1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 309 Darkest Hour
Autumn has passed, the weather is getting colder, and the moist air blowing in from the sea turns into rain, beating down on the dying city.

Large tracts of farmland outside the city were deserted, the once prosperous villages and towns were deserted, and Kuriya, which once symbolized glory and wealth, was now in ruins, with traces of burning fires everywhere.

The citizens in the city looked haggard and walked in a hurry. They lined up in long queues at the bakery to receive their daily rations. Beggars and vagrants were sitting cross-legged everywhere. The soldiers on the streets ruthlessly snatched away their remaining clothes and dry food and drove them out of the city gates.

On the city wall, soldiers with dejected looks walked back and forth, with their dim eyes lowered and their steps mechanically.

The Eastern Roman army outside the city had left, and the alarm bells inside the city had not been ringing for some time, but the cavalrymen covered in blood-stained clothes would still gallop past from time to time, knocking down the citizens who tried to escape the city in search of food.

Hunger, disappointment, pain, desolation, everything is bleak.

This is the current Ottoman capital, Bursa.

Compared to a few years ago, the population of this big city has been reduced by more than half. The Greek citizens have long been persecuted and driven into the cold winter snow.

Before the Southwest War, in order to contain the Ottoman mobile forces, the Eastern Roman army stationed in Nicaea bypassed the mountains near Nicaea, marched south along the Sakarya River Valley, and stationed on the coastal plain north of Bursa, creating a threatening momentum.

The commander of the Bursa Front was the mature and prudent Count Ibrahim. This old general hated taking risky moves the most and liked to "build a strong camp and fight a stupid battle". He built his camp tightly and did not force an attack on the city. He just stayed there and sent cavalry to harass the Ottoman transportation roads from time to time.

At present, there are more than 20,000 mobile troops left in the entire Ottoman Empire, 10,000 of which are stationed in Bursa, and the others are located in the south, trying to delay the pace of the Eastern Roman army.

However, since the Turkish officials refused to let the last elite troops leave Bursa, most of the Ottoman soldiers active in the south were forcibly conscripted Azabi infantry and Ajinki cavalry. These people had been exhausted physically and mentally by years of war, and the loss of large tracts of territory had caused many of them to lose their homeland. Their loyalty to the dynasty dropped to freezing point, and they would flee in large numbers at the first opportunity, no longer willing to give their lives for the Sultan.

The last Janissaries in Bursa were also very aggrieved. His Majesty the Sultan had not shown up for a long time, and His Royal Highness the Prince had not returned after fleeing to Ankara. The viziers demanded that they defend the city and were prohibited from going out to fight until the army of Uzung Hasan came to support them.

Every night, the Eastern Roman army would begin its activities. The Bosphorus Military Band would come outside the city accompanied by the soldiers and play ancient Turkish folk songs to arouse the soldiers' homesickness and weaken their will to resist.

During every Christian festival, sounds of joy could always be heard from the military camp outside the city. The aroma of barbecue and the laughter of soldiers were carried into the city by the sea breeze. The Ottoman soldiers on the city wall could only sniff hard and swallow the dry food in their mouths in the cold wind.

On the street filled with domestic garbage, a carriage sped past, heading towards the Bursa Palace.

In the carriage, Ahmed looked at the messy streets and the gloomy palace and sighed.

Ahmed was also a Turkic nobleman. His father died early and he grew up with his uncle. Since his uncle died in the Battle of Constantinople more than ten years ago, he returned to his fiefdom alone and lived a quiet and indifferent rural life.

Ahmed was a devout Muslim who despised the insidious and cunning Greek Orthodox Christians. Although he was far away from the government, he still retained the desire to be loyal to the Sultan in his heart.

During the Great Turkish War, Ahmed was of course also called up. He did not hesitate like many small lords, but mounted his horse, took his servants with him, took out the tattered armor left by his uncle, and resolutely stepped onto the battlefield of Jihad.

During the three-year war, Ahmed drove away the shooting army on the coast, fought desperately with the Slaves cavalry on the Bithynia Plain, and negotiated with the leaders of the rebels in the inland areas, making some contributions.

