The siege

Three days after the Tunisia Rebel Army besieged the Tunisia City from the north, west, and south.

Gazing at the magnificent Tunisia City, Zhemile coldly pointed to the Guard Corps ranks below. "Give the order: launch a general offensive!"

The melodious Bugle Call echoed for miles around, and more than a dozen rebel Phalanx, under the command of their respective officers, silently advanced slowly forward.

Koja, who was commanding the Guard Corps in defending the city, stood on a high ground in the west of the city, holding Telescope, frowning and muttering to himself:

"That cursed fire... Is this where the great Guard Corps is destined to end?"

In a normal confrontation, even if the rebels outnumbered him by a factor of two, he was confident he could defeat them.

However, the unexpected fire at the armory in the Tunisia City more than two weeks ago may have been arson committed by the Berbers in the city.

In short, more than 70% of the weapons in the armory were destroyed by fire.

The guards who had previously Guard Corps on returning to live in the Tunisia City were not allowed to bring their weapons into the city due to the assassination of Bey, and instead handed them over to be stored in the armory.

After the fire broke out, as many as half of the soldiers faced a lack of weapons and equipment.

At that time, rebel forces from various places successively won victories and began to converge on Tunisia City.

When the pampered lords of the Guard Corps in the city learned that the army was short of weapons, they absconded with their wealth to Tripoli or Egypt, which in turn affected their soldiers.

"In less than a week, there have been over a thousand deserters. These cowardly scumbags!"

Koja shook his head and sighed, "With the Guard Corps's accumulated strength over a hundred years, if they had resolutely and bravely suppressed the rebels, how could we have ended up in this situation where we are besieged in the city?"

"Pasha?" His adjutant, noticing his absent-mindedness, quickly whispered a reminder, "The enemy is approaching."

Koja nodded and casually waved his hand. "Fire."

"Yes, Pasha."

In front of the Tunisia Guard Corps's defensive line, a dozen or so cannons roared, and shells, with sharp whistling sounds, pierced into the ranks of the Indigenous Army.

"Ah--"

Amidst screams of agony, several bodies shattered by cannonballs were reduced to chunks of flesh and blood spraying everywhere, instantly throwing the already chaotic Indigenous Army ranks into even greater disarray.

Those Indigenous Army officers, who had not long ago been farmers and peddlers, desperately suppressed their fear, brandishing their Scimitar and shouting to their men, "Maintain formation!"

"Don't panic, and don't back down!"

"Don't just stand there, keep moving forward!"

Despite their efforts, the advancing column barely managed to keep up. However, the Guard Corps's cannons roared again.

In reality, these solid projectiles do not cause much casualties. Even if they hit the enemy formation directly at the best angle, they can kill at most ten or so people. In most cases, they take one or two lives, or even miss completely.

But the deafening roar of the cannons and the constant fear of being shattered by unseen shells severely tested the soldiers' willpower.

These untrained Indigenous Army completely lacked this ability.

After enduring four or five rounds of shelling, most soldiers began to turn and run away uncontrollably—especially those covered in blood and brains, who ran faster than anyone else.

After a barrage of scolding, the officer in charge of managing them realized he couldn't control them at all, so he also ran back along with them.

A few soldiers, in a moment of madness, would shout the names of prophets and the Lord and rush toward the enemy lines, ready to fight to the death, only to be met with a volley of fire from the Guard Corps.

Two days later.

Zhemile listened with a somber expression as the officer reported on the casualties, muttering under his breath, "More than 20,000 soldiers, over a dozen attacks, and not a single one managed to get within 50 paces of the enemy..."

He had thought that, like the previous battles, he would be able to quickly capture the Tunisia City. Unexpectedly, more than 400 people had died in the past two days, and he hadn't even touched the first line of defense of the Guard Corps.

"Cannons! Those damned cannons!" he suddenly roared through gritted teeth, "If we had cannons too, we could crush those Devil!"

Upon hearing this, an officer nearby stepped closer and whispered, "General, perhaps we could try asking Ishaq Pasha."

After becoming the leader of the rebels, the generous "Lord Zaganos" reverted to his original name and became Ishaq Pasha.

As dusk fell, the dim light caused both sides to temporarily cease fighting, and the soldiers returned to their Camp to prepare dinner.

