1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 45 Linton Town

On February 1448, 2, in the city of Pavia, the five forces began negotiations.

Compared to the worried John, Isaac believed that the negotiations still had great hope.

Sforza was too wise a man to lose his mind in anger.

What he wanted was not a Milan that was ravaged by war and in ruins.

If Sforza and Monferrato insisted on going to war, it would only benefit Venice and Savoy who were watching from the sidelines.

The current strength is just to gain more bargaining chips.

Isaac took advantage of this opportunity and finally recruited a wave of talents, but unfortunately the results were minimal.

On February 2, the five forces temporarily reached a ceasefire agreement.

Sforza was crowned Duke of Milan, and Venice gained trading privileges with several towns east of Milan and certain commodities.

John IV was created Duke of Parma and pledged allegiance to the Holy Roman Emperor.

The parties agreed not to provoke disputes again within five years.

Since the Holy Roman Emperor always refused to confer the title of Duke of Milan on Sforza, the various forces failed to reach further consensus.

Sforza did not give up his claims to the cities of Pavia and others, nor did he recognize John IV's title of Duke of Parma.

It can be said that this was not peace, but just a five-year ceasefire.

However, this five-year ceasefire is something that everyone desperately needs.

On February 1448, 2, witnessed by the Pope and the Emperor's envoys, John IV was officially crowned Duke of Parma and established the United Duchy of Monferrato and Parma.

The principality included several large and medium-sized cities including Monferrato, Pavia, Piacenza and Parma and the surrounding lands.

With Isaac's strong support, the victory in the War of the Milanese Succession not only solved Monferrato's survival problem, but also transformed it from a small country with little influence to a medium-sized regime with a say in northern Italy.

After the coronation, John and Isaac signed an alliance treaty, agreeing to help each other and overcome difficulties together.

After the armistice agreement was signed, the new Duke of Milan withdrew his troops and returned to the city, and the war cloud that had shrouded the entire northern Italy temporarily dissipated.

In five years, or perhaps even less than five years, the accumulated conflicts and hatreds will burst out.

Next time, the war will be more intense.

For Isaac, this war was fruitful. He relocated more than 3,000 Italian refugees to the port of Sirte and the oasis in the south, and nearly 1,000 people to overseas territories.

As a balance, Isaac sold a new group of diehard Muslims in his territory as slaves, freeing up space for refugees to live in.

In addition, Isaac's army looted in northern Italy for three full months. All the livestock that were difficult to take away were sold to Duke John, and most of the gold and silver that could be taken away went into Isaac's pocket.

This war filled Isaac's scarce pockets again.

……

Principality of Soult, St. Joseph's Residency, Linton's Well.

Three years ago, this place was not called Linton Well, but just a seasonal water hole, and the tribesmen called it Alcon Spring.

Every autumn and winter, the water vapor from the Mediterranean turns into rain, filling this place with springs.

The nearby tribes would drive their sheep and camels, set up camp here and hold their annual trading meeting.

The traded goods were limited, mostly foals, camel calves, grain and iron products.

There is a lack of everything here, but not salt.

The elders in the tribe often say that if your mouth has no taste, just lick the stone nearby.

Every few months, wealthy tribal nobles would travel to the Emran Oasis in search of enjoyment.

The poor tribesmen and the even humbler slaves could only serve the tribal nobles, paying taxes - corvee labor - wars, tossing back and forth until their empty lives came to an abrupt end.

The tribes here live such a simple life.

Until the Grand Principality of Soult and the Principality of Saint Joseph were established successively.

Linton, an engineer from Mystras, observed the spring and the nearby soil and determined that a large well with abundant water storage could be drilled here.

At that time, all the nearby tribes came to the rescue and surrounded their own fountain of life, not allowing others to desecrate it.

Under the protection of the guards, the project started.

For two whole months, the spring in summer had not seen a drop of water.

Some tribal nobles spread rumors and conspiracy theories, saying that the new rulers had blocked the springs on purpose in an attempt to thirst them all to death.

When the simple tribesmen heard about it, they angrily picked up their weapons and rushed into the drilling camp, intending to cut the Greek engineers into pieces.

