"Quick! Press forward with the entire army—we must trap the enemy elites!"Issa LeMa raised his whip and lifted his jeweled sword high.
The standard-bearer waved the command flag. Instantly, the infantry phalanxes in the center and left flanks broke from their defensive posture. Guided by their officers, they charged toward the enemy's central formation.
Mehmet's cavalry was still pursuing the shattered enemy left wing, fire and smoke billowing in the distance—out of contact for now.
Issa's plan was to tie down the enemy's core force with infantry until Mehmet regrouped and could smash into the enemy flanks with full momentum. The success of the entire operation hinged on the infantry's ability to hold the line.
In the central encampment of the Fezzan army, King Abdullah stood dazed, staring after the retreating figure of Sheikh Adnan.His left and right flanks had collapsed. Though the center remained elite, it no longer held superiority in numbers or morale.
The 1,200 infantry before him—his family's pride, forged over generations—were the finest in the desert.Trained by professional armorers, equipped by master weaponsmiths, and drilled by seasoned officers, these former slaves had become an iron army that once struck fear into all tribes.
It was this force that had raised him from among many sheikhs to kingship.But today...
"Front line, hold formation. Cavalry, withdraw with me."He spoke slowly, as if all strength had been drained from him.
"We are honored to die for the King!"The commander of the vanguard shouted, then mounted his horse and moved to take command.
"Hold steady! Stand firm!"
At the very front charged the vanguard of the Imperial Guard's First Legion—spearmen in chainmail, originally trained to resist cavalry charges, now used to pierce enemy ranks like a lance.
CLANG—Spears struck shields with ear-piercing screeches.
The two sides clashed and plunged into brutal combat.
After the initial momentum waned, the Guard troops found themselves in a bitter struggle.The enemy was clearly well-drilled, disciplined in attack and defense—far superior to tribal levies.
At times, the Guard were even pushed back.
"For Rome!"Mikhail roared as he charged into the fray, clad in heavy armor, his helmet masking his face, leading his personal guard into the melee.
Blood sprayed, limbs flew—both sides fought like madmen, driven only to bury blades in enemy chests and crush skulls with hammers.
Just as the battle reached a standstill, the elite Purple Guard infantry arrived on the field, flanking the enemy formation.From another side, the Black Legion, ignoring Adnan's fleeing faction, slammed into the regular royal army.
Surrounded on three sides, the enemy, though valiant, began to collapse.
"The king has fled! We are lost!"Issa ordered his men to shout in Arabic.
The embattled soldiers turned back—only to see that their cavalry had long since fled. They were alone on the battlefield.
"Drop your weapons and surrender now!"
The cry grew louder around them.
CLANG—A young soldier, terror in his eyes, dropped his blade.A junior officer immediately beheaded him.
"Speak of surrender and die!"
THUNK—An arrow pierced the officer's throat before he could finish. He staggered and fell, face-first in the sand.
From the Purple Guard's line, Hakan loosed several more arrows, felling the most defiant foes.He shook his bow with satisfaction, the House of Palaiologos crest gleaming bright.
"We surrender!"One enemy soldier shouted, dropping his weapon and kneeling.
More and more followed. After the last of the die-hards were cut down, the battle was over.
Issa spurred his horse forward and rode into the battlefield. The victorious soldiers looked to their lord with shining eyes.
Issa smiled faintly.
"Soldiers of Rome, I am proud of you.""After the war, all who distinguished themselves will be rewarded."
Hooves thundered in the distance. Mehmet arrived, leading a line of prisoners roped together, dragging their feet and begging for mercy.
The cavalry battle was over as well.
Dismounting, Mehmet knelt on one knee.
"Your Highness, we failed to capture King Abdullah.""These are all the noble captives we could take."
Issa lifted Mehmet and patted his shoulder.
"I saw it. That fool of a king made a swift and ruthless decision—he abandoned the front line.""It's not your fault."
