Silk

The shrill whistling of stone projectiles slicing through the air made the defenders on the ramparts instinctively shrink their necks. A moment later, eight projectiles veered off target, landing deep within the city, while the remaining four slammed into the towers, sending stone shards spraying like rain.

"Take cover!" The captain's shout was drowned out by the roar of the impacts.

Soon, the second volley followed, striking the towers again and shrouding the nearby walls in a cloud of gray-white dust. The defenders fired arrows at the artillery positions in vain; the shafts fell limply at the edge of their maximum range, achieving nothing.

After several rounds of bombardment, the towers were rendered unrecognizable. By now, the heavy siege cannons had been positioned, with draft horses straining to drag them into place. The stone projectiles were so heavy that two gunners had to heave them together, struggling to shove them into the barrels.

Will this thing explode?

Vitus observed the five cannons with their short, thick barrels and massive propellant charges. Feeling uneasy, he followed the gunners into the trench in front of the position to avoid being caught in a potential blast.

He covered his ears and roared at the top of his lungs: "Fire!"

The massive stone projectiles surged out of the barrels. One struck the arrow slit in the middle of a tower with precision. Through the rising dust, the internal structure of the tower was visible, with broken wooden beams jutting out like fractured ribs.

The bombardment continued. Upon reaching a critical point, the tower swayed slightly before beginning to tilt, much like a drunkard struggling to maintain his balance.

Soon, cracks spread from the base upward, and the twelve-meter-tall square tower began to disintegrate. The battlements at the top collapsed first, with giant stones cascading down like a waterfall. Then, the main body of the tower followed, collapsing in a deafening roar and kicking up dust that blotted out the sky. Even the artillery positions outside the city could feel the earth tremble.

As the dust gradually settled, the grim state of the ruins was exposed in the twilight. The gunners paused their fire, using mops dipped in water to clean the barrels while waiting for them to cool.

With night falling, Vitus ordered the gunners to drag the heavy cannons back to camp to prevent the defenders from launching a night sortie to destroy these precious siege engines.

Late that night, the magistrate Albizzi summoned Vitus to ask for a specific timeline for the city's fall.

The latter lifted the tent flap and pointed toward the city a kilometer away. "I asked the local residents. To save money, the Lucca city council didn't rebuild the walls; they just kept heightening the ancient Roman fortifications. It looks intimidating, but its defensive capability is poor. A week at most, four days at least, and I will breach this wall."

Vitus guessed correctly. By the morning of the fourth day, a section of the Lucca wall could no longer bear the strain; earth and stone slid down, creating a gentle slope about twenty meters wide.

As the dust cleared, an envoy carrying a white flag walked toward the magistrate, accepting all previous terms and agreeing to pay an indemnity of 100,000 Florin.

Albizzi remained on horseback, looking down at the envoy. After a long silence, he reached up to smooth his white hair, which had been ruffled by the cold wind. "Annual taxes will increase by twenty percent. Each family must send one heir to Florence for education. The indemnity is increased to 200,000 Florin. All other terms remain unchanged."

With the city on the verge of falling, the locals were forced to accept the proposal. The mercenaries, however, began to clamor and stir; they had been looking forward to entering the city to earn some extra coin, but now that the employer was forcing a halt, how could they stand for it?

The dissatisfaction spread to the artillery positions. Vitus wisely kept his mouth shut, turned, and walked to the edge of the grass, taking out a charcoal pencil and white paper to sketch the ruined walls of Lucca.

Before the sketch was even a third finished, Albizzi issued an emergency order to distribute 100,000 Florin as a bonus to the men, defusing the sudden mutiny.

Over the next few days, the coalition forces rested in Lucca. With nothing to do, Vitus took a few subordinates to stroll through the city.

A thousand years later, the street layout of Lucca still maintained the grid pattern of the Roman era. Local wealthy families had a tradition of building towers to showcase their status and fortune. Most striking was the Guinigi Tower, which stood over thirty paces (45 meters) tall, with a lush oak tree growing at its very peak.

In the city center stood an ancient circular amphitheater, its interior filled with numerous merchant stalls, effectively becoming a bustling public market.

"The city is full of silk workshops and dye houses. Is Albizzi unwilling to engage in urban street fighting because he fears destroying this most important silk production center in the Mediterranean?"

Vitus picked up a bolt of silk from a stall and rubbed the texture on the surface. It felt relatively coarse, far inferior in quality to the silk originating from the East. Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind:

In the 18th century, artillerymen were accustomed to using silk as propellant bags. Compared to cotton or linen, silk left very little ash after burning, consuming itself almost entirely and making it less likely to clog the barrel. Furthermore, the surface of silk was smooth with minimal friction, which made loading faster and smoother.

That night, Vitus went to the Palazzo to attend a banquet. The banquet hall was brightly lit, with glass chandeliers from Venice hanging from the dome. Hundreds of whale-oil candles burned quietly, musicians on both sides played soothing music, and the long table was laden with various sumptuous dishes.

The atmosphere was noisy; the elite of Florence were busy exchanging interests and discussing cooperation with the dignitaries of Lucca. Vitus found a moment to approach Albizzi and requested a batch of silk to make propellant bags.

It was the first time the latter had heard of such a strange use, and he suspected the man was embezzling silk. Fortunately, the magistrate was in a good mood and couldn't be bothered with such trifles.

"I agree."

After dismissing Vitus, the magistrate continued to drink and make merry. Not long after, a suspicious-looking man requested an audience outside the hall. Impatient, the magistrate walked to a small side room to ask what the man wanted.

"Lord Albizzi, I come from the Republic of Genoa, representing the Eladore and Spinola families. I request that you expel the influence of the Duchy of Milan from Genoa."

Genoese?

The magistrate opened the letter, involuntarily recalling the shifting situation in Genoa.

Over forty years ago, Genoa was defeated by Venice, losing its qualification to contend for the Mediterranean, and the domestic situation had been volatile ever since. In 1396, some Genoese nobles invited King Charles VI of France to serve as ruler. Seventeen years later, tired of the governors sent by France, Genoa expelled the French influence through a civil war.

However, the chaos continued. By 1421, another small group of nobles, seeking stability, invited the Duke of Milan, Filippo Maria Visconti, to rule Genoa.

After reading the letter, the magistrate leaned back in his chair, lost in a long deliberation of interests.

After capturing Lucca, the original plan was to cross the Apennine Mountains from south to north and join forces with Venice in the Po Valley, then march together into the heart of Milan.

If they were to aid Genoa, the expeditionary force would need to change its route: advancing northwest along the coastline. The risks were greater, but the potential rewards were even higher.