Chapter 3 - Soldiers shouldn't drink during campaigns

 

They talked about other things that were of the young king's interest, the brewing Renaissance that sprouted inside Florence starting spreading out its influence in the entire Italian Peninsula, and the new ideas reached his ears from his advisor.

"I didn't have time to read on this subject. I rarely even had time for myself."

"You can at least give your opinion on this matter?"

"Ohh, that one I can do, and is rather simple. This Renaissance of the Italians is based on the rediscovery of our ancestors' work, from poems to architecture, paintings, way of thinking, etc. Don't look at me like that. The books I managed to read were all in Latin from the Eastern Roman Courts.

"You mean everything is based on the rediscovery of the past? Now that makes sense, the old buildings with a weird style from Napoca, the Ancient Baths from Turda, the ancient Fortifications, and the Temples of Zila our ancestors used to pray, are still there in the places they used to live."

"By origin, we are Romans, you and me, we share this prestigious bloodline that is unlike those of the greeks, turks, germans, slavs, only the Italians, the Iberians, and the French are our brothers."

Moving on to another discussion, the two talked about laws and how one could efficiently use the legal system, something that Vlad had a mixed approach telling the young king exactly that, but one remark stuck with Mathias.

"The Prince is the law of his lands, and he should also abide to those laws set in place."

Mathias instead mentioned his own way of seeing things, calling "A Monarch is at the head of the law and rules over it."

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Vlad's cold face shifted into a small smile, staring at the young man in front of him, mentioning something to end this discussion.

"Don't forget, even though you are a King, where you are protected by people who you entrust your safety too.

Never put your trust fully on them, that being said, including myself. Everyone has their own interests in approaching you, and in the future, even your children might try to stab you, so be ready for that moment.

Always question with 'WHY', someone would want to approach you or offer you a deal, a treaty, and a marriage alliance.

Deep down, everything has a motif, and no one would give you a penny for nothing. You are an adept believer of God, but this leads to weakness."

"Why are you telling me all of this? Father, did so many things to sabotage you, even I, captured you and framed you for collaborating with Mehmed."

"Because I see myself in you, boy. Even though our circumstances are different, you shoulder a heavy responsibility from the moment your father went into Heaven. Another motif of why I say all of those things? Is so I fuck over all my enemies when I go to Hell."

"If I can't stop Mehmed in this life, at least allow someone I consider competent to take care of my problems."

Mathias gave Vlad a deep stare from where he was at the prison cell door, and his blue eyes had vitality in them. Without saying anything else, Mathias exited the room, locking the door in the process, which led to Vlad chuckling, making it seem like a deranged person.

"Good, you learned quickly."

Saying that he went to his bed, resting his body on the cold wooden frame that didn't have any damping, and as if he wasn't bothered one bit, he closed his eyes, going to sleep.

Sleep was the most common activity one man could recharge the energy of someone, and it was exactly what the Wallachian Prince was doing.

His activities didn't change since being captured by Mathias, and he spent 14 years of his "captivity" at the young king's court that grew into one of the magnificent Monarchs of Europe, while he grew older, beginning to feel the passage of time on his body.

Nonetheless, he received the freedom to move around Buda to his desire, which led to many other events that will remain in his memory. He wanted freedom, and the matured youngster who became one of the great kings, approved without batting an eyelid, and now that he was free, he found himself lacking a direction, a place to call home.

Age had its twisted way that it changed the perception of someone, leading to different states of mind, from having his perception slightly altered, pain experience, belief, desire, intention, emotion, and memory modified by his aging body and mind.

The people of Pest would at times pass by the infamous Draculea and could only see a shell of his former imposing self, but was it truly that?

"Hah, I want to return to my homeland and give it a chance for the last time. I will no longer wage wars on anyone. Instead, focus on building the Principality with the knowledge I gained over the years."

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The desire of returning to his natal homeland burned harder in his aged veins, and after an open discussion with Mathias, whose plans turned upside down with regards to the Wallachian Principality, that was in the hands of an Ottoman fanatic, a puppet for the Sultan.

An intricate political play culminated in him going on the road from Buda, but not long after settling some "old business" for Mathias.

At the helm of a Black Army commanding one of the best armies of Europe in that day of age, the experienced Voivode was sent on a campaign of quelling some of the Turk's attacks in the Balkan region.

Where exactly? His attacks were targeting the Turks that settled down in Bosnia, and as if he knew what would ensue by unleashing this monster on the Turks, Corvin did it regardless, being left without any solution inside the sphere of influence of the Balkans.

