章節 29: Veni, Vidi, Vici
"Hmmm..."
Observing the men led by Dmitriv, John's initial astonishment had given way to a touch of disappointment, though he had anticipated the current quality of the troops.
"It appears my concerns were justified."
"Most of your men are comprised of peasants and displaced citizens. It seems their combat prowess extends little beyond their courage,"
John sighed, his gaze directed towards Dmitriv and Emil. As Emil translated John's words, Dmitriv could only manage a wry smile.
"Well... I suppose this is the best option we currently have," he shrugged, responding to John's assessment.
With a resolute nod, John replied,
"At the very least, with this force, capturing a single fortress should proceed without major hindrance."
Shifting his gaze to the assembled thousand men, John observed countenances radiating determination and fearlessness.
In contrast to the Bulgarian peasant militia, these united cohorts appeared more imposing, despite their fewer numbers.
"Should everyone be prepared, we shall now proceed to the second phase of our operation: the capture of Tekirgöl Fort,"
John briefed his men, his voice carrying authority, ensuring his words reached every ear.
"Yet, let us not lose sight of the fact that our Bulgarian allies are fighting to reclaim their homeland, and it is our duty to stand by their side,"
He added, his tone brimming with resolve and fervor, further emboldening his troops.
"As the vanguard of this assault, we will breach the fortress, just as we meticulously practiced in our drills. My hope is that each one of you emerges from this unscathed, standing tall when all is said and done, for numerous more fortresses await our conquest!"
With this proclamation, he concluded, punctuating his speech with a resounding shout that elicited an echoing roar from the cohorts.
"Forward, march!" And so began the grand Reconquista of Bulgaria.
Although their numbers were substantial – 1,000 Roman soldiers and 6,000 peasant militiamen – a combined force of 7,000 had gathered to lay siege to the province of Constantia.
While seemingly modest in count for the task at hand, their potential success would etch their names into the annals of history as participants in one of the greatest wars ever waged.
Navigating the Constantia forest enroute to the fortress, John, Dmitriv, Emil, and the fearless assembly of 7,000 men pressed on through the chilly night.
John and his forces led the vanguard, while Dmitriv and his troops march in reserve.
Back at the staging camp, Dmitriv inquired of John on how they would intend to breach the fortress without the aid of any siege equipment.
John's response was cryptic, assuring Dmitriv that he would come to understand in due time.
This response heightened Dmitriv's apprehension regarding the extent of the Romans' contribution to their challenging campaign.
It almost seemed as if the co-emperor was deliberately withholding their strategic plans, casting a shadow over the Bulgarians' role and making them feel more like mere pawns in the scheme.
As John led his men forward, slowly approaching the fortress, an officer emerged, his expression apprehensive and wary.
"Your Majesty, can we truly place our trust in these Bulgarians? Given their circumstances, it seems unlikely that this will end well. Many may lose their lives, and should our efforts falter, they might flee at a moment's notice."
With a reassuring smile, John responded,
"Rest assured, these men possess the courage of wolves. Once their target is in sight, when the situation becomes dire, they'll fight relentlessly, even if it means fighting to the last drop of blood." His tone then grew more solemn.
"My only wish is that it's the Ottomans who choose to stand and fight, for if not..."
What John feared most was the absence of thrill in this battle. Facing the esteemed warrior society of the Ottoman, this was an unparalleled experience.
It remained inexplicable why John had become so obsessed with war, considering his past life where warfare was met with horror and much hatred.
He had never participated in any modern-world conflicts.
As he matured into the identity of John Palaiologos, rising through the ranks of monarchy and fully immersing himself in medieval life, his inner essence underwent a gradual transformation.
The reasons behind this change eluded him – was it a consequence of being born into a world plagued by suffering and death?
Or was the original soul of John Palaiologos slowly integrating itself into his very being?
He recognized that over time, the persona of John Palaiologos had come to overshadow that of John Rickett Marlone.
This raised his concerns about his second life, leaving him uncertain whether his original consciousness might yet inevitably fade away irretrievably.
Yet, for the moment, John pushed this question to the recesses of his mind. He would confront it when the time was right. Currently, his focus was on the impending war.
After several hours had passed, the army finally caught sight of the ancient walls of the Tekirgöl Fortress on the horizon.
