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This looks an interesting and well reviewed AAR Mr Jape, but before I commit myself to catching up I must confess to a concern. You appear to have reached the point at which, after an excellent start, your muse and motivation desert you and you abandon the AAR before popping up with elsewhere with a brand new project.

So have you reformed your ways and committed to the path of completion, or do you remain the charmingly carefree reprobate of old?
 
This looks an interesting and well reviewed AAR Mr Jape, but before I commit myself to catching up I must confess to a concern. You appear to have reached the point at which, after an excellent start, your muse and motivation desert you and you abandon the AAR before popping up with elsewhere with a brand new project.

So have you reformed your ways and committed to the path of completion, or do you remain the charmingly carefree reprobate of old?

I always hope to be a charming reprobate and your fears are not without grounding however my absence on this occasion has been part writer's block, part crippling work regime. I've taken a few days off, have my cigarettes, some Corona and the fine sounds of Miles Davis to guide me. I will have the next instalment up in a few hours. Hope you enjoy and jump on board Mr. Pip.
 
5.
Uppity Beyliks and Tinpot Caesars​

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Aydin Serdar Pasha

Following the truce with Hunyadi in December 1453, the Ottomans experienced a rare bout of peace, at least of a kind. While Mehmet spent the middle part of the decade in Constantinople sculpting the city in his own image, Serdar Pasha oversaw the subjugation of his lord’s new holdings. Appointed governor of Rumelia [1] in 1454 specifically to crush resistance to Ottoman rule, Serdar proved devastatingly effective. A Bulgarian slave raised within the Janissary Corps Serdar was a professional soldier known for his grim demeanour and ruthlessness. Though no tactical genius, Serdar excelled as a strategist, perhaps best emphasised by his establishment of the ‘Voyniq’ system. The mountainous Balkan terrain had proven a major impediment for many a governor in the past. A simple dispute over tax or religion in an isolated hamlet could balloon into a regional uprising before word had even reached the closest garrisons, with months often passing before troops arrived to crush the rebellion. Serdar responded by organising small companies of cavalry throughout the region centred on local rallying points. In the event of unrest the horsemen would muster and act as flying columns, rushing to quell the revolt before it could truly begin. These units included local timariots but were dominated by landless soldiers, known as Voyniq. Paid by the state and with the chance for plunder, they were highly motivated, with the distant hope for a timar of their own in return for loyal service. A large number of these men were in fact Christian knights, their lands having been seized by the new regime. A steady wage kept them dependent on the Sultan, while the opportunity to regain their former fiefs led many to renege on their oaths to European kings and even convert to Islam. This incorporation of the lower nobility robbed disgruntled Serbs and Greeks of their most skilled soldiery while legitimising Ottoman rule in a way a Turkish garrison never could. Their lords’ endorsement of Mehmet’s rule no doubt quelled as many peasants as the sight of flashing scimitars. While Serdar saw dozens of rebellions during his tenure, the Voyniq system ensured only a handful became serious concerns.

With Rumelia secure for the immediate future, the Turks were able to focus their military and political attentions against two long held irritants to the Empire; the Turcomen beyliks and the Byzantine successor states. The former, brothers of the Ottomans from their nomadic past were a destabilising force on the eastern frontier. Raids, familial feuds and tributes unpaid all caused headaches for Mehmet and his Anatolian governors. Accepting the Sultan as their lord, at least formally, Mehmet saw the total subjugation of the Turcomen as the logical next step. Historically Turcomen independence was something of an aberration. Bayezid I, known as the Thunderbolt, had crushed the beys of Anatolia in the 1390s, bringing the region entirely under Ottoman control. For all his military prowess, Bayezid met his match in Tamerlane. The last of the great descendants of Genghis Khan to ride West, Tamerlane and his horsemen sped through Anatolia in 1402, destroying cities and slaughtering Ottoman garrisons. At the Battle of Ankara that year Bayezid’s army was annihilated and the proud Sultan marched in chains to Tamerlane’s capital at Samarkand where he would spend his final days. This act not only allowed the beys to break free once more but led to a Turkish civil war, as Bayezid’s sons struggled for power. Leaderless, crippled militarily and reduced to a rump state, if not for the death of Tamerlane in 1405 it is entirely possible the Ottoman Empire could have fallen to the Great Khan, destroyed before it could make its mark on history. The Fetret Devri or Interregnum lasted into the 1410s before Mehmet Celebi, grandfather of Mehmet II reunited the Empire. Wars with Hungary and the Byzantines became the focus of Mehmet I and Murad II, allowing the Turcomen beys to survive as nominal vassals.