Zhemile, accompanied by several key officers, arrived at the residence of the rebel leader, Ishaq Pasha.

"Cannons?" Ishaq frowned and shook his head. "These things aren't something you can just get your hands on."

Zhemile pleaded anxiously, "Pasha, the enemy's artillery poses a great threat to us. If we don't have equivalent weapons, I'm afraid it will be difficult to achieve victory. Please, you must think of a way..."

"Right now, only the France have cannons in all of Tunisia," Ishaq said thoughtfully, shaking his head. "However, this is a feud between us Tunisia and the Ottoman Guard Corps, it has nothing to do with them, and they might not be willing to offer help."

Zhemile immediately retorted, "How can this not concern them? We are all Roman Brothers of the same lineage; I believe they won't stand idly by!"

Several officers nearby nodded in agreement.

Ishaq seemed to be persuaded by them, and reluctantly said, "Alright then, let's try going to find our ' Roman Compatriots '."

"By the way, it would be best to invite Elder Alayi to go with us. His exceptional reputation should be of help."

"Okay, I'll go and beg him myself!"

The following day, a delegation of more than ten Tunisia natives arrived at the Royal Guard Legion ' base, where Berthier warmly received them.

Elder Alayi is now a religious leader among the Tunisia natives, having gained immense prestige and status during this uprising. Whether he wanted it or not, he is now firmly bound to the interests of the rebels and no longer cares about the prophecy made in his name.

Instead, he will now actively advocate for the interests of the rebels.

After he explained the difficulties they faced on behalf of the insurgents and asked for help from his "compatriots," Berthier replied with utmost sincerity, "Rest assured, gentlemen, we will do our utmost to help our compatriots in their suffering."

"It's not just cannons; I can also send officers to help you command the battle. I believe their experience will definitely come in handy."

This was also part of Joseph's plan: to make the Tunisia natives understand that the Guard Corps was not defeated by their own strength. Without the assistance of their "Roman Compatriots," they would not have been able to achieve victory.

Upon hearing this, Zhemile was immediately moved to tears and bowed deeply in gratitude. "We will never forget your kindness! We will never forget the help from our France compatriots!"

The accompanying officers and several of the most prestigious tribal Tribal Chief also bowed to Berthier, expressing their sincere gratitude again and again.

Tunisia City.

Two Royal Guard Legion Artillery Company had already set up six Eight-Pound Cannon in their designated positions, with Ammunition neatly arranged in rows not far behind them.

"Load!"

"Aim!"

Under the command of the gunners, the Artillery swiftly completed the firing preparations.

"Fire!"

With a deafening roar, six shells flew straight toward the Guard Corps's artillery position.

With the addition of the Royal Guard Legion's artillery, the battle situation immediately took a dramatic turn.

Although they had fewer cannons than the enemy, their Artillery was far superior to that of the Ottomans.

After several rounds of simple firing corrections, a shell accurately hit an enemy cannon more than 700 paces away.

The immense impact of the shell blew the cannon barrel off its mount, killing several Tunisia Artillery behind it, before it finally landed on rocks more than 20 Domi away. The cannon was deformed and rendered unusable.

As shells continued to fall near the Guard Corps's artillery positions, the Ottoman Artillery were so frightened that they scattered and fled without even bothering to move their cannons.

"Thank God!" Zhemile was overjoyed when he saw this through his Telescope. He turned to the officer beside him and said, "Give the order to prepare for a full-scale frontal assault!"

"It's probably inappropriate for you to launch such a hasty attack," the accompanying France officer immediately stopped him.

"Huh? So you mean?"

The France officer didn't explain much to Zhemile, but instead bypassed him and had his Orderly Officer issue a series of orders.

The Signal Flagmen kept waving their flags to relay orders, and the France mid-level officers at the front began to quickly mobilize the insurgent troops.

On the western front, a thin Infantry Line slowly approached the Imperial Guard Corps's position—without the threat of enemy artillery, they moved with much more stability.

At the same time, dozens of insurgent Column appeared on the south side of the Guard Corps's defensive line, rushing towards their flanks at great speed. The French Army Artillery also turned its guns around and began to bombard the Guard Corps's flanks.

"What are they trying to do?" Koja put away his Telescope, secretly surprised. The rebels had been on ceasefire for several days, so how come they suddenly started fighting with such discipline?