Vlad's campaigns began inside Bosnia, where he and another counterpart, the despot of the Serbian Despotate, Vuk Grgurević, took over the campaign.

Vuk, or how his people called him the "Fiery Dragon Wolf" which made Vlad roll his eyes whenever seeing this man, was in fact someone with an interesting story such as his own, a comrade of faith whose lands were ravaged by the Turks,

It made their cooperation even so smoother, as both took charge of the Black Army at different campaigns of the young Mathias Corvinus, and even to this day, that former young man who would cry his heart out, in a sense had built some trust on Vlad.

"Impaler Prince, we got in position against the Turks. Do you have something specific for them?" asked the Serbian despot, Vuk, standing side by side with Vlad watching the fortification the Ottomans took over.

"Wolf, are you really that incompetent to ask me something so stupid? Do you even know how much it costs to fit those boys into their black armors and professionally train them? Right, you only took the helm of the army and don't care about butchering those young lads."

"Nonetheless, you have gained decent achievements to make Mathias tag you in with me."

"I might not know the price, but I am not stupid not to know that they are precious to any commander." replied, Vuk, a middle-aged man wearing a black armor similar to his own with a specific slavic hat of a despot.

"Well, it doesn't matter. This is useless talk. Gather the officers since I want to hear their opinion on how we should approach this siege.

Ahh, also bring that stupid old man. These are his lands, not mine."

"Argh, fine, you are the Commander of the Army."

Not long after giving that order, from a safe distance from the Srebrenica fortress, Vlad was starring along with other men at the decently imposing castle positioned in a great strategic place for holding back the attacks of the enemy.

"Is it really true what the peasants say about the sickness hitting the Turks? You should know better the situation of those lands, old Nicholas."

"Hmph, Draculea, use my honorific titles. I am King of Bosnia, not old Nicholas." mentioned an old man wearing expensive medieval clothes that really didn't fit with the soldiers covered in metal from toes to teeth.

"Do you think I give a shit about who you are? King or not, I can kill you with a swift slash of my saber, but it will be a bad move, so listen here.

Gather your men first tell the one you gathered, along with Laurence, to stick close to the Black Army. We will attack at the downfall and take the Turks by surprise."

"... How certain are you by our success?"

"Quite certain I can kill a contingent of 2000 Turks, now get to your positions. Don't forget what I told you, old Nicholas."

The meeting didn't last long, as they reached quickly to a rational approach to this siege, and with the old man mumbling in an angry tone, angry at the disrespect Vlad was showing him, he had no way out of this since Mathias himself appointed Vlad as Commander of the Black Army along with Vuk Grgurević.

Once the time proposed arrived, it didn't take long for the cries of people to be heard inside the Fortress, as the Black Army soldiers began slaughtering the Turks in such a cold way that it was only befitting that someone who took pleasure from the suffering of the Turks to shout to the sky, as if a beast was unleashed.

"SPARE US! WE SURRENDER!"

"There will be no surrender, only dead Turks! Kill those who resist, capture the ones who surrender! Prepare the stakes."

His own supporters gathered from Transylvania, and the Black Army soldiers whose hate ran deep in their bone marrow didn't question this action.

Leaving in their quake the dead bodies of the Turks impaled, creating a scene taken out from Hell, and this path of destruction didn't stop, as the operations of taking over the Bosnian and Serbian fortifications were on a full scale.

First to fall was Srebrenica, which from looks might give you the impression it was the hardest to conquer, but then the fortresses in the surrounding region started falling like rotten trees at the strong winds, hitting hard and violently.

In the Bosnian campaign, Vlad once again resorted to his terror tactics, mass impaling captured Turkish soldiers and massacring civilians in conquered settlements. His troops mostly destroyed Srebrenica, Kuslat, Zvornik, Smederevo, Sabac and razed to the ground the villages and cities that accepted the rule of the Turks so nonchalantly, without putting a resistance and joining the other Christians.

The monster inside of him awoke once again, and the bloodshed started becoming ever so sweet to him who, in his sadism and cruel side, relished whenever he slew in close combat the captains of the Ottoman Garrisons stationed to defend the strategic locations.

"My skills might have gotten a bit slow, but it is barely noticeable. Onward, the next Fortress on our plans."

A question not many had answers as they moved efficiently, barely losing some men on their journey, which boosted the morale of the Black Army to the skies, regardless of their dark acts of massacring people that might even be called innocent, but Vlad's comment would calm their minds, grounding their morality deep.

[In wars, everything is on the table, as long as you win it. So far, we have a flawless win as we achieved most of our targets.]

