Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Chapter 273 - 215 Siege

After besieging Tunis City from the north, west, and south, the Tunisian Rebel Forces had surrounded it for three days.

Gazing at the majestic Tunis City, Zemir, his expression stern, raised his hand and pointed at the Guard formation below, "Signal the attack, begin the final assault!"

The extended sound of bugles drifted across the miles surrounding the area, as more than ten Rebel Army formations quietly advanced forward under the command of their respective officers.

Koja, who was in charge of commanding the Imperial Guard to defend the city, stood in the highlands to the west of the city with a telescope in his hand, frowning and murmuring to himself:

"That damned fire... Is the great Guard really going to end here?"

If it were a normal skirmish, even if the rebels were twice the number of his own men, he would be confident in crushing them.

However, more than half a month ago, the munitions warehouse in Tunis City accidentally caught fire, which may have been set by the Berbers within the city.

In any case, more than 70% of the weapons in the warehouse were burned.

Previously, those Imperial Guard soldiers insisted on returning to live inside Tunis City and, because of the incident with the assassination attempt on the Bey, were not allowed to bring weapons into the city and had to store them in the warehouse.

After the fire, half of the soldiers faced a lack of weaponry and equipment.

It was at that time rebels from various places gradually obtained victories and began converging towards Tunis City.

The pampered high-ranking officers of the Guard inside the city, learning that the army lacked weapons, rolled up their valuables and fled towards Tripoli or Egypt, which also affected his soldiers.

"Less than a week, and over a thousand deserters. These cowardly wretches!"

Koja shook his head and sighed, "With over a hundred years of accumulation for the Guard, if we were firm and courageous in clearing out the rebels, how could we have ended up being surrounded in the city like this?"

"Pasha?" His adjutant, noticing him in a daze, hurriedly whispered to remind him, "The enemy is getting close."

Koja nodded and with a casual wave of his hand, ordered, "Fire the cannons."

"Yes, Pasha."

In front of the Tunisian Guard’s defense line, around ten cannons roared as their shells, emitting shrill whistles, tore through the indigenous army’s crowds.

"Ah—"

Amidst the screams, several bodies shattered by the cannonballs were blasted into chunks of flesh and sprays of blood, immediately causing additional chaos within the already disorderly ranks of the indigenous army.

Those native army officers, who were farmers and peddlers just a short while ago, desperately repressed their own fears, waving their sabers and shouting at their subordinates to maintain order: "Keep the formation!"

"Don’t panic, and certainly don’t retreat!"

"Don’t freeze, keep moving forward!"

With their efforts, the advancing columns barely managed to keep pushing forward. However, the cannons of the Guard rang out again.

In fact, these solid cannonballs couldn’t cause too much casualties. Even if they hit the military formation at the best angle, they could kill at most about ten people. In most cases, they would take one or two lives, or even miss entirely.

But the deafening sound of the cannons, along with the fear of being shattered by an unseen shell at any moment, were a severe test of the soldiers’ willpower.

These native soldiers, who had received no formal training, completely lacked this capability.

After enduring four or five rounds of cannon fire, the majority of soldiers began uncontrollably turning and fleeing—especially those covered in blood and brain matter, who ran faster than anyone else.

The officers in charge of managing them, after a bout of yelling and cursing, found they couldn’t control them at all and also started running back.

There were a few soldiers who, in a burst of fervor, charged towards enemy positions ready to fight to the death while shouting the Prophet and the Lord’s noble names, only to be met with volleys of fire from the Imperial Guard.

Two days later.

Zemir listened with a gloomy expression as an officer reported the casualties to him, murmuring under his breath, "Over twenty thousand soldiers, a dozen assaults, and not even once could we get within fifty steps of the enemy..."

He had originally thought that, like the previous battles, they would quickly storm into Tunis City. Yet, in these two days, despite losing more than four hundred men, they hadn’t even touched the first line of defense of the Guard.

"The cannons! It’s all because of those damned cannons!" he suddenly burst out, furiously clenching his teeth, "If we had cannons, we would surely crush those devils!"

An officer next to him moved a couple of steps closer and whispered, "General, perhaps we could try asking Pasha Isaac."

After becoming the leader of the Rebel Army, the generous "Zaganos Bey" had reverted to his original name and became Pasha Isaac.

At twilight, the dimming light caused both sides to temporarily cease hostilities, and the soldiers returned to camp to prepare dinner.

Zemir, accompanied by several main officers, went to the residence of the Rebel Army leader, Pasha Isaac.

"Cannons?" Isaac frowned and shook his head, "Such things are not easy to come by."

Zemir pleaded anxiously, "Pasha, the enemy’s cannons pose a great threat to us. If we do not have equivalent weapons, I fear it will be difficult to achieve victory. Please, you must think of a way..."

"Currently, only the French in all of Tunisia have cannons," Isaac pondered and shook his head, "It’s just, this is a grudge between us Tunisians and the Ottoman Imperial Guard, and it doesn’t really involve them. They might not be willing to help."

Zemir immediately responded, "How can this not involve them? We are all Roman Compatriots of the same faith. I believe they will not stand by and do nothing!"

The officers beside him nodded and echoed in agreement.

Isaac appeared to be persuaded by them, and with reluctance said, "Alright then, let’s go try our ’Roman Compatriots’."

"That’s right, it would be best if we could ask Elder Aly to join us. His exceptional prestige should be of help."