He quickly analyzed the situation and felt that the enemy forces in front were likely only there to hold them back, while the main attack was directed at his left flank.

He immediately turned to his adjutant and said, "Order Orhan's men to be moved to the left flank to strengthen the defenses."

"Yes, Pasha!"

Orhan's more than a thousand men, who had been in the frontal formation, received orders to quickly regroup and move to the left flank.

At that moment, a rebel army of four or five thousand men appeared on the right flank of the Guard Corps, forming Infantry Line of six ranks and slowly advancing towards them.

Koja was immediately alarmed, frowning as he muttered to himself, "These cunning fellows, it seems this is their main force!"

He immediately dispatched more than 500 men from the front, while also transferring half of the reserve corps to the right flank. He himself moved his command post to the north to facilitate command at any time.

However, the rebel Infantry on both flanks never managed to get within range of the battle. Instead, a cavalry unit of over three hundred men suddenly sprang out and, taking advantage of the confusion caused by the frequent troop movements of the Guard Corps's main force, quickly charged toward their Artillery positions.

Although these horsemen who formed the cavalry were completely ignorant of techniques such as formations and slashing, their horsemanship was still excellent.

They reached the Guard Corps's cannons with incredible speed and dismounted.

The leading officer, following prior orders, loudly commanded his subordinates:

"Mehmet, take your men and destroy the cannon! The rest of you, keep watch around, watch out for enemy Infantry!"

"Yes!"

More than forty soldiers immediately lined up around the cannon, holding up their Scimitar and standing ready. Another ten or so men surrounded the cannon, stuffing pre-prepared nails into the fuse and then hammering it down forcefully.

These nails were made of wrought iron and were extremely difficult to pull out. The cannon, with its fuse plugged, was instantly rendered useless.

After doing all this, they jumped back onto their Saddle Tax and sped back to their own Military Camp like the wind.

Several tens of minutes later, the rebel forces from all three directions retreated without engaging the Guard Corps. Only then did Koja finally receive a report from his men that his cannons had been destroyed by the rebels.

Zhemile was stunned by the command of the France officer—there was almost no direct fighting, casualties were negligible, and in just over half an hour, all the Guard Corps's cannons were destroyed!

This is practically comparable to the God of War Saladin [Note 1]!

If I had known we had such capable compatriots, would I have bothered giving orders myself? We might have driven the Guard Corps bandits out of Tunisia years ago!

If that France officer knew what he was thinking, he'd probably be a little embarrassed. These were just common tactics he used during training at the Paris Police Academy, simply rearranged to suit the battlefield situation, and he'd already been "deified" God of War...

After losing their cannons, the Guard Corps became extremely passive.

The rebels relentlessly bombarded them with artillery, causing relatively few casualties, but severely damaging morale. After all, anyone facing a situation where they could only take hits without being able to retaliate would find it difficult to maintain their composure.

Finally, after being ravaged by artillery fire for five days, Koja, before his morale was completely shattered, concentrated all his forces and launched a desperate breakout attempt against the rebels.

Meanwhile, the insurgents, under the orders of their France commanders, had already formed a very dense defensive formation.

Although these native soldiers were not militarily skilled, they could still fire their guns while standing still.

With their overwhelming numerical advantage and artillery support, they finally displayed bravery in the face of the enemy's fierce counterattack, driving them back with concentrated fire.

Behind the lines, the France officer, looking through his Telescope, also breathed a long sigh of relief.

He also prepared a reserve force of more than 3,000 men, just in case these new recruits were careless and the enemy broke through the defenses.

"It seems they can still be trusted." The officer smiled and turned to the Orderly Officer beside him. "Perhaps the enemy's attack is simply too slow."

After hearing the officer's words translated to him by the interpreter beside him, Zhemile quickly stepped forward and said with a respectful expression, "No, Your Excellency Pasha, I believe this is all thanks to your superb command skills!"

[Note 1] Saladin: Saladin ibn Ayyubid (1137-1193), a Kurd, was an outstanding medieval military and political leader and the founder of the Ayyubid Dynasty of Egypt. He is renowned in the Christ and Muslim world for his military talent and leadership in the Islam world's fight against the Crusaders. The West hailed him as a "chivalrous monarch"; the Egypt and Arabs bestowed upon him the honor of "national hero".