EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

Constantine rose before dawn, long before the first shafts of sun crept over the Hexamilion. From the battlements, the chill of the early morning air bit through his cloak, but it wasn't the cold that made his hands tremble. His fingers twitched involuntarily, and a familiar, absurd thought forced its way into his mind: God, I'd kill for a cigarette.

The craving gnawed at him, sudden and sharp, like a phantom limb reaching back to a life that no longer existed. He'd never been more than a casual smoker—one or two after long meetings, maybe during those moments at parties when a conversation lulled and lighting up was an excuse to linger. But here, now, on the edge of a battle that might very well decide the fate of this fragile wall and everyone behind it, the need clawed at him like a physical ache.

He could almost feel the cigarette between his fingers, the dry paper against his lips, the sharp burn of the first drag. For a moment, he could even see the smoke curling upward, disappearing into the mist like thoughts he'd rather not confront. It was ridiculous, really, to yearn for such a trivial comfort in the face of everything else. Yet, in this brutal reality, where survival came with no guarantees and every decision could spell disaster, he would have given anything for a moment of that old, careless normalcy.

The mist shifted over the isthmus, restless and serpentine, and Constantine forced himself to focus. Below, the Ottoman encampment stirred, its quiet hum carried on the wind—clattering timber, muffled orders, the occasional cough of a sentry. A soundscape of preparation and intent. Violence brewed there, waiting to spill over the wall and into his world.

He took slow, measured steps along the ramparts. Below him, the trenches lay newly dug and still slick from the night's dew. His men, Sforza's Italians, and Thomas's loyal retainers stood to watch, eyes ringed with fatigue but sharpened by dread. They had glimpsed the size of the enemy force—multitudes stretching away beyond the horizon—and recognized its formidable intent.

A few days earlier, the first wave of the Ottomans, nearly ten thousand aḳinci under Turahan Bey, had descended on the countryside, ravaging land and livelihoods with dispassionate efficiency. Smoke from the ransacked villages had hung in the air for days—an acrid reminder that the real horror had only begun. Now the second wave—countless foot soldiers, Sipahi cavalry, Janissaries, and even the Duke of Athens Antonio I Acciaioli leading a small contingent—moved in like an incoming tide. They established a fortified encampment, a bristling perimeter of timbers and planks only a kilometer from the Hexamilion wall. Their campfires dotted the gloom, a field of smoldering orange eyes that never blinked.

Constantine paused at a crenellation, surveying his own artillery below. Drakos cannons stood in a neat row, polished metal dull in the predawn light. He ran a gloved hand over the cold stone of the battlements, as if sensing some hidden prophecy in the rough masonry. The men operating the guns—Pyrvelos marksmen and crossbowmen perched close to them—remained silent, each lost in private calculations of who would live to see another sunrise.

A discreet cough at his shoulder broke his reverie. Captain Andreas had approached, a slight stoop in his posture betraying the weight of sleepless nights. He wore the worry plainly on his face.

"Our preparations?" Constantine asked quietly.

"All is as you ordered, my Despot. The trenches are ready, the men..." Andreas hesitated. "They've seen the enemy encampment. They're a bit rattled, but they'll hold."

Constantine allowed himself a brief glance at the mist-veiled Ottoman fortifications. "Let them see it," he murmured. "They need to know what we're up against." A pause long enough for the wind to stir the fog along the wall. "And the cannons?"

Andreas lip twitched. "Cleaned, loaded, and sighted. We will hit them before they know what's coming."

Constantine nodded. "They'll move soon, perhaps in the next day or two, once all their pieces are in place. When they come, it'll be with everything they have."