Reincarnated to the Past 36: Regional Happenings + Good and Bad (4, end) (Patreon)

Reincarnated to the Past
Chapter 36: Regional Happenings + Good and Bad (4)

-VB-

While the siege of Istria lasted for many days, it was a quick affair by the standards of all those who lived in the world at this time. A standard siege often took months if not years to complete, which was a reason why most walled cities had large granary storages. It was why cities had wells within its walls.

News traveled slow, but it did travel.

The news of Istria’s submission to a barbarian tribe in the west raised the eyebrows of all would-be powermongers and conquerors.

Some, like the Byzantions, marched out to burn the city that had stepped on them for decades.

Others, like the Thracian city-states of Acamas, saw that their rivals marched out to war, leaving their fields and cities minimally defended.

Even more so, the rumors of a tribe conquering a walled city, the best defense of the era, made many uneasy.

Spies began to move. Merchants began to speculate. Powerful households began to alter their courses.

The ones who moved first after the Byzantions were the Thracians. Though equally as oppressed by the might of Istria-centric league as the Byzantions, they had been sheltered by the inland nature of their city-states, rather than by the coasts where the Istrians held more sway. As a result of this, they didn’t see Istria’s weakness as a chance to strike at the Istrians but those who held enough grudge to blindly seek out revenge for decades of oppression.

Under the leadership of the oikos of the city-state of Sestus, Thracians gathered to march out to war.

Seeing the Thracians gather their levies, slaves, and citizen-volunteers, their neighbors like Zeleia, Percote, Dardanus, and Troy saw threats to their own safety, and messages began to fly back and forth for a defensive alliance against the threat that their Thracian neighbors across the strait had just become.

-VB-

I stood on top of the hill where I once stood to look upon a walled city that, as I understood it now, couldn’t control its leaders. I now stood there as its reinforcement, staring down at over a thousand soldiers from some faraway city to the east that would fall later.

Byzantion, Byzantine, whatever. The latter was what mattered, and the former would be gone before the latter. In essence, the history that I knew told me that I didn’t need to care about these people because they were bound to either die or scatter anyways.

But I didn’t care about the fact that they were “soon to be gone.” I cared about the fact that they were attacking those under my protection and close to getting my brother-in-law killed. Looking down at the soldiers still oblivious to my presence, I continued to survey them.

I wasn’t going to fight them like a brute. Why would I waste the lives of the men under me?

No, no, no.

This was going to be Siege of Istria, Part 2.

Stabby Night Boogaloo.

-VB-

The Byzantion camp was … barren.

Barren of defense, that was.

It was as if they weren’t expecting anyone to sneak up on them at night.

Oh, well, they did have spike wooden barricades around the camp, they had sentries at all entry points, and small bonfires lit up the camp dimly.

It wasn’t an ideal situation but neither was it the worst. They had guards, but they weren’t expecting anything serious.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t trying to attack them head on.”

I glanced at the archer who’d spoken up. He, and fifty others like him, crouched at the ready with their bows and arrows at the ready. The tips of these arrows were wrapped in small cloth and soaked with oil.

During the day, I observed the camp. Specifically, I observed how, when, and where they ate.

An army marched - and sieged - on food, and I have been watching where their food came and went the entire day.

It was, unfortunately, a very divided process. I saw - and remembered - that most of the soldiers carried their own food with them, either by themselves or using pack animals or slaves. Because of this, an army wasn’t just an army; it was the families of the soldiers, slaves, pack animals, merchants, prostitutes, and anything else that made any large community of humans function.

What I did notice, however, was where the largest congregations of those foods were. There were only four such places that provided for only a tenth of the soldiers here, but burning those down would pressure the Byzantions into retreating.

So I did just that.

I held up my hand and the archers turned quiet before they all drew their bows. A torch kept under cover was quickly brought forth and a man ran across the front of all of the archers, lighting the oil-soaked rags attached to the arrows.

Fifty fire arrows burned.

“Fire.”

And flew.

I watched as the arrows arched high into the sky and then began to fall.

A few sentries saw the arrows and began to shout, but it was too late.

