EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

Leaving a small garrison behind in Livadeia, Constantine led the army northward. Their ranks were thinner now from casualties, but their resolve had only hardened. Those who had survived Livadeia felt nearly invincible, having taken a town and castle from the Ottomans. Still, bandaged men marched among them, a constant reminder of the cost of war. Some of the wounded refused to stay behind, insisting on continuing with their comrades despite arms in slings or limps from stitched wounds. Constantine quietly admired their dedication and made sure wagons were available to carry those who could not keep up on foot.

The route to Bodonitsa first took them along the Kifisos River in the broad plains north of Livadeia, where gentle fields stretched on either side. From there, they pushed through wooded valleys, guided by locals who knew the old paths—and then climbed into rugged hill country. Bodonitsa lay to the northeast, near the slopes of Mount Kallidromon, guarding passes that led to the plain of Thermopylae and beyond. Once built by Crusaders, it now served as an Ottoman outpost, overseeing vital crossroads from its ancient ramparts.

Constantine's army took five days to reach Bodonitsa, moving as fast as they could in hopes of staging another surprise. By late afternoon on the fifth day, they finally caught sight of the fortress rising before them.

Bodonitsa's castle sat atop a rocky hill carpeted with cypress trees, its medieval towers piercing the sky. Below, a small settlement clustered at the foot of the hill, though it seemed half-deserted—perhaps many villagers had fled at the news of the Byzantine advance, or the Ottomans had evacuated the locals. Only the castle itself looked manned: banners with the Ottoman crescent fluttered, and sharp-eyed scouts spotted a few soldiers on the walls.

The Byzantines surrounded the hill quietly, dispersing through the woods as twilight fell. Constantine and his commanders huddled among scrub and stones at the base, observing. The garrison did not seem large, maybe a hundred men at most, likely mostly local Ottoman-aligned troops or a token force.

"It looks scarcely defended," Thomas whispered, a hint of eagerness in his voice.
Andreas gave a curt nod. "They probably heard what happened at Livadeia and lost their appetite for a fight. Still, a cornered foe can lash out. We shouldn't be careless."

They decided to wait until morning to offer terms, as Bodonitsa was already effectively under siege with their arrival. Meanwhile, musketeers and some cannon crews were positioned in case the enemy tried anything at night. The soldiers settled in a tight encampment around the base of the hill; fires were kept low to avoid giving clear targets. The night air was thick with tension. Would Bodonitsa surrender tamely, or would it be another bloody siege? Many Byzantines, exhausted from the previous siege, hoped fervently for the former.

In the darkest hour before the moon rose, the Ottomans in Bodonitsa made their move. Unbeknownst to the Byzantines, the garrison commander had already decided that holding the castle was futile. Perhaps he had heard of Livadeia's fate and dreaded the thought of being blinded or worse. However, rather than formally surrender, fearing that such terms might not be accepted, given recent events, he chose to flee under cover of night.

A column of around sixty men emerged from a hidden postern gate on the far side of the hill, creeping single-file down a goat path. They carried packs, likely filled with valuables or supplies, and moved in eerie silence, weapons sheathed to avoid clanking.

But the night was not dark enough, nor was the Byzantine watch lax enough, to let them slip by unnoticed. A young Theban volunteer on sentry duty spotted a glint of metal and realized it was a group of helmets moving away from the castle. Immediately, he gave the alarm: a shrill whistle followed by a shout in Greek, "They're fleeing! The Turks are fleeing the castle!"

In a moment, Byzantine horns blared and campfires roared up as soldiers seized their weapons. Confusion reigned briefly in the dark, some thought the enemy was attacking. Scouts quickly relayed the truth: the Ottoman garrison was abandoning Bodonitsa, trying to melt away into the hills. Constantine, who had been resting in a tent at the foot of an olive tree, dashed out sword in hand, anger flashing in his eyes at the thought of his quarry slipping away.