Chapter 688: Kaboom!
Above them, the moon hung full and luminous, a silent observer of the earth’s weary combatants. Its pale light bathed the landscape in a ghostly glow, reflecting the weight of Julian’s long service and hinting at the peace he longed for. The tranquillity of the moonlight seemed to soothe the rugged features of the old general’s face, offering a momentary escape from the relentless march of war.
The night was heavy with the weight of passing years as Emperor Antonius and General Julian stood beneath a starless sky, their once youthful force dimmed by the inexorable march of time. "We have all gotten old," the emperor sighed, his voice a sad echo in the still air. "I remember, just twenty-five years ago when we first met—full of energy and ambition. Julian, you have been pivotal in our shared victories."
Julian, his face etched with the lines of countless campaigns, turned towards his friend with a grave expression. "Your Majesty, perhaps it is time for us, the weary veterans, to step aside for the younger commanders. Our bodies and spirits bear the toll of command too heavily now."
Antonius looked taken aback. "Why speak of resignation, my old friend? I have never hinted at such a thing."
"No, I am serious, your Majesty." Julian said, with a stern face. "I can feel it myself to be frank, I have aged, tremendously, after years of commanding this army, I can feel that my back can no longer be straightened with years wearing helmets and armours, my eyes can no longer concentrate while looking forward after years of reading through texts and maps days and nights, I can no longer raise my hands up to shoulder level after years of using my blades, I can no longer feel my bottom, after years of riding on horseback, I believe that this is the same with Helio, Mauro and Khalid, especially Khalid, for he is spending way more time on horseback than I do."
Silence fell between them, as poignant as a farewell.
Julian, his gaze fixed on the distant shadows, added softly, "Yet, I take pride in my service. I’ve secured Bulgaria, cleansed it of threats. You won’t have to worry about our borders for decades, Your Majesty."
The acknowledgment of their fading prowess hung between them like a thick fog. Antonius, overcome with a sense of loss for the invincible days of their youth, sighed deeply. The reality that his trusted comrades-in-arms, with whom he had faced the fires of battle, were succumbing to the ravages of time was a bitter medication.
The army of six thousand men strong embarked on their trip immediately the next day, as they marched off for their destination. The massive Roman army are almost unstopped for this entire trip, as they marched without meeting any form of resistance – all the forts and gates of Serbia that remained loyal to the King opened up their defence willingly, knowing that their resistance would probably meet with an hour fist no matter what, while the emperor made no hesitation to replace these Serbian troops with his own garrisons, confiscating their weapons and armours, and dispersed them back to Belgrade – he cannot allow his back and supply route to be controlled by people whom he do not trust.
It took the emperor less than three days to march to the outskirts of Smederevo, as the commander of the opponent – knowing that his army would not stand a chance against the Romans, ordered all of his combat personnels to collapse back into the fortress, hoping that the fortress o Smederevo, which is relatively new, only constructed a bit more than three decades ago, deterred the ferocious offensive of the Ottomans, and even imprisoned the famous John Hunyadi of Hungary before, is able to withstand against this Roman offensive.
Well, the rebels have three thousand plus combatants, and it should be able to hold out against the Romans, according to their past experiences, right?
The fortress of Smederevo is incredibly built, with one kilometre of crenated wall, over two meters thick, with a series of defensive towers around a staggering twenty five meters in height, it should definitely be able to hold out against the offending Romans, with ease, some even foresee a future where by the Romans end up stagnating beneath the walls, unable to progress any further, and the other Serbians who are unwilling to see the gradually increasing Roman influence, will come up to join them, eventually defeating these invaders, giving them a heavy damage.
At least, men got to have dreams to stay alive.
In the sweltering heat of the summer of 1477, the Roman legions, under Emperor Antonius and General Julian, methodically established their presence. The strategic setup of their encampment was swiftly followed by meticulous reconnaissance of the surrounding territory and the formidable fortress at its heart. With the lay of the land and enemy positions charted, the Romans wasted no time, launching their assault on the third day.
Historically, the rebels might have been justified in their complacency. Traditional warfare dictated that to besiege a well-fortified stronghold, manned by a substantial force of three thousand, an attacking army would typically need to outnumber the defenders fivefold. Moreover, a successful siege could drag on for months, if not years, demanding immense resources and patience.
However, the Roman approach under Antonius deviated sharply from conventional tactics. The empire’s military prowess was bolstered by a battery of ninety-six large-calibre artillery pieces, a testament to the innovative military strategies that had evolved under Roman command. General Julian, seasoned in the art of siege warfare from his campaigns across Bulgaria, adeptly positioned these cannons on the unoccupied high grounds of Carina and Lestar to the southwest of the fortress. The artillery was meticulously aligned to unleash a devastating barrage in precise coordination.
Meanwhile, the Roman infantry, under Julian’s strategic command, encircled the fortress from three sides. The cavalry units patrolled the northern approaches along the Danube, ensuring no surprise counterattacks from that direction. To the east, a contingent of three thousand foot soldiers maintained a vigilant watch close to the fortress walls. The bulk of the infantry formed a protective cordon a few hundred meters ahead of the artillery, tasked with a crucial defensive role: thwarting any desperate sallies by the besieged that aimed to neutralize the Roman siege engines.
Artillery had revolutionized European warfare over the past century, and the imposing Theodosian walls had once fallen to such might. The legends of Roman artillery’s destructive capacity had permeated the continent, striking fear even in those who had never witnessed their fire. Fully aware of the impending bombardment, the rebel commanders wasted no time in ordering their forces to take cover behind the thick fortress walls, and they issued urgent commands for the civilian population to evacuate, anticipating the storm of iron and fire that was about to descend upon them.
As the last of the city’s inhabitants hastened to safety, the Roman forces poised themselves for a decisive and brutal assault. General Julian, a figure both feared and respected for his uncompromising military tactics, issued a stark command that sliced through the tense air: "Fire." With a flick of the standard, the order reverberated down the lines, where nearly a hundred cannons stood ready.
These engines of war, aligned with deadly precision, unleashed their fury upon the fortress. The artillery roared to life, hurling shells that traced fiery arcs across the sky—each one a thunderbolt aimed at the heart of the rebellion. This was not merely a battle; it was a demonstration of the Empire’s wrath, a punitive war designed by Julian to crush the insurgents’ spirits and quell any further dissent within the Empire’s ranks, in other words, a war of collective punishment.
The target of their ire was the fortress’s core, where the rebel leaders were believed to be coordinating their resistance. As the first volleys landed, the impact was apocalyptic. Buildings that had stood for centuries were reduced to rubble in moments. The central command, thought to be a safe haven by the rebel leaders, was struck with lethal precision. Commanders who had peered out from windows, underestimating the Romans’ range and accuracy, were blasted from their vantage points, their lives extinguished before they could comprehend their fate.
In the command cabin, deeper within the fortress and armoured against attack, the shockwave from a direct hit jolted the structure. Those inside, including some who had foolishly gathered at the windows to witness the barrage, were hurled through the glass by the force of the explosions. Their bodies were broken by the sudden, violent intrusion of war into what they had assumed was a secure position.
Outside, the fortress walls, which had echoed with the sounds of routine military life just days before, now resonated with the chaos of destruction. Soldiers, unprepared for the ferocity and accuracy of the bombardment, were knocked off their feet, disoriented and demoralized by the relentless Roman artillery.
The aftermath was a stark testament to the power of the Roman military machine and a clear message to all who would defy the Emperor’s will.