These fifty arrows fell upon the camp, and caught anything they landed on on fire.

“Again!”

The archers drew another fire arrow for themselves and the torch man lit them up while the camp below us erupted into a chaotic cacophony.

“Aim for somewhere that’s not on fire and then fire!”

With t-t-t-twangs, another fifty fire arrows flew out into the night and slammed into the camp below like a single force. I saw a few very unfortunate men fall to the arrows while many others landed on tents and grass.

I dropped my hand and then shook it. “Time for us to leave,” I said.

Quietly, we all slunk off even as some of the more organized soldiers and a single commander down below charged up the hill.

Actually, that pissed me off. Being underestimated was one thing, but for only a few dozen soldiers to charge me up a hill?

I reached out and caught an archer. He stopped and stared at me before smirking and handing me his bow and quiver of arrows.

I went back up to the peak of the hill and stared down at the gasping men still trying to climb the hill.

I nocked an arrow, drew, and fired.

One down.

I nocked another, drew, and fired.

Two down.

They realized something was wrong only by the fifth kill, and realized that I’ve been sniping them down, one arrow per person. The few that had shields held it up even as they continued to climb.

I ignored them and shot the others.

One of them was lucky enough and dodged out of the way, mostly because he did so preemptively.

I scoffed. I watched as that soldier jump to the side again after a few seconds. The next jump happened backward and ducking at half the interval.

So that one had some brain.

This time, I left, and they didn’t even find good traces of us in the dark.

The next day, I watched under the cover of bushes the damages I’d wrought to the Byzantion army.

It wasn’t pretty, and large sections had been burned to the ground. There was even a section where they laid out soldiers who’d burned to death or otherwise.

Last night had been successful.

It’s only right that I press my advantage, right?

-VB-

Johaken stared down at the Byzantion camp far from the walls and the smokes that rose out of them. He stood next to Renius, who was also looking at the enemy who’d besieged them.

His brother-in-law next to him shuddered. “Your tribal warlord loves fire, doesn’t he?”

“Very much so,” he replied jovially. Then his eyes widened. “Gather your man! We must sally out!”

“What?! Are you-?!” Renius stopped himself when he saw what Johaken saw. “Your brother-in-law is mad.”

“No, he is a monster of war,” Johaken barked out a laugh as he raced down the stairs adjacent to the battlement.

He ran to the quarters where the tribesmen stayed at. He ignored slightly open door of one room and the occupants inside (Horuel never found himself a girl in the tribe, but he was swimming in them in the city somehow), and ran to the most dense barracks.

“Get your weapons, men! My brother in law has come with the tribe and burned those Byzzies! We sally out!”

There was a moment of silence before men shot up with roars of approval.

No one liked being sieged.

As he and his men charged down the street, he kept shouting at the top of his lungs.

“The River Kettin reinforcements are here! We are sallying out! To arms! To arms!”

There were very few ready at the moment, but they joined him immediately. What was only a hundred men became two hundred when he reached the gates, and they opened it.

They saw a ferocious battle.

The exhausted, burned, and hungry Byzantions fought, but they were no match for his brother-in-law!

“CHARGE!” he roared.

The two hundred men he’d come with a unified thunderous roar and stampeded towards the enemy.

A well-armored and shiny looking Byzantion in the back heard them and turned around.

He and Johaken met eyes.

Johaken grinned.

You’re mine!

His legs carried him across the battlefield, faster than anyone else with him.

His heart drummed like a terrible thunder.

His soul cackled with glee.

When his war axe swung down with its own vibrating metallic hiss, he found a mark.

He may not be as great as Wiseman Alan, but he was strong, too!

“HAHAHA!” he laughed as what looked like a commander died to one swing of his blade. Just as the rest of his men caught up to him, he jumped, and became a part the angry warriors of Istria crashing of metals and flesh of the Byzantions!

-VB-

The Second Siege of Istria and Battle at South Gate are mentioned as one of the many battles that took place according to oral folklore of the Kettinites and Thracians. Though some evidence of this battle’s outbreak exists, these evidence are circumstantial at best.

-Professor Adrik Chodosry of the University of the *****