The next day, the sky was just beginning to turn pale, the air was cool, and a layer of fine dew still hung on the grass leaves in the martial arts field.
Basil was already standing alone in the center of the field.
He was not idle, his toes scratching on the wet soil, outlining vague squares and arrows, and he was muttering to himself, as if he was deducing something.
A tight-fitting short shirt that allows for easy movement makes him look more energetic than his actual age.
Not long after, a tall and burly figure walked towards us in the morning mist, his leather boots making a dull sound as they stepped on the grass.
General Andronicus, the Empire's Minister of War, is an Imperial military commander who has experienced many major wars. He possesses great bravery and tactical strategy.
The Eastern Roman armor on his body had been worn to a shine, and the deep scars on his face gave him an aura of menace that kept strangers away in the dim light of the early morning.
He thought he had arrived early enough, but he didn't expect that His Royal Highness the Prince had arrived earlier than him.
He strode forward and gave Basil a standard military salute, his voice as loud as a bell.
"Your Highness, you are here very early."
Basil stopped and turned around. There was no trace of sleepiness on his young face, only a calmness that was inconsistent with his age.
"General."
His voice was not loud, but extremely clear.
"My grandfather placed the future of Rome, the burden of returning home, on my shoulders. Constantinople, that is the homeland that our nation longs for, and the dream that every Roman will never give up until his death."
He paused, clenching his fists.
"This task is too great. I'm afraid I'll disappoint his expectations and disappoint all the Romans who have waited a century.
Therefore, I must seize every ray of morning light and study hard."
Andronika looked at the young man in front of him, and a wave of surprise surged in his heart.
Coming from the mouth of a twelve-year-old, these words were truly shocking.
But he had seen too many bold words in his life of military service, so he immediately suppressed his emotions and showed a smile of approval on his face, which was also mixed with some consideration of an elder for the younger generation.
"Excellent! With such awareness, Rome's future holds hope! Your Highness, let us begin. If you wish to command an army, you must first sharpen yourself. Let's begin with the most basic swordsmanship."
He pulled out a wooden sword for training from the weapon rack. The blade was thick and solidly made. He casually made a sword flower, which made a whirring sound, and then handed it over.
But Basil didn't answer.
He just shook his head and even took a step back to avoid the wooden sword.
"Swordsmanship is nothing more than a common man's courage, and it is enough to protect oneself."
His tone was calm, but it carried an unquestionable determination.
"What I want to learn is not a technique that can defeat one person."
He paused, then spoke word by word, each word like a stone thrown into Andronica's heart.
"What I want to learn is how to defeat ten thousand enemies. The Ottoman Empire's strength did not rely on the bravery of the Sultan alone. If we want to defeat it, we can't rely on one man and one sword."
"Ten thousand enemies?"
Andronica couldn't help laughing when he heard this.
He thought the little prince was interesting, but he was still young at heart and thought war was too simple.
He retracted the wooden sword and pointed to the nearby stable, from where the neighing and snorting of war horses could be heard.
"That's easy! I'll teach you horsemanship! I'll teach you how to wield a lance and charge! I'll make you a true armored knight, charging back and forth amidst a vast army, taking a general's head as easily as taking something out of a bag! This is what it means to be a ten thousand enemy!"
His voice was full of pride, as if he had already seen Basil wearing heavy armor and charging into the enemy's formation.
This is nobility, this is the glory that the descendants of Rome should have.
"A cavalry charge is truly a match for ten thousand men."
Basil's answer once again surprised him.
He first expressed affirmation, then changed the subject and became extremely sharp.
"In the past, our Roman armored cavalry also dominated the world. But this method is too risky. If you are not careful, you will be doomed."
He raised his head and looked directly into the general's weathered eyes.
"Before the late Emperor Constantine XI sailed away, didn't King Władysław III also hope to use his superb horsemanship, which was unrivaled among all the armies, to storm Murad's tent in one fell swoop? What was the result?"
Basil's voice suddenly rose, carrying a cold question.
