On the arid southern lands of Sirte, a group of horsemen galloped furiously.
Judging from their attire, the riders were local Bedouin tribesmen.They closely surrounded a young Bedouin nobleman, shielding him from possible arrows with their bodies.
"Ahmed! Has the caravan caught up?"The noble shouted to a rider beside him.
"No! I think they were overtaken!"
The noble's eyes darkened.It was expected—camels were the main mode of transport in the desert, good for carrying goods and people, but hopelessly slow.
The riders crested a hill—only to be greeted by a cavalry unit waiting on the road ahead.Roughly two hundred strong, these cavalrymen wore light armor under deep blue cloaks. Their shields and tunics bore the cross of Constantine.
Armed with sabers, war hammers, and battle axes, they were clearly well-prepared and positioned—having waited here for some time.
This was the cavalry of the Auck Corps, led by Sir Conti.
"Saddam of the Imran tribe! Surrender! We will spare your life!"Conti ordered the guides to shout loudly.
Saddam exchanged glances with Ahmed."Split up and break through?"Ahmed sighed. "It's the only chance."
With a whip of their reins, over forty desert horses split into two flanks and charged in opposite directions.The Auck cavalry didn't move, watching them with mocking smiles, as if looking at doomed prey.
But they had barely gone a few dozen meters when horses on both flanks tripped and crashed to the ground with painful whinnies.The riders were thrown violently—some knocked unconscious, others dazed.
"Damn it... Kafir..."
Saddam was lucky. He fell into a patch of grass, only suffering scrapes.But before he could finish cursing, Sir Conti grabbed him by the hair. Soldiers rushed forward and bound him tightly.
Moments later, he saw Ahmed also captured.
Isaac rode out from the flank.
"Saddam, son of the current chief of the Imran tribe,"Isaac recited intelligence he had obtained from Ulda."Disliked by his father, the title of successor taken by his half-brother.""Clearly your father doesn't favor you. Otherwise, why send you into the perilous depths of the desert to trade?""Tsk tsk... pitiful."
Isaac shook his head."Silence, Kafir!" Ahmed barked angrily.
"Ahmed, son of the former chief of the Imran tribe, now nephew to the current one, cousin to Saddam, raised together."
Isaac continued reading."So what is this? A league of the disgraced?"
"What are you going to do with us? If you know my father disdains me, then you must know—he won't pay a single coin of ransom."Saddam said coldly.
"I'm giving you both a chance," Isaac said slowly."You're both capable. Your caravan yielded fine spoils, and that oasis outpost you established has potential."
"Convert. Swear loyalty to me, and I promise you'll divide the Imran tribe. Each of you will become a new sheikh."
"No more contempt from brothers or uncles. Those nobles who scorned you yesterday will kneel and weep before you tomorrow."
Isaac coaxed.
"Shut your mouth, Kafir! We will not follow the devil's footsteps!"Saddam shouted.
But Ahmed was silent.He glanced around at the powerful army.
"My lord! I am willing to pledge my allegiance! As long as you help me reclaim the tribe that should be mine!"Ahmed said loudly.
"You're mad, Ahmed!" Saddam roared.
Ahmed ignored him.Saddam struggled frantically, crawling toward Ahmed.
Conti kicked him aside, leaving him groaning in pain.Before he could raise his head, a sword touched his neck.
The cold steel slid across his skin—Saddam gulped.
"Your father treated you unfairly, and yet you're still so blind..."Isaac knelt beside him, staring coldly into Saddam's sweat-covered face."Your cousin has already sworn loyalty. I don't need both of you.""But think carefully—if you die, the entire tribe will be Ahmed's."
Isaac gave him a regretful look."Conti..."
"My lord…"
"Changed your mind?"
"When you take the tribe, let me deal with my brother and his mother,"Saddam said through gritted teeth.
Isaac said nothing.The soldiers untied Saddam.
He stood, dusted himself off."My lord, I know a hidden path with secret wells and supply points, leading directly to the tribe. You'll suffer fewer losses."Saddam reported.
Ahmed glared at him.They had discovered that path together and planned to use it as leverage—but Saddam had given it away.
"Fine. When we split the tribe, you get 100 extra tents."
Saddam beamed.
The soldiers untied the other captured riders and returned horses to those less injured.The thirty-odd men split into two groups—one behind Saddam, the other behind Ahmed.
Soon after, Mehmet arrived with the camel caravan and reinforcements.
Isaac checked his forces:200 Auck cavalry, 300 Purple Guard cavalry, and over 700 Bedouin auxiliaries.
"How many men does your father have?"
"He normally keeps a standing force of 100, now increased to 200 after you took the port. But if he rallies the subordinate tribes, he could field 2,000 riders and camel warriors," Ahmed answered quickly.
"Any allied tribes support you?"
"Yes, but none as strong as the sheikh."
"If you can destroy the Imran tribe in one battle, the other minor tribes will submit."
"Lead the way."
"Yes, my lord!"
They were overjoyed.
Southwest of Sirte – Imran Oasis
Nestled in a valley surrounded by low mountains, a freshwater lake nourished the area, creating rare arable land in North Africa.
Olive and fig trees planted by herders lined the shores, providing both income and windbreaks.
The Imran tribe lived here in semi-nomadic, semi-settled fashion, with numerous subordinate tribes centered around the oasis.
These minor tribes gathered seasonally to trade, with goods transported to Sirte Port in exchange for supplies and wares.
The best lands belonged to the sheikh—his herds grazed lush pastures and drank sweet lake water.
