Augustus and Sultan
Noma.
Constantinople.
With his temples graying, Constantine XI listened despondently as the dusty envoy read the letter to himself, sighing softly. "Is it truly beyond redemption?"
The empire, once stretching from endless forests in the north to vast deserts in the south, encompassing the entire great Blue Sea, was now nothing but a complete mess by the time it reached his hands.
The treasury was empty, the national strength depleted, and powerful enemies surrounded them.
The territory that once took half a year to traverse could now be crossed in a matter of hours—leaving only the capital, Constantinople, standing like a head without a body.
With a population of no more than a hundred thousand, fewer than five thousand able-bodied men, and unable to sustain itself with food, the empire was heavily reliant on sea trade.
It was only thanks to the magnificent city walls left by the ancient empire that the dilapidated churches, ruins of palaces, and disorderly buildings were barely protected.
The future of the empire was as dim as the purple robe on Augustus himself.
The territory belonging to the Esman had already surrounded the only remaining city of Constantinople from all sides—everywhere was an enemy, and the Esman could even raid the outskirts of the capital frequently!
Constantine XI considered himself no incompetent ruler. Since his ascension, he had never indulged in luxury but had diligently governed the remnants in his hands.
But alas, the empire was beyond recovery. No matter how he struggled, there was no improvement.
And the impending doomsday seemed to be upon them.
The newly appointed Sultan, Mumoona, after ruthlessly killing all her siblings and cleverly stabilizing the surrounding countries, had now set her sights on Constantinople!
With both sea and land forces deployed, the last remaining land of the Noma Empire was completely blockaded. It was said that there were a total of two hundred thousand soldiers mobilized!
Constantine XI desperately tried diplomatic negotiations, but there was no aid from the west, and there seemed to be no possibility of the Sultan withdrawing from the east.
Just now, the Sultan's final ultimatum arrived.
Surrender the city, or die!
As for the pardon after surrender?
That was the Sultan's concern; His Majesty the Emperor need not worry.
"Heh." Knowing that the situation was beyond salvation, Constantine XI stood up and said to the messenger.
"Tell that hypocritical Sultan to put away her false kindness."
"She doesn't want peace at all, she just wants destruction!"
"I won't run, and I won't surrender!"
"If she wants this city, let her come and take it herself—after stepping on my head."
He said firmly, then instructed his naval minister and army minister.
"Raise the iron chains in the Golden Horn, enforce martial law throughout the city, and prepare for a defensive battle."
"The Noma people will stand until the last drop of blood is shed."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the naval minister and army minister bowed their heads.
At this moment, a crazy old man burst into the dilapidated palace of Constantine XI.
"I saw it!"
"I saw it!"
He shouted.
"He's coming."
"The King of Sacrifice from the East is leading a terrifying army like ghosts."
"They bring war, spread death, and harvest souls."
"But, they can save the empire from despair."
"Patriarch?" Both the naval minister and army minister were dumbfounded.
"Bring the patriarch down," Constantine XI sighed and explained to the ministers.
"The patriarch seemed to have gone mad due to immense mental pressure two months ago."
"I was afraid everyone would worry, so I kept him locked in a side room in the cathedral."
"I didn't expect him to seize the opportunity to run out today."
Hearing this, the naval minister and army minister feel heavy-hearted.
Yes, the end was near.
Whose heart wouldn't be heavy at this moment?
Just as the Noma people were determined to fight for their city to the last moment, their enemies were also planning how to deal with them.
Inside the imperial tent adorned with countless silks, Mumoona, the Sultan of the Esman, was describing her siege plan.
"Now, the Noma are down to their last breath."
"But this isolated city is still not easy to attack."
"The Golden Horn Bay in the north of Constantinople is blocked by iron chains, making it difficult for our warships to break through."
"We can only send out a large number of warships to blockade as much as possible, preventing any reinforcements or grains from being transported into the city walls."
"The south of Constantinople is a cliff with no footholds. Our soldiers cannot even climb up even if they sit on warships."
"The only breakthrough direction we can choose is here!"
Mumoona Sultan took out her dagger, encrusted with gold and silver jewels, and forcefully stabbed it into the map.
"The western wall!"
"Your Great Majesty," at this moment, the Prime Minister in Mumoona Sultan's court, an elderly man with white hair, finally stand up and speak.
"Although it may be a bit late to say this now, I still advise, as much as possible, to use peaceful means to compel that heretic emperor to surrender the city."
"The western wall of Constantinople has ridiculed countless sieges over the past thousand years."
"Even with our two hundred thousand troops, capturing such a city is still difficult."
"And if we delay for a few more months, reinforcements from the west will continue to arrive, and by then, we will have to return empty-handed."
"Such a massive siege, once failed, will seriously weaken our strength and prestige, further stimulating the aggression of our enemies and the betrayal of ambitious individuals."
"So I beg you, please reconsider carefully."
"If Your Majesty nods, I am willing to personally serve as a negotiator and persuade the heretical emperor in the city."
In the eyes of this Prime Minister, war was nothing but a pure gamble. Even if they won, there might not be a good outcome. If they could avoid fighting, they should avoid it as much as possible.
"Fool!" However, the Prime Minister's words only earned him Mumoona Sultan's merciless rebuke.
"When did you become as cowardly as a lamb!?"
"Constantinople is the heart of the Esman, and this city must be in our hands!"
"I have prepared for this battle for too long. How can I give up halfway?"
"If those weak and incompetent heretics think they can stop me with their strength, let them come!"
"I will crush them all and let them know how miserable the outcome is when opposing me, protected by the true god!"
"Warriors!" Mumoona Sultan shouted loudly. "Tell me, who in this world is a match for the Esman warriors!?"
"No one!"
"The Esman warriors are the most powerful warriors in this world!"
"The true god will always protect the Sultan!" The generals inside the tent fervently shouted.
Soon, cheers like thunderous waves came from outside the tent.
"Hmph." Mumoona Sultan snorted lightly and looked at her Prime Minister.
The old man knew he had spoken out of turn, so he bowed and exited the royal tent.
However, he did not notice the faint gloom hidden in Mumoona Sultan's contemptuous gaze.
If it were an ordinary time, Mumoona Sultan might have listened to the Prime Minister's advice.
But unfortunately, Mumoona Sultan's own ascent to power had been too dirty.
After swearing by her father's coffin and then betraying her oath, deceiving her brothers and sisters to their deaths, and forcing all her concubines to accompany her father in death, she bloodied the court, falsely promising to appease the chiefs on the eastern steppe, only to have them ambushed when they arrived...
So now, Mumoona urgently needed a bloody and glorious victory to establish her lofty prestige.
Her fierce warriors would not follow a scheming villain.
And unfortunately, Constantinople's size was just right for that. So she had to make the Noma people suffer a bit more.
Anyway, they had been suffering for hundreds of years.
It's just a pity that life is rarely as one wishes.
Before Mumoona could continue discussing battle plans with her generals, bad news came first.
"Your Majesty, urgent news!"
"Sochiya has fallen!"