kingdom of nations

Chapter 317 Victory? (Part 2)
The representative handed these items to the visitor (without even asking for money), and after watching the visitor disappear into the darkness, one of the representatives stood there, gazing at the shadowy figures floating on the sea, and suddenly asked, "If the governor of Manuel I comes, will we still be able to pay less tax?"

The priest—who was of orthodox church, since Cesar had not forced the Cypriots to convert, nor had he asked them to rebuild their churches or hold Catholic ceremonies, and their lives continued as usual—remained silent for a long while before revealing a subtle smile: “How could that be? Your father, your grandfather, your great-grandfather had already seen a lord who did not raise taxes, which was already a miracle. You want to find a lord who not only doesn’t raise taxes but actually reduces them? Are you dreaming?”
Moreover, the new governor had spent 50,000 gold coins to buy the position from Emperor Manuel I, and he would then have to pay even more taxes to Manuel I.

He looked toward Nicosia, where ominous flames were already rising. "And this war, won't Manuel I try to make up for his losses in Cyprus? Besides, to Manuel I, we are all rebels, not his subjects. No matter what we do, he won't hesitate."

His long-winded speech confused the farmer. With his limited comprehension, he could hardly understand what the priest was saying, only managing to grasp one or two key words: "So, there will be no more tax exemptions? We still have to pay so much tax?"

"Well, we might have to pay the difference. If this lord is driven away, everything he says will be null and void."

The farmer's representative's face turned deathly pale. He remembered his newborn calf, the barrels of wheat and beans, the half-full salt pan, and a barrel (a whole barrel!) of olive oil and three barrels of wine leftovers.

Like Goru, these things were previously impossible for him, but just one year of tax exemption allowed him to accumulate a considerable fortune.

This wealth would be enough for him to find a satisfactory marriage for his eldest son, and even—if the same were true the following year—he could send his younger son to a small town to become an apprentice, learn a trade, and change the family's current predicament.

But if a new lord comes, he will take all of these away, and even demand more.

What could he possibly do?

He returned home dejectedly and told his son about it. The one who reacted most strongly was, of course, his eldest son. He had long been in love with a girl in the village and was just waiting to build his own house so he could marry her.

They had estimated their labor capacity and believed they could have their first child in the third year of their marriage. Then—if the lord remained generous and didn't impose additional taxes—they could have a second, a third, and they would become a large, bustling family.

Upon hearing his father's words, he could no longer contain himself and almost jumped up to rush to the priest to inquire.

In fact, quite a few people did the same thing as him. The poor priest had to get up sleepily to open the door. He had hardly slept all night—there were countless farmers knocking on his door and coming to inquire, though none of them came empty-handed—a bunch of vegetables, an egg, a little olive oil. Things that priests would not normally care about suddenly became very important.

After all, even a handful of beans is a huge expense for an ordinary farmer, and he patiently explained to these farmers the issues they would never normally care about.

After all, for them, didn't the old master and the new master both have to collect taxes? Didn't they both have to conscript people? Didn't they both have to work for them for free?

What difference does it make if it's the same master as before? They wouldn't care who it is, but they definitely don't want this new master to leave. They want him to stay. Someone even said, "Since the emperor wants to drive away the new master, then why don't we just drive away the emperor's soldiers?"

“But we are not soldiers, and we have no weapons. How can we fight against the lord’s soldiers?”

The man being asked scratched his head. He was a farmer and a part-time traveling merchant who often used his cleverness to move among the castle's servants and laborers. He was most interested in the war stories sung by the bards.

He thought for a while, and after careful consideration, he said, "We don't necessarily have to fight those soldiers. That's not something we're good at."

And what are these farmers, these cunning fellows, best at? Destruction, of course.

While the Knights Templar opened their cities, allowing the Byzantine army to advance unimpeded, they also refused to provide supplies to the Byzantines.

Initially, the Byzantine emperor, Manuel I's illegitimate son, didn't take this seriously, believing that supplies would flow steadily from Constantinople. They could also conscript laborers, livestock, and everything else they needed from the surrounding areas. However, this plan was quickly shattered.

The Cypriot nobles they encountered, though all smiles and eager to please, refused to provide supplies for the army. Of course, their response wasn't as resolute or direct as that of the crusaders in Nicosia; they simply complained about how the new lord demanded the same tax exemptions for farmers and leniency for merchants, and how the previous wars had cost them considerable money and manpower. Their only offering was bribes for the envoys.

These gold and silver jewels looked magnificent and expensive, but they were only a drop in the ocean for the Byzantine Empire. Moreover, these things would not end up in the commander's pocket, and he could not sell them to exchange for supplies. The commander could only do nothing, after all, those who could come to this army all had backgrounds and connections.

He also knew that this army, which Alexei had once ridiculed as a ceremonial guard, was not stable. On the contrary, because it involved all aspects of the Imperial military system, it was unusually loose and difficult to control.

Lacking the prestige and ability of Constantine the Great, he had no choice but to reluctantly accept the messengers' explanation.

Yes, these nobles really don't have much money or ability, but since they have supplies from Constantinople, we don't need to make things difficult for them.

Of course, the commander was not willing to accept this. As a man with the blood of Manuel I, he quickly came up with a wicked idea: to order the generals in the army to disguise themselves as bandits and attack those villages and towns. At first, they did succeed once or twice.

But soon, the villages and towns around them became a wasteland. People took everything they could carry: livestock, food, cloth, and most importantly, people. Thousands of people migrated. How could that be possible without the organization of nobles and priests?

In addition, some larger villages and towns simply raised their spikes to launch a sharp counterattack, even turning the tables on their troops. Although they were not seriously injured, they were torn apart and bleeding profusely.

