EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

Chapter 70: The Fall of Bodonitsa

"Two major Ottoman positions have fallen in a week," Sphrantzes said, almost in disbelief.

"This will not go unnoticed by the Sultan," he added, looking meaningfully at Constantine.

The Emperor nodded. "Murad will be furious but may also be occupied elsewhere." He tapped the map. "Still, we can be sure a response will come, perhaps from Thessaly or via Epirus. We must consolidate quickly and be ready."

Andreas chimed in, "We should repair Bodonitsa's defenses and leave a strong garrison here. If the Turks try to retake it, we can make them pay dearly, this position favors the defender." He knew the value of the high ground. Constantine agreed. Bodonitsa, with its commanding view of the Thermopylae pass and the road to Lamia, would be their northern bastion. He decided to leave a few hundred troops here, including some of Thomas's men and local volunteers, under a reliable officer to hold it.

Thomas was eager to push forward. "Brother, I volunteer to lead the vanguard to Zetouni," he declared. "We should press our advantage before the enemy can regroup. The men's blood is up, and we have momentum." Some around the table murmured assent; striking quickly had worked so far. But Sphrantzes counseled caution. "Yes, we have momentum, but our men are also tired. We've marched fast and fought hard. Perhaps a short respite here to gather our strength and await any stragglers joining us would be wise before the next push."

Constantine listened to both. He was proud of Thomas's fighting spirit and understood the urge to exploit the shock their campaign had caused. Yet Sphrantzes had a point, fatigue and attrition were accumulating. Even the stoutest troops needed rest after continuous operations. They also needed to reorganize: at Livadeia and along the way, they had picked up freed or volunteer fighters, and they had wounded to care for or send back. Ammunition for the cannons had to be inventoried after heavy use at Livadeia.

"We will take a brief pause," Constantine decided, raising a hand to preempt Thomas's protest. "Only a short one. A few days at most, enough to send scouts ahead toward Zetouni and see what awaits us, and to ensure Bodonitsa and Livadeia are secure behind us." He cast a glance at his brother. "I need you and your men fresh for the battles to come. Even a lion waits and gathers strength before striking again."

Thomas pressed his lips together, then nodded reluctantly. "As you will, Emperor."

Captain Andreas rolled up a spare banner and grinned. "I imagine the Ottomans at Zetouni are already trembling, wondering when we'll arrive on their doorstep. A little fear can soften them up." He was likely right—survivors from Bodonitsa's garrison or news from villagers would reach Zetouni soon, painting a terrifying picture of the Byzantine advance and the fate of those who resisted.

Before concluding the council, Constantine addressed them all, his voice firm but carrying a note of inspiration: "In a span of days, we have stormed Livadeia and claimed Bodonitsa. These victories have ignited hope in Greece and sown fear among our foes. Remember what we fight for: our homes, our faith, and the legacy of the empire. Each step north we take, the shadow of the Turk recedes a little. But we must remain vigilant and united. The enemy will throw everything at us to stop this reclamation. We will answer with courage and cunning."

The officers thumped their breasts or the table in agreement. Political consequences were indeed unfolding, Constantine could almost sense the ripple of events: perhaps the Ottomans would divert forces from other fronts to deal with this, granting breathing room elsewhere; perhaps Western powers, hearing of a reborn Byzantine fight, might reconsider lending support. Within Greece, these successes could spark further uprisings in places like Epirus or Macedonia. Each victory was more than just a territorial gain; it was a statement that Byzantium was not dead.

As the meeting dispersed, Constantine stepped onto Bodonitsa's ramparts again. Below, his soldiers were already working to refortify—repairing the gate, setting up a smithy to fix armor, distributing captured arrows and weapons. Others finally took a moment to rest, shrugging off their packs and sharing flasks of watered wine in relief. The Emperor's gaze drifted southward, back toward Livadeia, Thebes, and the Morea. Smoke from cooking fires curled upward, a peaceful contrast to the smoke of battle days before. He offered a silent prayer of thanks for these victories and for strength in the trials ahead.

To the north, beyond a line of hills, lay Zetouni, their next objective, and beyond that the vast expanse of Ottoman-held Greece. Constantine felt a mixture of anticipation and resolve. The coming campaign would not get easier, if anything, each step deeper into Ottoman territory would provoke fiercer resistance. Yet he would face it as he had faced every challenge: head-on, with loyal friends and family beside him.

His thoughts turned once more to the blinded prisoners, the slain soldiers, and the battles yet to come. Was this course truly just? Future generations would judge him, would he be seen as a liberator or just another conqueror meting out cruelty? The weight of leadership pressed on him, but he straightened his shoulders. Each sacrifice, he reminded himself, was for a vision: a free, restored empire where Greek and Christian lands would no longer kneel to the Sultan. Sometimes, an Emperor had to don the mantle of both lion and fox—warrior and diplomat, saint and sinner—to see that vision through.

As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange over Bodonitsa's battlements, Constantine XI Palaiologos turned away from the parapet and walked down to join his men. There was much to do and little time to do it. For now, however, the Emperor allowed himself a brief moment of solace in victory. Greece was awakening under Byzantine banners once more, and with each triumph, the empire was being rewritten.