Since Ahmed himself was a Turkic noble whose family had fallen on hard times, and he was loyal and hardworking, he was appreciated by the Sultan a year ago, summoned to the Bursa Palace, and appointed as the quartermaster of the city of Bursa.

Encouraged by this, Ahmed worked even harder, and taking Mahmoud Pasha as his role model, he tried to share the Sultan's worries with his own efforts and drive the aggressive Greeks out of Anatolia.

After taking office, Ahmed quickly got to work, inspecting warehouses, calculating accounts, checking the number of troops, and executing a group of corrupt low-level officials.

However, just as the encouraged Ahmed was about to continue his investigation, an invisible red line appeared before his eyes, leaving him in a dilemma.

Military supplies have always been a hotbed of corruption. A large number of officials use various means to sell food and weapons, and a large number of officers conceal casualties, exploit soldiers' blood, and collect empty salaries.

Of course, the Ottoman conscripts did not have to be paid, but they had to be provided with food and equipment. Officers and officials colluded to resell supplies, continuously sucking blood from the dying body of the Ottoman Empire.

This situation certainly existed twenty years ago, but Sudan's treasury was full, its granaries were full, the country was peaceful, its government was clean, and corruption was strictly suppressed.

However, after Mehmed II retreated to Anatolia, the Devshirme system he once relied on lost a large amount of fresh blood, and the power of the Turkic nobles expanded rapidly. These forces were intertwined and supported each other, and the administration gradually collapsed.

Of course, all this is still within the controllable range. These Turkic nobles are still relatively loyal to the Sultan, and they also know that they cannot go too far and cause trouble.

However, the disasters and wars that followed changed everything in an instant. The officers who lost their fiefs and the soldiers who lost their hometowns were already resentful, and they quickly fell into depravity due to financial constraints. The Sultan did not dare to be overly harsh on them during the war.

Since corrupt soil exists, evil flowers will immediately grow. The older generation of nobles gradually wither away, and the young nobles lack the courage to face war. They indulge in pleasure and spend money like water to numb themselves.

Ahmed's actions touched the interests of too many people and were immediately stopped by his superiors, who sent two adjutants to take away most of the supervisory power.

Ahmed felt very sad, but he was still busy in various towns, trying every means to transport food from other places to the capital to fill the hungry stomachs of the soldiers.

His efforts paid off. Before the Nicene army marched south, the city of Bursa had stockpiled enough food to last for half a year, saving the soldiers and civilians in the city from starvation.

Like other Turkish nobles, Ahmed was extremely disappointed with the Ottoman army's successive defeats. He did not believe that these remnants had the ability to defeat the enemy in a field battle, so he placed his hopes on reinforcements from the White Ayuntamiento.

Ahmed often thought that if the Islamic world could unite and launch a jihad against the Greeks from all directions, they would certainly not dare to be so arrogant.

But he also knew that in today's Mediterranean world, Islamic power is no longer as powerful as it once was and no longer dominates half of the world. Central North Africa has gradually been Christianized during twenty years of missionary assimilation and slave trade. The Mamluk dynasties in Egypt and Syria are struggling to take care of themselves. The Crimean Khanate on the northern coast of the Black Sea is wasting its national strength in the civil war. The Marin dynasty in Morocco has completely fallen apart. The Watas family, a branch of the Marin dynasty, has barely integrated the northern region but is still facing constant attacks from the Kingdom of Portugal.

In his opinion, the only one who could save the Islamic world was the White Ayun Empire from the East. Although they were cruel and bloodthirsty, they were the only hope at this time.

Ahmed shook his head, put aside all distracting thoughts, straightened his headscarf, adjusted his clothes, and stepped onto the steps of the palace.

The palace was already filled with noise. The viziers in charge of government affairs closed their eyes to rest, while the other officials below were clamoring, accusing and scolding each other, using the most violent words to cover up their deepest fears.

His Majesty the Sultan was ill and had not appeared in public for a long time, which was the norm for Ottoman officials when the Sultan was away.

Ahmed said nothing and walked quietly to the end.

The Grand Vizier at the top opened his eyes, but was unable to calm everyone down as he had done before.

"Shut up, everyone!"

The Grand Vizier roared loudly and glared at everyone fiercely.