While he was resting his men inside the Smederevo Fortress, the messengers started being sent over to the Kingdom, notifying Mathias about their success, but not a couple of days passed that a messenger appeared in front of Vlad.

Taking his hat like a ghost pushed him to do it, the man bowed respectfully, delivering him a letter from Mathias that announced to him about the situation inside Moldavia.

How his cousin Stephan was having a hard time against Mehmed, being under siege, specifically Târgu Neamț being sieged down, entering a state that was similar to someone trying to cut your throat.

[Lord Basarab, I want you to take the entire Black Army under you and start marching toward Moldavia, we can't allow Mehmed to gain anymore ground in Europe. Take Vuk and  Dmitar Jakšić with you. You'll meet on your way with Stephen Bathory at Brasov.]

Showing the letter to his officers, especially Vuk and Dmitar, they released a deep sigh but nonetheless had no chance of turning back, entering the struggle against the Ottomans quest for Supremacy in Europe.

Once he got sight of the Turks that were besieging the fortifications of Targu Neamt, he started the cavalry charge that shocked the Ottomans senseless.

This charge propped them to lay down their siege and start retreating from the fight they weren't expecting. Still, hating the fact the Turks were now retreating once they found themselves matched numerically, he followed after their backlines, killing a decent number of them with his cavalrymen.

"Ahh, I would love you Turks dared to fight a fair fight. What would I expect from a bunch of barbarians that were the slaves of the Umayads."

"Draculea, you know that most of those Janissary guys are Bulgarians, Albanians, Armenians, and Greeks, with a small number of Turks in some small areas.

You have to calm down. It will be dangerous if we continue chasing them." mentioned Vuk, trying to be the sense of reason that Vlad was lacking.

However, it was unnecessary as Vlad stopped his chase and moved from the battlefield.

"They are cursed by now. Do you think I was the same hot-blooded youngster, Wolf? I'll not risk the lives of my men, let's go to the Citadel since one more night awake, and my eyes will bleed out."

"Yea, I am tired too. You better have some nice girls in those lands of yours, small Romans."

"If this is what you want, I can't say no. We'll get one for whoever wants to relax, a delicate girl."

Getting to the Citadel, it was the place where he snored so hard, one could get scared of him even in the sleep.

Later on, he began his fight against the Turks again. Especially the puppet put in place holding the throne that by birthright should be his own, not the pretender Basarab Laiotă.

As such, Stephan, after forming an alliance with Vlad and with the Hungarian support, the two began their attack on Wallachia, forcing Basarab Laiota to flee the Principality after both cousins occupied Targoviste, forcing the defeated to seek refuge in the Ottoman Empire.

Since this win, his return was accepted with some skepticism, but the manner he acted seemed changed. He no longer gave you the impression he wanted your head.

Instead, the moment he took over Wallachia, the first thing on his list was to inform the merchants of Brasov and Sibiu about his victory, urging them to return to Wallachia and start their operations in his country.

A country without qualified people and organizations was a shamble, without something to ground them. This is why he wanted the merchants to view him in a different picture, leading to the Saxons starting their trade with him and with plans of developing the Wallachia iron industry and the mining operations.

Yet it wasn't to be, the manner the world worked and the political plays of that time were a chaotic mess, with no honor.

Three months lasted the peace Vlad managed to win in his principality, a mere three months that he worked tirelessly to sign trading deals with the Saxons of Brasov and Sibiu, and news that Basarab Laiota returned to Wallachia with Ottoman support infuriated Vlad, who saw all his gains and sacrifices turning into a fragile construction.

Immediately he began preparing for the battle, only managing to amass an army of 2,000 soldiers that he tried to equip with all the armors and weapons he had on his hands, and along with the retainers of Stephan that he landed to him for protection, went to prepare the battlefield ahead of the Turks and their puppet.

"Your Highness, we reached Snagov." called out a retainer, watching the body of water not too far from them.

"Good, have the rest prepared and give them some strong spirit to numb their feelings.

It will boost their morale, and in battle, they will not shatter the formation." replied Vlad from a black horse, while he was wearing the clothes of a Janissary officer, reminiscent of his younger days when he was one of the leading officers of the Janissary Corps.

"Your Highness, wouldn't this affect the battle if they are drunk."

"You will not give them all the spirit, so I don't have a soldier to fight along with."

Things looked favorable for Vlad, who arrived first in a defensive position, and feeling himself with extra time, he had his men start planting traps along the entire zone.

