1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 99 In the Name of Constantinople
On the northern coast of the Mediterranean Sea, on the western side of the Apennine Peninsula, in the port of Marseille.

This large port is located in the Provence region and has been ruled for generations by the French noble family of Anjou. With its geographical advantages, it has attracted many merchants traveling from the south and the north, and trade has flourished.

The current lord who rules the Provence region is René I of the House of Anjou, who is known as "Good King René" because of his gentle and generous style.

René I held countless titles and claims, including Duke of Lorraine, Duke of Bar, Duke of Anjou, Count of Provence and Piedmont, and nominal King of Naples and Sicily. He was one of the largest vassals of King Charles VII of France, as well as his brother-in-law and most steadfast ally.

In 1443, he married his daughter Margaret to King Henry VI of England in exchange for the Maine region as a condition for a truce between England and France.

Because its territory was too scattered, it was difficult to gather a strong military force, so it was attacked from many sides and lost a lot of territory.

René I won the War of the Naples Succession at first but then lost, losing the crown to Alfonso V of Aragon. He also had constant conflicts with Philip III, Duke of Burgundy, over the issue of Lorraine, ceding territory and paying compensation, which made the House of Anjou increasingly impoverished.

Good King René was obsessed with poetry and art and lived a simple life. He didn't like to take care of the affairs of the territory and always adopted a laissez-faire attitude.

Under his tolerant rule, the port of Marseille became increasingly prosperous, but it also gradually became a den for mercenaries and fugitives from France and Italy. Many veterans who had participated in the Hundred Years' War gathered here to establish mercenary organizations.

These people usually don't cause trouble. They are like a group of dormant wolves, gathering strength, quietly waiting for the next dispute and turmoil, ready to have a good meal at any time.

There has never been a shortage of wars on the European continent, nor a shortage of warriors who fight for their lives.

In the city of Marseille, in a dirty tavern near the dock, a group of ragged drinkers were shouting loudly, judging the prostitutes with vulgar language, boasting loudly about their own achievements, and from time to time casting obscene glances at several flashy and revealing girls.

Most of them are down-and-out mercenaries and sailors. Even if they are rich, they are very stingy. They usually just watch a few rich men throw coins into the chests of the hostesses, curse under their breath, take a sip of wine, and smack their lips.

Apart from these vulgar matters, the favorite topic of this restless group of people is the fights, riots and wars that are happening everywhere.

"heard?"

A young mercenary came up to the old knight and whispered, as if he had discovered something extraordinary.

"what?"

"The Turks are about to attack the Greek emperor. His Majesty Nicholas is calling for a holy war against the kings and dukes."

"Where did you hear that?"

"It's all over the place. The Chamber of Commerce with the blue double-headed eagle flag is also promoting it with all its might..."

"Fool! That's the Greek emperor's property. They're trying to trick you into going there to die!"

The old knight was knowledgeable and cursed immediately.

"But it is said that the Greek emperor promised a lot of things, even Adrianople and Bursa are willing to be given to those who have made great contributions..."

The young man had a face full of longing, as if he had instantly become a great lord, with thousands of troops in front of him and brave knights following him.

"Those are the two capitals of the Turks! Even the White Knight Hunyadi was beaten by the Turks and fled in panic. What will happen if you go there? Are you going to die?"

The old knight slapped the young man on the forehead, feeling very disappointed with him.

"I didn't say I was going. I'm just bored lately..."

The young man waved his hands and argued quietly.

"Don't worry about not having a war. I think this year will be another eventful one."

The old knight sighed.

The old knight was right. Europe in 1453, the year when the Lord became flesh, was destined to be in constant strife.

On the plains of Western Europe, King Charles VII of France once again launched an attack on the remaining European territory of the Kingdom of England, determined to wipe them out.

On the Iberian Peninsula, the cowardly King Juan II of Castile continued to indulge in literature and art. The struggle between his wife Isabella and Prime Minister Luna became more and more intense, royal scandals were frequent, and the political situation was turbulent.

On the Apennine Peninsula, Sforza, the Duke of Milan, who worked hard to restore people's livelihood, reorganize the military, and begin to sharpen his knives against several surrounding enemies. Venice and Parma once again joined forces to fight against the powerful enemy.

On the vast plains of Eastern Europe, Grand Duke of Moscow Vasily II the Blind continued his great cause of integrating the Russian principalities, using his powerful military might to force one Russian prince after another to surrender.

On the Baltic coast, the contradiction between the Teutonic Knights and the Prussian Confederation became increasingly serious. The Prussian Confederation gradually turned to Poland and Lithuania for help. A major war to determine the hegemony of the Prussian region was about to take place.

