xymnovel Chapter 173 Nicomedia
Chapter 173 Nicomedia
Chapter 173 Nicomedia (Part Two)
As night fell, Nicomedia was immersed in relative tranquility, with only the sound of waves lapping against the shore and the faint footsteps of patrolling soldiers audible.
In the temporary accommodation assigned to Lyon, Henry looked out at the night sky, while Lyon sat on the edge of the bed looking at a simple map of Asia Minor that he had brought from Jerusalem.
"Henry," Lyon suddenly spoke, "what kind of person do you think General Branas is?"
Henry turned around and laughed, "An old general who has been sidelined for years and suddenly given a large army? Your Highness, it's like releasing a starving wild boar into a bountiful orchard. He'll either go on a rampage, tearing apart any stray dogs that wander in, or—he'll start to think that he should have a share of this orchard all along."
Lyon nodded silently. Even Henry said so, which made him even more worried.
"Your Highness," Henry lowered his voice, his eyes sharp, "and don't you think we've been a little too obedient?"
"Obedience?" Leon's heart skipped a beat. "It seems he really is—"
"From the moment we received Marshal Cantostefanos's orders, we were pawns being manipulated." Henry dipped his finger in water and traced lines on the rough wooden table. "Constantinople said: Go to Nicaea, help and watch over Brahna." So we came. We'd barely arrived in Nicomedia when the Brahna people said: Don't go to Nicaea, I've gone to Dabry, come quickly. So we had to turn back to Dabry without stopping. Our 1,100 men were like obedient spinning tops, whipped around by different people, with absolutely no strategic choices of our own, not even the time to stop and assess the surrounding terrain and situation."
Lyon sighed. "Henry, I understand what you mean. But we are outnumbered and are the guest army. We know nothing about the terrain, the enemy situation, or even Branas's own military tactics. What better option do we have for now than to follow the orders of the main army? Acting blindly is too risky."
"Ignorance is the greatest risk!" Henry emphasized, leaning forward. "We cannot remain ignorant forever. Your Highness, do not underestimate our 1,100 men."
"Five hundred crossbowmen wielding these divine crossbows. Although I have never seen them in actual combat, the range and reloading speed of these crossbows, when fired in formation, would be extremely terrifying."
"Those hundred Danish axe guards are unbeatable in close combat, and I dare say they are absolutely the most skilled assault infantry I have ever seen. And my three hundred Bohemian comrades, with their shields and blunt weapons, are simply an impenetrable wall."
"As for those two hundred Catalan skirmishers, their harassment and reconnaissance are ubiquitous, and their javelins can even be surprisingly effective at crucial moments. If used properly, we won't be a burden, but rather a lever that can shift the course of the battle! But the prerequisite is that we must know where to place the fulcrum and in which direction to apply force!"
He raised his right index finger with a comical expression, as if a flash of inspiration had struck him: "As for the terrain—we'll no longer be completely ignorant tonight."
"What do you want to do?" Leon smiled knowingly, a premonition rising in his heart.
"Bartolomé's command post must have a map far more detailed than the rudimentary one we have," Henry said, his voice barely a whisper. "The mountains, valleys, roads, and passes of Asia Minor are the lifeline for cavalry movement and army supplies. We need it. Tonight, I'll go borrow it."
Lyon was startled: "Stealing military topographic maps? That's too dangerous! What if we're discovered—"
"It wasn't stealing, it was borrowing." Henry smiled slyly. "I'll return it to him intact before he finds out."
"Your Highness, consider this: if we had a thorough understanding of the terrain around Dabry, and of the entire region from Bithynia to Phrygia, we would no longer be blind pawns. We could judge whether Branas's deployment was reasonable, choose the most advantageous position for our intervention, and even, if necessary—retain a degree of independence. Marshal Cantostefanos told us to be the eyes," but he didn't say those eyes couldn't turn and look elsewhere on their own.
Lyon remained silent.
Henry's proposal was bold and risky, but not without reason.
