Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8: The Moldavian Expedition (2)
It was a perfect skirmish. The Polish army annihilated the Tatar vanguard through a cavalry raid.
The Tatar forces, numbering just over four thousand, were crushed without even putting up a proper resistance.
There were almost no escapees. Most survivors surrendered and became prisoners.
These Budjak Tatar forces were here for the purpose of reconnaissance and disrupting the rear. Since they weren't from the Ottoman main force, they weren't elites either. The state and quality of their weapons were mediocre, and their proficiency wasn't high.
At worst, they had almost no firearms. But like Tatars, the proportion of cavalry was high. If they hadn't been discovered, it was clear they would have made the Polish rear uncomfortable like a thorn stuck in the throat.
Jan III sighed with relief.
The Lord helped us.
"Well done, Jakub."
Jan III praised the Prince who led the first attack well. Jakub, whose only job today was to place a fork on a well-set table, accepted the praise somewhat awkwardly. Then Jan III looked for someone. The person he was looking for was standing a little behind Jakub. Passing by his side, he raised his arm nonchalantly and patted the Joseon Tatar's shoulder.
Jan III was able to learn quite a lot of information by interrogating the prisoners. He started the operation meeting.
"The enemy main force was not seen. It seems they still have no intention of coming out of the fortress."
"Unless they are fools, would they initiate a pitched battle against us?"
The Polish commanders spoke like that. The weakening Ottomans couldn't dare to defeat Poland in a pitched battle. At a glance, it sounded like proud words. But Jan III rubbed his temples with a groan.
According to the prisoners, it was clear that the Ottoman main force wouldn't move from the Kamieniec Podolski fortress nearby. Although it matched Jan III's thoughts, it was still a headache.
Kamieniec fortress was the best fortress in this region. It was a place Poland had built with great care. Before being taken by the Ottomans, it had considerable political standing even within Poland. That meant it was a safe fortress and a strategic point with high defensive power.
The fortress was the biggest obstacle in the current expedition. In fact, the military power of the Principality of Moldavia itself was terrible. The success or failure of the expedition depended on whether they could conquer this fortress or not.
Jan III thought the difference in numbers between Poland and the Ottoman forces inside the fortress wouldn't be that great. It would be over 20,000 at least. So a siege right now was impossible. The fortress was one thing, but looking at the state of the current Polish artillery corps, which was frustrating enough already, made it even more so.
Of course, since the main forces were all in Hungary to fight against the Habsburgs, they could win sufficiently if they engaged in a pitched battle well. But the Ottomans aren't fools either, so they won't respond to a pitched battle easily.
Engaging in a pitched battle with Jan III, called the Lion of Lechistan? It was an option even the Sultan or Pasha would decline with horror if they came personally.
"There is only one conclusion, we have to advance towards Iași."
Jan III, stroking his chin, looked at Jakub.
"Jakub, how is the work on the Duke and Boyars of Moldavia going?"
The Prince answered confidently.
"Since Your Majesty has already achieved victory, if we advance to Iași, the Duke will surrender on his own. If not, the pro-Polish faction inside the Principality will rise up. How could they stay still?"
"...Right, I believe in you."
Trying to hide his anxiety, he believed in his son who was making big promises. How hard had Jakub worked on the backdoor maneuvering against the Principality of Moldavia until now? And how much had he supported him?
"Druszkiewicz!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Stanisław Druszkiewicz answered.
"You lead some Winged Hussars and Cossacks to occupy Soroca. The Ottoman bastards in Kamieniec won't move, but we must prevent additional food and gunpowder from being given to them."
"I understand!"
Jan III thought for a moment, and soon gave him a slightly more specific instruction.
"Take Winged Hussar Park with you. He will be useful."
"Pardon...?"
Park? Who the hell is he?
Druszkiewicz as well as the audience buzzed. Jan III didn't explain any further and left the tent leaving the murmuring commanders behind.
That was the first appearance of 'Winged Hussar Park of Joseon origin' in the official records of the Polish Royal Family.
Principality of Moldavia. Capital Iași.
The current Duke of Moldavia, Constantin Cantemir, is seventy-eight years old. His health wasn't that good either, an old man who could die any day.
Of course, when he was young, he was a fairly capable soldier. Actually, he built up his military career while riding high on success until now.
But not only himself, no one thought he would rise to the position of the ruler of the Principality of Moldavia. He was ignorant outside of battle, and stupid. Since he became too old to battle now, the old man became truly incompetent.
But to the Boyars, he couldn't be a more appropriate candidate for Duke. An illiterate monarch who has some reputation but can't read books or write. If they can enthrone him and manipulate him as they wish, it would be an excellent choice.
Actually, Constantin Cantemir lived a life almost no different from a scarecrow until now. He moved like a reed as the Boyars wanted. Diplomacy was the same. He bowed to the Ottomans when they were strong, showed favor to the Tsar of Rus as soon as he knew the newly ascended Tsar was a formidable figure, and this time showed intention of submission to the monarch of Poland as Poland's attack approached.
For that reason, perhaps some Boyars might have seen this monarch as truly easy and stupid.
But they overlooked the insidiousness of this old man.
Being old means having survived.
Cantemir made a decision as soon as he heard the news that the Polish army defeated the Tatar army greatly once and was advancing south rapidly riding the momentum. It didn't matter if the world swore at him for being opportunistic. Rather than dying protecting noble honor, it was better to continue surviving dirty and ugly.
He knew the Polish King was frantic to pass down the throne to his son Jakub. Jakub even wrote a letter to him personally, promising to preserve his life and territory if he surrendered now. But Cantemir felt it was clear that the Principality title itself would be taken away.