'No way I lose this fight, from what my scouts told me, Laiotă managed to get only 4,000 people, with his core force being the Turks. I am prepared for them and for you, pig.

Only a moment of carelessness from you, and since you are already a Turkish whore, it will be easy to approach you fuck you from behind.'

He planned all the battle steps, watching over the lower fields, something that he was found doing when he was younger, yet now it entered in a reflex of his mind, to scout for the best position military-wise. Then after a couple of hours passed in the middle of the day, a fat man with a long beard, wearing some battle clothes, appeared with his supporting force.

"CHARGE, THEY ARE SO LITTLE!" screamed the man with a desperate voice, not even bothering to screen the place for traps or for Vlad himself.

'Everything according to plan.'

Thought Vlad, who was blending with his soldiers, waiting for the moment to charge and take his enemy by surprise, in a guerilla fashion.

Waiting patiently on the defensive lines, as he instructed his men, he saw the turks stepping inside his traps, and departing from this world early

Yet their number was still larger than his, which resisted reaching Vlad's positions, and from there on, the bloodshed was unleashed.

Both sides killed one another, with Vlad acting up, sneaking past his formations, and entering the Turks formations like a master assassin, and the way he approached Basarab Laiotă was so smooth that you could say to be taken from the fantasy movies.

Even Vlad was shocked by how easily he entered the enemy lines, but his shock was short-lived, as before he could get in range with Laiotă, in the chaos of battle and stupidity of peasantry, a halbert pierced his vital organs, which made him cry out in agonizing pain.

"FOOOOLLL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? THIS IS WHAT WE SPOKE, YOU, CURSED PEASANT?

I EVEN SHOWED THE DIFFERENCE OF CLOTHES, SO YOU GET MY APPEARANCE!"

"Your highness, was it you? What have I done!"

The soldier that vitally wounded Vlad panicked and forgot where he was, all of the people of the battlefield heard Vlad's cry of anger and agony, which morphed into hatred, as he took out his Kilij and decapitated the peasant who wounded him.

Nevertheless, before taking a break into the Abyss, he pushed his body to the limits of humans and began slaying toward Laiotă, who screamed for support like a bitch.

"Impaler Prince, what a surprise! Your tricks are so good that you managed to fool even your men. How funny.

If it wasn't for that idiot, we probably would have lost without the rats from that scum. Do you have any words for my Great Sultan?" inquired a Janissary whose clothes was similar to Vlad, being in the ranks of an officer, the leader of this contingent of soldiers sent by Mehmed to support Basarab.

With a pale appearance, he looked at the guy in front of him, and while trying to slash his saber with all his force, he responded, trying to take this man with him in the Abyss.

"I will wait for him in Hell. When we are alone, I will see if he can act so arrogantly in front of me."

"Such big words, Impaling Prince. If the Sultan is pleased, I might tell him this. DIE!"

*Thud*

The body of a great warrior, a genius military mind of his age, lost all the frails of life in those moments, in a way no one would even believe, being heavily wounded by his own men without them even having the intent of betraying him.

Vlad's lifeless body, whose heart was pierced by the Janissary Captain, dropped on the ground first on his knees and later on his side, before being turned on his back, green eyes with lost soul staring at the blue sky and the blinding sun.

"KILL THEM ALL. THIS IS OUR VICTORY. I WANT A MASSACRE!" ordered the Janissary Captain, who stood next to Vlad's body.

The soldiers Vlad gathered all lost morale trying to break formation, and in this chaos, they couldn't do anything to stop the advancement of the enemy, dropping dead on the marshy lands of Snagov.

"Captain, what will we do with the Impaler's body?"

"Take his body to the monastery his ancestors built. He will receive a humane burial. He might be a monster to the Turks, but I can understand his feelings of wanting to protect his homeland until his death."

"Captain! You better don't say that to some Turk, or they will rat you out."

"You are a Serb. While I am an Albanian, our people fought the Ottomans, but it was a lost cause. People died for nothing. Instead, they should just surrender without fighting and enter the new system.

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It was unknown for how long Vlad stood lifeless in the marshy fields of Snagov.

Still, deep down, since he got stabbed in his heart, he could see his vision losing focus, with the light his eyes received from the sun being smaller and smaller, but the buzzing on his ears, as if ants played with his brain, began from nothing.

What followed next was seeing something akin to a spinning wheel that moved faster and faster until he lost all his vision, unknown if he journeyed to Abyss, Hell, or Heaven.

However, something was certain: he didn't die with a peaceful mind and was vanquished like a dreadful wraith that will forever haunt the minds of his enemy and future generations of people who would listen to his life story.