Reincarnated to the Past 28: Thracian Overture (3) (Patreon)

Reincarnated to the Past
Chapter 28: Thracian Overture (3)

-VB-

Deneclae, Tyrant of Istria

War was expensive. Between the constant raids, fights between his city and other cities, and the threat of the Great Kingdom of Lydia breathing down on his allies in southern Moesia and the eastern Thrace, he was always in need of funds.

It wasn’t like he liked fighting; Sarmatian Scythians constantly raided his city, draining manpower and money, while his own people picked fights with other city-states north and south of him. All he was trying to do was keep this city alive for the duration of his tenure as the tyrant of Istria.

Deneclae considered himself a reasonable man and a benevolent tyrant. He could have demanded the First Night privilege but instead abolished it. He could have used the city’s wealth to live a life in luxury but instead empowered the poor to become productive citizens through work programs. He could have invaded other weaker cities and forced them into subjugation but instead forged alliances that have continued for a decade and more.

Some called him a madman.

Others called him progressive man.

But he considered himself a good man.

It was for all of these factors that he had sent his best friend to the Gaetens, who supposedly ousted with very little loss the Sarmatian Scythians when they came to fight, in hopes of an alliance; they were neighbors and had a common enemy.

Surely, they would be open to talks at the very least, he thought.

So it was to his surprise that when his diplomat to the Getaen to the west came back with a dead son - deceased due to an infection - and a party deprived of guest rights, he was upset.

No, he was furious.

Galindri was an old friend of his, and while he was prone to bouts of pride and greed, he was never one to miscommunicate what he, Deneclae, sought from others as his mouthpiece. To see his son dead and him grieving, it tore at Deneclae’s heart.

“Who did this to you, friend?” he asked quietly to the grieving father, who now only had daughters to his name who couldn’t carry his name.

“The Getaens west of the river!” the sobbing man cradling his dead son gasped out while rocking back and forth. “They cut his hand off, and dragged him through their filthy mud!”

Deneclae grimaced. To drag a wounded through the dirty earth was to shame them. It was fortunate for Galindri’s son that he lived long enough to come home and die in the homes of his ancestors, surrounded by those who loved him and who he loved in return. Still, he could not let this go unanswered.

“What happened, friend?” he asked Galindri. “What caused this to happen?”

It was wrong of him to pull a man back to duty when he was still grieving, but he didn’t know enough about the situation to act on it.

What if his friend and friend’s son had wronged the Gaetens? Or what if -?

“T-They attacked us when my son went to talk with one of their leaders while I-I talked with their chief,” Galindri gasped out in between his sobs. “T-They attacked my son, and cut his hand off on a perceived threat…! Then they dragged him through the mud and made him ill and killed him through disease!”

Deneclae gritted his teeth. “I understand. I will not let your son’s death be in vain.”

“Dene,” Galindri called him as he grabbed the sleeves of his recently fashioned robes. “Make sure they pay for this…!”

“I will. An attack on my diplomat is an attack on our great city.”

He must assemble the volunteers and his allies. A member of his diplomatic team had been killed, if indirectly. He could not let this go. No, the great city of Istria could not let the perpetrators run amok unscathed.

No, he must bring about the fires of war to the Gaete, and make them pay for their crimes!

As soon as he returned to his palace, he called for his messengers. “We gather for war! Summon the citizen soldiers and our allies!”

-VB-

Alan Marris

The warriors I brought along were all hit-and-run specialists. They were hunters before they were warriors, and hunters knew when to back off (unlike many warriors).

Their purpose on this journey was to scout out the Istrians, sabotage their supply line if there was one, assassinate any leaders if an opportunity presented itself, and generally give time for the Kettins to gear up for war.

We arrived three days after we left, having left full two days after the Istrian “diplomats.”

Laying low on a hill far enough from the city-state of Istria, the hunters and I looked for any kind of weaknesses the city might have.

I suspected that just like the Kettins, this city suffered at the hands of the Scythians and had built up their defenses to keep the Scythians out of their city. It didn’t help the surrounding farmland and farmers, but the purpose of the wall was to protect the city, not the farmers.

It was a sturdy looking wall, too. Built over ten feet in height, it would take a dedicated siege to overcome it, and siege warfare was something Scythians weren’t exactly great at.

“I’m going to have to get in there…”

“Istria is a walled city,” one of the hunters asked. “How will you get in?”

“I’ll climb it.”

All of the hunters, except “One-Eyed Badass” Hoktim who had tagged along with me, looked at me with questioning looks.

“...Eh? But there are guards and braziers lighting the walls and-” one of the hunters spoke up, but I waved away their concerns.

“It’ll be alright! You’ll see!”

“But why are we going in there anyway?”

“I’m going to make sure the Istria is in no condition to make war with us.”

“... But then why did you tell Johaken to gather the warriors?”

“‘Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.’”

Hoktim grunted in approval.

---

And that’s what I did. During the night, I shuffled along the walls as silently as I could, dodging patrols and lit braziers by doing a very simple technique.

Cause a distraction.

I grabbed a stone, aimed at a brazier far away from me, and threw.

The stone whistled in the dark night air and then struck the metal brazier with a clank. The force of the hit threw the brazier to the side, and the coals and fire in it spilled.

Patrol quickly came to help put out the fire, and I used that chance to climb.

In seconds, I was over the wall and on top of it. One more second after that, I was in the city.

From there, I searched the city and found my targets.

Water wells.

I clapped my hands in prayer.

‘Sorry for this.’

And then dropped literal shit along with slow-acting poison into all of the wells.

Finally, I left the city and met with my hunters.

It was time to see how the city would act. If they still gathered to attack, then I will have to kill their leaders in their sleep.