Chapter 690: I Cant Take This Anymore
From somewhere below, a fellow rebel recognised the tormented figure and called out desperately, trying to pierce the veil of his stupor. "Come back!" he yelled, his voice hoarse with urgency. But his pleas fell on deaf ears, swallowed by the cacophony of war and the psychological abyss that had claimed the haunted man.
The chilling echo of artillery explosions had become a gruesome cadence for the besieged rebels at Smederevo. Each thunderous roar stripped away more of their resolve, as they clung to the battered walls, each dreading the next impact. Their attention was morbidly fixed on the lone, wandering figure, a doomed silhouette against the backdrop of devastation. Yet, despite their grim fascination, no one dared venture out to save him; the risk of stepping into the artillery’s deadly aim was too great.
Then, it happened—a shell, precise and merciless, zeroed in on its unwitting target. In an instant, the wandering man was obliterated, his existence erased in a violent burst. His final scream was swallowed by the explosive force, leaving a haunting silence in its wake.
The spectacle was too much for the already beleaguered defenders. Driven by primal fear, many abandoned their posts in a desperate bid for safety—a safety that was, in truth, non-existent within the confines of the beleaguered fortress. The fortress of Smederevo, once a bastion of defence, had become a death trap, its compact size offering no refuge from the relentless Roman barrage.
As the dust temporarily settled, a solitary figure on horseback approached from the Roman lines, bearing a white flag—a universal symbol of temporary ceasefire. The battered defenders watched warily as the rider halted within speaking distance. His message was clear and chilling: "We shall give you an hour of humanitarian time to cleanse yourself of any bodies! And the bombardment will continue after an hour!" With his message delivered, the messenger turned his steed and galloped back to his lines.
The survivors’ brief respite was a grim one; they scrambled to their command centre only to discover it too was in shambles. The Roman artillery had meticulously targeted their leadership, sowing chaos. Commanders, once orchestrators of defence, were now missing, presumed sheltered or fled. The fortress’s internal structure, though outwardly intact, was shattered within by the relentless bombardments.
Amidst the crumbling command, soldiers wandered aimlessly, leadership fractured beyond immediate repair. Wounded men lay scattered, their groans of pain merging with the cries of the disoriented and frightened. The once strict hierarchy of military order had dissolved into a scene of desolate anarchy, where the line between command and rank was as obliterated as the walls that once stood firm against invaders.
The unfolding chaos within Smederevo’s walls had reached a breath holding climax as a handful of desperate soldiers, stripped of their martial regalia, made a daring escape. Their flight from the fortress, a perilous descent along ropes and a breathless swim across the moat, ended in their voluntary surrender to the Roman forces. This act of defection was not merely an escape but a calculated move orchestrated by Julian to demoralise the rebels further.
Upon receiving news of their surrender, Julian, ever strategic, ordered a visible display of leniency. The deserters were treated to a lavish feast within sight of the besieged fortress’s watchtowers—a psychological ploy to sow seeds of doubt and despair among the remaining defenders. As the hour of ceasefire neared its end, these men were promptly recalled, their brief moment of reprieve serving as a stark contrast to the grim conditions within the fortress walls.
Inside Smederevo, the rebel commander, clinging to fading hopes, reassured his men that the Roman artillery would soon exhaust its ammunition. This false confidence briefly bolstered the spirits of the beleaguered defenders, spreading through their ranks like a fleeting gust of wind that could not sustain a flagging sail.
However, the resumption of bombardment shattered any remnants of hope. The Romans, with calculated precision, shifted their focus to the structural sinews of the fortress—defensive towers, robust walls, and strategic gates. Each impact resonated not just through the stonework but deep into the hearts and minds of those sheltered behind them, eroding their resolve slice by dire slice.
Despite the mounting evidence of their untenable position, the rebels clung to the sliver of hope offered by their commander’s assurances. They awaited the moment the Roman siege engines would fall silent, starved of ammunition. This hope, however thin, held some at bay from succumbing to utter despair.
As the second wave of bombardment concluded, achieving more psychological damage than physical, the rebels’ anticipation grew. The lesser casualties from this round did little to comfort them, as the true intent of the Roman strategy became apparent—it was not merely to kill but to break the spirit, to disrupt the cohesion of the fortress’s defenders, and to crumble the very structures that upheld their resistance.
In the shadowy recesses of the fortress, amid the dust and despair, the rebels waited, each moment stretching into eternity. They hoped for a sign, a pause that might signal the depletion of Roman resources. Yet, as the silence stretched, they realised the grim truth: their adversaries were not just besieging their walls but laying siege to their very will to resist.
Just as the defending rebels waited tirelessly for the Romans to begin their assault, a watcher on the towers found out something – the Romans cancelled what it seems to be an impending assault, instead, they formed a giant group to the side of the Danube with various wood working tools, and begun constructing what it seems to be a port suitable for unloading and offloading wares.
What are the Romans up to?
Many rebels, upon seeing this, begun discussing between themselves. Well, one might say that it is obvious that this port is for offloading wares. But what can possibly come in this speed? When the Romans have just started their siege a day ago? This is not like in Bulgaria, where it is still relatively easier for large ships to enter and offload their supplies, supplying the continued expenditures of Julian, while this place, deep inside the kingdom of Serbia, is vastly different.
For one simple reason, the waterways to here is controlled by their king, who have made promises to their commanders before the revolt, saying that as long as they hold themselves, defending and representing the virtue of all Serbians, then he would never let a single Roman ship into their waterways, for this is the best form of support he can give, as the king, without antagonising the Roman overlords.
So, why are these Romans building ports here and now?
The rebels have no answers, so instead they watched, bit by bit.
Soon, they received their answer, by dusk, as they watched with horror, on a fleet of ships sailing right into the port just one Roman mile away from the fortress, these kinds of ships, designed for sailing in shallow waters, anchored right beside the shores, as the sailors and marines on board begun offloading the wares that they have – and the men on the watch towers can see with their very own eyes, that a large portion of those wares are artillery shells, and it seems like the Romans are doing this on purpose, as they pulled these artillery shells on their carts right before the walls, for these rebels to take a look.
This instantly sparked a wide discussions among all ranks of the rebels, as this is not just a demonstration of force on the Romans possessing the capabilities to continue their bombardment forever, but also shows that, at least, Roman ships can sail freely into the waters of Serbia in the Danube, without any form of delays.
Have their king given up on them? Why did the king not keep his promise, that the water ways in the Danube shall be completely sealed? Where did this Roman fleet even come from in the first place?
A wide spread of disconcert begun spreading before the rebels, as the words of the findings begun getting passed around to one another’s ears, and immediately it begun evolving, being exaggerated over and over again, spreading like wild fire to the ears of almost everyone.
And now, the internal defences in the hearts and minds of everyone here, are brutally shattered, as they soon came to realise one cold fact – that, the terrific bombardment of today shall not just stop any time soon when the Romans ran out of ammunition, instead, it is likely to proceed, as if one Roman fleet carrying wares can reach this place, then it is extremely likely, that another shipment carrying full load of ammunition, can arrive at any time, as the Romans continued to expand their harbour.
It takes no brain for every single rebel to understand; Their beloved king, whom they have been fighting for since the start of this battle, might have ditched them completely, for a cause that they cannot understand.
Many rebels can not take this, as they gradually sunk themselves deeper and deeper in this depressive turmoil.