The tribe numbered over 7,000 and could conscript around 1,000 strong riders at most.
"Has that ungrateful son not returned yet?"Inside the great tent, the Imran sheikh snapped at a young man.
"Father, perhaps my dear brother took the caravan and defected to another tribe?"The youth sneered.
"Wretch..."The sheikh began coughing violently.
The young man offered him a cup of wine."Father, take care of your health. The tribe depends on you."
The sheikh calmed slightly."Don't worry. Before I die, I will clear the path for you..."
A guard burst in."Sheikh! The caravan has returned—with quite the haul!"
They all rushed out.
Isaac observed the surroundings. Fertile lands, wind-blocking groves, grazing hills—truly a fine place.
The defenses were decent: ditches and watchtowers outside, barricades and arrow towers inside. A frontal assault would be costly.
In the distance, Ahmed and Saddam negotiated with the patrol. Everything seemed under control.
Isaac's cavalry lay hidden behind a hill, out of sight.
The sheikh rode forward on a camel, followed by his dozen-strong guard.
"Why so late?"
"There was much to trade this time. We had to go farther."
"Hmph!"
"Dear brother, were you perhaps fooling around in Jufra's brothel? You're soaked in sweat! Hahaha…"
"No, Nuhaj, not everyone is like you. Your mother was a local woman from there, after all."
"Silence! Don't talk to your brother that way!"
The sheikh's face darkened."Apologize to him!"
He assumed his weak-willed son would obey as always—until he saw the twisted expression on Saddam's face.
"I still held onto a sliver of hope…"
"What?"
"I said... farewell."
Saddam drew his saber—and cut off his father's head.
"Charge!"Isaac raised his sword.
Cavalry surged over the hill and stormed the oasis.
Shocked by Saddam's patricide, the defenders failed to mount an effective resistance.
"I am the new sheikh of Imran! Kneel and surrender!"Saddam shouted, raising his blood-soaked trophy.
Sir Conti's cavalry smashed through the disorganized defenses and swept into the tribe.
Nuhaj tried to flee but was kicked off his camel by Conti.
Isaac and his guards watched from the hill as their eagle standard was planted throughout the Imran Oasis:watchtowers, granaries, armories, the great tent...
Some minor resistance flared up, but scattered and ineffective.
By dusk, Saddam and Ahmed had taken full control, executing nobles loyal to the old sheikh and bringing tribal leaders to the hill to formally invite Isaac into the oasis.
He entered the main tent, sat in the sheikh's seat, and took the tribal scepter from Sir Conti.
Surrounded by his men and the new loyalists, Isaac declared:"I am Isaac Balleologos, new lord of Sirte Port, of the Roman Empire, and now master of the Imran Oasis.""The previous sheikh ruled unjustly, and was slain by his own son—justly so."
"Bring forth Nuhaj and the others."
Gazi dragged in Nuhaj, his mother, and a few loyal nobles.
Nuhaj screamed through his gag, tears streaming down his face.
Isaac stepped forward and pressed his foot against Nuhaj's neck.One stroke—and it was over.
His mother fainted on the spot.
"You promised to let me handle them!"Saddam yelled.
Isaac stared coldly at him.Sweating, Saddam swallowed.
"Forgive me, my lord..."
"The woman is yours,"Isaac said, pointing to Nuhaj's mother.
"Ahmed, kill the rest. Their families and servants are my spoils."Isaac waved his hand.
He had originally planned to give the tribe to Saddam and Ahmed—but the oasis was too valuable for mere Bedouin herding.
The plan needed adjustment.
"Summon all subordinate tribes. Tell them to come meet their new lord."
"Yes!"
Isaac spent a full week at the Imran Oasis, awaiting the minor tribes.
On September 1, 1446, Isaac held a tribal assembly.The small tribes, fewer in number than his own troops, dared not resist.
All acknowledged Isaac's rule over Imran.
He renamed it San Josef Land.
Roughly half the tribal chiefs pledged fealty and converted to Orthodoxy; the rest made excuses.
Isaac left them alone—for now.When the time came, others would deal with them.
Each chief stepped forward and swore loyalty.They were pragmatic—so long as Isaac stayed strong, they would follow.
"Saddam, Ahmed—step forward."
The two complied.
"Saddam, I grant you 700 tents' worth of former Imran people for your merits. You shall graze in the western plains of San Josef Land. Pay tax in peace, send troops in war."
"Thank you, my lord."He sounded slightly disappointed.
"Ahmed, I grant you 600 tents' worth, and the southern oasis you developed. All land south to Jufra you can claim."
"Yes, my lord!"Ahmed replied loudly.
Both he and his people underwent baptism, making them Orthodox—at least nominally.
"Gazi!"
"Here!"
The Seljuk noble from Dobrogea knelt reverently before Isaac.
"I appoint you governor of San Josef Land. You are granted 200 tents of the criminals' families, and your 1,000 people may migrate here. Herd and farm—your domain is the eastern plain."
"Reconcile disputes, manage resources, develop arable land."
"Pay tax in peace, march in war."
"It is my honor!"Gazi was ecstatic.
Finally, the Dobrogeans had a place to call home.
Isaac gave him the governor's scepter and badge.
"I will continue the campaign. All your men and livestock—come with me."
Isaac commanded the chiefs.
Over the following weeks, Isaac completed the sweep of the Sirte region:securing wells and oases, purging dissenters, installing loyalists, and spreading the Gospel.
At the same time, news arrived from Europe—Albanian national hero Skanderbeg defeated the Ottoman army once again at Otonet.Both sides withdrew and agreed to a truce.