Then they saw the most unforgettable scene of their lives.

Turbid muddy water gushed out from the yellow sand, as high as three people. The water droplets scattered in the breeze, and the air was sweet, moistening everyone's heart.

Tired, Engineer Linton slumped on the ground, holding a blueprint soaked in mud and water. His entire body was stained with mud, and his eyes were fixed on the water column he had created.

The tribesmen greedily absorbed the moisture in the air, knelt on the ground, muttered to themselves, and clumsily drew the cross symbol they had just learned on their chests.

Subsequently, Linton engineers drilled more than a dozen wells nearby, which could produce trickles of water even in the driest summer.

Linton gradually became a "saint" in the eyes of the tribesmen.

Then, more and more outsiders and local tribes began to settle here, relying on spring water to irrigate farmland and grow date palms and oil palms.

People called the original large water well Linton Well, and the town that prospered because of Linton was called Linton Town.

Later, Minister Isult from Surt took the area under his jurisdiction, sent out exploration teams, and gradually established order.

The exploration team was pleasantly surprised to find a high-quality salt mine on a nearby hill and began to gradually develop it.

Salt mines and wells brought unlimited vitality to the town. Dobruja people, Greeks, Slavs, and later Italians moved in, bringing advanced technology and abundant goods to the local residents.

Churches, blacksmith shops, town halls, markets... more and more new things began to appear in the tribesmen's vision, dazzling them.

Therefore, more and more tribesmen began to try to break free from the control of the nobles and settle in small towns with abundant resources.

The Minister of the Interior, Isult, did not stop him, but instead strictly forbade the noble Sheikh to interfere with the freedom of the tribesmen.

"Enter the town, find the tribune, record your household registration, and stamp it. From now on, you are a legal resident of Linton Town!"

"Is this how you became a freeman, father?"

On the road leading from the salt mine to the town of Linton, a horse-drawn carriage was moving slowly, followed by several camels.

A father and his two sons were driving a horse-drawn carriage and a camel caravan. The father was about forty years old, with a slight smile on his weathered face.

The youngest son was about five or six years old. He was eating dates in his mouth and asking his father questions incoherently.

The eldest son was driving the camel and fell behind.

"Yeah, you were too young then to remember anything."

"Your mother, your brother and I were all slaves. Linton Town brought us a new life."

As he spoke, my father took out the cross from his chest and kissed it gently.

"but,"

The youngest son tried hard to swallow a big mouthful of dates.

"That legion my brother always talks about, aren't they also slaves?"

"Slaves Corps."

The eldest son at the back added.

The father turned his head away and glared at his eldest son.

"They served His Highness Isaac, who was famous for his generosity. Although they lived a wealthy life and had good spoils, they paid for it with their lives."

"What do you mean by 'not bad?' It's obviously extremely rich."

The eldest son behind was unhappy.

"The first batch of legionnaires returning from Italy were all wearing gold and silver. Their armor, swords, clothes, and shoes were all high-end Italian-made goods!"

"How many trips of salt do you have to transport to equal a war?"

"They spend a ton of money in the tavern, booking the most beautiful..." "Shut up!"

The father said sharply.

"As long as I'm still alive, I will never allow you to join the army!"

The younger son looked at his father and brother curiously, but soon lost interest and continued to eat the dates in the jar.

As the carriage moved forward, the outline of Linton town gradually emerged in the distance, and the most eye-catching thing was the stone statue in the center.

This is a statue built spontaneously by residents to commemorate Linton's achievements.

The statue was very vague, the facial structure was roughly carved, rough and hard, and it didn't look like Linton himself at all.

But the engineer himself is said to be very fond of the statue.

Due to the lack of trees, the entire town is mostly made of stone structures, which appear a warm pink and white under the setting sun.

"Afif, you send your brother home, and I will deliver this truckload of salt."

The father turned his head and shouted at his son.

Afif nodded, picked up his brother, and led him home.

Along the way, they passed by small shops run by Italians, which sold all kinds of daily necessities and strange gadgets.

Afif grabbed his brother and diverted his gaze away from a palm-sized glass ball, but he couldn't move his own eyes away.