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The issue of the Byzantine successor states was far more blatant. As the new Caesar, Mehmet saw the Despotate of Morea in southern Greece and the grandly styled Empire of Trebizond on the Black Sea coast (little more than a backwater city-state) as affronts to his imperial title. Their minor real world power was enhanced by a symbolic strength which could be used to raise the ire of subjugated Christians. This was not mere paranoia on the Ottomans’ part. The twin despots of Morea, Thomas and Demetrios were the brothers of the last Byzantine Emperor and with backing from Venice and Naples were an obvious source of dissent for the Sultan’s Greek subjects. John IV Komnenos, ‘Emperor’ of Trebizond was descended from the imperial dynasty of the 12th century. His family had ruled their lands for over two centuries and propped up by Genoa, where seen by many exiled Byzantines as heir apparent after the inglorious fall of the Palaiologos line in 1453. Still, both states attempted to maintain cordial relations with the Ottomans precisely because of the fears their continued existence might engender. For both the beys and would-be emperors, Mehmet took a subtle approach at first, increasing tithes, barring merchants, and ruthlessly enforcing the frontiers of his realm, making Turkish vassalage all but unbearable. Tensions increased and the Sultan perhaps hoped his targets would strike first, to avoid intervention from the Italians, Georgians and Persians who looked on them as buffer states to Ottoman expansionism. John IV of Trebizond proved the first to crack. The Sultan’s tithes had crippled her fragile economy and after years of subsidy, the Genoese loans had stopped in 1457. Pietro di Campofregoso, Doge of the Superb Republic had decided the Crimean trading port of Kaffa was of greater value to Genoa than the Byzantine pretender. Surrounded by the pro-Ottoman Tatars on land and with access to Europe determined by Constantinople, Kaffa’s continued prosperity was subject to the Sultan’s whim. The Genoese were not slow to realise Mehmet’s intentions towards Trebizond and had made their bed accordingly.

In June 1458, the Ottoman censors arrived in the Black Sea city-state to collect her annual tithe. When John insisted his coffers were bare and no tithe could be given, the officials quickly left. Two months later, Mehmet arrived at the head of an army and declared Trebizond a vassal in revolt to her rightful lord. By feudal custom the Sultan had every right to crush the Emperor and with the Genoese absent and the Georgian Kingdom locked in battle with rival Caucasian clans, Trebizond appeared friendless. Then from the south an unlikely ally appeared. Karaca II, Bey of Dulkadir, another of Mehmet’s vassals marched across the frontier. Karaca deemed the Sultan a tyrant who oppressed fellow Muslims in the form of the beyliks and no doubt hoped his fellow Turcomen would rise to join him. With Ottoman troops stationed in Sinope, capital of Kastamon and the Bey of Karaman’s daughter recently wed into Mehmet’s harem this was perhaps an optimistic assumption. On 30th August Mehmet’s army met John IV in open battle on the outskirts of Trebizond. The Greeks were outnumbered five to one by the Ottomans and swiftly crushed in a matter of hours. Victory all but assured the Sultan left the city’s siege in the hands of his pashas before marching south towards Dulkadir. By October Karaca II and his son Karaca Tansel were deep into central Anatolia, ransacking farms and villages as they went. More a grand heist than a campaign, the Dulkadirid columns were quickly weighed down by the booty of the Ottoman breadbasket. Mehmet, leading a small force of only 8,000 men met the Bey at Sivas on 6th October and a month later his son at Keskin near Ankara. On both occasions the nomadic warriors were laid waste by the professional soldiery of a modern army. At Keskin, Karaca Tansel fell to the swords of the Janissaries while after Sivas his father fled back to his capital at Adana on the Mediterranean coast, where he desperately levied new troops to meet the coming storm.