Blindly following the orders of a general you've never met and who may have ulterior motives on unfamiliar land is indeed unsettling.
Having access to terrain information is the most basic step in gaining the initiative.
"Be extremely careful." Finally, Leon nodded. "If things become unmanageable, retreat immediately. Safety first."
"Don't worry, Your Highness," Henry grinned, "I've borrowed plenty of things in the streets of Milan and the docks of Venice, I know them well."
After midnight, the city of Nicomedia was completely silent except for the sound of the waves and the wind.
Henry changed into a dark casual outfit and blended into the shadows of the building like a ghost.
He evaded several regular patrols of guards and, relying on his memory of the observations during the day, quietly made his way to the garrison commander's residence in the heart of the city.
The guards at the official residence were much less stringent than those at the city walls.
Using the shadows of the corner and the columns, Henry easily climbed over a low wall and slipped into the building.
He quickly found what was probably a study or command room, where guards stood watch at the porch, but fortunately there was only one person there, and he was a little sleepy because it was late at night.
Henry waited patiently until he heard the faint sound of the changing of the guard in the distance. In the instant the guard at the door subconsciously turned his head to look, he swiftly jumped into the room through the window on the other side, as fast as a cat.
The room was pitch black, with only a few slivers of moonlight filtering through the high windows, but that was enough for Henry.
He spotted his target immediately.
On the wall behind the main seat facing the door, a huge sheepskin map hangs.
He strode forward and examined the object closely by the moonlight, a surge of excitement welling up inside him.
This map was drawn with great detail, not only marking the roads, rivers, mountains, and forests from Nicomedia to Nicaea, Prusa, and then to Ble and even deeper into Phrygia and the Anatolian Plateau, but also marking important fortresses, towns, crossings, and possible water sources with different colors and symbols.
He carefully removed the map from the hook, rolled it up, and prepared to leave.
Just as he turned around, his gaze swept over the heavy oak desk in the center of the room.
On the table, besides the usual stationery, there was a letter that had been opened and whose seal had been carelessly tossed aside.
As if guided by some unseen force, Henry walked over, picked up the letter, and held it up to the moonlight.
The letter was written in Greek, with strong, messy handwriting. The recipient was Bartholomew, and the signature was two Greek letters—"A" and "B".
He quickly browsed through it.
The first part of the letter matched Bartholomew's retelling during the day: an order to instruct the Jerusalem reinforcements to rush directly to the aid of Dabul. However, it continued with a few more sentences: "Your Excellency's valiant defense of Nicomedia, maintaining the lifeline of the eastern front, is a testament to your hard work and meritorious service, which I greatly admire. In this chaotic situation, with the central government in turmoil, only the loyal and courageous men of the border towns can ensure our safety. I hope Your Excellency will continue to fulfill your duties diligently. When the situation becomes clearer, those who have rendered meritorious service to the country and have been loyal to us will not be forgotten. Regarding the Dabul, I have my own plans; Your Excellency need not worry about it. Simply ensure that the reinforcements' passage remains unobstructed—"
A chill ran down Henry's spine.
Bartolomaios was a direct subordinate of the governor of the Optimatoton Military District, belonging to the Empire's permanent local military and political system, while Branas was only a temporarily appointed commander of the Eastern Front and did not hold a permanent official position.
Such private correspondence is surprisingly meaningful.
A disturbing thought exploded in Henry's mind: Was Branagh not only controlling the Eastern Front, but also secretly cultivating relationships with key local generals like Bartoloméos? What was he planning? To consolidate his power in Asia Minor? Or to pave the way for even greater schemes?
Marshal Cantostefanos's concerns are probably closer to reality than imagined.
This "wild boar" may not be content with just protecting the orchard; it may have already begun marking which fruit trees in the orchard will eventually belong to it.
Henry dared not linger. He put the letter back as it was, put away the map, and once again slipped out of the window like a shadow, disappearing into the night without leaving a trace.