"The king himself was beheaded, and the army of tens of thousands of Christians collapsed! This kind of 'Ten Thousand Enemies' who gamble the entire fate of the country and the lives of the entire army on a single charge is better not to learn from!"
"Smack!"
The smile on Andronikas' face froze completely, as if he had been slapped hard in the face.
Battle of Varna!
That disastrous defeat is an eternal pain in the hearts of all European Christians and a dark cloud hanging over their heads.
Of course he knew, he could even recite every detail.
But he did not expect that a twelve-year-old prince, a child born in the New World who had never even been to Europe, could analyze the failure of this battle so calmly and ruthlessly, and directly deny the knight charge, a tactic that was regarded as the golden rule and the glory of life by all European nobles.
He put away all his contempt, the scar on his face twitched, and his expression became extremely serious.
"Then what exactly is this 'Ten Thousand Enemies' that Your Highness desires?"
A glimmer of light finally ignited in Basil's eyes. It was the enthusiasm of a military fan when he saw his ideal weapon, and it was the purest desire for power.
"Swordsmanship is used to protect oneself.
But the true enemy of ten thousand men is the art of war! It is the strategy of planning and strategizing! It is the art of commanding troops and deploying battle formations!"
He stretched out his fingers and gestured vigorously in the cold air, as if he was commanding thousands of troops.
"Today's battlefield is no longer the age of spears and swords! We have Greek fire, arquebuses, and indestructible artillery! How can we perfectly combine these new weapons with our traditional infantry and cavalry? How can we construct a phalanx that the enemy cannot penetrate even with their lives? How can we useartillery fire to tear through the enemy's lines like paper, and then use our cavalry to inflict a fatal blow from the flank?"
His voice became more and more passionate and louder, echoing in the empty training ground.
"This is what I want to learn to defeat ten thousand enemies! Use the system to crush them, and use tactics to win!"
Andronikas was completely stunned. He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple rolled, but he couldn't utter a word for a long time.
Use the art of war to defeat ten thousand enemies!
Conduct systematic coordinated operations involving firearms, infantry, cavalry, and artillery?
This concept was too advanced and too unrealistic for most European generals of that era.
They still believe in the personal prowess of the nobility and the shock of large-scale cavalry charges. Currently, only a few Europeans have implemented phalanx tactics. Establishing a tactical system is not something that can be done overnight, and the current understanding of European tactics is still very superficial.
What the child in front of me described was a brand new strategy that had not yet been put into practice on a large scale.
He looked at Basil in front of him. Who was this child?
These words were definitely not something a twelve-year-old boy could come up with. Even the most knowledgeable scholars in the empire had never proposed such a subversive war idea.
After a long time, Andronica let out a long breath, which turned into a cloud of white mist in the chill of the early morning.
He put away all his arrogance and considerations and bowed deeply to Basil, a veteran's gesture of respect to the future commander.
"Your Highness, you are a true genius. Please forgive my previous shallowness."
He stood up straight, his attitude becoming extremely serious.
"In that case, starting today, our classes will be rescheduled. In the morning, I will continue to teach you some basic swordsmanship to ensure you are capable of defending yourself in any situation. In the afternoon, we will move to the library, where I will impart all my life's knowledge. We will review all the important battles in the history of our Roman Empire, from Alexander to Caesar. At the same time, I will explain to you all the military texts we brought from Constantinople, such as "Tactics" and "General's Strategy." Are you satisfied with this arrangement?"
A genuine smile appeared on Basil's face, a smile that showed his plan was working.
He followed the etiquette he remembered and solemnly saluted Andronicus as a teacher and student.
"Teacher, this is exactly what I've been dreaming of! I, Basil, will study very hard. Please give me your guidance!"
In the morning, on the training ground.
Basil swung the wooden sword clumsily, sweat soaking his shirt and sticking it tightly to his body.
His body had not yet fully developed, and his strength and coordination were far from enough. After practicing a set of the most basic sword moves, he was already out of breath and his arms were numb.