"The country is in crisis, and instead of trying to find a solution, you're making a fuss here. What a disgrace!"

The noise of the crowd became quieter, but Ahmed could still hear complaints and snorts from time to time.

"Winter is coming, and our soldiers need food, fuel, and money."

The Grand Vizier said slowly.

"We still have food, but we are very short of fuel and have a huge funding gap."

"We are the Sultan's loyal servants. The Ottoman territory is in crisis and we need to do our part!"

The Grand Vizier looked at everyone.

"I'm going to organize a fundraiser. Every noble and wealthy businessman has to contribute money and effort, starting with me!"

"The soldiers are supposed to be loyal to the Sultan, so why do they dare to ask for money?"

A nobleman shouted.

"We have lost all our territory. As the Grand Vizier, you did not say anything about recovering the lost territory. Instead, you set your sights on our remaining property?"

"Yes, our family's property is all in the countryside, and it has been robbed by the Greeks. Now even eating has become a problem!"

The other noble quickly agreed, his eyes were dazed and his hands were shaking.

Ahmed knew that this was the aftereffect of smoking opium.

Like alcoholism in the Christian world, the tradition of drug abuse in the Islamic world has existed since ancient times. The Ottoman court was no exception. There were countless nobles who were addicted to opium, and the one with the highest status was probably the Ottoman prince Bayezid.

This kind of semi-forced "fundraising" has been carried out several times. The situation was good at the beginning. Perhaps out of fear of the Eastern Roman Empire, perhaps out of loyalty to the Ottoman family, or perhaps out of some confidence in the war, they would donate some of their savings.

By now, this method was becoming less and less effective. The defeat in the war had caused their confidence to plummet, and many people were fed up with the repeated requests for money.

"My hometown was also looted by the Greeks, and several of my relatives died on the battlefield. Now is a critical moment. How long do you want to hide?"

The Grand Vizier was so angry that he slammed the table and stood up.

"You are not even as good as those Hebrews. They donated collectively and took the initiative to provide logistical services for our soldiers!"

"Haha, Aga, we can't compare to you. You are from a famous family. Your ancestors have five grand viziers. The wealth you have accumulated is many times more than ours."

A noble said sarcastically.

"As for the Hebrews, I don't think they have much loyalty to the Sultan."

Ahmed looked at them attacking each other and sighed.

As the war continues to this day, many people are filled with resentment, believing that today's tragedy is caused by the wrong decisions made by the upper-level rulers.

Of course, they did not dare to blame Sultan Muhammad and Prince Bayezid, and they all pointed the finger at the Grand Vizier, believing that he had deceived the Sultan and caused the loss of cities and territories.

To a certain extent, the Grand Vizier was originally a target set by the Sultan, and could be used as a sacrifice to appease public anger when necessary.

Moreover, Ahmed knew that Grand Vizier Chandar Ibrahim was indeed from a prominent family. His father was the previous victim, Chandar Khalil, who was executed by the Sultan in the Battle of Constantinople.

However, in the political struggle nearly two decades ago, the Chandar family's power was almost uprooted, and only a small portion of its former wealth was returned to Ibrahim.

Khalil Grand Vizier saved his family with his own sacrifice and enabled his son to once again ascend the throne of Grand Vizier, becoming the spokesperson of traditional Turkic aristocracy.

Saying this in public actually opened up the scars of the Chandarle family.

"Asshole! You—you—"

The Grand Vizier was indeed extremely angry and pointed his trembling finger at the other party.

"Get out of here!"

The noble knew that he had said the wrong thing, but he was unwilling to admit it. He snorted coldly and ran away.

When he reached the door, his legs were frozen in place, not daring to move, his eyes full of astonishment.

The door opened and two fully armed Janissaries walked in with spears raised.

Tap, tap, tap——

The sound of heavy crutches drifted through the palace, and everyone looked towards the door at the same time. The previous complaints and discussions disappeared in an instant.

"Mehmed, descendant of Osman, supreme ruler of the Ottoman family, Sultan of Sultans, Khan of Khans, ruler of all Anatolia, Greece, Serbia, Albania and Bulgaria!"

