Chapter 464 - I Would Not Rejoice If Im Going To War

The troops rejoice when they knew that they are suddenly being pushed into combat. 

This is a good, or wonderful phenomenon for almost every single commander showing the zest and eagerness their men have to enter battle rather than seating in one corner and pretending that they do not exist to the higher ups. But Julian is unable to acquire a good mood when he heard these cheers and roars, for he knew the mission that they are going to embark on, it is a mission that requires his men to crash head on with a bloody grinder. When the soldiers realise the difficulty and blood thirstiness of the mission they are on, can they still retain the similar amount of eagerness like what they have now? 

Julian doubt so. 

The infantries set off from their camp just as planned earlier on at four plus in the morning, the three thousand strong army, the most elite footmen in all of the state of Thessaloniki left the camp gate with a fast march in battalion level, the last soldier left the camp after only thirty minutes and the army marched towards their destination in a snake formation maintaining a distance with each segment. When Julian passed by the main commanding tent, he could hardly resist himself and took a peek at it and there it is – a tower, with the flag of the red lion representing the Caesar and the banner of the double headed eagle soaring in the air attached to it, representing the fact that the Caesar is indeed here, watching their back. 

Despite the fact that the Ottomans have just achieved a grand victory against their foes, they are still stricken with dread and agitation when they saw the massive Rumelian army group suddenly showing up right before their eyes when the sky is still pitch dark. The chieftain in charge of this fortress, a young Ottoman nobleman who have some understanding on how to properly lead an army of around a hundred men, and he too realised how much of a toil it is for the commander to be able to lead a few thousand men to march in this pitch darkness with little light sources and not get his troops dispersed due to whatever reasons. 

This bunch of enemies is highly disciplined. 

The Ottoman noble took a gasp of the freezing winter air and almost choked himself in his lungs, and then hurriedly commanded his men to start getting ready all their pre-prepared equipment stacking them up on the walls, including a whole stack of crossbows friendly provided by the Venetians allowing the poorly trained drafted peasants to be able to shoot out a projectile, piles of bolts, arrows and bows, a bunch of boiling hot pots filled with… one would not want to know what are the ingredients mixed inside. Apart from all these, the Ottomans started pushing one after another wooden log up the stairs, with rocks coming in various sizes. These things gifted by the natural can sometimes come as surprisingly efficient anti siege armaments. 

Julian on the other hand did not have the time and resources to make so many preparations, but he still all the basic equipment like short ranged artilleries with round hard metal jacket shells that is effective in pounding the weaker conjunctions in the wooden walls, a bunch of leaders, pullers with metal hooks, horses and most important out of all, ballista built from ancient Greek technologies capable of loading up to four projectiles measuring up to almost two meter in length, able to add attachments like rockets or mini explosives, although not really that effective but still an add on to its thrust and penetration capabilities. 

The Romans readied themselves, with Julian standing in the direct front of the entire formation instead of his usual commanding position in the center of the army. He stood there like a statue against the howling northern wind of the chilling winter, donned in a full set of helmet, chest plates and his black war cloak. This is an incredibly dangerous spot for a head commander of a regiment if the enemies have some super long range projectile weapons aiming at him, but Julian could not care more or less. He has already given up his life the moment when he stepped his foot into this arena, and a man who has given on living has absolutely nothing to fear. 

Julian quietly looked upwards towards the walls now only less than a hundred meters away, he can already clearly see the Ottoman defenders running around on those walls hurrying to bring those siege equipment that is going to be used on his troop's heads later on. Surely the Ottomans would not turn over without a fight, he clearly knows that, and there is already no time for him to stand here to make whatever hero's pose in turn giving the opponents more time to load those defensive mechanisms to be used on him.

The legendary commander, the first one to break into the walls of Thessaloniki and the knight honoured by Antonius himself plucked out the double edged sword by his waist and stuck it onto the ground. "Pass the words! Whoever that have crossed the sword today must be clear that he shall no longer be able to return, anyone who retreated beyond this sword shall has his head rolling on the ground right on the spot! This rule applies to every single person of the infantries, starting with me!"

This piece of order is passed down to all footmen here which instantly started a bit of nuisance and hustles among the soldiers, after knowing that the job they are handling today are not really as simple as what they have thought before they set off. But they definitely know that this middle aged man in front really means it when he says something.

"We shall start with my personal guards company! Come out of the line and prepare for the first round of offensive! Followed by third, fifth and sixth company! We shall go in swarms of unconcentrated surges! Get the artilleries ready! Ladders ready! You have fifteen minutes!"

With this order the silent and still Roman formation suddenly came back to live, hundreds of troopers stormed to the front giving their equipment a final check before they commence the offensive. Some kneeled and prayed silently, drawing crosses before their chests, some swooped out letters or icons that are gifted by their loved ones, and some began chit chatting with their comrades joking that they shall return to their hometown after conquering Epirus with their waists full of wealth, and get married with the most famed female in their villages. All of these chaps here are already experienced fighters that have went through a number of wars to be enlisted into this regiment, but still, they do get nervous before every single fight – those who are not nervous are most probably already dead.

The stage is now all set for the gladiators, with only one audience watching over the fight in this naturally built stadium. They waved the glittering blades and shields in their hands, flexing their muscles before charging. If those advisors and strategists are said to have the capabilities of killing people and exterminating countries whole holding a white quill, then the blade that has faithfully followed their sides since the start of their military service shall be their quill, being held in the hands of the metal jacket troopers bringing trauma to their long wished enemies.

Finally, the horns are blown.

This halts any actions that the troopers have be doing as it gave them a very clear message, the time has arrived. The warriors stopped preparing themselves and started operating all the battle rams and rams, accompanied with the roars of field artilleries coming of various sizes and the howling of shells thrusting against the air. The first round of shells pounded onto the wooden walls, although insufficient in causing any structural damage, still left a few pieces of wooden pillars getting fractured with some oak scraps coming off from the structure even causing the wall to shorten by a bit in some areas.

This scared the crap out of the Ottomans as they are unable to fully observe what kind of weapons their opponents are using, leading many to believe that the Rumelians have rebuilt their strike abilities, even bringing that supposedly legendary 'Orban canon' over here as honestly speaking, the conscripts are all from rural areas making them being ignorant towards the new scientific changes in civilisation, forcing them to believe in rumours and gossips by people around them.

Many started running around frantically, some dropped the things they are holding, but more fluently kneeled down towards the direction of the holy and started praying to the Mighty Allah.. Just with one round of artillery strike the Ottoman slaves and conscripts have already started showing that they are completely incapable in forming a combat force facing threat from a professional army.