The invention of gunpowder and the emergence of cannons changed the world.
Their power could pierce even the sturdiest armor in an instant and eventually bring down the most formidable fortress walls. From the moment this potential appeared, the medieval era began its gradual decline.
Yet, the end did not arrive immediately. Though crumbling, the era still remained medieval. Even if gunpowder and cannons announced the begging a new age, the legacy of the medieval period could not be dismissed lightly.
Greek fire was a prime example.
During the rise of Islam, when the empire faced imminent collapse at the hands of the Islamic fleet besieging Constantinople, an inventor devised a liquid incendiary weapon. Flames that burned even on water proved to be an overwhelming force in naval battles.
However, its applications were not limited to maritime warfare. Experiencing its incredible effectiveness, the empire utilized Greek fire in various situations.
The prince was confident that Greek fire would still be effective, even on the brink of the medieval era’s conclusion. Though the quantity produced fell far short of expectations due to its difficult manufacturing process, no other weapon could so thoroughly disrupt an opponent as fire that could not be extinguished with water.
Especially at the moment when the enemy poured through the open gates, certain of their victory, the sudden appearance of flames engulfing their surroundings, combined with the point of a spear aimed at their throats, would shatter their composure.
Thus, the prince personally oversaw the planning, inspecting alleyways to determine the most effective places to unleash the flames. He also intended to delay evacuating the city’s residents as long as possible. Premature evacuations could raise suspicion about the harsh measures enacted thus far.
This decision might earn him a reputation of notoriety. Yet, if it meant repelling the Ottomans, he would bear that burden willingly. It was a painful choice, but one made knowing that not everything could be saved.
“This spot will do. Mark it on the map.”
“As you command, Your Highness.”
Secrecy was foremost in this operation. Thus, instead of skilled guards, the prince chose attendants with unwavering loyalty to accompany him. On the map of the city’s layout, the attendant marked the locations the prince identified as key points. These were ideal places to trap the enemy by setting ablaze pre-positioned barricades and driving them into the inferno.
Once these crucial ambush sites were identified, the prince would return to court to address the next task awaiting him: the backlash from the city’s leaders over the harsh military demands.
“Why is only our city and its people subjected to such disadvantages? The citizens’ discontent is at its peak! You’ve already taken substantial wealth, and yet you continue to seize more. How is this any different from outright plunder?”
“May I ask, is this punishment for us maintaining a somewhat neutral stance?”
They weren’t wrong. The prince had resolved to sacrifice Nemeapatre because of its Ottoman sympathies and its strategic importance as a critical stronghold for their southern advance. What would happen if the enemy was allowed into the city amidst fierce battles?
Looting and massacres were inevitable. Moreover, this was not just ordinary fire—it was Greek fire. When the raging inferno finally subsided, all traces of prosperity would have been consumed entirely.
Of course, revealing such intentions outright would only lead to immediate rebellion. The prince shook his head and replied:
“This is a fight to defend our faith against the Ottomans. You, too, are well aware of their overwhelming strength. I acknowledge that our preparations may have been excessive. However, consider this: Accusing those who stand for their faith of plundering because they demand readiness is a grave insult. Reflect on this deeply.”
Of course, they would not comply so easily. Some turned pale at the mere mention of opposing the Ottomans, while others flared with anger, shouting in protest.
“How dare you speak such blasphemy?! We are a vassal state serving the Sultan! How can you expect us to join in treason against our lord?”
The room fell into a tense, uneasy silence. The prince rose from his seat at the head of the table and surveyed the faces of the influential figures gathered. Nemeapatre, being distant from Mistra, was an area where the prince’s influence was weak.
Even the creation of the city council had devolved into little more than a tool for calming the existing powerholders. It was no surprise that these figures, who represented the old order, looked unfavorably upon the prince’s efforts to introduce a new one.
As always, a gamble was necessary.
The prince understood that it was time to take another step forward on the tightrope suspended between life and death, survival and destruction. His hand moved toward the hilt of the sword at his waist.
“In that case—!”
The weight of the sword pressed against his palm as he drew the silver blade. A sharp, metallic sound resonated as the sword was unsheathed, and with a reverse grip, the prince drove it into the table before him.
The blade pierced through the wood with a resounding thud, and the onlookers instinctively imagined the splintering of bones. The shattered fragments of wood scattered across the room, a clear and ominous symbol. Turning his gaze to the gathered leaders, the prince spoke with unwavering clarity.
“…You must choose. Will you be slaves to the Sultan, or citizens of Rome?”
No one maintained their composure under his intense, gleaming stare. Only then did the prince withdraw the sword. Having subdued them with fear, it was time to offer reassurance.
“The losses suffered in this war will be compensated in due time. I swear, in the name of the Prince of Morea and the legacy left to me by my mother, that the city’s reconstruction will be ensured. So, do not be afraid.”
“…We will follow Your Highness,” one of them replied reluctantly.
Though they yielded, the prince had no illusions that his promise would be fulfilled immediately. The reconstruction of Nemeapatre would be a strictly calculated endeavor. Morea could not afford to invest its resources in a city that had been friendly to the Ottomans. The priority was to secure and fully dominate cities that had sworn unwavering loyalty.
“Very well, you may all withdraw.”
The leaders retreated, subdued and shaken. The prince watched their departing figures. How many among them truly believed in or hoped for the restoration of the empire? Slowly, he closed his eyes. No one is granted the power to protect everything. The limited strength each person possesses forces them to prioritize whom and what they must safeguard.
Now, the most critical matter was Murad’s next move.
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