Andronicus patiently corrected his every move, his attitude ten times stricter than before, because he knew that he was not only teaching a prince, but also a commander who would
personally go into battle in the future.
In the afternoon, the palace library.
This is Basil's paradise.
A huge sheepskin map was spread out in front of the two men, on which the complex terrain of the Anatolian Plateau was depicted with ink of varying shades.
"Teacher, I want to review the Battle of Manzikert first."
This was Basil's initiative.
Andronicus was a little surprised, as he had thought Basil would choose to start with a glorious victory, but he still nodded.
"Why this one?"
"Because we have to face our own failures."
Basil's fingers tapped heavily on the small town called "Manzikert" on the map, his fingertips cold.
"Only by understanding how we lost to the Turks back then can we win back victory in the same place in the future."
Andronicus was silent.
He began to explain in detail the disastrous defeat that took place nearly five hundred years ago, from the composition of the two armies to a series of wrong decisions made by Emperor Romanus IV.
Basil listened very attentively. He didn't seem like a student, but more like a cold-blooded reviewer, ready to uncover the bloody scars at any time.
As soon as Andronicus finished explaining the emperor's decision to divide the troops, Basil's question arose.
"How long was our army's logistics line at the time? After the division, were the supplies for both armies guaranteed?"
"Why don't we have effective countermeasures against the Turkish cavalry archers' tactical harassment? Where are our Pecheneg light cavalry? Why do they defect so easily?"
"After the Emperor was captured, why did the subsequent command system immediately collapse? Was there no backup commander? Was there no coordination mechanism between the legion commanders?"
The questions came one after another, quickly and urgently, like a machine gun, making Andronicus' forehead sweat.
These issues have gone beyond the scope of simple battle review, but involve deep-seated problems of the entire empire's military system, logistical organization capabilities, and even battlefield communications.
He had to rack his brains, combining historical materials with his own years of experience fighting indigenous tribes to answer.
The two spent the entire afternoon in this tense and session. efficient question-and-answer
Andronikos felt more tired than if he had fought a battle.
As night fell, Andronicus said goodbye to Basil and walked towards the emperor's study with heavy steps.
Constantine XII was standing with his back to him in front of the huge world map, staring quietly at the city marked by a glaring red circle -Constantinople.
"His Majesty."
Andronicus bowed.
"How is he?"
The old emperor did not turn around, and there was no emotion in his voice.
"Your Majesty... I don't know how to describe it."
Andronikas' voice was filled with a hint of suppressed trembling and excitement.
"He's an unprecedented genius! He calls swordsmanship the mere courage of a common man, and defines true 'ten thousand enemies' as the strategic command of troops and formations. This afternoon, he even took the initiative to request a review of the disastrous defeat at Manzikert, saying that he wanted to find the path to victory from failure..."
Andronikas reported everything that happened during the day in detail. He became more and more excited and almost shouted in the end.
"Your Majesty, Rome has such a 'good and holy grandson'. His journey home is full of hope! Congratulations, Your Majesty!"
"hope..."
Constantine XII finally turned around slowly, a hint of relief showing on his old face, but more of it was the fatigue and loneliness accumulated over the years.
"It's good to have hope... It's good to have hope..."
He murmured to himself, his withered fingers gently stroking the name "Constantinople" on the map, his movements as gentle as if he was stroking his lover's face.
But then, the light in his eyes dimmed.
"It's just that I'm already over sixty. I'm afraid... I won't see the day when that double-headed eagle flag flies over the Golden Horn again."
His voice was soft, but it was like a huge rock, weighing heavily on Andronica's heart.
The study fell into a long silence. Only the candlelight was flickering gently, casting the shadows of the two old men on the wall, stretching very long.
After a long time, Constantine XII's eyes became sharp again.
He stared at Andronica and gave a new order.
"From tomorrow on, all the empire's intelligence on the Ottoman Turks, whether military, political, or economic, will be made available to Basil."
The old emperor's voice was firm and decisive.
"Let him know what our future enemies will look like."