Chapter 21
The scouts informed General Kuçuk of a force coming to engage them. It numbered around 2000 men, most likely slightly below their own number of 2158 men. The scouts didn’t find any evidence of ambushes, but that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t one when dealing with Mashujaa wa Jua. General Kuçuk decided to meet them in the field.
Any force of 2000 men from such a small country would most likely be filled with poorly trained conscripts, and Suleiman the Magnificent had gifted him the finest men the house of Osman had to offer, as well as one of the finest mercenary companies in the world
The armies were close enough to see each other. About 1000 yards of Savana stretched out between them. The Jua warriors were formed up in three blocks. A dense formation of conscripts, equipped with wicker shields, spears, and cloth armor, stood in the center, flanked by two blocks of heavily trained Jua veterans.
General Kuçuk’s formation was simple: Three blocks of warriors, Janissaries flanking either side of the Baron’s men, with cavalry on the wings. On the left was all Ottoman Sipahi, armed with kilij and spear, and on the right was a mix of Sipahi and the Baron’s men, with the blunderbuss cavalry at the front and Sipahi at the back. Kuçuk wanted to bring the great bombards, but Suleiman had assigned those to different units so all they had available was a single cannon.
General Kuçuk was mounted behind his men. The Baron was in formation with the right flank’s cavalry, and his lieutenants were on foot with his men. General Kuçuk gestured to a man near him, who raised a large horn to his mouth and played a sustained medium pitch note. After five seconds of horn, the army began to march forward.
Covering 1000 yards on foot, or slowly trotting to keep in line with the infantry, was agonizingly slow, doubly so because the infantry were keeping in line with the single cannon. When they got within roughly 600 yards, the formation stopped dead in its tracks.
The cannon was unlimbered and slowly turned to face the Jua force. As the crew loaded the cannon, the Baron smiled brightly.
“What a fine day for cannon fire! And what a fine target for our men to hit!”
One of the canonniers rammed the ball cartridge down and took the ram pole out, giving a thumbs up to the man at the back of the cannon. He punctured the cartridge with a thun rod and lowered the linstock down to the touch hole and the powder lit, a deafening boom echoing around the savanna.
The cannon ball flew through the air and impacted the ground sixty or so yards in front of the Jua formation, bouncing and rolling harmlessly at the feet of the frontline. The Jua formation cheered, obviously unfamiliar with cannonry.
A man adjusted the height of the cannon with a crank and checked the angle with a tool before nodding. The wet spongy part of the ramrod was inserted to kill any remaining embers, and then another cartridge was inserted. The cartridge was pieced by a thin rod and a small fuze was pushed all the way down.
The man checking the angle looked once again and, after being given the all clear by the rammer, yelled fire! The linstock was lowered onto the touch hole and another deafening boom echoed through the surrounding area.
The ball soared through the air, impacting the ground less than twenty yards away from the formation, bouncing off the ground and slamming into one of the men in front, killing him and knocking him hard back into the conscripts behind him, the cannonball embedded in his chest. This time, there was no cheer, just silence as the gap was filled.
Again, the cannon was aimed, prepped, loaded, and fired, this time ripping straight through the formation, killing eight men in total with a single cannonball. This pattern was repeated ten more times, as that’s how many cannonballs they brought to the front.
General Kuncuk raised his sword and dropped it, causing the formation of infantry and cavalry to advance as the cannon was re-limbered. As they drew closer and closer, men appeared from within the Jua formation, with pieces of twine wrapped around their forearms and hands.
They stood in a line and retrieved a rock from their pouches and began to spin them in slings. They let loose their rocks, the crack of the slings audible for hundreds of yards away. The rocks flew at the formation and impacted hard, smashing right through unenchanted armor and into the soft flesh underneath.
The Baron was shocked at how effective the slings were.
They’re rocks impacted with the force of bullets, that’s terrifying!
The Baron spared a glance for one of his men lying dead on the ground with a rock the length of his middle finger and at least a full inch wide sticking out of this face.
The Baron gestured to a flag bearer behind him, the one with a man standing still on it, and yelled.
“Halt!”