Absurd talk. Although it was a title the Boyars put on him, it was his now. He could commit any act to remain as the Duke.
He plotted with pro-Ottoman Boyars and summoned other Boyars under the pretext of a meeting. Did the Duke finally make a decision? Polish Boyars entered the palace with expressions mixed with expectation. But what welcomed them were spears and swords.
"Kill them all!"
Aaaack!
The Boyars were brutally murdered. Massacring vassals in this way was tremendous tyranny. It was to the extent that political aftermath couldn't be handled. But Cantemir, who decided to survive uglily, committed the act first for his immediate safety. And then that night, he fled to the Ottoman army.
So when Jan III and his army reached Iași, only an empty shell remained.
"......"
Jakub looked around with a bewildered face.
Where is the Duke's submission? Where is the uprising of nobles promised if he fails? Where is the welcome?
The Nobles were looking at the Prince's back. Although no one spoke out, even that silence sounded like loud ridicule to Jakub. He staggered and dismounted from the horse.
"W...What the?"
Something was seen in the distance. Bodies of pro-Polish Boyars were hanging on roadside trees like dried meat. The results the Prince had worked so hard for disappeared overnight.
Jakub didn't know war. But diplomacy wasn't easy either. Stratagems were even more so. Actually, the Boyars didn't even get clear guidelines. How far to persuade the Duke, what the ultimatum is, and if everything goes wrong, how to raise an uprising; those kinds of detailed situations weren't discussed either. Therefore, this result right now was inevitable.
Jan III, who was watching this from behind, bit his lip. He knew it wasn't an easy task.
But shouldn't you do at least this much to become King?
Jan III thought the war might fall into an endless sticky quagmire now. It seemed like this expedition, which might be his last, would return as a miserable failure.
But at that moment. Why of all people did he come to the King's mind, and not anyone else?
In the era of wise rulers, promotion was made according to merit. Jeong-hun's commander was promoted. Although he was a human who tormented him and his comrades, he felt regretful perhaps because he grew attached to him in his own way. Jeong-hun also became a rank considered strictly an officer, although it was the lowest seat, a Second Lieutenant or First Lieutenant in modern terms.
Actually, Winged Hussars were people who could become officers anytime if they only established merit.
But a more precious opportunity arose. He didn't know what the King said exactly, but Jeong-hun became the guide leading the detached force led by Druszkiewicz.
They rode the Dniester River and advanced east. They also arrived at a point where the Kamieniec fortress was visible in the distance.
It's not a Star Fort which would be popular in full swing. But rather, it is well situated with natural canyons and rivers... Without the overwhelming superiority of artillery, it is close to impregnable.
Jeong-hun concluded so while observing the fortress. The city is protected by the canyon and river surrounding it. To approach that city, one has to break through the Kamieniec fortress constructed elaborately and solidly, which didn't look easy at all. Furthermore, it's not just riffraff but the Ottoman army directly stationed there.
Jan III didn't avoid the siege for no reason. It was a wise choice.
"How does it look? Is there a flaw?"
A voice was heard from beside Jeong-hun who was looking at the fortress with a telescope. It was the commander Druszkiewicz.
He was an experienced commander seasoned in war. But if asked if he is remarkably capable, unfortunately, he wasn't such a person. There were as many defeats gained as victories gained. There was almost no shining creativity. However, loyalty towards the King was blind. He was suitable to lead a detached force.
But Jeong-hun felt full of lingering attachment in this general's voice.
Don't tell me he wants to take that fortress?
Jeong-hun didn't know, but personally, Druszkiewicz had a lingering attachment to that fortress. During the war 5 years ago, Druszkiewicz had to lay siege to that castle. Eventually, he retreated holding back tears after failing.
The King didn't designate Druszkiewicz directly for no reason. It was clear he sent him to avenge the defeat since he knew the fortress and this vicinity well. At least he felt that way.
"With our troops, it's impossible."
No, impossible. Jeong-hun concluded so. Five thousand of the detached force is fewer than the enemies. Physically, mathematically impossible.
Druszkiewicz knew this too. He smacked his lips and turned the horse's head.
"Anyway, there is a harvest. As expected, the enemies are moving supplies through the water transport of the Smotrych River."
Smotrych was a stream joining the Dniester River right in front of the fortress.
"So we have to occupy Soroca downstream."
Jeong-hun, who was looking at something, suddenly asked.
"General, the enemy doesn't know yet that we divided the main force and the detached force, right?"
The Ottomans would have just received the report that the Tatar army was defeated. Jan III moved the army as soon as he heard the news. The timing was too fast, even for the Ottomans.
If the Ottoman army has brains, they could assume that the Polish main force might march straight to their fortress and try to surround them. So it was clear they were already piling up enough food and gunpowder to hold out inside the fortress long ago.
Jan III also knew that, and ordering to cut off additional support was all.
"Then what will they do?"
"......"
When he looked at the commander, Druszkiewicz seemed not to understand what the hell Jeong-hun wanted to say.
Jeong-hun spoke a little more kindly than just now.
"In my opinion, they will rather cut off support from Soroca. So that that military provision doesn't pass over to us."
War is a battle of supply. If you protect friendly supply and cut off enemy supply, you could win very easily. Conversely, the most annoying situation would be, needless to say, the situation where friendly supply passes over to others.
"On the other hand, distance-wise, Soroca would be before the news arrived yet."
Or the messenger is just going down with news and orders. Jeong-hun grinned. In his eyes, he saw an Ottoman army messenger hurrying downstream knowing nothing in the distance. It was time for the hawk to snatch the prey.
(End of Chapter)
— Translated by Prime Works —