Lucca

In January 1423, Venice's envoy arrived in Florence, and the two sides formally signed an agreement to jointly declare war on Milan.

Venice's decision bolstered Florence's confidence. The Gonfaloniere persuaded the council to impose an additional consumption tax and form an expeditionary army to march north into the war.

Northern Italy was wealthier than any other part of Europe. With war looming, mercenaries from every corner flocked in, intending to make a killing while the chance lasted.

Vitus flipped through the mercenary roster. Its members came from complicated backgrounds: besides Italians, there were wandering knights from France, bankrupt farmers and miners from Germany, nomads from the Hungarian steppes—the Cumans—as well as mercenaries from Poland, the Balkans, and Iberia.

He found Pauli, who was gathering military supplies. "Is the expeditionary army made up entirely of mercenaries? Aren't we planning to recruit local civilians?"

Pauli closed his ledger and explained patiently:

"Last year, Milan invaded first. In that sort of emergency, we had the right to conscript militia, and the people would not resent it too much. This time, we're launching the attack. The duration of the campaign is uncertain—it could drag on for a year or two. Civilians all have their own work and families, and their willingness to fight is very low. We might as well spend money to hire others to fight for us."

At the beginning of March, Florence assembled an army ten thousand strong. Pauli was responsible for commanding three thousand of them. Phil also wanted to join the campaign, but was sternly forbidden. As Giulio put it, one of the two brothers had to stay home.

When the departure ceremony ended, the Gonfaloniere rode out through the north gate first on a magnificent snow-white Andalusian horse, escorted by the citizens lining the streets. Behind him came his many aides and one hundred Swiss Guards.

Further back marched four columns at a slow pace. Vitus rode beside Pauli, looking around. The army's armor coverage was decent; even the shabbiest mercenary knew to wear a kettle hat and pull on a chainmail shirt patched time and again.

As for weapons, the mercenaries came from all over Europe, yet they had all chosen polearms without prior agreement: pikes, halberds, war scythes, and pitchforks. They gleamed in one bright expanse beneath the sun, stabbing painfully at the eyes.

At that moment, Vitus spotted Master Conan. He wore a somewhat worn suit of plate armor and rode a packhorse. A one-handed hammer and dagger hung at his waist, a kite shield was strapped to his back, and the foot squire beside him was even carrying a halberd for him.

Most interestingly, a hand cannon was stuck into his saddle.

Vitus was utterly speechless. "He's a swordsmanship master in name, yet on the battlefield he wears the thickest plate armor and equips himself with a halberd and every kind of weapon—except for the sword that made his name."

After leaving Florence, the army followed an ancient Roman road northwest and reached Pistoia on the border.

Further west lay the border of the Republic of Lucca. This country had only one city, Lucca, making it the most typical sort of city-state republic. During this campaign, Florence planned to swallow up this rich yet weak neighbor along the way.

On March 7, the expeditionary army camped at a village ten miles east of Lucca. Vitus attended the banquet under the false identity of "Anthony Doukas" and was seated at the edge of the hall.

He did not care about the seating order. He ate a little at random and listened to the boasting and conversation of the army's upper ranks.

Late that night, after the banquet ended, Vitus did not rest immediately. Holding a torch, he inspected the artillery camp.

He commanded twenty-five cannons: eight Three-Pounders, twelve new Serpent Cannons, and five heavy siege guns. Every cannon was covered with waterproof canvas and lined up neatly in the open ground.

Florence had also collected many Ribauldequins, each made of more than twenty gun barrels arranged side by side, resembling the church instrument—the organ. Once ignited, all the barrels fired together, producing an effect similar to the grapeshot of a Three-Pounder.

This weapon had flaws: its lethal range was only a little over a hundred meters, and it could not damage houses or fortifications. Vitus did not consider them artillery at all, but a special kind of firearm, so he simply distributed them among the infantry regiments to lighten his own burden.

"Tomorrow's siege won't give the Three-Pounders much to do. The Serpent Cannons can bombard the battlements and towers, while the siege guns are suited to smashing the walls. Hah... I hope everything goes smoothly."

At noon the following day, the army finally reached Lucca's outskirts. Vitus surveyed the surroundings, then spurred his horse toward a windmill on a nearby slope.

"Get out of here, quickly! There's going to be a war!"

He tossed a Florin to the terrified miller's family, climbed the windmill ladder, and observed Lucca's defenses.

Overall, Lucca was shaped like an irregular oval. Its walls stood roughly eight meters high and possessed numerous square towers, making them typical medieval city walls.

"Medieval walls only prioritize height, and their thickness is generally two to three meters. With artillery becoming widespread, this kind of wall is obsolete. The design must be improved, the walls made thicker..."

In only a few minutes, he sketched a map of the city, marking its main streets and a handful of buildings. Then he rode back to the ranks. "Where will the main attack be?"

Pauli shook his head. "Don't be in such a hurry. Lucca's envoy is negotiating with the Gonfaloniere. There's a strong chance this can be settled peacefully. Lucca has only twenty thousand residents in the city, while its remaining forty thousand farmers are scattered throughout the countryside. They have no standing army either. Their only way to survive is to abandon resistance."

More than ten minutes later, the envoy returned to the city. Learning that Florence was determined to annex Lucca, the council members were both shocked and enraged. They had never imagined that when Milan, Venice, and Florence went to war, Lucca would become the first sacrifice. Why should it be them?

After a brief discussion, Lucca's city council decided to hold out and await reinforcements, doing everything possible to delay for time until the Duchy of Milan sent troops to aid them.

"Have these silk merchants lost their lives?" Pauli was stunned by the locals' resolve. "Your Highness—no, Anthony Doukas, it's your turn now."

With the negotiations broken down, the infantry and cavalry began building the siege camp. They pitched camp on a gentle slope one kilometer from the city walls. Soldiers in groups carried axes into the forest. The clanging of axe blades against tree trunks startled great flocks of birds, which scattered in every direction, leaving chaotic ink strokes across the gray sky.

Vitus had four hundred men under his command: three hundred gunners, sixty grooms, ten masons who polished stone shot, and thirty laborers.

The position he selected stood two hundred meters from the city wall. The artillerymen's first task was to level the ground and build gun emplacements. The soldiers swung their hoes like farmers tilling fields, turning over the dark-brown earth.

After working for some time, the soldiers used draft horses to pull the Serpent Cannons into position. Vitus set the nearest tower as the first target. As his raised arm chopped downward, the whole world seemed to freeze in that instant.

"Fire!"

The fuses hissed like venomous snakes flicking their tongues, then transformed into a furious roar that tore heaven and earth apart.