1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Haru stood before another stagnant pool of water, trembling with rage.

All the major supply points west of Matru Port, except for the coastal towns, had been destroyed and turned into no-go zones.

He was now certain that this was the work of the Christians.

While the local tribes were indeed combative and would wage war over trivial matters, they would never destroy an oasis and its settlements.

That was the desert's rule, its taboo.

But the Christians didn't care about such things.

Back in Jerusalem, the Holy Land, many Christians had enjoyed blocking wells with dead pigs to disgust the Muslims.

"Where are we now?"

Haru licked his dry lips and turned to ask his deputy and guide.

"Captain, we are two days' journey from Tobruk, but..."

The deputy pointed behind him and Haru turned to look.

The elite Mamluks were riding on horseback; their lips were cracked and they looked half dead.

The horses beneath them were listless too, their legs weak.

As they had not anticipated such harsh conditions, the Mamluks had not brought much food or fresh water.

In the desert, two days without water would cause the body to collapse and lose almost all of its ability to fight.

If they continued, they would probably have to kill their horses and drink their blood.

In the vast desert, this was clearly a desperate measure.

"Let's go back and report the situation to Prince Mansur."

Haru sighed deeply.

...

"Haru? Why are you back?"

In the port of Matru, Prince Mansur asked the commander of the thousand-strong army who had just returned.

"Have you finished your reconnaissance?"

Haru shook his head.

"Your Highness, our army cannot pass through the western desert at this time."

"The Qafils have destroyed all the water sources and gathering places. The area is now completely barren."

The commanders all looked at Mansur, and the Sultan's son's face darkened.

"Bring me a map!"

Everyone scrambled to find one, spreading out a map of the area around Bilinchi.

Haru had marked several large oases between Tobruk and Matru Port in black.

"Is the area around Tobruk completely barren?"

Mansur stared at the large bodies of water marked on the map in disbelief.

"Yes, Your Highness. All the wells have been blocked, and the water sources have been contaminated. Drinking from them recklessly could cause an epidemic."

"I highly doubt that Tobruk has fallen."

"I suggest dispatching the navy to transport supplies by sea."

Mansur remained silent.

As the Sultan's son, he was well aware of how the Mamluk navy was faring.

The vast majority of merchant ships and escort fleets were in the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, so they could not arrive quickly.

If the navy had been powerful, the Venetians would not have been able to monopolize business in the eastern Mediterranean.

Even if they gathered a large fleet of transport ships, it would be impossible to supply more than 10,000 people at a time.

And that was without considering the navy in Surt.

"Prince, what should we do?"

Mansur looked around at the inquiring glances and panicked.

This time, he had finally secured an opportunity to defeat the Kafir, establish his reputation and enhance his prestige, and change his image of incompetence in the eyes of the public — all in preparation for his succession.

What should he do now?

Cold sweat broke out on his face as he stammered.

"I... I will relay the message to Cairo and leave it to Malik to decide!"

Everyone looked disappointed, and several Jihad commanders left without saying a word.

...

In Tobruk, Isaac was inspecting the city defenses.

The city's walls were tall and well-fortified, and its unique geography, surrounded by the ocean, made it easy to defend and difficult to attack.

Without large siege weapons, the only option was to wear down the enemy with superior numbers.

The harbor was located on a small peninsula surrounded by the sea on three sides, ensuring smooth transport.

Isaac paid the price of 2,000 lives to capture the city by force.

Afterwards, he immediately drove the residents westward to prevent them from colluding with the attacking troops.

Modern-day Tobruk is a military stronghold.

Prisoners and slaves from nearby tribes carried heavy stones and repaired the gaps created during the siege under the lash of their overseers.

Food supplies from the Green Mountains were continuously transported to Tobruk and stored in granaries. Military equipment was shipped from the port of Sirte to Tobruk and distributed to every unit participating in the defense of the city.

Isaac took stock of the troops currently at his disposal.

The First Legion of the Imperial Guard numbered 1,000 men; the Purple Guard, 1,000; the Dobrogea Legion, 1,500; the Yaroslav Mercenary Regiment, 500; and Count Adnan's army, 500.

Over 3,000 tribal conscripts had also been mobilized from various regions.

In total, there were 7,500 defenders in the city.