The old eunuch followed closely behind the Sultan, his eyes filled with tears of excitement, and stretched out his hand, trying to support the Sultan's arm.

Muhammad ignored them and walked towards his throne step by step, leaning on his crutches and breathing heavily, past the ministers.

The candlelight in the palace cast a dim yellow light, shining on the Sultan's body and casting a long shadow.

Purple skin, bloated body, mechanical steps, cloudy eyes, hunched body, and tired mind.

The Grand Vizier stepped aside and stood respectfully, and the nobles bowed in greeting.

Mehmed II, dressed in his best attire, stopped in front of the throne and stared quietly at the throne left by his ancestors.

Mehmed II's eyes dimmed a little. He threw his crutches aside, sat on the throne, and gasped.

The Grand Vizier looked at Mehmed II with some concern.

"Your Majesty, your illness——"

Mehmed II looked at him with a firm gaze.

"Today, I will preside over the meeting."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The Grand Vizier retreated further.

Mehmed II let out a breath, raised his head, faced the crowd, and looked at every familiar or unfamiliar face.

"I listened at the door for a long time."

Mehmed II was silent for a moment.

"You are all afraid." There was silence in the hall. Many people lowered their heads, not daring to look at the Sultan.

"But I don't blame you."

Mehmed II shook his head in self-mockery.

"A powerful enemy that spans three continents, a powerful enemy with an army of 100,000, a powerful enemy with more than 200 large and small ships, a powerful enemy with a large number of overseas colonies, and a powerful enemy that seems to be unable to deplete the national treasury no matter how hard we fight."

"How can we not feel afraid when facing such an enemy?"

Mehmed II forced a smile.

"I am not here today to punish anyone, not to get angry, and not to kill."

The officials breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Mohammed in silence.

"Just now, my steward brought two pieces of news."

Mehmed II licked his cracked lips.

"First, the Greek army has occupied the entire Mendres Valley, and Aiden City has only been defended for less than a month."

Mehmed II paused.

"They have now entered the Gediz River Valley in the north, and some towns have already fallen."

"Izmir has been surrounded by Greek naval and land forces, and the number of soldiers besieging the city continues to increase. I don't know how long the local garrison can hold out, and I don't know if they can hold out until the snow season, but I don't have high hopes for it."

Mehmed II sighed.

Izmir is the largest port of the Ottoman Empire on the Aegean coast. It has fertile land and an excellent harbor, making it suitable for the development of agriculture, handicrafts and commerce.

The southwestern town group centered on Izmir and Manisa is the richest region in the entire western Anatolia. It is densely populated and can be called a granary.

However, this came at a price. The flat terrain made this place easy to attack but difficult to defend, and the only river that could serve as a natural barrier actually provided convenience for the Eastern Roman Empire.

Izmir was particularly difficult to defend. The entire city was distributed along the bay in a strip-like shape. It was too narrow and long, and there was no connected sea wall.

Of course, some coastal artillery and coastal fortresses were built here, but to this day, the Eastern Roman Empire's navy and army have absolute superiority, and the Ottoman defenders have low morale and cannot hold out for long.

Seeing the gloomy looks in the ministers' eyes, Mehmed II withdrew his thoughts.

"The second thing is that my son Bayezid sent a message from Ankara that the Aries have begun to gather troops and plan to march west in the spring."

"That is, we just need to get through this winter and things will start to look up."

"The terrain in the southwest is flat. If the Aries can defeat the Greek army head-on, then their victories in Aydin and Izmir will be meaningless. We can quickly retake these territories."

The ministers looked much better and no longer tense.

Mehmed II looked at all this and suddenly felt a little sad.

"But I want to tell you that we can't pin our hopes on outsiders after all."

"If you continue to be as anxious and busy arguing as you are today, then I estimate that we may not be able to survive until the day when the Aries Army arrives."

The ministers remained silent, and Mehmed II continued speaking.

"I know that many of you still have hope that if you surrender, the Greeks will let you live."

"Some even say we could try to make peace with the Greeks and pay tribute to them, just as we did so many years ago."

Mehmed II shook his head.

"But I know the Greek emperor's character very well. He may be willing to give the beys in remote areas a chance to live, but he will never let us who occupy the eastern coast of the Aegean Sea go."

