1444, Byzantium Resurrects

South of Saint Joseph, Mabri Oasis.

This is the largest oasis in the Jufra Oasis Cluster and home to the semi-sedentary Mabri tribe.

Located between Jufra City and the port of Sirte, this large oasis serves as a vital transportation route between the north and south. Merchants and travelers constantly pass through, and the gentle bells of camels bring wealth to the Mabri tribe, making them the strongest in the region.

The current sheikh of the Mabri tribe is Adnan Mabri, a well-educated leader who is fluent in Latin and Greek, and who studied at an Islamic academy in Mamluk.

He has invited talented individuals from around the globe, offering high salaries to Italian engineers to drill wells, design defensive structures, construct castles and establish new academies in the Mabri Oasis.

Sheikh Adnan did not place much importance on the purity of faith. Whether they were traditional Sunni, Ibadi, or Shiite Muslims, everyone could find their place in his town.

Attracted by his reputation for kindness and tolerance, heretical scholars and refugees who had been persecuted elsewhere flocked to Mabray to seek his protection.

New villages began to spring up around the oasis and more and more tribes came to trade.

From slaves to nobles, everyone praised his wisdom.

Under his rule, Mabray gradually developed from a small town into a small city.

At that moment, a wise, middle-aged man was pacing anxiously in his room.

The door opened and his son, Murdar, rushed in, looking anxious.

"Get out! Knock on the door!"

Murdar had no choice but to obey his father.

"Father! Abdullah wants us to give him 100 men and 500 sheep again!"

"Give them to him."

"Father! You can't keep doing this! There are so many of them living here now, and we're responsible for feeding them all. When will this ever end?"

"You know several of the elders are very dissatisfied with your actions, but..."

"But what?"

"But why are you so accommodating to Abdullah?"

"King Abdullah."

Adnan Sheikh corrected him.

"So what? The tribal alliance can choose him as king, and they can choose you."

"We are doing this for Allah."

"Allah? Yesterday, the king openly defied Allah's will when he got drunk with his favorite concubine."

Mursal said sarcastically.

"You are the sheikh. Your primary duty is to strengthen the tribe, not to be loyal to the king."

"You know all this. I'm just reminding you of your duty as a son."

Mursal finished speaking and left.

Adnan Sheikh was left alone in the room, his expression changing from gloomy to cheerful.

The next day, news reached Mabri that Sult had refused to accept the ultimatum, and the king flew into a rage and summoned the nobles of the alliance.

When Adnan Sheikh arrived at the city lord's hall, everyone else was already there. King Abdullah was sitting in his usual place, his eyes slightly narrowed as he picked his favorite fruits from the plate beside him.

"Adnan, you're late. Did you forget to inform the Qafils?"

A shrill voice rang out. It belonged to the king's brother-in-law and favorite, the Sheikh of the Fatiye tribe and prime minister of the kingdom.

To a certain extent, his will represented the king's will.

"Your Excellency, I was busy dealing with provisions and was delayed for a while," Adnan replied respectfully.

Adnan replied respectfully.

"Speaking of provisions, we are about to march. You must prepare at least a month's worth."

Fatiye smiled at Adnan.

"Sir, I..."

"It's decided then. We will march north tomorrow."

"Everyone, go back and prepare."

Everyone agreed and dispersed.

Adnan looked up at the king, who was still with his eyes closed and saying nothing, his lips clenched tightly.

...

On 9 November 1446, both sides gathered their forces, tested each other and then chose to engage in a decisive battle in the desert south of Saint Joseph without consulting each other.

The Grand Duchy of Surt's army comprised the Purple Guard and the First Legion of the Imperial Guard in the center, commanded by Mikhail with Ibrahim as second-in-command.

The Black Corps infantry formed the left wing, close to the center, under the command of Maruna.

The conscripted tribal infantry formed the right wing under the command of Ghazi, with Eldosh as second-in-command.

The cavalry, hoping to decide the battle with a single blow, was assembled under the command of Mehmed.

Isaac stood in the center directing the troops and forming a defensive formation with deep trenches and high walls to hinder the enemy's advance.

The elite royal army served as the center of the Fezzan Tribal Kingdom's army and was commanded by King Abdullah himself.

The left wing was commanded by Prime Minister Fatiye, who had gathered most of the cavalry with the intention of breaking through the weak right wing of Surt directly.

The right wing was commanded by Adnan Shah and consisted mostly of his own troops and troops from affiliated tribes.

There were no pre-battle rituals, no exchanges of threats between the leaders and no dramatic scenes of men suddenly charging out of nowhere.

Isaac ordered his men to raise the purple double-headed eagle flag and the Surt flag, and the battle began.

The enemy sounded the trumpets of attack. Fatimah's vizier on the left wing shouted loudly, driving the tribal cavalry and camel riders towards Surt's right flank.

Meanwhile, the 1,200 regular infantry of Fizan's central army advanced steadily under the guidance of military trumpets. The Muslim infantry wore deep green robes and held round shields to defend themselves against arrows.

Eight hundred elite cavalrymen waited behind the infantry formation on uniform desert horses. They wore light armor and held sabers or maces in their right hands and cavalry shields in their left. They calmed their restless warhorses while waiting for the infantry to wear down the enemy's momentum.

Meanwhile, the right wing, commanded by Adnan Shah, was advancing slowly. This wing comprised poorly dressed tribesmen carrying basic weapons who walked forward timidly.

"Father! They gave us the worst conscripts! We've been abandoned!"

Mursal shouted loudly as he approached Adnan.

Adnan looked at the army formation beside him, then at his own cannon fodder; his face remained expressionless.

"Mursal, gather our elite private soldiers and place them at the rear of the formation. Notify the tribes we know to retreat as soon as there is any movement."

