image [https://cdn.midjourney.com/f1efca77-0bae-440d-ad44-f05b60e85475/0_2.png]
----------------------------------------
New Reality: 10 June, The Balkans
The Ottoman army started to move ten minutes later than Martinko said, but not everybody had a magical smartphone with a clock on it. The first surprise came with the direction of the movement: the Turks retreated a hundred yards. Where they had stood, lines of shallow ditches with stakes planted in them appeared, and for sure caltrops were thrown around. Improvised wicker palisades and thick shields were raised.
"They're trying to pull an Agincourt on us," Ardent ground his teeth. The Turks were barely out of the snipers' range, and a light cavalry attack, with revolvers, could not reach close enough to do enough damage. On the other hand, the Janissaries had wheellock muskets with good reach and were trained to fire in waves. A light cavalry attack was suicide.
"A patience game. Two fortresses waiting for the other to make the first move," Meanwood said philosophically, stretching an eyestalk up to look at the smartphone's screen from behind Ardent's shoulder. "Who attacks first, loses."
Maybe the Ottomans were not on the same page as the monster, because a large group of Akindjis and Spahis, two thousand of each, moved laterally and started to fire arrows toward the fortified hill, while their comrades mirrored them on the other side of the valley. They suspected part of Ardent's light cavalry was there, and they were right.
[Ardent to Texas Rangers]: Hold your temper, don't attack. Hide and wait for orders.
"Take cover!" he yelled toward the rest, raising a forcefield around him and Myrtle.
The arrows arched high, their range impressive: two-thirds of a mile. The Turks had a device one could attach to the arm holding the bow, the Siper, which allowed them to shoot lighter and shorter arrows for longer distances. Nevertheless, lighter arrows meant less penetration power, and Ardent's army's protections, magical or technological, were strong.
"Heeeelp!" Meanwood yelped, rolling on the ground, then trying to jump up and throw himself in the well. The Mimic was on fire, and so was the forest.
Greek Fire detected. A magical firestarter application (Enchantment School) was detected. Warning: Estimation: A System user is working for the enemy, but they’re not in immediate proximity.
"Fuck!" Ardent spat on the grass while throwing a bucket of water over Meanwood, to no effect, then sent the monster into his inventory, to stop it from being destroyed. "What the heck is this, Salvatore!" he screamed at the man from the future.
"I don't know!" Salvatore screamed back, protecting himself with an energy shield. "Maybe it's one of my former Byzantine apprentices, back from the day, getting the System because of me. If they survived until a very old age, that is."
"Bloody idiot! Who of sane mind works with the Greeks?" Ardent yelled. Smoke was beginning to rise in the northeastern part of the mountain, and a close fight in those conditions was doomed. Hard decisions had to be made. "Everyone without a class, run west, regroup where possible!" he yelled, his orders relayed by officers. "Abandon all luggage!"
[Ardent to all]: Everyone with the System, we make our stand. Hide in the trenches, and try not to inhale the smoke. Texas Rangers, get behind the Turks and wait for my orders. Riflemen, get out of your trenches and fire on those archers.
Despite the heat, the flames, and the smoke, his army moved as ordered, with clockwork precision, he didn't even know they were able of it. The heavy cavalry took the infantry on the back of their horses and galloped west, the snipers exited the forest and took aim, and others grabbed shovels and spades, throwing dirt over the flames.
"Told you, the Turks have brains," Ana said, appearing nearby, then vanishing again. She was traveling between trees, moving them apart, creating fire-breaker alleys, pulling the driest wood away, or throwing it where the fire was already too big to make a difference. It was impressive, but she was only one.
There has been only one incendiary attack, at their hill. It was a simple but efficient plan. An Enchanter, a System user, by whatever roll of lucky dice, had made those fire arrows weeks before and was now safely sitting comfortably in Istanbul sipping coffee. The archers were still shooting but had switched to normal arrows, annoying, but nonlethal for the Classed Warriors.
The first two salvos of sniper rifles made the Turkish archers readjust their fire, but now they did next to no damage. Two more salvos tore in their ranks, some bullets killing more than one enemy, their penetration power an order of magnitude higher than anything the Turks had. Yet, the Spahis continued firing, while the Akindji retreated, aiming to contour the hill. The Janissaries on their side of the valley dispersed, taking cover behind mounds of earth, bushed and thickets, advancing like a much more modern infantry would have done.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
[Ardent to Snipers]: Back to the trenches, if their infantry catches you in the open you're dead.
Now it was about grinding pressure. Who could inflict enough casualties to make the other part run? "It does not look good…" he confessed to himself.