After a few seconds, the lines stopped and spent some time aligning themselves properly, all the while rocks peppered their formation. The Baron gestured to the flag bearer with a gun on it.
“First row! Fire!”
After a few seconds the first rows did as they were told, the thunderous noise of hundreds of guns firing in sync was deafening even from hundreds of yards away. All the Jua warriors saw was a plume of smoke, then they felt the rounds impacting. They were around 400 yards out, so the shots were inaccurate, but they still landed due to sheer volume of fire.
“Forwards one hundred paces!”
The army lurched forward, eating up the distance in thirty seconds, then stopped at 300 yards out. The second row fired, dropping more Jua warriors and forcing them to quickly fill in the gaps of the shield wall. Even though men were injured and dying, their enchanted wicker shields were keeping most of them safe.
As the Ottoman forced march forwards they lost more and more to the remaining slingers before they fled inside the formation. At 100 yards, the Baron again gave the order to halt and fire. The third and final rows took aim, close enough to make out the details of the enemy’s shields. They fired, rounds either punching through flesh or bouncing off shields.
This volley tore through the lines, creating great gaps as men fell back with holes peppering their bodies. The Baron raised his saber and screamed.
“CHAAAAARGE!”
The combined force of the Ottomans and Imperial mercenaries roared and broke into a sprint, weapons held high. The sight of a two thousand man strong army charging forwards, screaming war cries and closing the distance fast, as well as the mounting casualties from the cannon and small arms fire, was simply far too much for the poorly trained conscripts.
Before the lines even met the enemy broke, abandoning their position and running away as quickly as possible. General Kuncuk laughed and gestured to a flag bearer with a galloping horse flag. He raised it and a few seconds later the cavalry began to pursue the fleeing enemy.
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The Baron’s cavalry lowered their blunderbusses, the barrel extended a good two or three inches with shimmering, golden gravity magic. They fired, the shot flying out fast and hard, staying clustered together then spreading out far later than a normal blunderbuss would. Dozens of fleeing men dropped as shot tore through their backs, horsemen passing by the dead and dying with sabers held high.
Sabers flashed and men screamed as they got cut down, slamming hard into the ground as blades cut through their bodies with the force of galloping horses behind them. Sipahi spears pierced clean through the lightly armored conscripts before they rode ahead as fast as they could. Very few of the running men were armed, so the cavalry had very little fear of retaliation.
As horsemen got in front of the throng of men, many stopped and raised their arms, while others simply ran off in different directions. A few men wanted to pursue them, but their officers refused to allow it. This wasn’t supposed to be a slaughter, they just needed to capture a lot of them.
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After a while the cavalry had corralled their captured into a single crowd and forced them back to the Ottoman army, spear and saber point at their backs. There were nearly five hundred captured, heads and shoulders hung low with the shame of defeat.
General Kuçuk greeted them with a chortle and open arms, surrounding them with the victorious forces on all sides. He stood on a large box far taller than the men, getting all eyes on him.
“Men of Jua, know now that I wish for you all to live! We are not in the habit of executing prisoners for no reason! So, to avoid giving us that reason, I offer you brave men a deal!”
The POWs murmured to each other.
“Your lands are going to be incorporated into the Ottoman Empire, you will become Dhimmi, unless you convert of course. All we ask of you is that, if you refuse to convert, you pay the Jizya, the tax on infidels, and you swear a blood oath to never take up arms against us! Any who will not swear fealty to Suleiman The Magnificent will be shot! You have five minutes to decide!”
After giving them the five minutes promised, General Kuncuk yelled again.
“Any who wish to take our deal shall announce their intentions now!”
Shouts of agreement flooded out of the captured men, it seemed a majority of them valued their lives more than their country. However, many still did not.
“Those who agreed shall meet with our Imams to either swear fealty or convert! Those who refuse shall stay put!”
Out of the five hundred men captured, nearly four hundred accepted his deal and cleared the area, while a hundred stayed behind. The Janissaries around them unslung their muskets and stood at parade rest, barrels pointed towards the sky.
General Kuçuk raised his arm. The Janissaries guarding the prisoners aimed their muskets. The Baron frantically ran over to General Kuçuk.
“Sir, is this really necessary? Without their weapons they’re harmless! Should we not just keep them captive?”