"The Greek Empire and the Ottoman Empire are at war to the death, and you,"

"You rest with the country!"

Mehmed II's voice suddenly rose.

"You have occupied a large amount of land, population and wealth. Even if you are willing to surrender, how could the Greeks allow you to continue to act tyrannically in the land they regard as their core?"

"Even if the Greeks agree temporarily, once the situation stabilizes, you will be the first to suffer!"

"This is a battle of faith, a battle of honor, and a battle of survival. There is no room for compromise!"

Mehmed II gritted his teeth and supported his weak body.

"Look at the situation in the north and south. The Greeks forced people to convert. Those who did not convert had no rights at all and could only become slaves!"

Mehmed II held his head high.

"Between war and humiliation, you can choose humiliation, but after humiliation, you still have to face war!"

"Your Majesty, I am willing to donate all my property and all my servants to serve the Sultan!"

At the end of the team, Ahmed stepped forward, his eyes full of excitement.

"As for me, I will also take up my ancestors' scimitars, put on their armor, and protect the homeland passed down by my ancestors!"

Ahmed shouted loudly.

"Very good! You are my warrior!"

Mehmed II nodded heavily, his eyes full of satisfaction, and continued to look at the rest of the people.

After hesitating for a moment, everyone began to express their attitudes.

"I am willing to donate a house in the north of the city."

"I'll donate a thousand Akche."

"I'll give you five hundred..."

Seeing that they still left room for maneuver, Muhammad II was a little disappointed, but still smiled and nodded.

“Perhaps, you still have concerns today.”

Mehmed II pursed his lips, endured the severe pain brought by gout, and slowly straightened up.

"But I hope that if the time comes when we have to fight to the death, everyone will put aside their differences and fight side by side for Allah, for Uthman, and for yourselves."

Some nobles were shaken, while others remained indifferent.

"From today on, I will always stand with you and defend my city, my faith, and my people!"

Mehmed II raised his fist.

"From today until the last day of my life!"

"Long live!"

"Long live!"

"Long live!"

The nobles shouted loudly, long live the emperor.

Mehmed II looked at them, not knowing whether out of loyalty or because of the situation.

With a sigh, Muhammad II waved his hand, signaling everyone to leave.

The crowd dispersed sparsely, and Mehmed II watched the last figure disappear at the end of his sight. Finally, he could no longer suppress his trembling legs, and collapsed on the throne, gasping for breath.

"Your Majesty, how are you?"

The loyal old eunuch hurried up and knelt before Mehmed II.

"The weather is bad now. You shouldn't have forced yourself to come here."

“Byram…”

Mehmed II looked up.

"Your command, Your Majesty!"

The old eunuch's eyes were full of anxiety.

"How many years have you followed me?"

Mehmed II forced a smile.

"More than twenty years, Your Majesty."

"Go ahead. Find a small path and leave quickly before Bursa is completely blocked."

Mehmed II stared into the old eunuch's moist eyes.

"I have something for you to convey, personally."

"You say!"

The old eunuch was a little reluctant, but still nodded heavily.

"Go east and find my son... Bayezid."

Mehmed II gasped.

"Tell him...if Allah has abandoned me, if I fail to hold out until the day when the Aries reinforcements arrive."

“And if, even Uzon Hassan was defeated by the Greeks.”

Mehmed II smiled bitterly and shook his head.

"Then he is the master of the Ottoman family, the Sultan, the Bey, or even the Emir, it doesn't matter."

Mehmed II murmured.

"Tell him to try his best to stay under the protection of the Aries Dynasty. It's not shameful."

"Tell him that our ancestors also started out as local lords. As long as people are alive, there is still hope."

"No matter how powerful the Greek emperor is, he will die one day. Let him not despair..."

"His Majesty……"

The old eunuch pursed his lips tightly, his eyes full of tears.

"Come on, go, go now, I have made some arrangements, they will take you around the Greek blockade."

Mehmed II took off a ring and handed it to the old eunuch.

The old eunuch took the ring with care and turned to leave.

Mehmed II sat alone in the empty palace, staring at the flickering candlelight and sighing softly.

(End of this chapter)