1444, Byzantium Resurrects

On 10 February 1448, negotiations began between the city's five factions.

While John was extremely worried, Isaac believed that there was still hope for the negotiations.

Sforza was a smart man who would not be overcome by anger.

He did not want a Milan ravaged by war and left in ruins.

If Sforza and Montferrat insisted on going to war, the only beneficiaries would be Venice and Savoy, who were watching from the sidelines.

Their current strength was merely a means to gain more bargaining power.

Isaac took this opportunity to recruit a group of talented individuals, but unfortunately, the results were disappointing.

On 15 February, the five factions agreed to a temporary ceasefire.

Sforza was crowned Duke of Milan, and Venice gained trade privileges for several towns in eastern Milan and for certain goods.

John IV was granted the title of Duke of Parma and pledged allegiance to the Holy Roman Emperor.

The parties agreed not to provoke any disputes for five years.

However, since the Holy Roman Emperor consistently refused to grant Sforza the title of Duke of Milan, the factions failed to reach further consensus.

Sforza did not abandon his claims to cities such as Pavia, nor did he recognise John IV's title of Duke of Parma.

Therefore, it can be said that this was not peace, but merely a five-year ceasefire.

However, this ceasefire was urgently needed by all parties.

On 20 February 1448, in the presence of papal and imperial envoys, John IV was formally crowned Duke of Parma, thereby establishing the United Duchy of Montferrat and Parma.

The duchy comprised the large cities of Montferrat and Pavia, as well as the medium-sized cities of Piacenza and Parma, along with the surrounding lands.

With the strong support of Isaac, victory in the Milanese War of Succession solved the survival problem of Montferrat and transformed it from a small, insignificant country into a medium-sized power with influence in northern Italy.

Following the coronation, John and Isaac signed an alliance treaty agreeing to support each other in times of need.

Once the ceasefire agreement had been signed, the new Duke of Milan withdrew his troops and returned to the city, and the threat of war over northern Italy temporarily lifted.

However, five years later, the accumulated contradictions and hatred erupted.

The next war would be even more intense.

For Isaac, this war was highly profitable. He gradually relocated over 3,000 Italian refugees to the port of Surt and the oases in the south and nearly 1,000 to his overseas territories.

To balance this, he sold a new batch of die-hard Muslims from his territories into slavery, freeing up space for the refugees.

In addition, his army raided northern Italy for three months, selling the livestock that was difficult to transport to Duke John and pocketing most of the gold, silver, and other valuables that could be carried away.

This war replenished Isaac's depleted coffers.

...

Surt Grand Duchy, Saint Joseph's Administrative District, Linton Well.

Three years ago, this place was not called Linton Well, but was just a seasonal waterhole that the tribesmen called Alkan Spring.

Every autumn and winter, water vapor from the Mediterranean Sea condensed into rain, filling the area with spring water.

The nearby tribes would drive their sheep and camels here, setting up camp to hold their annual trade fair.

The goods traded were limited to mostly foals, camel calves, grain, and ironware.

This place lacked everything, but it was not short of salt.

The tribal elders often said that when they lost their sense of taste, they would lick the nearby rocks.

Every few months, the wealthy tribal nobles would travel to the Emran Oasis in search of pleasure.

The poor tribesmen, and the slaves they despised even more, could only serve the tribal nobles, pay taxes, perform forced labor, and fight in wars. They went through this cycle until their empty lives came to an abrupt end.

The tribes here lived such simple lives.

That was until the Grand Duchy of Surt and the Holy Joseph Executive District were established, one after the other.

Engineers from Mistras observed the spring and the surrounding soil, determining that large wells could be dug with abundant water reserves.

At that time, all the nearby tribes surrounded the spring and blocked access to it, not allowing anyone to desecrate their source of life.

Under the protection of guards, construction began.

For two whole months, not a single drop of water appeared from the spring, even though it was summer.

Some tribal nobles spread rumors and conspiracy theories, claiming that the new rulers had deliberately blocked the spring in order to starve them all to death.

Upon hearing this, the tribesmen, who were not very clever, became enraged and rushed into the drilling camp with their weapons, intending to tear the Greek engineers to pieces.