With such forces, the Mamluk reinforcements would find it difficult to advance.

Looking up, Isaac saw several Guardsmen directing engineers to install crossbows and small catapults on the city walls. Outside the walls, slaves were digging trenches with tools.

If there had been enough time, Isaac had even been prepared to divert the waters of the Mediterranean Sea around Tobruk, layer by layer, and turn it into an island.

However, this plan was impossible to implement at that time due to the enormous amount of work involved.

The scouts sent out had not yet observed any Mamluk reinforcements, and the warships patrolling outside did not dare approach the port too closely for reconnaissance.

Prideful as they were, the Mamluks would never stand idly by and allow Isaac to occupy this fertile land.

Perhaps the current calm was only a prelude to a storm.

"Hurry up!"

Isaac ordered.

...

In the north-eastern part of the Apennine Peninsula lies the city of Venice.

Located at the mouth of the Po and Piave rivers on the Adriatic coast of north-eastern Italy, the city is surrounded by the Venetian Lagoon, a densely populated area of islands connected by waterways. Venice is known as the "Pearl of the Adriatic Sea".

It was the center of the Venetian Republic and a major trading hub between northern Italy and the Mediterranean. It was also one of the world's most prosperous cities.

The Republic rose to prominence through commerce. Initially, it pledged allegiance to the Eastern Roman Emperor and was granted the title of Doge. Gradually, it gained commercial privileges from the Eastern Empire, thereby monopolizing trade.

Newly established Venice was like a beetle clinging to the Eastern Roman Empire, inserting its sharp proboscis into the trunk and sucking out the sweet sap.

The new republic also participated extensively in the Crusades in the Levant, gaining many commercial ports and privileges in the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Gradually, Venice grew stronger while the Eastern Roman Empire declined.

The Crusades were not a sure-fire success. The crusade launched by Pope Innocent III in 1202 did not achieve the desired results, instead causing heavy losses for Venice.

Around this time, a Byzantine prince named Alexius appealed to Venice for help in restoring his throne, promising to pay a large sum of money.

The then Doge, Enrico Dandolo, had a bold idea which was eventually put into practice.

Thereafter, Venice rose rapidly, defeating its arch-rival Genoa in the Battle of Chioggia and monopolizing the lucrative spice trade in the eastern Mediterranean. Former commercial republics such as Pisa and Lucca were left behind.

To this day, no country has dared to challenge Venice's absolute authority in the eastern Mediterranean.

This power has been passed down to the current Doge, Francesco Foscari.

A rare guest has just arrived at the Doge's Palace. "Messenger from Cairo, you have come from afar. What is the purpose of your visit?"

"State your purpose and I will report it truthfully to the Great Council for their decision."

Foscari looked down at the Mamluk envoy and replied stiffly.

Foscari's time as Doge had not been easy.

The Doge of Venice held little real power, as almost all power was monopolized by the Great Council of Venice, the Council of Forty, and the Council of Ten, all of which were elected by the Great Council.

These organizations were all controlled by great noblemen and merchants, forming several oligarchic families who occupied important positions.

The Doge? He was nothing more than a proxy.

Foscari's time as Doge was a series of failures.

First, he lost Thessaloniki, which had been so difficult to obtain. Then he was defeated on land by the Duke of Milan, Visconti. Next came the failure in Albania.

Most discouraging of all was the fact that his only son, Jacopo Foscari, had been branded a traitor by the Great Council and thrown into prison.

He thought that would be the end of it, but the Great Council had no intention of letting him off and announced that he would be put on trial.

As the nominal leader of Venice, he couldn't even protect his own son. What was the point? "Honorable Doge, I am sure you have heard that a devil has been born in our midst?"

"You mean the Ottomans? That's not bad."

Foscari said with interest.

"No, he..."

"You mean those Karaman bandits? They deserve to die."

Foscari had already guessed the envoy's intentions and was deliberately beating around the bush to force him to speak.

"Isaac Palaiologos, Prince of Constantinople, is rampaging across North Africa, burning, killing and destroying water sources. He is the devil incarnate!"

"Please help us destroy him!"

The envoy had no choice but to speak directly.

"You mean you want us to fight our Christian brothers? That's impossible."

Foscari refused outright.

"I don't want to be excommunicated by Nicholas V."

