Theme Lazica (1)
In an instant, Ioannis had pushed Asakios into a desperate defensive position. If he pressed the attack relentlessly, this was the perfect opportunity to shatter the forces responsible for the East Romans' right flank. But the East Romans weren't about to sit idly by. Manuel dispatched troops to rescue Asakios from the brink of disaster. Asakios withdrew in response, and Ioannis, unable to pursue further, had no choice but to pull back as well.
"The enemy commander is the problem," Ioannis muttered to himself, staring at the map.
The war to reclaim Georgia's territories. Under orders from King Giorgi I, Ioannis had taken command as supreme commander and led his forces in an offensive into the Trebizond region. Georgia held a numerical advantage. This allowed them to claim victory on the battlefield time and again, but they were hollow triumphs in name only. They had failed to achieve their true objective: reclaiming lost land. Despite these victories, the goal remained unfulfilled—and that was entirely due to the enemy general.
"Manuel Erotikos Komnenos..."
The man known as the emperor's right hand. A legendary general who had supported the emperor from his youth and traversed countless battlefields. He was no easy opponent. He had a fox-like knack for turning strategic defeats into tangible gains. It was enough to infuriate Ioannis.
"I need to force a decisive battle, one way or another."
Ioannis had heard the rumors too: the war between East Rome and Bulgaria was over. All that remained were minor military actions like sending troops to occupied territories for disarmament—nothing that signaled any major shift in forces. Once security was established, that massive army would come pouring into Georgia. Ioannis couldn't afford to waste any more time.
Just then, his aides filed into the command tent. They had gathered late at night at his summons.
"Is everyone here?"
"Yes, sir."
"All present as ordered."
Ioannis nodded at their responses and pointed to the map. He had ordered a survey the moment they arrived. Every detail—mountains, valleys, hills—was meticulously recorded. It was a near-perfect map, made possible by his refusal to neglect scouting even amid ongoing battles. Information was power in war, and Ioannis had prepared his trump card with this map.
"We're launching a night raid tonight."
The mention of a night raid stirred murmurs among the aides. One ventured a cautious objection.
"The troops are exhausted from today's battle. A rash night attack could leave us vulnerable to a counterstrike."
Night raids weren't invincible or foolproof. They could exploit enemy gaps for devastating surprise attacks, but the attackers faced severe limitations in visibility and movement too, often suffering heavy losses themselves. From the assaulting side, morale, stamina—everything had to be considered.
"The prolonged war has already pushed everyone's stamina to the limit. But the morning's battle has our troops' morale through the roof. We'll capitalize on that."
Ioannis's argument rang true. Everyone on the front lines was worn down after so long. Rather than dragging out this back-and-forth stalemate, they needed a bold plan to break through. The other aides nodded in agreement.
"We fully support the commander's view. However, most of our forces are infantry, so mobility could be an issue for a night raid."
Georgia's terrain was predominantly mountainous. Cavalry was hard to raise or maintain, leaving infantry as the bulk of their army. These hardy foot soldiers, forged in rugged lands, overwhelmingly dominated East Roman forces in frontal clashes. But that strength applied mainly to melee combat. In night raids, where mobility and limited visibility were key, infantry had glaring weaknesses.
"Mobility aside, we can't ignore the risk of our rear being exposed."
With restricted night vision, the rear was vulnerable. They could handle enemy infantry, but fast-moving cavalry striking from behind would be nearly impossible to counter.
"Valid points, all of them. But no need for excessive worry."
Ioannis, as if anticipating these concerns, read from a scout's report.
"Manuel's forces have only 200 cavalry. And even those have been battered in recent defeats against us— they're barely operational."
Manuel's masterful command had minimized East Roman losses. But even strategic retreats accumulated damage. Especially since Manuel had frequently deployed cavalry to cover for Asakios's blunders on the right flank. His cavalry card was now effectively unplayable.
"That said, I'm not dismissing the possibility of them trying to flank our rear with whatever cavalry they have left."
Ioannis pointed to a spot on the map—a rugged area where flanking attacks would be difficult.
"We'll move here and hit them with the raid."
"The terrain's too rough for their cavalry to strike our flanks."
"Exactly. Even if they spot us, they'd have no choice but a frontal charge."
"Circling to our rear would require navigating the sides—too constrained."
It was terrain that would delay any hasty enemy reinforcements. To counter it, they'd have to take an absurdly long detour. But night vision issues made that nearly impossible for the East Romans too—unless they dropped from the sky.
The plan was flawless. Everyone's faces lit up with premature victory.
"Prepare all troops for battle!"
At Ioannis's shout, the Georgian army sprang into frenzied action.
"It's quieter than I expected..."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
The sentries yawned while standing watch, torches in hand, waiting for the next shift.
"Don't those Georgians ever get tired?"
"Beats me."
The two grumbling soldiers cared less about the war's outcome than getting home soon. The prolonged conflict had worn them down to that.
"Wish there was a way to wrap this up quick."
"If that guy just does his job right."
They all knew who "that guy" was: Asakios. Manuel's eldest son, field commander of the defensive army, in charge of the right flank. But he had a poor reputation among the troops. Strict on discipline, he never overlooked sloppiness. To the soldiers, he came off poorly—a talented general twisted in their eyes by ambition and occasional blunders.
"You see the shieldbearers panic?"
"Today's fight alone tells you everything."
Objectively, Asakios had responded optimally. Shield walls backed by spearmen was textbook defense. He hadn't erred; if anything, Ioannis was the freak for spotting and exploiting the gap so swiftly. But with Asakios's bad rep, the troops blamed him for the morning's defeat.
As they vented about the command staff, three torches approached slowly from near the tents.
"Next shift's here."
"Time to crash. Yawn."
Relaxing and turning to leave—then a cold voice cut from the darkness.
"Halt, all of you."
Asakios's sudden appearance startled them like encountering the grim reaper. They snapped to attention.
"S-sorry, sir!"
"You didn't verify if the approaching next shift was friend or foe. That's as good as inviting the enemy into camp for a massacre."
"W-we..."
"And were you authorized to lean weapons against walls or stakes during duty?"
Asakios pointed at a sentry's spear. The man scrambled to retrieve it. Meanwhile, Asakios checked their duty log and handed it to the incoming shift.
"From the first watch to now, no records of patrols, anomalies—nothing."
"N-no changes, so we didn't log..."
"Then you must've seen the broken stake at the entrance gate. Why isn't it here?"
"..."
"..."
"Dismissed. Expect proper discipline tomorrow morning."
The relieved sentries shuffled off. The next shift, witnessing it all, straightened up instantly.
"I trust there won't be a next time."
Asakios warned them sternly, then turned to leave—but paused, sensing something off. He looked back.
"S-sir?"
The sentry braced for a reprimand, eyes squeezed shut. But Asakios ignored him, strode past to the palisade, and peered into the woods.
"Something's wrong in the forest. Birds fluttering, trees shaking this late at night."
"Wild animals hunting, maybe...?"
"One of you stay and ring the alarm bell at my signal. The other, follow me."
A spearman grabbed his weapon and trailed Asakios. As the forest's rustling came into vague view, Asakios raised a hand, halting him.
"S-sir?"
"Enemy night raid! Fall back! Now!"
Asakios signaled frantically. The torches waved three times, and a waiting soldier pounded the alarm bell, shouting at the top of his lungs.