Of course, the most eye-catching war was the one that took place in Constantinople, the king of cities, at the easternmost tip of the Balkan Peninsula.

All Christians waited anxiously for the outcome of the war, hoping that Constantinople would be able to stand firm as it had in previous times, firmly nailed to the heartland of the Ottoman Empire and help them to contain the pace of Muslim expansion.

For civilians, war is cruel. They will be passively involved in a dispute that has nothing to do with them, losing their loved ones, their homes, their freedom, and everything.

However, for the mercenary groups, landless knights and bandits on the European continent, war is their chance to turn things around.

During wars, monarchs who are usually high and mighty would swallow their pride and promise benefits to the mercenaries, grant fiefs to the landless knights, and allow robbers and bandits to change their appearances.

Several centuries ago, during the period when the Crusades were on the rise, almost all sins could be forgiven if one participated in a holy war and achieved meritorious service. Notorious villains could become heroes, and illegitimate children of humble origins could also gain glory.

As the Church declined, the Crusades suffered repeated setbacks, profit-seeking people could not see the benefits, and fewer and fewer warriors were willing to engage in holy war.

However, true gold is revealed under great waves, and there are brave men under great rewards. True holy warriors will still rush to the front line against infidels without hesitation, and true desperadoes will choose to risk their lives for the sake of enviable benefits.

boom--

The door of the tavern was slammed open and fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

A tall and majestic figure appeared in front of everyone, wearing armor and holding a weapon, with a ferocious look on his face.

He was of extraordinary height and weight, with a huge head on top of his burly body, a full beard surrounding his chin, and his face was covered with scars.

In his hairy hand he held an exaggerated war hammer forged from fine iron. His eyes were pure black with bloodshot veins around his eye sockets. It was obvious that he was not someone to be trifled with.

He was covered in a tattered but heavy suit of armor with a carving of a roaring boar on it.

After the giant appeared in the tavern, the just heated atmosphere instantly became quiet, and everyone behaved properly, afraid to make any noise.

The giant threw his war hammer to the ground, almost smashing a hole in the floor.

He took heavy steps to clear the way for the door.

It was not until then that everyone in the tavern discovered that behind him, there was a group of equally ferocious men, wearing similar armor and holding various large weapons, walking into the tavern one after another.

Their arrival brought the atmosphere in the pub to a freezing point.

"We're going to war, same old thing."

The giant walked to the bar, moved a table over and sat down. The original owner of the table lowered his head and said nothing.

"Baron Abel, where are you going this time?"

The tavern owner seemed to be very familiar with the giant and was not surprised by his special way of appearance. He simply threw a large wooden cup into the giant's arms and poured strong liquor into it.

"Constantinople."

The tavern owner nodded without asking any further questions.

The prodigal drinkers in the neighborhood were all very familiar with the giant named Abel, who was the illegitimate son of a French nobleman and grew up in a gloomy monastery.

During the Hundred Years' War, the monastery was destroyed. Abel, who escaped, attracted a large number of reckless men with his bravery, brutality and bloodthirstiness, and established a small mercenary group, using the savage but tough wild boar as his emblem.

He admires the strong and bullies the weak, disregards life and advocates bravery, is extremely cruel to his enemies, but is open-hearted to the members he recognizes.

He treasured his noble bloodline very much, but could not give a specific family tree, and would start killing people if anyone questioned it.

Therefore, people who know him always call him "Baron" to show respect and fear.

Whenever a war was imminent, he would always bring his team members to this tavern, empty his wallet, treat them to the most expensive wine, and tame the most powerful women. "For what? Fame? Money? Honor? Or God?"

The tavern owner filled his glass, suddenly curious.

“Some of both.”

There seemed to be something complicated in Abel's dark eyes.

"In this life, I must do something big to live up to my bloodline and my gods."

Nearby, Abel's group members had already begun to drive away the drinkers, occupying the tables and eating and drinking to their heart's content.

"You trust that Greek emperor so much?"

"Roman Emperors Isaac and Constantine, who were granted the divine right to rule, have the noblest bloodline in the world. Watch your words."

The tavern owner apologized immediately, but he still looked Abel in the eyes.

"I'm afraid not many people are willing to participate in this holy war."

"Who knows."

Abel laughed and drank the liquor in one gulp.

"There is no shortage of greedy desperadoes or devout holy warriors in this world."

……

In early 1453, news of the holy war quickly spread throughout Europe through the developed trade network, bringing the call from Constantinople.