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The Ottomans march on Adana

In late November Mehmet arrived at Adana on land while a fleet of galleys blockaded the city from the sea. Half of Karaca’s army was slaughtered as he fled, Ottoman marines seizing the docks as Mehmet marched unopposed into the streets. The Bey would finally meet his fate on New Year’s Eve, the final redoubt at Mus surrendered without a fight, his head delivered to the Sultan by his own mutinous warriors. The terms dictated to the now leaderless Dulkadirids were lenient by Mehmet’s standards. Although the lion’s share of their lands would become timars for the sipahis, Adana remained free, a rump beylik totally cut off from outside influences. The death of Karaca and his son meant the new bey would be Suleiman II, a four year old child. A regency council was established, headed by an Ottoman pasha and a treaty signed, making the Sultan heir apparent. Another example of Mehmet’s attempts at legitimising the inheritance of his enemies’ thrones, few nonetheless doubted the infant’s reign would be prove a short one. In March Mehmet headed north once more. To his surprise the heavily outnumbered defenders of Trebizond had held out for months. Although the backwater city was no Constantinople, her attackers likewise had none of the fearsome artillery pieces of six years before, resulting in an inactive waiting game. Mehmet quickly took charge of the operation, his reinforcements and expertise in siege warfare crushing the Greeks on 1st April. John IV supposedly fled by fishing trawler and became the guest of King David X of Georgia. Turkish envoys to Imereti would make clear the Sultan’s displeasure at the harbouring of the Emperor. Despite payments offered for his return, David refused them all. As future events would show, he had plans for John. For the time being, Mehmet was happy to let the issue pass. His eastern frontier was now expanded and secure, the Anatolian plains secured by the Upper Euphrates and Pontus Mountains. The campaign also ensured the beyliks were now entirely cut off from direct outside aid. Outcry from neither Christian nor Muslim kingdoms to the campaign encouraged the Sultan to continue his consolidation of Ottoman hegemony in a more aggressive fashion. The resulting Morean War would prove a rare miscalculation on Mehmet’s part.

[1] Effectively the entirety of Ottoman Europe. Rumelia means ‘land of the Romans’, Roman being the Ottoman term for all European Christians during this period.
 
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This AAR is awesome. And I'm glad that you took time into Trebizond Empire, them being strange facination of mine. I always find their strange pomp (they style their dinasty Great Komnenos, while being little more then Genoese/Georgian/insert Black Sea power here vassal ridiculously insrtesting.
 
Top ominous ending, a King with plans and a miscalculated war. The later doesn't sound too serious, unless there is some proper British under-statement going on 'miscalculations' aren't that much of a problem, but the former could be interesting in the Chinese sense. Hopefully it is. ;)
 
Sandino: Well that would be telling now wouldn't it?

Dr. Gonzo: The Great Turk will have his living space!

ekorovin: Thank you very much. I agree Trebizond is a fun historical oddity and fear not Emperor John remains, he may well make a return.

El Pip: Cheers. Well let's just say Mehmet doesn't get what he expected.

-----------------------

Okay update ready hopefully by tomorrow, work continues to grind my free time into dust, lets see.
 
6.
Fratres Armis


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The three Popes of Mehmet's reign: Nicholas V, Clement VII and Leo X

On April 3rd 1460 Pope Clement VII, remembered little but for his weight and in the words of the Bishop of Siena [1], his “army of bastards”, died of a massive heart attack while in the throes of passion. During his two year reign the Papal States had continued its geopolitical decline that had plagued his predecessor. While Nicholas V had been hampered in the west by the Hundred Years War and in the east by Christian reluctance to combat Ottoman expansionism, Clement was a nonentity, happy to indulge himself with food and women behind the walls of his palaces. When the papal conclave met several weeks later there was a clear desire to choose a man of action. A candidate quickly made himself known in the Archbishop of Rouen, Guillaume d’Estouteville. An ascetic monk with decades of experience in everything from Roman administration to the inquisition of Joan of Arc, Guillaume was enthroned on May 1st as Pope Leo X.