"Can you identify the Sultan?" Ana appeared again. "If you point him to me, I could—"
"We can't kill the Sultan," Ardent hissed. "We want him weakened, but strong enough to maintain cohesion in his territories. Too weak rulers mean chaos and chaos would make some idiot Pasha try to raid us or allow Wild Magic to grow, remember?"
"Is Wild Magic so bad?" Myrtle asked. "My brother seemed to do well."
"Maybe there are exceptions…"
"Looks like we lost," Ana said, taking a look at the screen. The Akindjis were almost behind the hill now, ready to attack their backs.
"Suleiman is a great general," Ardent sighed.
"We can run northwest and make the junction later," Myrtle said.
Ardent nodded. The attack was going to come from the northeast and southwest, but the hill was in the way of the riders, and the main Ottoman army was obstructed by their ditches and caltrops. Yet, there was no way to save everybody.
"Take anyone below Epic and try to break to the southeast once the Akindji make their move. Go as fast as you can, stay behind the hill, trees, and bushes until you get far enough. Lose yourselves in the mountains. I will stay behind with the rest and stall." It was a desperate move, and all those remaining on the hill were going to die. But at least they could buy time for the others.
"I can't make portals while in combat," Salvatore pointed. "But I can jump around carrying a few people if you wish."
"Then I guess we'll see if Fate Points work as intended," Ardent shrugged.
"Rezz and come meet me in Ragusa," Myrtle said. She hugged him with tenderness, then ran down the slope, entering the forest.
The drone showed the situation evolving fast, for the worst. The first line of Janissaries had already fused with the Spahis, who had dismounted but kept their bows, and was now a hundred yards from the first trench.
To add to the irony, about ten Ottoman musketeers had taken cover behind Martin's body, probably noticing it was impervious to bullets, and they were making good use of the meat redoubt, sending a hail of shots toward the trenches from a slightly higher vantage point. Then more arrows started whistling in the air, but of the heavier type, coordinating their aim with the Janissaries.
Ardent was preparing to go into a trench himself when all of a sudden, trumpets and drum rolls resounded and the drone showed a befuddling image. The Janissaries and Spahis stopped and started to retreat, albeit orderly, and so did the main Turkish army. The only ones not retreating were the Akindjis in the south, still coming. They were not hearing the sound signals.
For winning a major battle and making the enemy retreat, you have gained two levels and two Fate points.
I see…
[Ardent to all]: Stop where you are, and cancel all previous orders!
"Dragon, go and scare the Akindji's," he ordered, summoning the dragonling and accompanying his words by projecting an empathic image of what he wanted. "If they don't retreat, kill them. Māoris, with him."
With a roar, the monster flapped his wings and flew away, and the infantry followed suit.
"Did we win?" a feeble voice asked. Martin had returned. The priest's white face, sagging shoulders, and wobbling steps made him appear shorter and weaker.
Ardent raised a finger in the air, to ask for patience, while he was searching inside his inventory with his left hand. "Try this," he opened a can of beer and offered it to Martin.
"Good Lord, I'm healed!" the priest screamed after taking one sip, then emptying the recipient.
"No, you're not," Ardent shook his head. "That's alcohol-free beer, made by Leonardo. As I suspected, you can feel the taste, but not get drunk. I heard there's also some wine…"
"Can you cure me, son?" Martin begged. "I tried to use a Fate Point… it didn't work."
"Then I'm sorry, but your condition is beyond my abilities. Frankly, being sober is good for you."
"T'was my fault… I have failed my family," Martin sobbed, covering his face with his palms and kneeling on the grass.
"What happened?" Myrtle panted, arriving back after running uphill.
"We lost this battle, but won the war," Ardent said.
"What do you mean?"
Ardent let himself fall on the grass, sitting on his buttocks, and offered her a hand, pulling Myrtle down near him, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders. Extracting two more beers, real ones, he offered her one. "The Turks called upon all their forces to deal with us. Garisons, whatever was available. That left their towns defenseless. Three nights ago, Leo flew a flotilla of airships above Belgrade, and let down commandos who opened the gates for a small mercenary army.
"Without Belgrade, the Turks' logistics crumbles. The news must have reached the Sultan during the battle, somehow. This part of the Balkans is now untenable for him. If he doesn't retreat, we'll cut his lines of supply and harass him until nothing remains of his army.
"That said… Suleiman behaved like a true gentleman and spared us. I didn't tell you because I was sworn to secrecy by our... military advisors." This is so not true, but you and Martin are blabbermouths, sweetie, sorry! Ardent continued in thought.
"I understand," Myrtle nodded. "By the way, have you noticed how handsome my little brother is?"
"He's my son, that's clear enough," Martin sighed. "And he beat me, despite being so tiny… Err… do you have another of those beers?"