Issa turned to his gathered officers.
"Back to camp! Let the celebrations begin!"
...
That night, the troops feasted on roasted camel.Issa roamed the camp, sharing his treasured wines with his officers.
Clearing the battlefield, tending the wounded, counting the losses, sorting the prisoners—those were all tedious tasks Issa left to others.Drinking was far more enjoyable.
He drank with his men into the dead of night before returning to camp and collapsing into sleep.
The war was over. No local power could ever again drive Issa out of this land.
Exhaustion and triumph washed over him, and he sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.
His snores echoed until noon the next day.
Patrolling soldiers chuckled quietly at the sound.
Shortly afterward, Issa burst from his tent, found a campfire at random, and sat cross-legged.Grabbing a hunk of meat from the flames, he tore into it hungrily.Nearby soldiers could only gape at the sight.
After the meal, it was time for business.
"Send word! All officers to the council tent immediately!"Issa ordered his guards.
Soon, all the legion commanders filed in, finding Issa seated at the head.
He waved them to their seats.
"Your Highness, the battlefield is cleared. Casualty reports are still being compiled," Mikhail reported first.
"That can wait. What of the enemy remnants?"
"The enemy cavalry and camel riders are mostly lost. Some survivors have surrendered, the rest fled south.""Adnan's forces have taken refuge in the oasis of Maibrey. Their stance is unclear, but they seem to be preparing a defense.""King Abdullah did not return to Maibrey. His whereabouts are unknown."
Issa pondered this.
"Then we march on Maibrey. Let's see what Adnan has to say.""Have our allied tribes deliver the message—tell them Adnan is a rebel, Fatih is dead, and the king routed and missing.""Let's force their hand."
The officers departed on their assignments.
The oasis of Maibrey was too strategically important to leave be.
A small tribe could negotiate, but if they dared think otherwise, the fugitive king's fate would be theirs.
On November 11, 1446, Issa assembled his army and marched for Maibrey Oasis.
Along the way, they gathered surrendered enemies into a war-captive camp, to be later transferred to Erdosh.Allied tribes who had joined the battle would receive their share.
Upon reaching Maibrey, Issa set up camp and dispatched envoys to deliver a message with a single, cold line:
"Surrender—or die."
Fresh from victory, Issa pressed Maibrey with overwhelming force.
These tribes respected strength, not soft words.
Next, he ordered the cavalry to fan out, stopping all merchants and travelers from entering the city.They sealed the roads and encircled Maibrey without hesitation.
That very night, Adnan sent his son, Mursid, to Issa's camp to negotiate.
Issa sat at the head of the council—his tribal sheikhs to the left, legion commanders to the right.
"I offer you the utmost respect, great Prince Issa,"Mursid knelt low in submission.
"Your actions don't seem very respectful,"Issa said coldly, without even looking at him.
"My father has long wished to submit. He withdrew from the battle to avoid conflict,""His defensive stance is merely to protect the oasis from Abdullah's retreating forces."
Mursid kept his tone composed.
Issa gave a thin smile.
"In that case, I'd like to sleep in Maibrey tonight. Is that possible?"
"Of course—but…"Mursid looked up cautiously.
"There are dissenting voices in our tribe. Some disagree with my father's decision to serve you. We fear they may act rashly."
Everyone in the tent glared.
"No matter. My army will eliminate them,"Issa said flatly.
Mursid remained silent, staring at him.
"Speak. What do you want?"Let's speak plainly.
"My father agrees to convert the tribe to Orthodoxy and pledge allegiance, providing taxes and troops.In return, he asks for the title Count of Maibrey."
All eyes turned to Issa.
He tapped his fingers on the table but gave no immediate reply.
This was no small matter.It concerned not just Adnan's status, but the expectations of every officer present.
No one fights just for love and glory.
Until now, Issa had deliberately kept this issue under wraps.
To divide power or to centralize—it was a question that haunted all monarchs.