Adnan looked at the king's banner, on which the fat man with a kind face and a dark heart stood.

This was too much!

"If you win, I will have no choice. But if you lose, don't blame me for being heartless!

"Charge!"

Eager to prove himself, Fatiye urged the cavalry forward with a loud cry, whipping the riders at the rear.

He was the kingdom's glorious prime minister on the surface, but in reality, he knew that his position was entirely due to his sister, the king's favorite concubine. He had achieved nothing in the military or politically, so he had no way to win the respect of the people.

This holy war was his best chance!

The enemy troops on the other side were probably traitors who had surrendered to the kafir. They were poorly equipped and had low morale, so they would be no match for his elite troops.

Once he had crushed the enemy's weak right flank, he would take the defeated soldiers with him and charge straight at the center of the enemy army. Wouldn't the enemy commander then be easy prey?

"Sheikh! Our cavalry and camel riders are falling behind! Should we order the cavalry to slow down?"

The adjutant reminded Fatiye.

Fatiye also began to realize this.

"No! The enemy's defenses are weak. Let the cavalry charge first and then the camel riders can trample the survivors to finish them off!"

Fatiye said resolutely.

It was clear that he was still quite capable and had basic military skills.

The tribal cavalrymen gripped their sabers tightly, clamped their legs against their horses' sides and began their final charge.

The few hastily dug trenches and pits did play a small role in knocking down several front-line cavalrymen and their horses.

The cavalrymen behind them remained unfazed, stepping over their fallen comrades and continuing to charge forward with their shields raised.

Once the enemy cavalry were within arrow range, Surt's conscripted tribal infantry began to shoot, but their arrows were few and far between and unable to slow the enemy's advance.

Two thousand paces, one thousand five hundred paces, one thousand paces... The footsteps of the enemy cavalry grew closer and closer, their horses and camels trampling the hard ground and making a deafening roar.

Gazi clenched the horsewhip in his hand tightly and stared at the ferocious expressions on the faces of the enemy cavalry as they charged.

Around him, the conscripted infantry from the subordinate tribes began to stir uneasily, fear evident on their faces.

"Change formation!"

Gazi shouted.

The flag bearer waved his flag and the infantrymen in front of him breathed a sigh of relief, quickly dodging to the side.

At the rear of the formation, a row of soldiers wearing blue and purple robes and leather armor stood behind pre-set fire doors, their guns aimed at the Fezzan cavalry.

The signal flag was lowered.

Bang—bang—

The Purple Guard's riflemen opened fire.

Kill, kill!

The startled horses reared up, throwing their riders far away.

The enemy's charge slowed slightly.

"Damn it!" "You're all cowards!"

Fatiye roared.

"The enemy doesn't have many muskets! Continue! Charge!"

Gradually recovering from the brief confusion, the cavalry began to reorganize their charge.

"Sheikh!"

The adjutant shook Fatiye, who was staring intently at the battlefield.

"What is it?"

Fatiye shook off the adjutant's hand.

"There's a strange smell in the air."

Fatiye sniffed hard. The smell was very pungent and familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Are you ready?"

Gazi asked Eldosh.

"Yes, sir."

"Begin."

The musketeers began to retreat, and the panicked and painful cries of the enemy followed them.

Suddenly, mad camels charged out from the right flank of the Sultan's army, straight towards the group of cavalries.

Engulfed in flames, these suffering animals unleashed an impact force they normally did not possess, knocking everything in their path out of the way as they neared death.

"Slow down! Get out of the way!"

The cavalry captain shouted.

It was too late. Both sides were moving too fast and the musket fire had disrupted the cavalry's formation. The collision was imminent.

In Southern Sult, in full view of everyone, the burning camels charged into the cavalry. They knocked the riders from their horses and spread the flames to the warhorses.

In an instant, the enemy army was thrown into chaos.

"For His Highness!"

"Charge with me!"

Eldosh shouted, leading the tribal soldiers into the enemy army's chaos.

The camel troops quickly scattered the cavalry and, along with the burning warhorses, charged towards the camel riders at the rear.

"Mehmed can move now."

Isaac observed the scene from a distance and signaled to the flag bearer to wave the flag.

"Charge for Rome!"

Seeing the signal, Mehmed, who had been maneuvering beside the army, began to mobilize his men.

He loudly encouraged the cavalry behind him and led them towards the enemy's chaotic left wing.

They were determined to annihilate the enemy's elite mobile forces in one fell swoop!

"Sheikh! Run! The enemy cavalry is charging!"

Fatih looked helplessly at the chaotic battlefield, the screams of burning soldiers reaching his ears and stimulating his nerves.

Suddenly, he remembered where that pungent smell was coming from:

Fire oil.

This substance was not uncommon in the desert. Some tribes used it as fuel, but because of its foul odour, it had few other applications.

"My lord! There's no time!"

Fatiye realized what was happening, grabbed a horse and galloped away with his personal guards.

Inside the central camp, King Abdullah could no longer sit still.

The two armies were still firing at each other from a distance, inflicting casualties on both sides.

He had never expected the left wing, on which he had pinned his hopes, to collapse first.

"Damn you, Fatiye! Damn you!"

he roared, his favorite concubine trembling in fear beside him.

"It's all your brother's fault!"

Abdullah grabbed his favorite concubine by the neck, blaming her for the left wing's defeat.

It was only when she began to foam at the mouth that he came to his senses.

"Send word to Adnan Shah to lead the right wing and block the enemy. We will retreat first!"

Abdullah called out to the messenger.

The messenger looked to the right, his face pale.

"Your Majesty..."

"What?"

"Adnan Shah has escaped."

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