Then they witnessed the most unforgettable scene of their lives.

Turbid, muddy water gushed out of the yellow sand as high as three people, water droplets scattering in the breeze and moistening everyone's hearts with their sweet, refreshing scent.

Exhausted, Engineer Linton collapsed on the ground, holding the muddy blueprints. His entire body was covered in mud, and his eyes were fixed on the water column he had created.

The tribesmen absorbed the moisture in the air greedily, kneeling on the ground and muttering words while clumsily drawing the cross symbols they had just learned on their chests.

Subsequently, Engineer Linton drilled more than a dozen wells in the vicinity, which produced a trickle of water even in the driest summer.

Linton gradually became known as a 'saint' among the tribesmen.

Soon, more and more outsiders and local tribes began to settle there, irrigating their fields with spring water and planting date palms and oil palms.

The first large wells were called "Linton Wells", and the small town that flourished because of Linton was named "Linton Town".

Later, Minister Isult of Surt incorporated the area into his jurisdiction, dispatching exploration teams and gradually establishing order.

The exploration teams were delighted to discover high-quality salt mines on the nearby hills, which they began to develop.

The salt mines and wells brought endless vitality to the town, attracting Dobrogarians, Greeks, and Slavs, and later Italians. These newcomers brought advanced technology and valuable goods to the local population.

Churches, blacksmiths' shops, town halls, and markets began to appear. More and more new things began to appear, dazzling the tribesmen.

As a result, more and more tribesmen tried to escape the control of the nobles and settle in the small, resource-rich town.

The Minister of the Interior, Isult, did not stop them; instead, he strictly forbade the nobleman Shek from interfering with their freedom.

"Enter the town, find the protector of the people, register your household, and stamp it with the seal. From now on, you are a legal resident of Linton Town!"

"Father, is that how you became a free man?"

On the road leading from the salt mine to Linton Town, a horse-drawn cart moved slowly, followed by several camels.

A father drove the cart and camel train with his two sons. The father was about forty years old, with a face that showed the hardships of life but also smiled slightly.

The younger son, aged about five or six, ate a date while asking his father questions in a muffled voice.

The older son was driving the camels and lagging behind.

"Yes, you were too young to remember."

"Your mother, your brother, and I were all slaves. Linton Town gave us a new life."

As he spoke, the father pulled a cross out from his chest and kissed it gently.

"But,"

The younger son swallowed a large mouthful of dates.

"The legion that my brother often talks about—weren't they slaves, too?"

"The Slave Legion."

The older son added from behind.

The father turned his head away and glared fiercely at his eldest son.

"They served His Highness Isaac, who is known for his generosity. Although they lived in luxury and enjoyed the spoils of war, they paid for it with their lives."

"What do you mean by 'good spoils'? They were incredibly rich."

The eldest son behind him looked unhappy.

"The first batch of legion soldiers to return from Italy were decked out in gold and silver, wearing Italian-made armor, carrying swords, and wearing clothes and shoes!"

"How many trips would you have to make transporting salt to earn what they made in one battle?"

"They spent thousands of gold coins in taverns, hiring the most beautiful..."

"Shut up!"

His father said sternly.

"As long as I'm still alive, I will never agree to you joining the army!"

The younger son looked curiously at his father and brother, but soon lost interest and continued eating the dates in the jar.

The carriage slowly moved forward, and the outline of Linton Town gradually appeared in the distance. The most eye-catching feature was the stone statue in the center.

It had been built by the residents to commemorate Linton's achievements.

However, the statue was very blurry, with roughly carved facial features that did not at all resemble Linton himself.

However, it was said that the engineer himself was very fond of this statue.

Due to the lack of trees, most of the town was made of stone, glowing a warm pinkish white in the setting sun.

"Afif, take your brother home. I'll deliver this cart of salt."

His father turned his head and called out to his son.

Afif nodded, picked up his brother, and led him home.

On the way, they passed a small Italian shop selling various everyday items and unusual trinkets.

Afif pulled his brother's gaze away from a palm-sized glass ball, but he couldn't take his eyes off it.

