Unification War (8): Why Angelos Chose to Hold the Line
Angelos had opted for a holding tactic for one simple reason: it was the best choice a seasoned field commander like him could make. With no proper harbor, they couldn't deploy their full naval strength. On top of that, being outnumbered by the noble faction made any aggressive push suicidal. A defensive strategy that preserved their forces as much as possible was far more effective. Hold out, minimize losses, then launch a massive counterattack once the emperor arrived. That was Angelos's ultimate strategic goal.
Of course, achieving it hinged on one crucial precondition.
"His Majesty must seize Nicomedia and reach us within a week."
Angelos muttered to himself. As he said, this was a tactic laser-focused on the counteroffensive. Fail to strike back in time, and collapse was inevitable—not total annihilation, but mounting casualties would blunt their edge even if they rallied later. Angelos's army could hold for a week at most. If Rogerius didn't capture Nicomedia, secure the rear, claim a harbor, and join them within that window, the plan crumbled.
"I'd send a scout to check, but..."
Angelos trailed off. The distance was too great; even dispatching a rider to scout Nicomedia and return would take over a week. The emperor's forces had to arrive before any report came back. And with every man counting, wasting one on reconnaissance was pointless.
"We hold on faith alone."
Faith in the emperor—or more precisely, in the Rogerius he'd known long before the crown. Back when Angelos served as aide to Lord Manuel, he'd heard tales of the Varangians who seized Byzantine Reggio Calabria. Punishing them was his mission, and that's how he first met Rogerius at sea.
Their initial encounter was rocky. But as Rogerius racked up feats in the Bulgarian and Georgian wars with his unmatched prowess, Angelos found himself drawn to the man. He turned the impossible possible, wrought miracles. Having witnessed those miracles up close as a comrade, Angelos's faith in him was unshakable. Rogerius was the man who delivered. The one who made miracles real.
"I believe in miracles. No—in the emperor."
Angelos rose from his seat. Staring at the map, he murmured softly,
"Until then, I'll do my part."
His duty, his responsibility. Angelos owed it to the trust Rogerius had placed in him. Steel resolve hardened in his eyes. Just then, the tent flap burst open as his aide rushed in.
"General! The enemy is attacking again!"
They'd finished setting up camp after landing.
"The big push begins now. Signal the whole army to prepare for battle."
"Yes, sir!"
As the aide dashed out, Angelos stood, buckled on his sword, and strode from the tent with grim determination. Raising his voice, he bellowed,
"His Majesty comes soon! Warriors of Rome!"
Fists shot skyward in response to Angelos's cry.
"For the Emperor!"
"For Rome's glory!"
"For His Majesty's eternal glory!"
Morale pierced the heavens. Angelos pointed his sword at the enemy lines.
"Fulfill your duty until His Majesty arrives!"
Even as he spoke, noble faction soldiers surged toward the barricades. Angelos's troops thrust spears, slashing at the foe.
* * *
The battlefield raged fierce. Amestrius, the noble faction's commander, clicked his tongue at the unyielding lines of Rogerius's army.
"Unbelievable."
Even accounting for terrain advantages, the enemy was hopelessly outnumbered—yet they held the high ground with unbreakable spirit.
"Sir, they're not budging. At this rate, our losses will mount."
His aide's report. Amestrius pondered briefly.
"Supply status?"
"We can hold about a week."
"How long for reinforcements from Constantinople?"
"Around two weeks."
"Supplies are the issue."
This was a war of attrition they couldn't win. Better to commit everything and smash through.
"Throw in the full force."
"Sir! Our casualties will—"
"Delayed supplies mean inevitable defeat. Breaking them comes first."
The commander's logic rang true. Without supplies, combat effectiveness would erode fast. The aide nodded.
"Orders to all units for attack."
Amestrius nodded in reply.
"If they won't bend, we'll break them."
He clenched his fist. Infantry charged without thought of retreat, trampling their own fallen to inflict wounds on Angelos's men. The outnumbered defenders began to crack.
"East flank's breached!"
"Shield wall—form up here!"
As barricades crumbled, Angelos's soldiers raised shields into an artificial barrier. But unlike wooden structures, they were living men—speared and slain. Wave after wave of noble troops overwhelmed them.
"Damn it! We can't hold!"
"Wh-what do we do?!"
Chaos gripped the enemy. Amestrius seized the moment.
"East flank's broken—they're in disarray! Focus everything there!"
Noble soldiers swarmed. The east line teetered on collapse.
"Don't retreat! His Majesty is coming!"
But as one man brandished his sword and roared, the line miraculously solidified.
"Hold! Hold!"
"Yeah! Just a bit longer!"
Amestrius eyed the sword-wielding figure.
He knew instantly: that was their general, Angelos.
"Leading from the front to rally them. A true master."
Most commanders retreated at a breach, lest the assault reach headquarters. Not Angelos. Crisis called, and he charged ahead, inspiring his men. His troops, in turn, fought harder to match him.
"But they'll break eventually."
Amestrius prepared the next assault. All firepower hammered the east. Angelos barely held.
But numbers favored Amestrius; a second barrage formed swiftly.
"They stopped the first on momentum alone. The second will finish them."
Luck strikes once, not twice. The east teetered again. Amestrius's certainty was natural.
Second assault ready. At his aide's word, Amestrius slashed his sword downward.
"Attack again!"
"Raaagh!"
"This time we shatter them!"
Elated noble troops gnashed teeth and charged, heedless of the rugged hill. Victory beckoned if they pierced the east.
As the barrage hit, Angelos suddenly drew a flute and blew.
Piiiiiiiiirrr
His army withdrew in perfect order. To the noble soldiers, exhausted from scaling the ridge, it was baffling. Amestrius felt it too—but as commander, he snapped to.
"Their lines broke in retreat! Pursue—no hesitation!"
Catching a routed foe inflicted massive casualties. Amestrius pressed the chase.
Yet few obeyed. They'd already hauled heavy gear uphill, swung swords with all their might. The second climb drained them utterly. Exhausted men couldn't pursue.
Angelos's troops withdrew unscathed. Somehow, they'd formed a new line at a secondary position, ready to defend.
"Cowards. But we've crested the hill—you're done."
Amestrius ground his teeth. Without terrain edge, numbers favored the nobles utterly.
They paused, letting troops recover breath while awaiting counter chances.
"Stamina's recovering, sir."
"Good! Full advance! Time to annihilate."
Amestrius encircled with superior numbers. The enemy's fall was moments away.
Suddenly, Angelos dismantled defenses. His lines parted center, as if awaiting someone.
The bizarre maneuver. Then the reason dawned.
"His Majesty has arrived!"
Angelos's shout. With it, hundreds of cavalry thundered forth.