Unification War (5): The Aqueduct
The aqueduct was fundamentally part of a water channel system, built to carry water from reservoirs to where it was needed, spanning deep valleys like gorges. The aqueducts constructed in ancient Roman times were renowned for their durability. They were so sturdy that records exist of those built from the 1st century BC to the 4th century AD still in use as late as the 19th century. The secret to their strength lay in concrete and lead pipes. By Roman times, they had already developed concrete capable of supporting tall structures, and they installed lead pipes between these high buildings to supply fresh water to major cities. Rome possessed such unbelievable technology. Tragically, during the East-West schism, all this knowledge was lost, making it impossible to build any new aqueducts. The Eastern Romans fared no better. They knew how to make concrete, but without understanding its core components, they couldn't replicate the Roman formula—only something akin to modern pozzolanic concrete. Compounding the issue, lead pipes were mined in England and Hispania, then manufactured in Italy, so that craft vanished too. For these two reasons, the Eastern Romans simply maintained and repaired existing aqueducts rather than constructing new ones.
"The presence of an aqueduct here means..." But none of that mattered now. What counted was where this aqueduct led. Aqueducts generally supplied water to densely populated cities. The only major city nearby was Nicomedia—the modern-day Izmir. One of its ruins was precisely a Roman-era aqueduct. Of course, there was no guarantee this was the same one he'd seen in the modern world. To confirm exactly where the water flowed, he dispatched scouts. He summoned three Alan horsemen and issued his orders.
"Follow this aqueduct and find out where it leads."
"As His Majesty commands."
The horsemen set off along the aqueduct at his command. The Alans, experienced in the Caucasus Mountains, were ideal for navigating the gorges where the aqueduct ran. It didn't take them long to pinpoint the endpoint.
"Report: We've identified where the aqueduct connects."
"And where does it lead?"
"As Your Majesty predicted, straight to Nicomedia."
He couldn't help but cheer inwardly. Controlling the reservoir meant seizing the lifeline of a water-dependent metropolis. The reason medieval walls were considered invincible: thick fortifications that allowed a minimal garrison to repel attackers. Supplies inside were crucial for that. Cities with castles typically stockpiled water and food for sieges. Water was paramount. Without it, even vast stores of grain wouldn't last. Throughout history, nations staked their survival on protecting water supplies to their fortresses.
Yet the Dux of Optimatoi had left this vital strategic point undefended. Even if noble attacks had trapped him in the city, it didn't excuse his negligence. Whatever the case, it was a golden opportunity for them. If the enemy refused surrender, blockading the reservoir would force their hand.
"We can take Nicomedia with ease, Your Majesty," Chaur advised.
Rogerius nodded. "Volan and the other cities remain, but seizing Nicomedia's harbor linking to Thrace would let us reinforce Lord Angelos swiftly."
Angelos currently moved with the navy, supported by Halvar and Himerios commanding the fleet while backing the land forces. Medieval navies couldn't linger at sea indefinitely. They'd built a temporary pier near the coast as a base, but it was small and poorly supplied. Capturing Nicomedia changed everything. Its large harbor could accommodate many ships at once, streamlining logistics.
"We must take Nicomedia at all costs," Chaur said.
Rogerius nodded again. "More importantly, since establishing camp, how's the mercenaries' discipline?"
"We're using the lone warriors to drill regulations relentlessly."
"Maintain discipline without overdoing it—keep the mercenaries from burning out before battle."
Slack discipline eroded combat effectiveness; excessive rigidity fatigued troops prematurely. Balance was key.
"Understood, Your Majesty. What of the village?"
The village head had offered supplies, which they'd refused, earning the villagers' goodwill. That led them here, to the reservoir feeding Nicomedia. In a way, they'd contributed massively to the war effort. But great service or not, they couldn't be left unchecked. Villages always harbored spies or traitors. With access to army intelligence, the locals needed watching.
"Send a few soldiers to patrol the village under the guise of protection. Small enough not to alarm them."
With pre-battle preparations complete, they discussed strategy and tactics. Then the envoy to Nicomedia returned.
"Report to Your Majesty: The Dux of Optimatoi refuses surrender."
"How's the state of the outer walls?"
"They appear fully repaired—no breaches visible."
Nicomedia had swiftly mended its walls. Even siege engines would take time to breach them.
"So the Dux had reasons to refuse," Chaur noted.
The envoy nodded and continued. "Couldn't enter, but the wall guards looked high-spirited."
"And their food stores must be ample, Your Majesty," another soldier added.
The reports revealed why surrender was rejected: sturdy walls, ample provisions, solid garrison. The Dux could hold out. Without the reservoir, siege warfare would have dragged on. But now, they gripped the enemy's throat. No mercy for those spurning terms.
"Prepare for battle. Time to show them hell."
Inside Nicomedia's citadel, Dux Aperius trembled with unease.
"Surrendering to Rogerius might have been wiser."
His regret stemmed from a simple truth: he wanted no part in this war. Aperius craved neither territorial gains nor glory. He longed to live out his days peacefully on family lands. Unlike his father—who rose amid the empire's fractures after Basil II's death, forging a vast domain with resolute command—Aperius was cut from different cloth. He even envied Andronikos for yielding to Rogerius, now thriving as a rear-echelon bureaucrat.
Leadership held no appeal; stable administration did.
His subordinates berated such thoughts.
"You mustn't speak that way, my lord."
"Everyone relies on you alone. Stand firm."
"A... alright."
Their prodding sustained him, a leader without real power. Unlike his capable father, Aperius had grown soft. The veterans who'd hardened Optimatoi under the old Dux disdained him. Yet they served—bound by the late Dux's dying wish: protect my inadequate son. Those indebted to the father honored it with loyalty to the son. Aperius knew this well. Thus, he bowed to their demands in this unwanted war, lest his life be forfeit.
"Worry not, my lord," a staff officer said. "The walls your father reinforced and our stockpiles will hold for years."
Aperius nodded. "I trust you with the fighting. Military matters aren't my forte."
Delegating full authority acknowledged his ignorance—and had preserved Optimatoi against noble incursions. Subordinates respected this; they'd seen his lack of talent since boyhood.
As the war council wrapped, a guardsman approached Aperius.
"My lord, Emperor Rogerius advances on our walls with his army."
"R-Rogerius himself..."
Terror etched Aperius's face. The war-ender's fame was legendary; fearing him was natural. Unlike their shaken Dux, the staff remained unshaken.
"Just intimidation tactics."
"Even with siege engines, our walls won't fall."
"B-but he kicked down Georgia's sacred gate in one blow. With divine favor..."
The staff officer winced, then summoned attendants. "The lord seems exhausted from duties. Help him rest."
A de facto dismissal. Rude, but Aperius complied meekly.
With him gone, the staff officer took the Dux's seat. Generals straightened, eyes on him.
"Deploy archers on the walls and scouts beyond for contingencies."
Proper debate began: how to counter Rogerius's host.