"The Italian's things are really attractive,"

Afif muttered.

He went into the shop, took out all his savings, and bought the most beautiful glass ball.

They then quickly walked past the hot blacksmith's shop and the bloody slaughterhouse and finally stopped in front of a tailor's shop.

Afif plucked up his courage and knocked on the door.

A young girl opened the door for him.

She had large brown eyes, pink skin, and shiny black hair, and she wore an apron around her slender waist.

She was clearly a beautiful Greek girl.

"Sofia, I came to see if the clothes I ordered last time are ready," he began.

Sofia giggled.

"You said the same thing yesterday."

Afif's face instantly turned red.

"Come in and sit down?"

She spoke Arabic, but her voice was clear and pleasant—completely different from the tribal women's voices.

To Afif, it sounded like music.

Just as he was about to take a step forward, he suddenly thought of Sofia's retired father and brother, both of whom were members of the imperial guard. He shrank his head back.

"Never mind... I, um..."

"What?"

Afif quickly stuffed the large glass ball into Sofia's hand.

"This beautiful glass ball is just like your eyes."

Afif pulled his younger brother up, who was crying, and ran home as fast as he could.

Sofia stood alone at the door, covering her face and laughing at the sight of the two disheveled brothers.

Night fell, and Linton Town sank into its usual sleep.

"Kill them all! Leave none alive!"

Meanwhile, in a tribal camp on the northwestern edge of Linton Town, a tragedy was unfolding.

A large group of Berber horsemen had invaded the border tribe, beginning to slaughter people without saying a word.

Judging by their attire and flags, they were horsemen from the Hafs Dynasty.

"Centurion! We cannot kill indiscriminately! They were forced to convert. We should give them a chance to return to the embrace of Allah!"

A scholar urgently stopped the centurion, who was organizing the massacre.

"Don't kill them? Then what will my brothers eat and drink? Will those kafirs willingly hand over their women?"

The centurion shouted fiercely at the scholar.

"You're just pushing them into the arms of the infidels!"

The scholar took the centurion's reins and tried to persuade him.

A horseman nearby knocked the scholar off his horse.

"What business is it of yours? You're just a guide."

"The Ulama has allowed us to wage holy war. Who are you to stop us?"

The scholar lay on the ground, looking at the riders behind him with a grim expression.

He sighed and stepped aside.

The killing continued.

"We are willing to return to the embrace of Allah. Why do you still want to kill us?"

Arid, on a camel, the tribal sheikh bitterly questioned the executioners slaughtering his people.

"All right, hand over all your food, fresh water, and women, and I'll spare your lives."

"That's impossible!"

"Then die!"

The centurion rode forward and beheaded the sheikh with a single blow.

Half an hour later, the slaughter ceased. All the men who could still fight were killed, while the women were dragged screaming into the tents by the horsemen. The children were taken away to become slaves.

The centurion waved his hand, and a tribal nobleman was brought forward.

He was old and frail and unable to wield a sword or spear; he had been captured by the horsemen while attempting to escape.

At that moment, deep hatred filled the old man's eyes.

"I hear,"

The centurion cut a piece of roasted lamb with a small knife and put it in his mouth.

"Is there a town nearby called Linton?"

"If you show me the way, I will let you go."

"Pah!"

The old man spat in the centurion's face; his eyes were filled with scorn.

"Go, devil! You are no match for them. They will kill you easily, just as you killed my family."

With a single stroke, the old man's head rolled to the ground.

Next, a second man was dragged forward.

In the distance, Linton Town was completely silent; everyone was sleeping soundly and seemingly dreaming sweet dreams.

Meanwhile, on the western border of the Grand Duchy of Surt, groups of Berber cavalry began invading from the east.

With Tunisia's tacit consent, the emirs of Misurata contacted Cyrenaica in an attempt to drive the Christian forces out of North Africa.

Organized into hundred-man units and carrying only minimal provisions, the Berber raiders charged across the border, seeking supplies from hostile tribes. Under the guise of holy war, they carried out acts of plunder.

Suddenly, the entire border was ablaze.

The western frontier is under attack!

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