The Morean army stationed in Athens remained on high alert.
They were constantly anxious, wary of any unexpected moves Murad might make, never allowing themselves even a moment of ease. The only thing that seemed out of place was the construction of fortifications. Even that, however, was deemed a futile effort when considering the time it would take to complete. The Morean army believed that striking just before completion would force the enemy into further wasted effort, so they chose to remain passive and observe.
Had the Prince been present on the walls to observe more closely, he might have noticed it sooner—the peculiarity in Murad’s movements. But the aides currently in charge lacked such keen perception. The reason was simple: ignorance.
They had sworn not to let their guard down, but that promise only applied to threats within the realm of their expectations.
What if Murad was planning to besiege them in a way they had never even considered?
Would they still be able to remain composed?
The answer would only be revealed in the crucible of battle.
And for misjudging who truly needed time, the Morean army would lose their advantage.
On the fifth day of the siege, the first to belatedly sense the danger was the most experienced among them—Don Francisco.
At dawn, the wooden barricades Murad had painstakingly erected suddenly collapsed.
Why go through the trouble of setting up fortifications only to tear them down?
That question was answered by the deafening roar that followed.
—KWAANG!
A blast so powerful that it made Francisco’s ears ring.
For a brief moment, it felt as if even the stone walls of the fortress had trembled.
Before the thunder that heralded a new era, the lessons of past wars were rendered meaningless.
The only thing that kept Francisco from panic was the bare minimum of composure his experience afforded him.
Quickly regaining his senses, he scanned his surroundings and shouted,
“Do not panic! Focus on keeping your footing—stay on the walls!”
At the same time, he moved himself, determined to see firsthand what had caused that explosion.
It did not take long to find out.
Chunks of stone tumbled from the deep crater that had been gouged into the fortress walls.
The shaking was no illusion.
A cold chill ran down Francisco’s spine.
He cursed his complacency.
He had thought Murad was simply fortifying his position.
He had assumed the enemy was following the traditional rules of siege warfare.
“Was there another way…?”
The thunder did not stop at just one strike.
The booming of cannons continued, each impact shaking the walls to their core.
The soldiers struggled just to remain standing.
We have to endure.
We must hold on.
Francisco bit down hard on his lower lip.
Then, the inevitable happened.
A section of the fortress wall, unable to withstand the bombardment, collapsed.
And with it, the soldiers standing atop it.
—Aaaaaaahhh…!
Amidst the earth-shaking bombardment, Francisco faintly heard screams, prompting him to turn his gaze.
Amidst the rising dust, soldiers struggle helplessly as they fell, crushed beneath the falling wall.
The outcome was painfully obvious, yet Francisco couldn’t look away.
No siege weapon had ever been capable of collapsing a fortress wall in such a short time. That was why walls had remained effective—why defenders had always held the upper hand in sieges.
Yet, what was happening before his eyes told a different story.
Even if one refused to acknowledge it now, the truth would soon become undeniable.
The bombardment suddenly stopped, as if to grant the Morean army a moment to realize what had just occurred.
Francisco closed his eyes.
The enemy was giving them time.
And he knew why.
Murad wanted the Morean forces to abandon the walls and come out.
So predictable.
The man had always preferred open battle over siege warfare.
But maintaining this stalemate would only delay the inevitable—defeat.
“I need to see my cousin.”
Hoping the Prince had a plan, Francisco withdrew from the walls.
He wasn’t the only one drawn by the deafening blasts.
Ivania, who had been guarding the Prince, rushed over, while Adrianos, responsible for another section of the walls, arrived on horseback.
Gathered in Athens’ court, no one wasted time on formalities—all eyes turned to Francisco for answers.
“W-What happened?! That sound just now—was that the walls collapsing?!”
“They haven’t fallen completely, have they?! Tell me they’re still holding!”
“Whoa, calm down. Damn it… Take a breath first.”
The way they both pressed him with similar frantic urgency grated on Francisco’s nerves.
Only after he muttered under his breath loud enough for them to hear did the commotion settle.
Yet their expectant stares remained heavy.
Francisco quickly relayed the situation.
“The walls aren’t completely down. But after just a few blasts, a section collapsed.”
“How?! How is that even possible?!”
“I’m not entirely sure. Judging by the craters left behind, something was fired at the walls. But I didn’t see any trebuchets.”
( TL : Trebuchets is a medieval siege engines used to throw large projectiles. Image in end )
At those words, only one possibility came to mind for both Ivania and Adrianos.
Ivania hesitated, but Adrianos spoke without reservation.
It was a difference in experience.
Ivania, having fought mostly in northern Italy, where open battles were prioritized over sieges, had rarely encountered such weapons.
But Adrianos had learned of them during the sieges of Constantinople.
“A bombard.”
“A what?”
“A cannon. A weapon that uses gunpowder to throw massive iron balls, capable of bringing down walls.”
“But aren’t bombards incredibly difficult to transport? And if it was something that distinctive, wouldn’t we have noticed it earlier?”
“They must have hidden it somehow. I don’t know what method they used, but… one thing is clear—our defenses won’t hold as long as His Highness anticipated.
Unless we had the triple walls of Constantinople, any fortress would eventually fall to such weapons.”
“So we have no choice but to follow my cousin’s decision.”
Adrianos frowned at the use of “cousin” but let it go.
Francisco was right.
Everyone knew that only the Prince could devise a way out of this crisis.
As Francisco and Adrianos prepared to request an audience, an unexpected obstacle arose.
“…That won’t be possible. Have you forgotten? His Highness has secluded himself.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Francisco’s expression twisted.
He had always suspected that blind loyalty and unchecked ambition could one day prove disastrous, but he hadn’t expected it to be now.
Until now, he had held his tongue, as the person was the Prince’s confidant.
But to maintain such rigid obedience in a moment like this?
“The walls are on the verge of collapse. A prolonged defense is impossible.
And you’re telling me I can’t see my cousin?”
Ivania said nothing.
She merely pressed her lips into a thin, frustrated line.
That silence sent a deep, indescribable unease through Francisco and Adrianos.
TL : Trebuchet were used a lot in the medieval ages and still were used till 15th century, before cannons fully took over the warfare.
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