The monarchs and nobles of various countries certainly disdained this kind of holy war that had no practical benefits. In their view, even if the Ottoman Empire successfully captured Constantinople, it would not be able to threaten their ruling position in a short period of time.

However, the slogan of fighting for God can still make some middle and lower-level holy warriors excited, and the benefits promised by the emperor are enough to trigger the ambitions of the desperadoes.

They boarded ships provided by trading companies and arrived in batches at Constantinople, the front line against the Turks, to be received and reorganized by the emperor.

Although the monarchs of various countries are indifferent, there are still some people who are full of passion.

"Your Majesty, I am truly sorry, but I am only an alderman and cannot change the order of the Grand Council."

"It's not your fault, my dear Miloto."

On the dock, Isaac looked at the Venetian fleet gradually moving away with a normal expression.

The artillery fire from the Cutthroat Fort broke the backbone of the Venetian Grand Council. The Doge quickly sent envoys to the Sultan to express that he had no ill intentions and would still abide by the trade agreement with the Ottoman Empire.

The governor wrote a letter to withdraw all fleets stationed in naval bases around Constantinople and prohibited them from clashing with the Ottoman fleet.

Miloto, the alcalde of the Venetian colony in Constantinople, was a devout Christian and a staunch crusader. He was very dissatisfied with the governor's orders, but he could do nothing about it.

"For the glory of God, Venice and Constantinople, please stay and fight with us against the Turkic attacks."

Miloto found several captains and begged them to leave their ships and supplies in the Golden Horn and join the defense of the city.

Some captains ignored it and left with their money and supplies; some captains agreed on the surface but sneaked out of the Golden Horn at night.

However, four captains chose to stay and stand with their Christian brothers.

"Your Majesty, no matter what, my guards and I will always defend the city until the last moment."

After a moment's silence, Miloto straightened his chest and proudly straightened the lion emblem on his chest.

"I heard that the Genoese in Galata are willing to stand with you, and so are we."

“Please remember that when that day comes, there will be a St. Mark’s Lion Flag flying alongside your Eagle Flag.”

Isaac patted Miloto's shoulder, feeling a little emotional for a moment.

In the original time and space, this Archon Miloto brought his guards and joined the defense of Constantinople, responsible for guarding the southern section of the city wall. He fought until the last moment and lived up to his promise.

“God will be with you and St. Mark will bless you.”

Isaac turned around and pointed at the four St. Mark flags still flying in the harbor with a serious expression.

"Please tell these holy warriors that they will always be friends of Rome and heroes of Constantinople."

"I do not ask them to die for me. If this is not possible, I allow them to evacuate Constantinople and return to their hometowns and their parents."

"If the Venetian Council punishes them for this, tell them that the port of Birinci is always open to them."

"I will, Your Majesty."

Miloto nodded vigorously.

At this moment, there was a sudden commotion in the port, and the crowd began to cheer, the sound getting louder and louder.

In the distance, across the sea and sky, a huge fleet was slowly approaching.

The flagship of the Mediterranean Fleet, the Duke of Morea, rolled over the waves, broke the tide, turned it into waves, and headed straight for Constantinople.

Behind him, large warships such as St. Nicholas, Archon, Theodosius, and Ichel appeared one after another, and the double-headed eagle flag fluttering in the sky.

Behind them was a huge transport fleet, with military flags flying on every ship.

In addition to Isaac's Guards Third Legion's bayonet flag and the Guards Fifth Legion's Armenian cross flag, there are many other different flag emblems.

Sparrows, sirens, wild boars, larks...

These were all jihadists who came to support Constantinople. They had gathered on the island of Lemnos and were waiting for the arrival of the main fleet.

Isaac had gathered them together for this moment.

At this moment, the emperor's double-headed eagle flag, the flag of St. George of Genoa, the flag of St. Mark of Venice, and many other flags were flying together, each flag representing a piece of aid and a determination.

A city alone is difficult to defend, and the soldiers and civilians of Constantinople must be made aware that outside the city, there are still like-minded Christian brothers who are willing to lend a helping hand, no matter how insignificant, in their most dangerous times.

Miloto's eyes narrowed, and he was obviously shocked.

"Do you remember the sword I gave you?"

Miloto was stunned for a moment, then drew his ancient sword from his waist.

"Later, my cousin told me that it did come from a crusader and a member of the Order of Saint Lazarus."

"It's my pleasure."

Miloto held up the sword and examined it once more.

"Back then, it followed its master and fought together in the Holy Land in the name of Jerusalem."

“This time, it will shine again.”

"This time, in the name of Constantinople."

Isaac also drew his sword and pointed it into the distance.

(End of this chapter)