EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

Chapter 68: The Road to Livadeia

Andreas led Constantine and Thomas through the bustling military quarter. The air rang with the clang of hammers on anvils. They soon arrived at the new forges for cannons, built just outside the city walls along a diverted stream. "We finished construction on these forges only a few months ago," Andreas explained over the din, shouting to be heard. Inside a large shed, several blacksmiths and artisans paused from hammering out sword blades to bow to the Emperor. Beyond them, a massive furnace roared with flames. Two shirtless smiths carefully poured molten bronze into a long cylinder mold—clearly the casting of a cannon barrel.

Constantine's eyes widened at the sight. "How many cannons have you produce?" he asked, inspecting another finished cannon that lay cooling on its trunnions. The black metal gleamed in the firelight. Andreas wiped sweat from his brow and answered proudly, "We have cast fourteen Drakos cannons and one large bombard so far, with more on the way. Enough to batter some holes in Turkish walls, I'd wager."

To demonstrate, Andreas guided them outside where a team of engineers were readying the new bombard for testing. The massive gun was positioned atop a rampart facing an empty hill outside the city. Constantine and Thomas covered their ears as the fuse was lit. With a thunderous boom, the bombard hurled a stone ball into the sky. A distant crump sounded as the projectile slammed into the hillside, gouging earth and stone. Soldiers nearby let out impressed whoops. Thomas whistled low. "That will shake the Turks' courage," he remarked. Constantine nodded, satisfaction on his face. The Emperor stepped forward and laid a hand on the warm cannon's flank, feeling the energy still thrumming through the metal. "Excellent work. We'll need every advantage we can get," he said. He took a moment to personally thank the sweating cannon-founders and smiths, acknowledging their vital role. Soot-stained and tired, the workers beamed at the recognition from their emperor.

Night fell, and campfires bloomed across Corinth as the main army settled in around the city. Constantine, however, had little time to rest. As he and his commanders gathered for a war council in the citadel, George Sphrantzes finally arrived with his reinforcements. Sphrantzes entered the torch-lit hall accompanied by three thousand soldiers from the south. He bowed deeply. "Forgive my lateness, My Emperor. We made all haste," George said. Constantine crossed the room and embraced him. "You are just in time, George. Your presence heartens me more than you know." Sphrantzes smiled, his travel-weary eyes crinkling. He quietly pressed a hand to Constantine's arm and surveyed the room of assembled leaders.

Council of War

Around a large oak table spread with maps of Greece, Constantine and his commanders convened. The flicker of oil lamps cast dancing shadows on the stone walls as strategy was laid out. Constantine stood at the head of the table. To his right sat Thomas Palaiologos and Captain Andreas; to his left, George Sphrantzes, quill in hand to jot down notes. Lesser officers ringed the table's far sides, eager but silent until called upon. The Emperor let his gaze fall on the men. In their eyes, he saw a mixture of determination and anxiety.

Constantine cleared his throat. "Gentlemen," he began, his voice low but steady, "we have gathered a formidable force through our preparations." He gestured to Sphrantzes, who unfurled a paper. Sphrantzes read the tally: "Our combined forces are around 12,000, including 750 Pyrvelos, 34 field cannons, and 400 cavalry." He looked up. "More volunteers may join as we advance, but this is our core."

Murmurs circled the table—12,000 men against the vast Ottoman Empire sounded both bold and perilous. Constantine raised a hand for silence. "Quality and courage will have to substitute for quantity," he said. "We will strike hard and fast, taking the enemy by surprise wherever possible. Our aim is to reclaim our homeland piece by piece, not to meet the Sultan's full might in open battle—at least not yet." The men nodded. This had been Constantine's mantra since the campaign's inception: swift movement, surprise, and seizing strategic points before the Ottomans could muster a counter-force.