The fall of Basra came not in a single moment, but in the slow collapse of certainty.
Once the western quarter was secured, Victor tightened the grip. Artillery was dragged through the breach and positioned at key intersections, turning streets into controlled corridors. Cavalry dismounted and fought as infantry, sealing alleys and cutting off movement between districts. Every advance was followed by consolidation, guards posted, ammunition brought forward, the city taken piece by piece rather than chased.
Field Marshal Bayezid answered with discipline worthy of his reputation.
The Sultan's Army did not break. The fifty thousand garrison troops fought from prepared inner lines, anchoring resistance around administrative quarters, mosques, and storehouses. The remaining two hundred and fifty thousand regulars were committed in depth, counterattacking where streets narrowed, using numbers to slow the Luxenberg advance. For two days, the fighting churned through Basra's core, block by block, neither side yielding ground without cost.
But their numbers paled in comparison to the Luxenberg Army. Numbers alone could not overcome encirclement.
Victor controlled the walls, the harbour, and every approach. Ammunition stocks collapsed. Water systems failed. Orders from Bayezid slowed to fragments, and messengers were cut down before they reached the front. Units fought on without knowing who still stood beside them, defending ruins that no longer mattered.
The harbour burned.
Luxenberg guns shattered the docks and sea walls, collapsing cranes and warehouses into the water. Ships were sunk at anchor, turning the port into a graveyard of masts and smoke. Basra's last avenue of movement vanished beneath fire and wreckage.
On the fourth day after the breach, the palace quarter became the final battlefield.
Bayezid gathered what remained of his command and fought from courtyard to courtyard, refusing withdrawal, refusing silence. The fighting there was brutal and close, the air thick with smoke and dust, the sound of steel and shot echoing beneath shattered domes. One by one, the last organised defences were crushed under the weight of numbers and artillery brought to point-blank range.
By nightfall, resistance collapsed into scattered, hopeless stands.
No banners were lowered. No drums signalled capitulation. The fighting simply ended when there were no formations left to command. Field Marshal Bayezid fell within the palace complex, surrounded by his staff, the last orders of the Sultan's Army dying with him.
Surrender was never an option for the Asharanian Field Marshal. He staked his life on defending this city, for if he were to fail and return to the Sultan, the fate would be worse than death. Failure was not permitted by the Sultan; failure bred complacency and inadequacy, none of which the Sultan wanted in his army.
By dawn, Basra was taken.
Luxenberg standards rose over the walls and harbour forts, not in triumph, but in confirmation. Patrols swept the city. Fires were extinguished where possible and left to burn where they were not. Order was imposed through occupation, not consent.
Victor entered the palace in silence, stepping over shattered marble and spent cartridges. From its terraces, he looked out across a city broken by refusal rather than spared by mercy.
Basra had not surrendered. It had been conquered…utterly, finally, and without compromise.
While Victor explored the palace, Marshal Davout approached him, escorted by a few soldiers of the Royal Guard. "My King, congratulations on taking the city. I am sure it is the first of many that you will take in this land."
Victor half-heartedly smiled, "Save your congratulations for the soldiers who bled to take this city. The honour is theirs' and theirs alone. We killed over 220,000 soldiers in the siege, as well as a few thousand civilians. Now is not the time revel in our achievement, but begin restoring order to this city."
Marshal Davout nodded and excused himself, allowing Victor to be alone with his thoughts. They were brief as the system was quick to interrupt him. The system had given him a reward for his accomplishment. It read…
Hidden Quest Completed!: Conquer An Asharanian City!'
'Rewards: 2x 10,000-Man Infantry Unit Summon, 10,000 Store Points,'
Victor was happy to receive a reward from the system, but compared to the last reward he had received, it was underwhelming. Nevertheless, having 20,000 who could be Asharanian was a huge bonus to Victor. They would help secure the peace in a city that had been under siege for over a week.
With no hesitation, Victor redeemed the rewards and was pleased to see them arrive at dawn the next morning.
They entered Basra like a dark tide at dusk, twenty thousand figures moving with patience. Victor watched them from the balcony of the palace as the first ranks passed through the stone gatehouse and poured into the streets below.
Their uniforms were made of light blackish-blue cloth, deep as midnight water, edged in silver and dull gold trim that caught the sun only when they moved. With every step, those thin lines of metal thread flickered, then vanished again, like stars swallowed by cloud.
Each soldier wore the same tall white headgear, its trailing cloth brushing the shoulders, and beneath it faces set in disciplined calm. Their coats were long and fitted, embroidered at the collar and cuffs with restrained finery, no excess, only authority.
Broad sashes wrapped their waists, heavy with pistols, daggers, and the curved hilts of kilij blades. Muskets rested easily in their hands, not gripped but carried, as though the weapon were an extension of the body rather than a burden. They did not shout. They did not sing. The only sound was leather, steel, and boots striking stone in unison.
The people of Basra pressed themselves into doorways and colonnades as the column passed. These men were not raiders, nor celebrants, they were occupation given human form. Victor felt it then: the city was no longer merely taken. It was held.
With the addition of these hardened soldiers, Victor now had a competent force that could not only hold the city for him but also pacify the populace. Having soldiers who could speak the native language would be beneficial to him in ways similar to his campaigns in Simbar and Zandar.
Basra had fallen; Victor's opening move was a success. The next phase of Victor's plan was soon to be set in motion.