Victory Amidst Chaos

Piero tugged at the beard on his chin, his tone hesitant, "Asking the brothers to give up looting—that's going to be a bit difficult."

Vitus: "What is there even left to grab in this situation? If we push it too far, we'll invite a pincer attack from the militia and the Milan army. If we don't even keep our lives, what's the point of all this money?..."

After a brief discussion, the mercenary captains accepted Vitus's battle plan. Piero, skilled in small-scale infantry combat, was tasked with rescuing the magistrate, while the main force would move along the city walls, capturing control of the east, north, and west walls in a counter-clockwise direction.

"Understood. Wait for my good news."

Piero's Rotten Herring mercenary company consisted largely of fishermen. Having long subsisted on fish, their night vision was far superior to that of ordinary men. He gathered his three banner captains and numerous company commanders, briefly outlining the orders, "Everyone clear? Start the operation!"

To keep the formation tight, Piero deliberately placed his junior officers on the flanks. Even so, a few soldiers slipped out of line, taking advantage of the chaos to vanish into the side alleys.

Suddenly, the sound of chaotic footsteps echoed from the street ahead. Soon, the two forces collided unexpectedly at a narrow corner. The moon was swallowed by dark clouds, and only sporadic torches flickered in the darkness, casting swaying shadows against the towering stone walls on either side.

"Charge! We outnumber them!"

Hearing Piero's command, the Rotten Herring mercenary company seemed like a giant beast awakening; after a moment of shock, they erupted with a deafening war cry.

Relying on a two-to-one numerical advantage, Piero routed the enemy. He took a headcount and found that the Rotten Herring mercenary company was down to seven hundred men. The recent skirmish had caused over a hundred casualties, and by that logic, dozens more had taken the opportunity to desert.

"A bunch of good-for-nothings."

After cursing, he marched north along the main road until another force appeared ahead. These Milanese soldiers had built a makeshift low wall out of carriages, wooden planks, and debris, with crossbowmen stationed on the rooftops on both sides—hardly suitable for a frontal assault.

Piero ordered a halt to rest and sent men to find Vitus for reinforcements. About twenty minutes later, the reinforcements he had been longing for arrived, though there were only fifty of them.

Vitus lifted his visor, "We ran into a large enemy force at the north wall. The situation is chaotic, and all units are tied up. I could only bring two cannons to help you."

The gunners pushed the three-pounders to the front of the line, aimed at the barricade a hundred meters away, and fired five consecutive rounds of solid shot, followed by a round of grapeshot.

Seeing this, Piero's soldiers swarmed forward, routing the defenders behind the barricade before rushing into the houses on either side, climbing the stairs to the upper floors to kill the annoying crossbowmen.

"Forget them! Move this obstructive junk out of the way!"

Vitus had his soldiers clear a path and pushed the three-pounders forward. Occasionally, scattered enemies hiding in the shadows would fire arrows; one bolt struck his shoulder, but it failed to pierce his plate armor, leaving only a scratch.

As the terrain rose, the group finally arrived at the Casella Eladore estate. At this moment, the two gates of the courtyard were wide open. Inside and outside, corpses were strewn everywhere, and the air was thick with the stench of blood.

Vitus drew his sword and charged into the banquet hall, but there wasn't a living soul to be seen. He had his men check the bodies one by one; among them were many scions of noble Florence families.

"Medici, Auditore... this is a massive disaster. How am I supposed to explain this to Albizzi when he returns home?

Wait, this is the body of the estate owner, Casella Eladore. Why is he dead too? Could it be that he wasn't involved in this conspiracy and was just plain unlucky?"

The soldiers searched the area but found no sign of the magistrate Albizzi or Paoli. Based on the traces left by the fighting, their escape route appeared to be toward the east.

Vitus ordered Piero to assemble his troops, but he could only muster fewer than six hundred men. The rest were busy looting nearby mansions, having no interest in answering to their own mercenary captain.

"Forget it, leave them for now!"

Vitus followed the trail of corpses eastward. A few minutes later, the sounds of fighting ahead grew clearer. A large group of Milanese soldiers was surrounding a towering stone tower. They had dismantled nearby houses and were using a sturdy roof beam as a battering ram, with over twenty men frantically slamming it against the door.

"I hope I haven't come to the wrong place."

Vitus used his cannons to scatter the enemy, then shouted his identity toward the tower. Soon, a figure appeared at an upper window, and Paoli shouted excitedly, "You finally made it!"

The wooden door at the base of the tower slowly opened. Master Conan emerged first, covered in blood. His plate armor was covered in scratches; he held a shattered heater shield in his left hand and an iron hammer stained dark red in his right. He radiated such a murderous aura that the mercenaries outside instinctively cleared a path.

Following him, twelve members of the guard emerged, supporting one another, followed by the magistrate Albizzi, Paoli, and four Florence nobles.

"No one else?"

Vitus's heart sank. He escorted the group eastward to rendezvous with the main force and found a tower with a clear view to observe the battle.

Because of the dim visibility, both Milan and Florence struggled to control their mercenaries. Especially at the edges of the battlefield, the low-ranking soldiers had no desire to risk their lives; they were far more interested in leaving the front lines to plunder the wealthy districts for extra coin.

Fortunately, Florence had the numerical advantage and eventually routed the Milanese army, seizing the vital North City Gate. By four in the morning, they had also captured the west gate of Genoa. The outcome was decided.

After dawn, the fighting that had lasted all night gradually subsided. Albizzi ordered the mercenaries to garrison the walls and notified the surviving local nobles to meet at Saint George Palace to discuss how to deal with the mess.

At eight in the morning, Vitus entered the Saint George Palace in the south of the city—the de facto "national bank" of Genoa—while yawning.

Having endured the civil war the day before and the battle last night, this magnificent building had been ransacked. Tables, chairs, tableware, carpets, and curtains had been carried off, and even the window glass had been pried out. With no other choice, Albizzi had soldiers bring in over forty wooden barrels used for storing salted fish, and the group sat on the barrels to hold their meeting.

The primary topic of the meeting was shifting blame.

Last night, fifteen high-ranking officials from Florence had attended the banquet, but only six survived. The nine dead were members of various great families, and Albizzi had to deflect the blame, or his political career would be over.

The Genoese avoided this topic, turning instead to discuss the looting from the night before, which drew a sharp retort from Paoli Di Maggio:

"The city is in total chaos. Aside from the Milanese and Florence mercenaries, the local militia were also grabbing things, and they knew exactly where to go—their looting efficiency was far higher than the mercenaries'. Listen clearly: it was the Genoa nobles who colluded with the Milanese army to murder us guests who came to the banquet. Even if we let the Roman Curia adjudicate this, the right is on our side..."