The fortress walls were illuminated by torchlight, and Ottoman soldiers patrolled diligently with disciplined concentration.
John and his men could only make out dozens of guards patrolling, which boded well for their mission. Before commencing the siege, John gathered his officers along with Dmitriv and Emil.
"Our operation begins now. The teams responsible for climbing will initiate by eliminating the guards and any enemies spotted on those walls,"
John briefed his officers, gesturing towards the guards patrolling the fortress walls.
"Dmitriv, have your men ready. When the gate is opened, move in swiftly. Allow no one to escape this fortress. Engage and neutralize on sight. If they surrender, exercise restraint and do not let emotions cloud your judgment. Let us capture this fortress efficiently before advancing to the city of Constantia,"
John turned his focus toward Dmitriv, and then to Emil, who delivered precise instructions.
Dmitriv nodded in understanding and then returned to his men to relay the directives.
Meanwhile, John and his comrades readied themselves for the upcoming challenge. As a monk, Emil offered them his prayers, bestowing blessings upon the men for the impending battle.
John also offered his own prayers, hoping that the battle would unfold according to his vision.
With bated breath, the soldiers awaited the signals.
John's heart raced, Dmitriv and his men brimmed with excitement, the officers maintained stoic expressions, concentrating on their objectives.
Meanwhile, Emil clutched his cross, fervently praying for the night that would favor the men fighting for the freedom of his people.
"Move now!" John commanded. As his words left his lips, the men sprang into action, advancing stealthily toward the fortress.
Their movements were both swift and disciplined.
Upon reaching the base of the walls, they readied their climbing equipment, meticulously crafted under John's supervision back at the capital's renowned smithy.
Unbeknownst to the guards stationed atop the walls, a silent onslaught was unfolding beneath the cover of darkness, remained thoroughly unaware of what awaits them.
Hundreds of men scaled the fortress walls with an eerie quietness, setting the stage for the bloody conflict that was about to commence – a conflict triggered by the fortress's inevitable downfall.
One by one, the men skillfully scaled the wall, swiftly dispatching the guards who remained blissfully unaware of the unfolding events.
No sentries stirred on the fortress battlements, for each soldier slumbered deeply, far from imagining the fate that awaited them.
In their dreams, they could not fathom the abruptness of their demise that day.
Chaos was notably absent; the operation maintained a pristine execution from the start to finish.
It wasn't until the fortress gate suddenly had its iron bar lifted open that the sudden clamor shattered their slumber that the realization dawned upon them: their stronghold had already been breached.
With John at the forefront, leading the remaining troops alongside Dmitriv's peasant militia, they surged into the fortress.
The still-drowsing soldiers hastily grasped their weapons, but were swiftly overwhelmed. A battle ensued, with John and Dimitriv's men gaining the upper hand.
John, flanked by his guards, ambushed dozens of Ottoman soldiers within their own barracks, dispatching them with swift precision.
In that moment, John was consumed by the exhilaration of combat.
He deftly evaded and countered every attack the Ottoman soldiers launched at him, seemingly effortlessly.
"Ölmek! Kafir pislik!" shouted a soldier as he charged toward John.
Yet, with a swift but agile movement, John kicked the soldier's abdomen, promptly decapitating him with his sword in the process.
"Sleep!" he taunted the lifeless body in the aftermath.
Beyond the fortress walls, the battle raged with equal intensity.
Arrows arced through the dark sky, cries of combat echoed through the blood-soaked fortress, drowning out even the chirping crickets.
Despite their lack of formal training, the Bulgarian fighters held their own, their unseasoned determination proving surprisingly effective.
Dmitriv, on that night, was consumed by a frenzied bloodlust, his laughter mingling with the clash of weapons as he and his men dispatched every enemy soldier they encountered, causing an manic fear on his foes as the consequences.
Only a well-aimed arrow, shot by one of John's infiltrators, prevented Dmitriv from being cleaved in two, the arrowhead piercing his adversary's skull with unerring precision.
On that night, a force of 7,000 men participated in the assault, resulting in only 30 reported casualties, with most being injuries rather than fatalities.
Meanwhile, among the defenders, who numbered 2,000 strong, over half were decimated, leaving just a few hundred who managed to escape death but were subsequently confined to the dungeons.