To make matters worse, the road from the port to Nicosia, once smooth and wide, is now inexplicably riddled with potholes. Even if they were repaired just the day before, the potholes reappear overnight. Some are wide, some narrow, some deep, some shallow; the only thing they have in common is that they are all fresh. Moreover, those wretched creatures have learned to camouflage themselves. They lay branches or straw at the entrances to the dug holes, then sprinkle a thin layer of sand on top. Unsuspecting people or horses passing by fall straight down.

Moreover, those holes are sometimes dug so small that only one foot or hoof can sink in. Whether it's a human or a cow or horse, their heavy bodies can cause them to fall and even break their legs.

There was also water pollution, camp burning, and lone soldiers being killed—so what if they had raped a woman, killed a farmer, or looted their property?

Isn't this something that happens frequently during marches?

But these wretched civilians suddenly refused to endure it silently; they rose up in resistance, and even hanging those who were captured from trees could not stop them.

Both the commander and the generals vaguely felt as if they were trapped in a sticky malice, invisible and colorless, unfathomable, yet omnipresent.

This feeling reached its peak after the warships anchored in the harbor were hijacked. It was only the third day of the siege, and the army camp was already filled with panic.

Moreover, the army that went to collect grain encountered varying degrees of obstruction. They said they met an army carrying a red flag. "It's their lord who has returned!" they exclaimed in panic. "It's the young saint Cesar who has returned! We've seen his flag!"

"Don't talk nonsense," the commander couldn't help but scold, "He's still in Bethlehem!"

Manuel I's accomplices had assured him that their army would hold Cesar at the Arabian Peninsula before Nicosia fell, and that he would never set foot on the deck of any ship. Even if they didn't think the other's promise would last long, it was only the third day.

Day 3!
Some generals were already clamoring to return, especially the Varangian Guard. Their original duty wasn't to attack cities, but to protect Emperor Manuel I. They were unruly, rude, and arrogant. There was another possibility—the commander maliciously speculated—that it was because they had suffered setbacks in the siege. They knew that César had taken some of the knights with him when he went to accompany King Arazarus on his expedition to Damascus, but they hadn't expected that the remaining knights would still be able to unleash such astonishing fighting power.

Although the defending side was less able to withstand the losses, the Varangian Guard seemed more distressed by their own losses. To their amusement and dismay, Manuel I's order actually came, requiring them to put the Varangian Guard on a ship and send them back to Constantinople—it seems that Manuel I was also regretting his impulsive actions.

But now the ships there are gone; they've either been sunk, burned, or sailed out of the harbor.

They questioned the Knights Templar, who replied that they didn't know either—they hadn't intended to interfere too much in Byzantine affairs, and besides, they hadn't seen any foreign fleet—"Perhaps your crew members are feeling too bored and want to go out for a stroll?" the Knights Templar's Grand Master asked earnestly.

Damn it, what a spinning top!
The commander-in-chief used all his self-control to refrain from swearing. The captain of the Varangian Guard had made no attempt to hide his question about when they could return to Constantinople. His words provoked dissatisfaction among many of the generals in the tent, most of whom had come with naive ideas.

What they hoped to see was that as soon as the army arrived at the city gates, they would open them, and Cesare's sister Natia and his Venetian wife would be brought out in a wretched prison cart. His knights would either leave or submit to the Byzantines, kneeling in submission, while the city's inhabitants would meekly submit to their demands, plunder, and exploitation.

They should be comfortably lounging in their opulent governor's palace, waiting for Cypriot nobles from all over to fawn over them, showering them with precious gifts and beautiful women. Their only concern would be the Crusaders stationed in Cyprus, but the Crusaders had already reached an agreement with Manuel I that, while not allies, they would certainly not be enemies either.

To their dismay, they discovered that the seemingly sweet pastry concealed a hard sword, possibly even poisoned, leaving them frustrated and disappointed.

Nicosia's fortifications indeed exceeded their expectations. While constructing the Basilica of Sant'Anna, Cesare also reinforced the walls and fortresses of Nicosia—he restored Roman cement and used it extensively.

In fact, if they had been more patient, had more supplies, and hadn't been so greedy, they might have actually been the victors in this battle.

After all, Nicosia was just a city, while they were facing an army of five thousand. Unfortunately, the Byzantine Empire did not have that kind of patience. Not to mention, in addition to Nicosia's silent resistance, they also faced the ever-present harassment of the Cypriots around them. They were like swarms of hateful gadflies, constantly sucking blood from this strong bull. The lost blood, while not enough to harm the bull, would certainly leave it listless and exhausted.

To make matters worse, after discovering that coercion and plunder were ineffective, the commander entrusted the army's supplies to a group of Isaacs who had followed him from Constantinople and also deeply resented the blue-eyed lord—for he clearly disliked the Isaacs and kept them out of his rule, a crime that was simply unforgivable!

The Isaacs not only participated in the plot against that person, but they also worked tirelessly and tirelessly to uncover it.

The commander believed that, at least for now, the Isaacs should be wise and have a long-term vision—he, or rather the emperor, was rich, and they could buy what they needed at high prices—once they obtained Cyprus, the Isaacs could also find ways to make money off those rebels.

Then, the scene that people most wanted to see appeared...

Initially, some Isaacs lined up their own pockets, resulting in the acquisition of only inferior goods: tattered cowhides, moldy wheat, rotten armor… After some were reprimanded and executed by the commander…

Those Isaacs actually abandoned their properties and families in Constantinople and ran away with the money!
The commander-in-chief was furious inside the tent, but it was too late.

After Alexei left the tent, he received a letter. He trembled slightly when he saw the wax seal on the letter, but fortunately no one noticed. He hurriedly returned to the tent, dismissed those around him, and quickly opened it.

(End of this chapter)