Militia

Giulio's inquiry came through, "How does it feel?"

Vitus lifted his visor and replied with a smile, "Not bad at all. With the protection of this plate armor, I have no need to fear the enemy's crossbows. I thank you for your generosity."

At eight in the morning, the battle officially broke out. Over five hundred crossbowmen formed a loose formation and marched to within a hundred meters of the city walls. Immediately after, they used wooden poles to prop up door-sized shields, hiding behind them to fire at the defenders on the ramparts.

Things went exactly as Giulio had anticipated; the militia were in high spirits, trading shots with the mercenaries using their own crossbows. Some even grabbed hand cannons, gripping the wooden stock at the rear with their left hand while holding a slow match in their right, carefully using it to ignite the gunpowder.

Bang!

With a deafening roar, the muzzle spat out orange-red flames. The display was impressive, yet the militiamen failed to hit the enemy and were instead met with a scolding from their captain.

"Idiots! Unless the enemy charges within ten paces, don't use those hand cannons!"

At this stage, hand cannons lacked stocks and triggers, making it impossible for the shooter to aim from the shoulder. The accuracy was abysmal, suitable only for firing at heavily armored knights at point-blank range.

Memories of matchlock muskets flashed through Vitus's mind, but he kept his mouth shut, remaining behind the battlements to observe this medium-scale siege.

The battle lasted for half an hour. Once the besiegers had gauged the number and equipment of the defenders, they withdrew one after another. For the rest of the day, the Noose Mercenary Group did not attack, busy instead with felling trees to construct siege engines.

In the evening, Giulio invited Vitus to dinner.

Vitus speculated that for the next few days, the attackers would focus their energy on building scaling ladders and battering rams before launching a probing assault. If that failed to take the city, the sappers would begin digging mines, and the carpenters would start on more time-consuming siege towers and counterweight trebuchets.

"Digging mines?" Giulio set down his fork, curious. "Did the Ottomans use such tactics?"

Vitus replied, "Of course. To break through Constantinople, the Ottomans employed every method imaginable. During the siege, we buried ceramic jars in key areas inside the walls; by pressing our ears against them, we could clearly hear the sound of pickaxes striking underground in the distance, allowing us to pinpoint the enemy's tunnels.

Then, we would dispatch sappers to dig counter-mines, killing the enemy sappers in hand-to-hand combat, or flooding the tunnels, or burning sulfur..."

Hearing of this grand-scale battle, Giulio was shaken to his core. If Florence were to face a siege of that magnitude, he reckoned it would have fallen long ago.

The next day.

Outside the city, the noise was deafening. Most of the mercenaries were felling timber under the direction of craftsmen, while a small number were granted leave to head out in over a dozen squads to forage for grain, livestock, and cloth in nearby villages.

European armies of this era lacked a proper logistics system, and looting was a common occurrence. As columns of black smoke began to rise in the distance, Vitus remained calm, though Giulio's roar echoed in his ears.

"My newly acquired vineyard! One thousand Florin, just like that—gone. Damn those mercenaries."

It wasn't just Giulio; some of the militiamen were also cursing loudly. Vitus could only understand a few Italian words, such as "olive tree," "fig tree," and "pasture."

Amidst the curses of the defenders, they survived the second day in the howling cold wind.

At night, a faint red glow lit up the distant sky; the Noose Mercenary Group's looting spree continued. As mercenaries, this was the activity they looked forward to most.

Vitus returned to his quarters and sighed to himself, "War is like this. In a mere moment, it can destroy years of hard work. Bandits pass like a comb, soldiers pass like a rake. The Noose Mercenary Group is part soldier, part bandit; I fear this region won't recover its vitality for a decade."

On the third morning, Vitus climbed the stairs to the ramparts and saw another force appearing on the northern horizon. This force consisted of over a thousand mercenaries, followed by three massive Bombard cannons, each dragged by eight heavy draft horses, crawling slowly along the road.

This is bad!

The appearance of artillery would save the mercenaries the time needed to build trebuchets. The walls of Pistoia were of average construction and could not withstand the repeated bombardment of heavy siege guns; he feared they would not hold for long.

Soon, Giulio found Vitus. "Sir, when the Ottomans besieged you, did they use artillery? How did you deal with them?"

"Constantinople had two sets of walls. The inner wall was tall and sturdy; the enemy's artillery and trebuchets could not breach its defenses. But the stone walls of Pistoia are different."

Vitus's expression was grave. The inner walls of Constantinople were about five meters thick, with enough space atop them to mount Serpent Cannon. Here, the stone walls were only two meters thick, unsuitable for mounting artillery, leaving them to take the beating passively.

In the brief interval between their conversation, the mercenaries outside the city took up iron picks and, under the commander's orders, began constructing gun emplacements. Giulio was frantic, unconsciously addressing Vitus as "Your Highness."

"Your Highness, is there truly no other way?"

Vitus exhaled a puff of cold air, rubbing his chin in hesitation for a moment. "That batch of Serpent Cannon you have matches the specifications of the ones the Venetians sold us. I am familiar with their ballistic characteristics; perhaps we can use 'bracketing' to destroy the enemy's siege guns."

"Good. I will have my caravan hands follow your lead. As long as this method works, there will be a generous reward afterward."

Vitus did not refuse the offer but lowered his voice. "My identity is special. To avoid unnecessary trouble, please call me Anthony Doukas."

With that, he held up his thumb toward the outside of the city, measuring the distance to the gun emplacements.

"Two hundred meters. Within range."

Vitus then climbed to the top of the tower, looking down at the terrain within the city. He took out his notebook and quickly made revisions with a homemade charcoal pencil, finally discovering a suitable open space.

He closed the notebook and jogged all the way to Giulio's warehouse.

Eight Serpent Cannon were stored here, their barrels cast from copper ingots, the marks of the foundry craftsmen still visible on the breeches. He had the maids quickly fashion a few small flags and led the hands to move the cannons to the open ground.

Using nearby landmarks as references, Vitus pointed the muzzles toward a specific orientation and propped up the breeches with five wooden wedges.

He then looked to a clergyman who spoke Latin, having him translate word for word:

"I will guide your fire from the wall tower. Listen carefully: once I wave the small black flag..."

Vitus repeated the meanings of the various flag signals until his throat was parched. Confirming that everything was in order, he shouldered his heavy plate armor and walked back to the wall tower, panting.

Outside the city, the three siege guns reached their designated positions, and a large group of gunners were busy hauling stone shot and powder barrels, carrying out their final preparations.