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Anno Domini 826, August-4-7
The Bulgarians had stopped maintaining fixed groups in the area due to the high mortality they were suffering there. Instead, we now regularly observed Bulgarian cavalry patrols passing through once or twice a day. They would arrive, observe the area for a while, and then return to wherever their main camp was located.
Apparently, they had grown tired of losing dozens of men in pointless skirmishes, so they limited themselves to monitoring the area on horseback. Every time we moved the crossbowmen to try to harass them, they refused to engage. Their objective was simple: make sure we stayed inside our camp and prevent us from moving.
However, I had found maps that could serve me if the terrain had not changed too much—enough to reach Beroia. The problem now was the Bulgarian cavalry. I had no way of knowing what they would do if they noticed the disappearance of a large portion of our forces: they could search for us, raise the alarm, attempt to encircle us… there were too many possibilities. The only way to find out was to act.
Taking advantage of the Bulgarian cavalry's predictable routine, I began using all the captured iron to manufacture caltrops—the natural enemy of cavalry. Since those idiots were creatures of habit, I waited for them to come as usual. They arrived, remained for an hour on horseback observing us while their scouts counted men, and then left.
As soon as they were gone, I ordered the infantry to fill the road they used to come and go with caltrops, carefully covering them with leaves. Then we waited and watched. I stationed men nearby in case the strategos' cavalry appeared, so they could be warned about the trap if it was them.
In fact, almost the entire camp was outside, watching, waiting for the spectacle.
When we noticed the Bulgarians returning, most of my men were already in position, observing from the kastron. We saw them gallop confidently—and then they began to fall en masse. Horses collapsing onto their own riders, men crushed beneath the animals they rode, bodies twisted on the ground. Dozens died with broken necks or shattered ribs from the impact.
After the initial shock, the Bulgarian cavalry that remained standing stopped and watched us from a distance, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Our camp erupted in laughter at the sight.
I immediately sent the crossbowmen to harass them and force them to abandon the area. They stood there in disbelief for several seconds, until they realized the crossbowmen were advancing on them. They had no choice but to flee, leaving behind dozens of their own who were still breathing, though mortally wounded.
"Finish them quickly," I ordered my men, who were already moving carefully, watching every step to avoid triggering one of the traps we had laid.
The looting of the bodies began immediately. They were members of some noble group, so they carried valuables in addition to their armor. The horses, meanwhile, would provide food for several days once the butcher had done his work.
But the important thing was that the window of opportunity we needed had opened. They likely would no longer dare to come close enough to count men in front of the camp. They would stay farther away, and if they tried to advance slowly while avoiding the traps, it would be enough for the crossbowmen to harass them and leave them in a terrible position.
So I decided that we would move that very night.
Before leaving, we set up several decoys: training dummies fitted with armor, so that if the Bulgarians tried to count our numbers again, they would see multiple armed figures. With some luck, by using captured armor and some of our spare equipment, we would confuse them.
I let my men rest properly, allowing them to take a nap. The march would begin at night, and we would depend far more on knowledge of the terrain than brute force. Until we moved deeper into Bulgarian territory, no fires were to be lit.
At dusk, we put on our camouflage cloths—simple pieces of linen painted green, gray, and brown—and began to move. The sound of metal armor was an unavoidable problem, but if we managed to remain unnoticed, it would matter little.
After about two hours, we returned to the village we had already looted—the one by the silver mine. I noticed a few fires in the area; smoke rose clearly into the air. We crossed the road quickly, making as little noise as possible, and began advancing north, climbing small hills until we reached a forest. We pushed deep inside and found a cave with wolves, which we killed and drove out without delay. We used that place to hide and rest through the night. At least for the following day, we would be able to march with less caution.
I allowed fires only to boil water, drink, and cook food—nothing more. An outbreak of dysentery at that moment would have been disastrous.
I slept little. After a few hours, I rose to conduct forward reconnaissance. I swapped my armor for Bulgarian gear and took one of the horses from the supply wagons. I rode ahead, observing the terrain, noting the many nearby villages we would likely raid on our return.
As I studied the path I needed to follow to avoid the main roads and remain unseen—mentally marking the villages we would plunder later—I noticed a group of Bulgarian cavalry approaching.
"What are you doing here?" one of the Bulgarians asked.
"Lost… I have to deliver a message to Beroia, but I lost the road during the night," I replied, looking around with a confused expression to lend credibility to my story.
"A message? Do you have the letter? Maybe I can help you," said the Bulgarian who seemed to be their leader.
"No… it's a spoken message," I answered.
"Ah, of course… so what happened?" the Bulgarian asked, lowering his guard slightly.
"Nothing good. The Romans ambushed our riders. Several died. Reinforcements are needed, and I was told that in Beroia I could find them," I replied casually.
"I won't trouble you any further. Any reason the Romans are so active these days? It's usually the other way around," he said with a laugh. "Look, follow that road. You'll see an intersection, then turn left. In a couple of hours on horseback you should reach the town."