In a display of bravado, the fortress commander, a janissary, issued a challenge for a single combat, targeting John. However, it was one of John's guards who stepped forward, finding the challenge quite amusing.
The skirmish was brief, encompassing only a few exchanges, before the valiant guard adeptly brought down the seasoned janissary, swiftly driving his blade into the opponent's abdomen.
Applauding the guard for his courageous performance, John commended the man. And so, the Battle of Tekirgöl Fortress came to an end.
As the dust settled after the successful breach, John stood amidst the chaos, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The fortress walls that had once seemed insurmountable were now breached, victory within grasp.
Yet, amid the triumph, a heaviness settled upon his heart – a reminder of the lives lost and the sacrifices made for this moment.
Dmitriv gazed across the battlefield, a sea of fallen soldiers and the remnants of a fortress's might. His heart swelled with pride for the Bulgarian warriors who had fought alongside them, their determination undeterred by their lack of formal training.
Yet, beneath the pride lay a knot of sorrow – a reminder of the cost of their liberation. His gaze met Emil's, and a silent understanding passed between them.
John directed his men, along with Dmitriv, to begin clearing the fortress and searching for any potential prisoners.
Meanwhile, John himself ventured into the quarters of the fortress commander, seeking out any valuable items. Inside, he discovered an abundance of scrolls and information.
Calling forth one of his men who was well-versed in Turkish, he tasked him with translating these scrolls.
"Your Highness, this particular scroll contains pertinent information about Constantia and its recent activities. It appears that the Ottoman authorities have been involved in numerous unsavory actions over the years."
"Moreover, here is a recent letter from the city's Pasha, instructing the men of this fortress to raid a village and capture women and children to be enslaved," reported the man, who had successfully deciphered the scrolls after a brief period.
Appalled, John inquired,
"Are the prisoners still here?" to which the soldier replied,
"Yes. The children are held in the barrack dungeons. Unfortunately, most of the women were sent to the city, and just a few remained here."
Upon hearing this, John immediately summoned Dmitriv to search for these captives, a task of which the Bulgarian leader readily agreed immediately.
John then traversed the fortress, making his way toward the walls to inspect the aftermath from an elevated vantage point.
Strangely, however, even in the wake of such extensive bloodshed, John noticed that he still remained remarkably fine in the aftermath.
As he observed the men below gathering the deceased for removal and cremation, he witnessed a spectrum of reactions from the Bulgarians: shock, manic laughter, and tearful relief.
Meanwhile, his own soldiers appeared entirely unfazed.
'Sigh.... Death and Liberty, they say,'
John murmured to himself, contemplating the grim tableau before him.
As he continued to observe, Dmitriv approached with several women.
Most of these women bore bruises and injuries, their expressions devoid of emotion or energy. Their demeanor radiated a profound sense of misery.
John could empathize to some extent with their emotions something that was absent from him – the horrors they had endured, the grim possibility of witnessing their loved ones perish right before their eyes.
The brutal reality of war had carved deep, lasting scars into their minds, leaving them shattered by grief and enveloped in despair.
Emil stepped forward, attempting to gather information from the women, but their faces remained devoid of emotion, rendering the endeavor far from successful.
John could only sigh, and so he turned to Dmitriv, instructing him to let these women find solace in rest.
"What are your thoughts on these people, Emil?"
John inquired of the Bulgarian Monk, subtly nodding his head toward the men below.
"Despondent,"
Emil replied, his words trailing off.
He found himself unable to articulate more, his heart heavy with the weight of the catastrophe he had borne witness to.
How could he not? Against a heavily fortified fortress, John and his men had efficiently won the battle within matter of hours after breaching the walls.
Climbing a wall without ropes – it was an unheard-of feat.
Emil thought he knew everything there was to know about this young co-emperor, but he now realized he had been mistaken.
Gazing down at the men below, Emil couldn't help but release a weary sigh as he beheld the Bulgarian warriors who had sacrificed their lives for their noble cause.
'Why did God permit such a tragedy to befall His people?' a whispered doubt emerged within him, taking root deep in his thoughts.
