It was a good thing that this defensive line was temporarily held, or so Dungar thought.
But when he roughly understood the current phase of the battle, his expression immediately turned quite grim. According to the observations of the defending soldiers and the arriving reinforcements, he could confirm that the four wooden towers guarding the earthen fort had all been destroyed by the enemy. This meant that the earthen fort itself had become the sole gateway to Palantoken Mountain, and if the enemy persisted in their relentless attacks, the fortifications on this mountain would theoretically not last until next month.
When he shared this thought with his colleague, the latter agreed, "Our army built these fortifications too hastily back then. Now it seems they will indeed be difficult to sustain." Posadas nodded.
Seeing that his colleague shared the same view, Dungar opened up the topic, anxiously asking Posadas, "Then, Lord Posadas, what do you think we should do next?"
"Fight, fight a defensive battle until the other side bleeds rivers of blood! With the protection of the Holy Father and Manuel, I believe we will achieve ultimate victory." Posadas's rough voice revealed an inexplicable confidence.
"…"
"What's wrong?"
"Wouldn't it be better to follow the 'final plan' Manuel gave us earlier at the meeting…" Dungar's rather handsome face almost couldn't maintain its composure.
"I can't say." Posadas's tower-like figure surprisingly wavered. More than his own desire to fight, he prioritized the strategic needs of his respected Caesar.
Ultimately, the two of them decided to follow Manuel's advice given at the end of this military meeting: while actively moving around to boost morale, they would subtly hint to the defending officers about the unsustainable state of the mountain defense line.
The White Sheep Army, however, was clearly oblivious to this. For the next few days, their attacks, though not as fierce as on that particular day, nevertheless persisted relentlessly against the earthen fort with the reinforcements. Even though each attempt ended in failure, the earthen fort suffered various damages as they wished.
Five full days passed in a flash. On a mid-October night, Mahmoud and Hamza, after informing their father, White Sheep Sultan Kara Osman, gathered their tribal leaders to discuss the timing of the next major assault. To this end, at the beginning of the meeting, Mahmoud had a tribal general step forward, his face taut and expression serious, to report on the battle situation and casualties of the past week.
After briefly praising Allah and the Sultan, the man immediately loudly reported what he considered to be the military situation, "Five days ago, although the true faithful Ghazi did not breach the Kafir's defenses, they successfully destroyed those cursed wooden towers they had built. Furthermore, thanks to the leadership of the Bey, the large earthen fort built by the Romans is also on the verge of collapse…"
"Previous casualty numbers?" Mahmoud, feigning calmness, directly interrupted the general's rambling report, straightforwardly questioning him in front of all the leaders about the casualties from the previous large and small battles.
"Yes, Bey." The general then realized he had spoken too much and quickly reported the key point, "The fighting was fierce in the past few days, and at least fifteen hundred of Allah's warriors have gone to meet our revered True God…"
"How many Ghazi?" Hamza puffed out his chin, his beard trembling, and impatiently interrupted him.
"Roughly less than three hundred registered Ghazi, the rest were all common Muslim nomads from Anatolia." The general quickly reported the most crucial military intelligence.
"So, most of those who died were expendable, right?" Mahmoud's previously tense expression relaxed considerably, and his demeanor towards the general softened a great deal.
After a few kind words and dismissing the man, Mahmoud and Hamza exchanged smiles and passionately boosted the morale of the tribal leaders at the meeting, "After several days of fighting, among those who fought, there were no large-scale casualties apart from these unnecessary conscripts. In contrast to us, even with the help of their own reinforcements, these Romans are at their wit's end. In other words, in the battles of these past few days, we have been victorious. As long as we continue to fight like this, we will bask in the glory of Allah and achieve ultimate victory."
His words clearly invigorated the entire army's morale, and now these tribal leaders began to loudly call out the names of their Bey. After sharing small cups of fermented grape juice with the leaders, Mahmoud announced the upcoming marching plan on the spot, "In three days, which is late this month, we will advance towards the peak of Palantoken Mountain!"
Afterward, having received the support of the tribal leaders and the approval of their father, the two led this White Sheep Army to once again begin preparations for a full-scale assault on the fortifications.
During this time, their major movements naturally could not be hidden from the defending forces in the earthen fort. After confirming that the enemy would undoubtedly launch another large-scale attack soon, Dungar finally made up his mind, instructing his attendant to fetch a tube of "oil" that Caesar had entrusted to them before their departure, intending to activate this "final solution."
The "oil" was contained in a transparent, thick glass tube about the size of a palm, appearing as a thick yellow liquid. Before it was unsealed, the soldiers and servants had consistently followed instructions, sealing the glass tube containing the "oil" with an oak stopper, while also being careful to avoid light and handle it gently.
After it was placed before them, Dungar and Posadas looked at the oily liquid with a mix of belief and doubt, recalling their last conversation with Manuel before coming to reinforce the fort—
"Take these," After the military meeting, Manuel summoned them privately, then gravely placed a not-insignificant tube of oily liquid on the table, "After blasting open the Panticapaeum iron mine a few years ago, I prepared some more of this stuff. Originally, I planned to open a mine in Trabzon this time, but unexpectedly, with the Holy Father's blessing, they can actually be put to use in this situation."
"Manuel, what is this?" Posadas, who came from a farming background, looked bewildered.
"The detailed explanation is very complex; just think of it as an enhanced version of gunpowder. Let's call it 'dynamite.'"
"Then, Manuel, how do we use this, uh, 'dynamite'?" Dungar asked cautiously, staring at it with curiosity.
"It's pretty much like gunpowder; just light it." He then carefully and quickly added some precautions, "Be careful, before activating it, absolutely do not shake it violently, do not let it come into contact with light, and do not provoke it with a flame. Otherwise, the consequences it causes will be even more severe than gunpowder with added sugar!"
"Yes, Manuel!" The two immediately composed themselves, standing upright and serious before their Caesar. However, Dungar quickly noticed some words in Manuel's statement, "Um, Manuel, why add sugar to gunpowder?"
"You'll understand when you get to Palantoken Mountain." A smile finally appeared on Manuel's face, "If you encounter a desperate situation, combine the 'dynamite' with the mixed white sugar and black gunpowder that will be sent to you later. Oh, right, by then, the fortifications on Palantoken Mountain probably won't be able to withstand the White Sheep Turkmens anymore, so remember to bring back seventy to eighty percent of the defenders as well."
"Yes, Manuel. Loyalty!"