"Thank you. If you'll excuse me, I need to ride as quickly as possible," I replied.
"Of course. Be careful," the Bulgarian said, spurring his horse before riding off at a gallop.
I moved away and, once they were out of sight, began to evaluate where we could move. There were forests in the area—though not very dense, likely logged frequently—but they would still serve our purposes.
The second day of marching began without incident. I made sure we advanced while avoiding roads and constantly sent out scouts to detect Bulgarians. For the moment, five hundred men were moving unnoticed through enemy territory. Most guards watched only the roads and nothing else, so moving through hills and forests once again proved effective. That second night we kept fires to an absolute minimum.
We found no caves, so we set up tents quickly and slept only what was necessary. The following day we would reach the town I had my sights set on.
This time I did take advantage of the opportunity to sleep through much of the afternoon. When night fell, we resumed the march; I wanted to reach the town at dawn. Once again I took on the role of scout, observing how some Bulgarian patrols guarded the roads but did not venture into open terrain.
After three hours of marching far from the main routes, we finally spotted the town.
It was much larger than the previous ones. Its population had to be between three and five thousand people. We would not have numerical superiority, so surprise and initial violence would be key. The garrison had to be small, considering the Bulgarians were mobilized to the south. Taking advantage of the fact that the town had two main entrances and several secondary ones, we split our forces to block a significant portion of the settlement.
We advanced in silence. Most people were still asleep; the sun was just beginning to rise. Our attack had to be fast and decisive.
We approached through the silvery fields of the area, already nearing harvest season. Only the torches of the guards at the entrances were visible, chatting without much attention. They were too distracted—or the low light worked against them—for them to notice us in time.
When we were already very close, I saw some Bulgarians pointing in our direction. I gave the order without hesitation.
"Move! Kill every armed Bulgarian and save anyone who speaks Greek!" I roared.
My men broke into a run toward the town. The guards froze, then began to flee when they realized our numbers.
Within a minute we were inside the town, hearing the shouts of Bulgarians trying to warn the others.
I let my men handle the low-value objectives—the town itself—while I took the Varangians and several crossbowmen and headed straight for the local stronghold.
In truth, it was little more than a set of tall walls, similar to those of the previous manors. It seemed the Bulgarians had focused only on maintaining the main buildings. There were far more men on the walls than elsewhere, but as soon as we approached and arrows began to fall, our crossbowmen started dropping them with bolts, forcing them to abandon the battlements.
The walls were too high to scale as we had before, so we took cut logs from a carpenter's house, loaded them onto one of the supply wagons, and fashioned an improvised battering ram. The Varangians put it to use immediately against the main gate.
The gate was not especially thick. After the first two blows, splinters were already flying. A large group of Bulgarians tried to hold it from the inside, but after about twenty more strikes, the structure gave way and the gate burst open.
We pulled back the makeshift ram, and I could see the terror on the Bulgarians' faces as the Varangians charged.
Amid the shouts of battle behind me and the screams of pain as skulls and ribs were crushed, I stayed back, watching with satisfaction as the Bulgarian guards fled deeper into the manor seeking refuge.
We followed them before they could shut the doors. Inside, absolute chaos reigned: shouting, terrified women, servants crying, incoherent orders, guards begging for their lives.
Without wasting a second, followed by five Varangians, I climbed to the upper levels of the manor, where the Bulgarian nobles would be—if there were any.
There we found a pocket of guards defending a man and his family.
Sigurd stepped in without hesitation and swung his polehammer. I heard every rib in a Bulgarian's chest snap. Another guard threw himself at him, trying to take him to the ground, but Sigurd slammed him bodily into the wall and then struck him in the face, painting the wall with what was left of his head.
Sigurd was about to kill the rest when the remaining guards dropped their swords.
"Good. I have no idea who you are, Bulgarian, but you're my prisoner now," I said without much interest, and immediately headed for the cellars.
The manor's armory was full of spears, bows, and swords, though there was little armor. There were vast stores of wine and preserved food—smoked hams and salted meat.
And in the treasury we found the real prize.
Silver ingots—around five hundred of them. Hundreds of Imperial gold coins, and many more in silver.
We had won the lottery.
We had no time for prolonged looting or for chasing those who escaped, so as soon as the manor was emptied I began calling my men back. We loaded the wagons, stole every horse they had—over two hundred warhorses—as well as mules burdened with grain and food.
We took more than a thousand Bulgarians prisoner.
And we freed nearly two thousand slaves of the Empire, many of whom had lived in bondage for years. Some had even been born slaves and were older than I was.
I distributed part of the captured equipment among the Greek slaves so that, at least, it would look like we were more numerous. Then we did everything possible to move quickly, driving the Bulgarian prisoners forward at maximum pace.
There were still other places to raid, if luck favored us, before the Bulgarians could organize a real defense against us.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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