The preparations for the battlefield proceeded smoothly.
As a result, Nemeapatre had been utterly transformed—into the perfect stage for raging flames to engulf it. The Greek fire hidden among the barricades scattered throughout the alleys would ignite at the opportune moment, leaving any soldiers who entered the city helplessly trapped.
Under the guise of preparing for a siege, the evacuation of civilians had also been carried out. It might seem like a waste of time, but it was necessary to mitigate the inevitable criticism that would come later.
However, the most crucial factor remained Murad’s movements.
In tracking Murad’s actions, no one proved more instrumental than Sophia. It was fortunate that they had joined forces out of mutual necessity. The disdainful gaze often directed toward the Jewish people ironically dispelled suspicions of her being an enemy spy. Yet, Sophia had her limitations—her lack of knowledge about warfare meant she couldn’t discern which pieces of information were truly critical.
This, of course, only added to the prince’s burden. From the distant court of Nemeapatre, he had to dictate exactly what needed to be uncovered and reported. Scouts were sent out multiple times a day to guard against enemy detachments, and the growing discontent among citizens and influential figures as the occupation stretched on had to be managed to remain within tolerable bounds. Sadly, there wasn’t a single capable individual he could entrust with even one of these tasks.
Ideally, he would have delegated some of the work to give others experience. But now, when even a single failure could prove fatal, there was no such luxury. For this reason, Ivania and Adrianos, who had recently joined him, were assigned solely for tightening military discipline.
Still, Murad’s actions were the top priority, and Sophia’s letters were the only clue to understanding them.
“Here’s the Sultan’s movement you were so keen to know about.
There doesn’t seem to be any significant military activity in Asia Minor. However, it’s worth noting that the Sultan is advancing southward at a much slower pace than before. He’s only just arrived near Larissa. This is a far cry from the rapid march we saw during the Bulgarian campaign.
Hoping this letter reaches you promptly, I’ll end it here.”
Nearly a month had passed since the prince began his campaign of Nemeapatre, yet Murad’s forces, which should have appeared long ago, remained in Larissa. Considering the time it took for letters to travel, it seemed likely that his arrival was near. Still, something didn’t sit right. Why would Murad hesitate?
He had already crushed the Bulgarian rebellion and swiftly defeated the rival who had challenged his claim to the throne. Murad’s support within the Ottoman Empire was undoubtedly solid, and there were no political obstacles to his advance.
The most plausible explanation was logistical delays. The approaching winter loomed large, and if Murad was stockpiling supplies in anticipation of a prolonged siege, it made sense. After all, Larissa was a fertile agricultural region and a major granary. Harvested crops could be readily used, which wasn’t a bad idea—but neither was it the best. Winter was likely the key factor influencing this cautious approach.
Murad was no stranger to Greece’s rugged terrain, filled with mountains and hills in the central and southern regions. He was the one who, anticipating the inevitability of attrition in such conditions, had struck at Constantinople to draw Morea out. Would such a leader willingly initiate a campaign during a season that demanded immense resources?
The logic didn’t add up at all.
“What are you scheming, Murad?”
Murad’s recent maneuvers revealed a clear intent. His strategy was designed to draw Morea’s forces out of the Peloponnesian Peninsula, cutting off any reliance on the terrain for a war of attrition.
He planned to deploy his powerful infantry and cavalry to annihilate the Morean army in a decisive battle, thereby completely erasing the empire’s influence over central and southern Greece. This was a clear effort to crush Morea. And yet, suddenly, he was stockpiling supplies in preparation for winter?
Murad desired swift and decisive action. His aim was the collapse of the empire’s remaining strength. To achieve that, he planned to utterly annihilate Morea’s troops.
Had this reasoning been flawed?
Had it been a misstep to assume Murad would concern himself with the army I command?
A wave of dizziness came over me. I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes. In the mental map unwinding before me, I could see a young Sultan with his face obscured by a dark shadow. His confident smile was the only visible feature as he slowly, deliberately advanced his forces southward.
It was impossible not to feel anxious when faced with his inexplicable decision to advance so gradually when he could easily charge forward. Was it simply to unsettle me, or was there another scheme at play?
I needed certainty. I needed to understand what Murad was planning.
But how? What further deductions could I make from the clues in this letter? This was the man who had deceived Venice by withdrawing the coastal fleet from Asia Minor. He might have even realized that Morea was acquiring intelligence through some means and could be deliberately misleading us. Surely, his intent was to provoke anxiety and lure us into a trap.
…Yet, the fading confidence in victory was undeniable.
I had gambled on a near-desperate strategy against Murad. If he failed to see through it, it could result in an unprecedented victory. But if he uncovered it, the flames could engulf us instead. It was time to consider the worst-case scenario.
This brought to mind the strategy built on the premise that victory through military force alone was impossible. Ideally, we would defeat the enemy in Nemeapatre with a single, decisive strike. But failing that, the Greek fire would be deployed to cripple Nemeapatre’s functions as both a fortress and a city. Its value as a strategic stronghold would be thoroughly diminished before we retreated. That was the first step of the plan: to shatter Murad’s momentum and bind his army with a carefully laid trap.
Only naïve fools pin their hopes on luck in the face of crisis.
This world, however, had taught me the necessity of cunning and preparation over innocence. Perhaps that was why I felt an even stronger urge to ask this question:
What are you plotting, Murad?
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