Chapter 43: Recruitment

For the people of Milan, autumn 1447 was undoubtedly a cold one.

Although Duke Visconti had committed many atrocities during his reign, the people of Milan still managed to live relatively comfortably thanks to the blessings of a bountiful harvest.

Visconti himself was an extremely powerful ruler who spent his reign waging wars, recruiting mercenaries, and fending off foreign powers. Domestic mercenaries behaved themselves obediently.

With the departure of this ruler, however, everything changed.

No one in Milan wanted a mercenary leader as their duke, nor did they want to submit to the iron rule of a foreigner.

However, the Italians, who had enjoyed peace for so long, were reluctant to take up arms to defend their homes.

They fled the burned-out countryside for the cities, and those who couldn't get in headed for the next one.

With Isaac's deliberate encouragement, the war of succession gradually turned into a war of aggression.

On 11 October alone, the first legion of the Imperial Guard received 220 refugees.

The refugees would be screened and face different fates depending on the outcome.

According to Isaac's criteria, all refugees were divided into four categories.

The first category consisted of farmers who had farmed the land for generations, herders who raised livestock, and fishermen who fished for a living. The second category included artisans of civil value, such as tailors, leatherworkers, carpenters, stonemasons, and workers in various small workshops.

The third category included craftsmen with strategic value, such as blacksmiths, shipwrights, glassmakers, and cannon makers. The fourth category included individuals with innovative talents, such as weapons designers, architectural engineers, and ship designers.

It could be said that the entire northern Italian region was currently home to the most talented people in the world. They must take advantage of this great opportunity.

His own territory lacked talent, public works were slow, and labor efficiency was extremely low.

"Is this all the migrants we received in a week?"

Isaac sat at the table, lit a candle, and looked at the long list.

"Only this many high-level talents?"

Mikhail, sitting below him, felt slightly embarrassed.

He couldn't help it. In this day and age, talented people could find work anywhere, so there was no such thing as a surplus.

The entire sheet of paper listed more than 1,400 refugees, with over 1,100 of them falling into the first category of simple farmers and herders.

The second category consisted of around 200 small craftsmen.

The third category had only 46 people, most of whom were blacksmiths, along with a few shipbuilders and gunmakers.

There were only two people in the fourth category: one was Isaac's old acquaintance, Martinez, a firearms engineer from Italy; the other was said to be a ship designer who had been rejected by the courts of various countries due to his religious beliefs.

Isaac looked down at Mikhail, who was sitting uneasily.

"Guards, bring Martinez and the ship designer to see me."

Moments later, Martinez appeared before him.

Compared to his spirited appearance a few years ago, he now looked old and haggard.

When he saw Isaac, he was clearly surprised.

"Hello, dear Martinez. It's good to see you again."

Isaac said with a smile.

Martinez quickly regained his composure and bowed deeply; his former sharpness was gone.

"While I was walking outside just now, I was wondering whose army was so orderly and imposing. I didn't expect it to be His Highness, Isaac."

"Martinez, what happened to make you so dejected?"

"Your Highness, the Venetians destroyed my musket factory and cannon foundry in Brenno. They slaughtered my workers, burned my blueprints, and seized my products by force."

"Now, I have nothing left."

The old man spread his hands and smiled bitterly.

"I can give you a new factory, a research laboratory, and a team of hardworking employees. I have a territory in North Africa that could benefit from someone of your talent. I can support you financially until you get back on your feet. I hear you have a son and a daughter. They can live in my territory too, and I can guarantee them a good education."

Hearing this, Martinez finally showed some emotion.

He raised his head.

"If that is truly the case, I am willing to serve you."

"I have several former apprentices who, for various reasons, have not yet been put to good use. I can write letters of recommendation for them to Your Highness."

"That is excellent."

Isaac nodded in satisfaction.

Next, the ship designer Mansreti entered the tent.

He was wearing a cloak that obscured his features, and he was holding a large Bible.

"I hear you call yourself a ship designer?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I hear you say that you have been persecuted because of your beliefs. Is that true?"

He paused for a moment.

"I am Dutch, and I learnt shipbuilding from my father when I was a child. I am very intelligent. By the age of twelve, I had mastered all of my father's civilian and military shipbuilding blueprints. After designing and building a large paddle-sail ship, my father finally admitted that he had nothing more to teach me. Proud as I was, I then began to travel throughout the empire and finally arrived in Prague."

Isaac and Mikhail listened quietly to his story.

"I made the best decision of my life when, at the urging of a friend, I attended Professor Hus's lecture."

"You all know what happened next. We were defeated, and the traitors of the Holy Grail betrayed Hus and the revolution."

At this point, Mansreti clutched the Bible tightly, as if trying to draw strength from it.

"So you were one of the most radical Taborites among the Hussites?"

Mikhail asked curiously.

Mansreti ignored him.

"I saw my best friend die at the hands of the Teutonic Knights, but I was too cowardly to fight back. When I returned to my hometown, I found that my father had died."

He smiled sadly.

"I failed to carry on my father's craft, and I failed to keep my faith."

"Since then, my hair has turned white day by day, as if it were God's punishment."

