EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

The Port of Glarentza, Early April 1433

The dawn mist still clung to the wooden piers of Glarentza, curling in wisps around the crates and barrels stacked along the docks. The first light of morning shimmered on the Ionian Sea, its surface rippling as the tide ebbed and flowed beneath the hulls of the waiting ships. The air was thick with the scent of brine, tar, and freshly sawn timber as the port bustled with activity.

Men moved in a practiced rhythm, their voices mingling with the cries of seagulls and the steady pounding of boots on damp planks. Dockworkers heaved crates of iron-tipped pikes and bundles of armor onto the ships, their muscles straining beneath the weight of war. A wooden crane groaned under the strain of a Drakos cannon, its thick ropes creaking as they slowly lowered the massive iron beast into the hold of one of the modified transport ships. Below, sailors guided its descent, their hands steady despite the sweat slicking their brows.

"Easy, easy!" shouted a foreman, waving his hands urgently. "If that falls, we'll be fishing for bronze at the bottom of the harbor!"

A crowd had gathered along the docks, a sea of townspeople, merchants, and soldiers, their faces a mixture of awe and excitement. Children perched on the edges of barrels, their eyes wide as they watched the preparations unfold. An elderly woman clutched a wooden cross to her chest, murmuring a quiet prayer. A group of younger men, still too young for war, cheered as the soldiers boarded, dreaming of the battles to come.

Near the loading area, a group of monks oversaw the storage of posters and medicinal supplies, their brown robes fluttering in the sea breeze. "God's blessings upon you," one intoned, touching the wooden crates stacked high with dried herbs and linen bandages.

Nearby, an engineer clad in a soot-stained tunic wiped his hands on a rag and inspected another set of small boxes being loaded. He nodded in approval before turning to a young apprentice. "Check the fuses again. If we lose a cannon to damp powder, I'll make you scrub the decks from Glarentza to Himara."

Laughter rippled through the soldiers standing in formation, their shields slung over their backs, helmets tucked under their arms. The mood was high, this was no grim march to certain death but a mission of hope.

At the heart of the docks, Aristos, the officer in charge of the expedition, moved with sharp efficiency, ensuring everything proceeded as planned. His sharp eyes darted across the assembled men and cargo, missing nothing.

He pivoted sharply toward one of his lieutenants. "The gunpowder shipment. Have we accounted for all fifty barrels? No mistakes, this isn't some market stall, it's war."

"All accounted for, sir. Sealed and triple-checked," the lieutenant reported with crisp assurance.

"Good." Aristos allowed himself a fleeting, razor-thin smile. "And provisions?"

"Enough salted meat and hardtack for four weeks, water barrels filled and secured," came the brisk response.

Satisfied, Aristos allowed himself a brief moment to take in the sight before him. Five ships, laden with men, arms, and purpose, ready to sail. He exhaled slowly. We are ready.

A sudden gust of wind sent the banners of Morea fluttering, the double-headed eagle of the Palaiologoi rippling proudly in the morning sun. The cheers from the crowd grew louder as the last of the cargo was secured.

As Aristos looked toward the pier, he spotted two familiar figures standing at the water's edge, Constantine and Captain Andreas, watching the scene unfold. It was time.

Captain Andreas stood with his arms crossed, his gaze sweeping across the bustling harbor with the trained eye of a soldier. The scent of salt and freshly tarred wood mixed with the distant aroma of baking bread from the market behind them. Around him, the final moments of preparation played out, the clank of metal as armor was secured, the rhythmic shouts of sailors adjusting sails, and the distant neighing of horses being led away from the docks. Beside him, Constantine stood silent, his cloak shifting with the morning breeze.