There was a burst of laughter from the audience.

Religious relations were of no concern to him. If the Mamluks were willing to offer him enough, he would help them.

He wanted to see what bargaining chips the envoy could offer.

The envoy looked to his side.

Christian, a member of the Forty, stepped forward.

"Governor, I believe we should attack the Sultan."

"Oh? And why is that?"

Foscari looked at Christian.

His family had traded with Cairo for many years and had many interests there, so it was only natural for him to speak on behalf of the envoy.

But how could a small grand duchy like Sult possibly affect such huge interests?

Foscari became interested.

"Governor, this Isaac Palaiologos has always been at odds with us."

"Several years ago, he posed as a defeated Ottoman soldier and plundered our merchant caravans in the Athens area, forcing the population to flee south."

The Venetians were slow to realize this, and their original intention had been to spread the news in order to ruin Isaac's reputation in the Eastern Roman Empire. However, this backfired.

The common people did not believe the rumors spread by the Latin merchants, suspecting that they were deliberately trying to ruin Prince Isaac's reputation.

The more my enemies oppose me, the more it proves that I am right.

Isaac's reputation among the lower classes, who hated the Latin merchants, grew even better.

"He also has deep connections with Genoa. Not only does he have a merchant fleet registered in Genoa, but he is also said to have signed an agreement with them."

"This Grand Duke Isaac was involved in the Milanese War of Succession and the Albanian War, causing us a lot of trouble."

Most importantly, they impersonate our fleet, raid the Ottoman and Mamluk fleets, disregard our trade agreements and deliberately sabotage our relations!

"Oh? Is that really true?"

Foscari looked at the other council members.

Immediately, a council member who was at odds with Christian jumped out to oppose his statement.

They were not sympathetic to Isaac; they simply had a bad relationship with Christian and were acting in ways that were harmful to others and not beneficial to themselves.

So, everyone started arguing.

They argued for a whole day but came to no conclusion.

Ultimately, a decision had to be made by the council.

The messenger sighed.

This time, it was going to be expensive.

On 2 August 1448, the Great Council of Venice agreed to lease a fleet of ships to the Mamluk Sultanate and allow them to use the port of the Duchy of Candia on Crete to transport supplies.

In return, the sultan had to pay 50,000 ducats and grant Venice preferential treatment in the spice and clove trade...

...

News of the negotiations reached the port of Matruh on 6 August 1448, and Mansur was overjoyed, immediately summoning his troops.

However, Crete was very close to the North African coast, and the transport fleet that had arrived from Alexandria, together with the Venetian transport ships, could barely support 10,000 men.

The biggest obstacle to the holy war had therefore been largely resolved.

Mansur mounted his steed, held his head high and walked at the front of each square formation, surveying his army.

The elite Mamluk cavalry were formidable; solemn as mountains, every move exuding steadiness and confidence.

The holy warriors were also in high spirits and brimming with confidence.

The retinue led by the tribal sheikhs was less impressive; they stared at Mansur with indifference.

Mansur frowned, but quickly regained his composure.

As the son of the Sultan, he had no military achievements, political accomplishments or reputation, so it was only natural that he could not make these unruly tribal sheikhs submit to him.

Silently swearing to himself that he would use this war to make a name for himself and silence all those who had once mocked him, Mansur approached the royal Mamluk formation. He walked forward and approached the royal Mamluk formation.

He felt it was necessary to say something.

"The devil from Constantinople is rampaging across our lands and plundering our slaves — this is forbidden by Allah!"

We are Mamluks, freed slaves, masters of our own destiny!"

Mansur raised his scimitar, imitating his father when he was young.

"Mamluks!"

The royal Mamluks paused for a moment, then responded with scattered cheers.

"At your side!"

"Mamluks!"

"At your side!"

"Mamluks!"

"At your side!"

"Let's go!"

Finally satisfied, Mansur swung his sword to the west.

...

On 10 August 1448, the Mediterranean fleet of the Grand Duchy of Sultana was forced to abandon its interception of the Mamluk transport ships due to the threat of the Venetian fleet.

Subsequently, with the support of numerous transport ships, Prince Mansur led over ten thousand troops in a grand procession across the uninhabited region, arriving at the gates of Tobruk.

The Battle of Tobruk officially began.

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