Mansreti lifted the hood of his cloak to reveal his snow-white hair. "For a time, I tried to fit into the world, seeking positions in the courts of the Elector of Brandenburg and the Duke of Provence. They recognized his talent but despised his faith. They drove me out. After that, I drifted around the world until I encountered the war."

He looked up at Isaac.

"Since you believe in Hus and like building warships, why don't you go to Prague to look for a job? They should sympathize with you."

Mikhail asked, confused.

At this, everyone fell silent for a moment.

"Count..."

"Hm?"

"Go and oversee the relocation of the refugees."

"Oh."

Mikhail strode away.

After seeing off the foolish Mikhail, Isaac thought quietly to himself for a moment.

Hus's followers were mainly divided into two factions: the radical Taborites and the more moderate Holy Grail faction.

The Taborites advocated the Bible as the only faith, the abolition of the class system, public ownership of property by believers, and equality for all, where everyone would call each other brother or sister.

The Holy Grail faction was much more moderate, advocating limited reforms to the existing doctrine.

In fact, the Taborites' ship designer should be grateful to the Holy Grail faction.

Had the Holy Grail faction not compromised with the Pope to protect the remaining followers of Hussites, Mansreti would not have escaped with just expulsion from the court.

"What are you saying this for? What do you want from me?"

Mansreti bowed.

"I heard that you are recruiting talent. I hope to serve you by building warships and merchant ships. I would like my name to be engraved on the waterline of your warships."

Isaac pondered.

Mansreti raised his head, then gradually lowered it again, seemingly prepared to be dismissed.

"You may," he said.

"But you must agree to my conditions."

"What are they?"

Mansreti asked hurriedly.

"Firstly, I don't care about your beliefs, but you are not allowed to spread them in my territory."

Mansreti smiled self-deprecatingly.

"After abandoning my comrades, what right do I have to spread them?"

"Secondly, you must design ships for me and teach ship design at the nautical school."

"Of course."

Mansreti nodded.

"Then you are now my ship advisor. You will receive a salary commensurate with your status from me every month. Congratulations, Mr. Mansreti."

Mansreti stepped forward and knelt on one knee.

Isaac slowly helped him up.

"The Count Mikhail you just met was captain of a twenty-man guard three years ago. The magistrate Gazi you met earlier was the son of the leader of a tribe on the brink of extinction two years ago."

"Go out and ask around. Follow my subordinates. Have I ever let anyone down?"

Isaac patted him on the shoulder.

"I don't care about your past. If you follow me, you might even find a wife and have children in the future."

Over the next few weeks, Isaac remained in the military camp, quietly recruiting refugees and reorganizing military affairs.

He focused most of his energy on the Slavic Legion.

He regarded this legion as his own private army of slaves, similar to the servants kept by the sheikhs of North Africa.

The legion grazed their herds near the grasslands and oases, paid no taxes, and kept their earnings for themselves. They used these earnings to purchase slaves to help manage their pastures and oases.

However, they had to provide their own equipment and follow Isaac into battle when required.

The entire legion, including their territories, numbered over 7,000 people, 2,500 of whom were combatants; the rest were their families, children, or servants.

Isaac divided them into twenty-five thousand-man units.

Legion commander Eldosh led the first unit of a thousand men, which was divided into ten units of a hundred men. The other two thousand-man units were commanded by two men appointed by Isaac; both were Berbers who had converted to the true faith.

Any tribes that refused to obey in the future would be subjugated, and their people and lands incorporated into the Slavic Legion.

During this raid, the Slave Legion was divided into companies of one hundred men, who attacked in all directions and reaped a rich harvest.

As before, they seized grain from enemy territory, drove off cattle and sheep, captured prisoners, and boasted loudly to their master about their spoils.

At such times, Isaac also played the role of a generous sheikh, fairly distributing the spoils among all the warriors who had participated in the battle and awarding the best swords and spears to the bravest and the finest horses to the most skilled.

He would join them in their loud laughter and hearty drinking, devouring the raw meat and distributing beautiful women and strong slaves among his men.

These tribal people, who had been oppressed by sheikhs for many years, were simple folk. As long as you treated them with sincerity, they would be loyal to you.

As for the conscripted infantry from the vassal tribes, however, Isaac didn't care much about them. He treated them as cannon fodder.

Isaac spent the entire month of October in this manner.

Meanwhile, John IV and his vassals were busy dividing up territory and wrangling with the various factions in Pavia.

Isaac did not get involved in their affairs.

At Isaac's instigation, the Sforza, who had been hoping for a peaceful transition of power, began to panic and gathered their troops to march north.

The Venetians also captured several cities in the east but encountered strong resistance.

Hostility between Milan and Venice was nothing new. While the common people were fine, the ruling classes on both sides had developed a strong distrust of each other, making it difficult to persuade them to surrender.

Following Sforza's decisive entry into the conflict, both Montferrat and Venice accelerated their efforts to divide Milan.

On 2 November, at Isaac's suggestion, Montferrat's army surrounded Piacenza. After a week-long siege, the city's nobles staged a coup and surrendered to John.

As this area had once belonged to Montferrat, its inhabitants remained calm in the face of John's occupation.

On 10 November, Sforza invited the four factions to begin negotiations, but the Ambrosian Republic refused.

On 12 November, the remaining three factions temporarily reached an agreement, united their forces, and marched north towards Milan.

The Siege of Milan began.

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