"God didn't permit it. Only mortals do,"
John's response was swift, as if he had unraveled the monk's innermost contemplations, which startled Emil.
"Throughout the entirety of existence, it is a common occurrence for living beings to succumb to death and suffering,"
John continued, his gaze fixed on the men before him.
"In the wild, herbivores are hunted by carnivores for sustenance. Beneath the earth, factions of ants wage battles over the same resources. And, much like humans, they fight fiercely for their sanctuary until the bitter end."
Emil remained silent, absorbing the analogy put forth by the co-emperor.
"The concept of survival, when contemplated, can be a terrifying one."
"While God's influence is undeniably present, it is we who have forged our own paths and destinies. Such is the cost of possessing the gift called 'Free Will',"
John added, his gaze now turned upward to the starry skies.
Emil however had his mouth wide agape, 'philosophical king, what has this dying empire done to get this fortune? Or was it a curse'
Nevertheless, this was just the beginning, not the final chapter.
Their next undertaking would be the city of Constantia, a city with a larger garrison than the one they currently faced.
With the forces at their disposal, it was inevitable that the loss of lives would be greater than what he had witnessed on this battlefield.
From the intelligence he had acquired from the man who translated the information found back at the commander's quarters, it was estimated that the city of Constantia housed approximately 5,000 to 8,000 soldiers.
Given their current numbers and capabilities, their odds of victory were slim.
"After we have fully cleared this fortress, our next move will be towards the city,"
John explained to Emil, his voice solemn.
"Tomorrow? What if someone from the city comes here tomorrow? Wouldn't that pose a risk for us? Besides, the fortress is quite close to the city; they could launch a counter-offensive against us soon,"
Emil voiced his concerns with a wide eye.
"Fear not, in a worst-case scenario, if the need arises, we will evacuate today and return to our camp. Our actions here will likely put the garrison on high alert, but that will serve our purpose. In fact,"
John suddenly formulated a plan in his mind, and he briskly walked away, leaving Emil dumbfounded and trailing behind him.
Approaching a contingent of his men at the barracks, John summoned a few of them.
"Filipe, Andreas, and Iosef, I need the three of you to disguise yourselves and make your way into the city."
"Inform them of our presence here and guide them to this location as quickly as possible,"
John commanded his chosen men.
These individuals were Hellenized Turks who had forsaken their Turkish identity while serving under the co-emperor.
"Wait. Your highness? Are you out of your mind? Calling the Ottomans here? This is sheer madness!"
Emil's reaction to this sudden turn of events bordered on the comedic.
Reassuring Emil's concerns, John shared his full plan.
"These men will lie in wait among the bushes, ambushing the supposed 'reinforcements.' Trust me, this will be a well-executed ambush. It is undoubtedly risky, yet crucial,"
John explained, attempting to reassure the concerned monk.
"But how do you intend to defeat them all? Keep in mind that the soldiers under our command are hardly seasoned professionals."
"Consider this: we have already seized their armory and acquired 2,000 sets of equipment from the fallen enemy soldiers."
"With these armaments, our men are at least adequately equipped for battle. Their recent experience has provided them with valuable lessons, ensuring a smoother outcome in the next engagement,"
John elaborated further. The monk could only close his mouth in defeat, bewildered by the risky strategies of this enigmatic co-emperor.
"But.... the men might be exhausted after the battle. This is not a feasible strategy unless you want to fight with fatigued men,"
Emil slowly retorted to the co-emperor.
"I don't think so if you look at the faces of these men," John point towards the Bulgarian militias with his nose; they were still energetic even after all the battles they had participated in.
Emil had nothing more to say to persuade this mad co-emperor, thus he remained silent, no longer replying.
He could only left the area and mutter curses in his own language, throwing tantrums wherever he went, catching the merry men by surprise and filling them with confusion.
With a light laugh at the monk's antics, John proceeded to let the trio commence the plan, which they immediately followed with fervent salutes, immediately leaving the fortress disguising themselves with Ottoman's attire.
This night would be a long one for the Ottomans.
Not only had they lost their vital fortress, but they also lost most of their men in not days, but a single night.
'Veni, Vidi, Vici,' John silently chanted the phrase in his heart, a famous saying by the renowned Julius Caesar, an ambitious centurion turned autocrat and tyrant.
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