The early Byzantine Empire had a refined bureaucracy. Military and civil affairs were split, with rare hereditary grants.Later, as central authority waned, generals seized power and territories became private domains.
After 1204, the system was in shambles, and Western-style feudalism took hold.
Often, kings didn't centralize because they couldn't.In ancient times, it was said that a lord's effective territory was the area a rider could reach in three days from the castle.
Beyond that, he needed vassals.
Issa had already granted titles on La Palma, the Bissagos, and St. Nicholas Island.But those were empty lands—nobles had to build their own estates, which incentivized development.
For the newly conquered Grand Duchy of Surt, Issa had already made up his mind.
"Mursid, your father is a wise man. He deserves a count's title—but not in Maibrey.""Last night, I dreamed a great cathedral rose in Maibrey. I believe it was divine will. I must make it real."
He lied without blinking.
"Then where will we be resettled?"Mursid asked.
Issa opened a map, located Maibrey, and slid his finger down to a dot:Ugu Pond—at the foot of Mount Seba, once King Abdullah's private pasture.
"I can name your father Count of Ugu."
Mursid's face darkened.
The area was fertile, but surrounded by hostile tribes. Settling there meant years of unrest.
"The current residents of Maibrey who wish to follow your father may do so. Those who don't may remain.""That is my final mercy."
Mursid nodded and left to report back.
Knights Conte and Ibrahim exchanged glances, anticipation in their eyes.
Issa saw it, but pretended not to.
North Africa was too complex for full bureaucratic control.He would hold major cities and oases directly. Secondary centers would go to Dobrujan allies and trusted tribal chiefs.Remote areas could be granted to cooperative local sheikhs.
For his own men, Issa planned a modified fief system.Landholders would own their estates, but state officials managed them, forwarding output to the lords.Heirs needed Issa's approval—and a hefty sum—to inherit.
That night, with no reply from Maibrey, Issa raided several nearby tribes and distributed their people to his slaves.
By dawn, Sheikh Adnan emerged to declare fealty, accepting all conditions.
From that day, the greatest oasis city of the Jufra cluster belonged to Palaiologos.
Issa renamed it Fort Narcissus, in honor of the eunuch general loved by barbarians.
Then, Issa launched a grand sweep across the entire Jufra region.
By November 20, 1446, with Adnan's help, he had crushed all resistance.Rebellious tribes were wiped out, their people given to allies and slaves.Submissive tribes had to convert to Orthodoxy and supply provisions.
On December 1, 1446, Issa returned to Fort Narcissus to oversee the rewards.
The Grand Duchy of Surt had lost 2,900 troops but slain over 4,000 enemies.They captured 1,000 desert horses, 4,000 camels, and countless sheep—mostly rations originally meant for the royal army.Issa had no intention of returning any.
At sunrise, Archbishop Elster of Surt arrived to baptize the new subjects and sheikhs.They appeared devout—but Issa knew if Muslim forces returned, they'd switch back in an instant.
The lesser sheikhs could flip again. But Count Adnan?No way back.
His name was already tainted among Sunnis. Now he'd led the conversion and betrayed the king—he was committed.
"Adnan of Maibrey!"The herald called out.
Adnan stepped forward and knelt respectfully before Issa.
"You have shown repentance. For that, I name you Count of Ugu, with lands surrounding Ugu Pond.Two thousand tents of your people will follow you. They are your subjects now—treat them well.To help you reclaim your estate, I grant you five hundred soldiers, five hundred horses, and five hundred camels, as a personal gift."
Adnan gave thanks and stepped down.
He looked back at the city he had once built with care.
If only he hadn't fled—could he have been celebrating now?
Or would he have lost everything, including his life?
He smiled, shook his head, and cast those thoughts aside.
Most of his people still followed him.For them, he could not give up.
He straightened his robes and stepped into the sunlight, remembering when he had once led his tribe through war and hardship to found their home.
Now, he would do it all again.