make the same mistake as Władysław III.

The knights led by Conti charged forward on their angry horses, breaking through the hastily organized Ottoman lines like a wedge.

Three hundred cavalrymen rushed into the enemy ranks, slashing and killing indiscriminately.

The Ottoman vanguard, in pursuit of flexibility, had not worn iron armor and became human sandbags.

"Quickly block the city gates!"

Isaac shouted to the remaining peasant soldiers.

Encouraged by their allies, the peasant soldiers also returned, carrying stones and sandbags to block the city gates.

Thomas also rallied his remaining strength and finally defeated the desperate Ottoman squad.

The last stone was pushed into the breach, and everyone cheered.

Then, Isaac's infantry and Constantine's reinforcements arrived one after another.

Seeing that reinforcements had arrived, the Ottomans knew that breaking through the city was hopeless, so they slowly withdrew from the battlefield.

Thomas walked down from the city wall and punched Isaac hard.

"Good boy, if you hadn't arrived in time, your position in the line of succession would have moved up one place, ha ha ha..."

General Jan Yaroslav, sent by Constantine, also came forward to salute.

This Yaroslav came from the Great Plain of Rusenia and was originally the leader of a Rusenia tribe who served Constantine as a mercenary.

"Yaroslav, why are you here? Is there no battle at Constantine's side?"

Thomas was puzzled.

"Not for the time being, sir."

Yaroslav analysed.

"Thanks to His Highness Isaac's defeat of the Ottoman transport fleet, we believe the Ottomans do not have enough supplies to launch attacks on several fronts at the same time."

Isaac's alarm bell rang.

The Ottomans were not weak Italians. Even without sufficient supplies, they were still capable of launching a desperate attack.

After all, that was how their ancestors had fought their way from East Asia, surrounded by powerful enemies, all the way to Anatolia.

"What if the Ottomans disregard everything, slaughter their horses for food, abandon their weapons, and insist on charging forward? What should we do then?"

"How can we stop the Ottoman army's fierce attack with just the village militia?"

Knight Conte had obviously thought of this as well.

After he finished speaking, no one answered.

The few people exchanged glances and saw deep concern in each other's eyes.

That night, news came from the east that the Ottomans had taken advantage of the darkness to launch a fierce attack on the city walls.

Three Janissary regiments abandoned their muskets, clenched curved swords in their mouths, and took turns attacking the city walls.

At night, both sides' firearms were rendered useless, and the two armies engaged in close combat, with the defenders fighting desperately.

Constantine personally took to the battlefield to boost morale.

A messenger arrived, requesting reinforcements.

Isaac looked up at the thick night sky and sighed.

The battle raged on.

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