One of his first acts was to organise a meeting of European leaders in Mantua to discuss the issue of the antichristus, Mehmet II. Leo believed the Sultan preyed on the division of the Christians to pick off their kingdoms one by one. As Archbishop of Rouen he had been a vocal supporter of the efforts to reunite the Catholic and Orthodox churches to encourage a crusade to save Constantinople in 1453. Seven years later, the Pope saw Turkish victories in Anatolia not as a sign they had shifted their attentions away from Europe but as a move to secure their eastern flank before returning west once more in force. This viewpoint, of a master plan to crush the Christian world, was perhaps crude but not entirely inaccurate and certainly struck a chord with European princes. At Mantua, representatives from Venice, Tuscany, Hungary, Naples, and the city-state itself agreed with Leo to form an alliance against Mehmet.

It had been no easy feat. Backed by his benefactor Charles VII of France, Leo had combined astute politicking with hellfire grandstanding to bring the fear of God (or rather perhaps fear of the Grand Turk) into the hearts of his apathetic guests. The Genoese were notably reluctant to sign the treaty [2], while France, Aragon and the German states provided only moral support. The Pope too failed to get the signatories to agree to a crusade, instead settling for a defensive pact. Regardless the League of Mantua was a powerful bloc, dedicated to battling further Turkish encroachment into the continent. The Sultan and his pashas could be forgiven for not taking the League seriously. For over a century similar pacts and promises had been made amongst the Christians only for them to collapse at the sight of Turkish arms. The fall of Constantinople and the failed crusades of Hunyadi had only reinforced the idea of Western callowness in recent years.

As Mehmet set his sights on the Morean Despotate, an isolated fiefdom and Orthodox to boot, it is unlikely he gave Leo X and his machinations much thought. The twin despots Thomas and Demetrios were forever bickering, their respective parties engaging in low-level civil war through the winding alleys of Mystras. Their struggle for streets, businesses and the patronage of merchants would no doubt be familiar to the gangsters of the 20th century. Tired of the unrest’s effect on their Greek ports, the Venetians tossed aside their neutrality and backed Demetrios as sole ruler of Morea. By 1462 Thomas had fled north to Glarentza splitting the Despotate in half. Fearful of the Doge, the younger brother in turn offered his loyalty to the Ottomans if they would aid him in taking the throne for himself. In May the response came with the placing of the seven imperial horse tails at Constantinople's Edirne Gate. The Sultan marched for Europe.

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(l) The Battle of Nikli. (r) An Akinci raider tears into his Latin foe.

We cannot know what Thomas anticipated to come of Mehmet’s aid but it would have been incredibly naïve to expect the services of 12,000 men to be given purely in the name of camaraderie. The Ottomans were just as weary of Morean unrest as their opposites in Venice and intended to use the intervention to stamp their authority on the peninsula once and for all. The army crossed the narrow Gulf of Corinth in late June and made camp outside Glarentza, their great tent-city dwarfing Thomas’ capital. No Turk except a young page entered the town, and his visit was purely to command the pretender take audience with his ally in the imperial yurt. It was a brief meeting, Thomas paid homage and was then instructed to remain in Glarentza, his haggard band of mountain warriors deemed of no value to the coming campaign. Mehmet soon set off along the coastal road. Corinth, the supposed gatehouse of Morea fell without fight, its citizens fearful of a Turkish pillage.

Further south on August 16th the Sultan and Demetrios met for the first time near Polyfengos but after a single Janissary charge the Moreans, outnumbered three to one, broke and fled into the hills. A week later the two armies engaged again at the Battle of Nikli. Demetrios formed his army with its back against a crescent ridge to protect himself from flanking cavalry and to mitigate his numerical inferiority. This proved a terrible mistake. Ottoman muskets, bows and cannon tore through the tightly packed Greek ranks, their splendid archaic armour and Byzantine tactics proving useless in the face of modern technology. Attempting to flee through the narrow passes of the ridge a crush developed killing as many as fell to enemy fire. Mehmet’s men supposedly suffered only one hundred causalities to the over two thousand dead and wounded Moreans left behind in the retreat. His army in tatters, the Despot fled back to his mountain stronghold of Mystras.