Kuçuk eyed the Baron with disgust.
“We treat our allies with respect and kindness, we treat our enemies with contempt.”
He dropped his arm and the Janissaries fired, quickly drawing their swords and getting to work. A few Jua warriors managed to fight back, using earth magic to defend and attack, but with their hands tied, there was little they could do. The Baron shook his head and walked back to his men.
Whatever. Nothing I can do about it.
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The army marched further north. In the middle of their path was a city which Ottoman maps never actually gave a name for. As Kuçuk’s army set up camp within sight of the city walls, he sent a rider to the city. At the gates he was greeted with bows aimed at him. The guards asked what they wanted, and he informed they he was a messenger.
The rider was escorted to the governor’s palace under armed guard. He knew the Jua warriors had too much honor to kill a messenger, but being escorted under armed guard was still nerve wracking.
The palace was beautiful, though of course far less beautiful than Suleiman’s palace, obviously. The guards took him into the governor’s office. It was a large room with books and maps neatly tucked onto bookshelves stacked ceiling to floor, and a single table with papers and inkwells..
At the table was the governor, an older black man with a small gray afro and neatly trimmed beard. He wore a well tailored tunic with a multicolored kente cloth over his shoulders. The governor set down his quill and addressed the rider.
“Tell me, what is it you come to me for? Though I imagine I already know.”
The rider took out a scroll and handed it to a guard who set it on the governor’s desk.
“I am here to request your city’s surrender. We have two thousand of the best trained men the House of Osman has to offer, as well as the famous Klarwasser Mercenary Company. General Kuçuk will accept nothing else b-”
“But unconditional surrender, yes of course. Get out of my office. Return to your camp and tell your general to break his back upon the walls of Kisa!”
The rider nodded solemnly and was escorted out by guards.
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The Baron looked at his tools unappreciatively.
“I’m supposed to climb the walls using nothing but an iron spike?”
The Janissary who handed him the equipment responded energetically.
“Yup! You can use the spike to create handholds in the rock!”
The Baron was unsatisfied.
“That sounds dangerous.”
The Janissary scoffed.
“You’re a gifted one, this will be a breeze for you!”
“I’m also 51 years old.”
“51 years old and still fighting on the frontlines. I saw you out there, blowing fire into people’s faces and summoning great spikes of earth!”
“Touché.”
The Janissary narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“It’s an elven phrase which means you’ve won the argument.”
“Oh, well, thank you, Ümera!”
The Baron sighed.
“Right.”
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The Baron reached the top of the wall with more ease than he wanted to admit. Being a gifted one meant that he was stronger than the average man and could do more exercise with less fatigue. He closed the eyes of the guard he dispatched and said a small prayer for the dead.
The Baron quickly grabbed his length of rope and tied it to a nearby merlon. After making sure it was secure he sent the rope down. All around him men did the same thing. They were all the most athletic men in General Kuçuk’s army, sent to create an area for the general’s men to scale the walls with relative ease. Ladders would be too conspicuous, so the men were given segmented ropes easy to climb with.
Their goal was to open the city gates and create as much chaos as possible. Since the city had not surrendered, it would be razed, a prospect the Baron did not revel in, but recognized the importance of it to the Ottoman’s general game-plan.
Like Genghis Khan.
He eyed the corpse on the ground next to him.
Exactly like Genghis Khan.
The Baron met up with eight of the Janissaries who climbed the wall and led them over to a gatehouse. A single guard turned just a little too late, finding the Baron’s saber in his throat before he could make a sound other than gurgling.
The fight within the gatehouse was more of a one sided slaughter than a real fight. The Baron and his Janissaries flooded into the gatehouse and hacked the guards to pieces with ease. If that was any indicator of how well the city was going to hold out, then their work would be short but bloody.
As the gatehouse’s mechanism worked an explosion rang out in the distance, most likely the Baron’s allies had decided that now they were opening the gates, going loud was better to instill fear. The Baron looked to his Janissaries and shrugged
“I guess we’re going loud. Don’t rape anybody. I’ll kill you.”
A Janissary nodded and checked the edge of his sword before readiying himself for more battle.