“Italian things are really appealing.”

Afif grunted.

He walked into the store, took out all his savings, and bought the most beautiful glass ball.

Then they walked quickly past the steaming blacksmith shop, passed the bloody slaughterhouse and the stinking shoe factory, and finally stopped in front of a tailor shop.

Afif mustered up his courage and knocked on the door.

A young girl opened the door for him.

She has big brown eyes and fair skin, shiny black hair, and an apron tied around her slender waist.

It was obvious that this was a beautiful Greek girl.

"Sophia, I... came to see if the clothes I ordered last time are finished... uh"

Sophia chuckled.

"You said the same thing yesterday."

Afif's face instantly turned red.

"Come in and sit down?"

They spoke Arabic, but it was clear and pleasant, completely different from those of the tribal aunties.

To Afif, it sounded like heavenly music.

Just as he was about to move his left foot, Afif suddenly thought of Sofia's father who was a retired Guards and her brother who was currently serving in the Guards, and he shrank his head.

"Forget it... I, uh..."

"what?"

Afif quickly stuffed the large glass ball from his pocket into Sofia's hand.

"The beautiful glass ball looks just like your eyes."

Afif picked up his crying brother and ran home like a rocket.

Sophia was left alone at the door, looking at the brothers' embarrassed figures, covering her face and laughing.

As the night deepened, the town of Linton fell into sleep as usual.

"Kill them! Leave no one behind!"

A tragedy is happening in a tribal camp northwest of Linton Town.

A large group of Berber riders attacked the border tribes and started slaughtering without saying a word.

Judging from their attire and flags, they should be tribal riders from the Hafsid dynasty.

"Centurion! We can't kill them indiscriminately! They were all forced to convert. We should give them a chance to return to the embrace of Allah!"

A scholar eagerly stopped the centurion who was organizing a mass killing.

"Not killing? Then what will my brothers eat and drink? Will those Kafirs hand over the women obediently?"

The centurion shouted viciously at the scholar.

"You will only push them into the arms of the pagans!"

The scholar took the centurion's horse bridle and tried to persuade him.

A rider nearby knocked the scholar off his horse.

"It's none of your business! I'm just showing the way."

"The Ulema have allowed us to wage jihad, so who do you think you are!"

The scholar lay on the ground, looking at the cavalrymen behind him with unfriendly expressions.

He sighed and stepped out of the way.

The killing continues.

"We want to return to Allah's embrace, why are you killing us?"

On a camel, the tribal sheikh angrily questioned the executioner who massacred his own people.

"How about this, hand over all your food, fresh water and women, and I will spare your life."

"This is impossible!"

"Then go to hell!"

The centurion rode forward and chopped off Shekh's head with one blow.

Half an hour later, the killing stopped. All the men who could resist were killed. The women were dragged into the tents by the riders screaming, and the children were detained and would become slaves.

The centurion waved his hand and a tribal nobleman was brought up.

He was old and frail, unable to wield a sword or a gun, and was caught by the riders while trying to escape.

At this moment, the old man's eyes were filled with deep hatred.

"I heard,"

The centurion cut a piece of roasted lamb with a knife and put it into his mouth.

"There's a Linton town nearby. Is it rich?"

"If you lead me the way, I will let you go."

"Pooh!"

The old man spat on the centurion's face, his eyes full of mockery.

"Go, devil, you are no match for them, they will kill you easily, just like you killed my relatives."

With one slash of the knife, the old man's head rolled off.

Then the second person was brought up.

The town of Linton in the distance had fallen into complete silence. Everyone was sleeping soundly, seemingly having a good dream.

At the same time, groups of Berber cavalry began to invade eastward across the entire western border of the Grand Duchy of Soult.

With the tacit approval of Tunisia, the emirs of Misrata contacted Cyrenaica in an attempt to drive Christian forces out of North Africa.

The Berber Rangers, in units of 100 men and carrying only a small amount of food, rushed across the border to seek supplies from hostile tribes, looting in the name of holy war.

Suddenly, the entire border was engulfed in flames.

The West is in crisis!
(End of this chapter)