Mystras was no easy prospect even for Mehmet the Conqueror. Its ancient squat walls and commanding position above the Morean valleys created an imposing bastion. The physics of its position made the artillery train, still led by an elderly Urban, of little use to the Turks and after several disastrous charges up the steep incline in the face of arrows, boulders and pitch, the Sultan accepted it would be necessary to starve out Demetrios. With only a fraction of the army needed to maintain the siege, the rest were sent out to secure the peninsula. Mainly composed of Akinci volunteers paid by plunder, they quickly began to collect their salary, terrorising the merchants and fishing villages of Morea for all they could carry. In the process of this region-wide free for all the Venetian outposts of Nauplion and Modon came under attack by the Ottoman raiders.

The invasion of the pro-Venetian Despot’s territory was already a growing concern in the Republic’s Great Council but direct attacks on their trading posts led to anger and outrage. For some time the Venetians had come to believe their Genoese rivals, dependent on Kaffa and the Black Sea trade, had submitted themselves to Turkish patronage and the two were working to muscle out Venetian merchants in the Aegean. From this viewpoint the attacks were simply a new belligerent step in their scheme. In October 1462 Doge Cristoforo Moro sent a letter to Pope Leo asking for help and guidance on the Ottoman matter, the message’s cloying deference clearly intended to flatter him and mobilise the League of Mantua. It seems Leo already had plans of his own. In May he had sent envoys to Demetrios asking him to convert in return for Papal protection and by association that of the League. The Despot had rebuffed his offer then but now the raids against the Venetian ports granted Leo a second chance to wage war against the Turks.

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Allegory of the League of Mantua by Palma il Giovani. Note the Doge not the Pope is at the centre of the unity of holy arms in this piece of Venetian propaganda

At the turn of 1463 the Papal Bull Fratres Armis was published. It called on all Christendom to do battle with the Ottoman Empire, which Leo described as a ‘heathen plague’ that had swept up Byzantium, chastened the Serbs and was in the process of gripping the Aegean in oriental tyranny. Hunyadi and a now of-age King Ladislaus raised a great army in Buda upon hearing the call. The Hungarian response heartened the League of Mantua and others besides. Venice, Mantua and Tuscany all joined Leo in Italy, who began mustering the largest Papal armies and fleets ever seen. Petru II Aron of Moldavia, long under the shadow of Ottoman influence sent word to Hunyadi offering aid and decapitated the Sultan’s envoy before a baying mob in Budjak. Bosnia sent a letter to Rome asking to join the League’s crusade. In the Caucasus, David X of Georgia heard of the building Latin campaign and seized his chance, riding west alongside Emperor John to liberate newly conquered Trebizond. Even the Bey of Kastamon, who had ridden with Murad II at Varna, took the chance to free himself of Ottoman hegemony, no doubt expecting to fall once Mehmet was done with Morea. Though even Leo was stunned by the fallout from the Bull he was disappointed in some quarters. The French and Germans again offered only words, while the Neapolitans renounced their responsibilities to the League, their new King Ferdinand denying he was bound by his father’s pledges, in turn freeing his brother John II of Aragon from direct action [3]. None of this discounted the tremendous coalition now ranged against Mehmet. When word reached Mystras of events, Mehmet's generals were mortified. Leaving them to their arguments the Sultan supposedly climbed a nearby hill and sat beneath a date tree. After a day in contemplation he came down, mounted his horse and led a corps of Janissaries with speed back to Constantinople. The War of the League of Mantua had begun.

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[1] OTL’s Pope Pius II, a man known not to mince words and for his bizarre success as an erotic novelist.
[2] See Chapter 5
[3] Alfonso V being both king of Aragon and Naples, his younger son Ferdinand took the Neapolitan throne on his death. Though of no importance to our story, OTL’s John II known as ‘The Faithless’ was the perfect unscrupulous monarch, poisoning his enemies, including his own son, pawning off land to France to feed his coffers and spending most of his reign warring with his own subjects. I imagine his brother’s actions here would be used as a weasely excuse to avoid joining the League. Fun guy.
 
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seems to me like mehmet got his work cut out for him, just be glad that France and the Germans are staying out of it.
 
Psh whatever get military access to Venice and they'll collapse like a deck of cards