“Look, Your Highness. It’s the Ottoman fleet.”
As our tedious voyage neared its end, we were greeted by an unwelcome guest. Considering this is the Bosporus Strait, a natural bridge between Asia and Europe, it was a stark reminder of how much the empire’s navy had declined. The Ottoman fleet, drilling in formation right at the capital’s doorstep, made their intentions blatantly clear.
“I didn’t expect them to develop this much already…”
The Venetian captain accompanying us also gazed at the imposing Ottoman fleet with a grave expression. His reaction piqued my curiosity. What did Venice think of them?
“If your navy were to clash with theirs, who do you think would win?”
The captain blinked a few times at the sudden question, then broke into a confident smile.
“Please do not compare those who have just experienced the sea with us, who live by it. However, their sheer size is undeniably threatening.”
Indeed, having many ships doesn’t mean they’ll instantly gain experienced sailors. But over time, they would grow more accustomed to the sea and become an even tougher adversary.
I could only hope the captain would convey this ominous news to the Venetian senate and spur them into action, though I didn’t place too much faith in it.
Setting aside those hopes, I turned my gaze back to the sea. Since our voyage had proceeded with the sultan’s permission, there were no direct interruptions from the Ottoman fleet. Yet, the sight of their ships approaching closely kept us on edge. How long did this uneasy silence last?
“We are about to enter the Golden Horn.”
Though the unstable peace still held, it was not yet shattered. The Ottoman fleet had ceased their approach, watching us silently from a distance. Amidst the tense atmosphere, I turned to take in the sight of the fallen Constantinople.
Flags fluttered atop the massive walls encircling the city. The thought that those flags could soon belong to someone else disturbed my peace. The entire city seemed faded, a figment of a once-great past. Lost in these bitter reflections, the captain’s voice brought me back to reality.
“Congratulations on your upcoming marriage, Your Highness.”
Congratulations. Perhaps it was suspicion, but could the Venetians, ever sensitive to their national interests, have failed to consider the political implications of this marriage? Sensing my unspoken question, the captain added with a knowing smile.
“I wish you smooth sailing ahead.”
“Thank you for the kind words, Captain.”
As soon as the conversation ended, the ship began to slow. It seemed the shrewd first mate had already instructed the crew while the captain and I talked. There was no time for further hesitation.
“Disembark, soldiers! We are returning as the army that defends the empire. Prove your worthiness to serve in a noble and honorable duty by displaying your discipline!”
The disembarkation proceeded swiftly.
The mercenaries, divided among three ships, found their positions as soon as they landed. Clad in well-maintained armor, they presented an impressive sight, characteristic of North Italian mercenaries. Yet, there was one minor drawback.
“Everything is ready… Master.”
Though others might not notice, I had spent enough time with them to catch the subtle twitch at the corner of her lips. Her slightly reddened eyes looked my way with a vague sense of resentment.
“Good work, Ivania.”
“So… about the reward…”
“A scandal should be avoided at all costs.”
Now that I was promised to someone, any inappropriate actions in the heart of the city could lead to severe repercussions, especially if it involved the daughter of a grand noble. To gain one thing often means losing another, and preventing Ivania’s pout was beyond my capacity.
“Then at least right now…!”
“Ahem!”
So, she wasn’t sulking; she was determined. I swiftly rejected her and turned away. Time is precious, after all. Though I could hear Ivania grumbling behind me, I chose to ignore it. Instead, I intended to firmly establish my authority as the ruler of Morea in the minds of the citizens.
“I will lead the way. Maintain your formation and follow behind me.”
I did not mount a horse. Part of me wanted to walk through the capital after a long absence, but it was also a deliberate move to slow our pace. To make it clear who held real power, this display needed to last as long as possible. Though it seemed a simple first step towards the throne, it had become an indispensable act for both myself and the empire.
‘I will explain why Your Highness must claim the throne.’
The citizens of the capital began to emerge onto the streets. Dressed in ceremonial armour, I and my soldiers made our way towards the Blachernae Palace.
‘There are those who believe that Prince Theodoros handed over the governance of Achaea to Your Highness merely as a gesture of goodwill.’
Amid the startled citizens witnessing the armed procession, someone shouted.
“It’s Prince Konstantinos!”
(TL: Konstantinos is the Greek way of saying Constantine)
That exclamation sparked a wave of enthusiastic cheers.
‘The sudden death of Prince Theodoros’s wife after their marriage, and the smooth succession and transfer of Achaea. Anyone with a bit of insight would sense some conspiracy at play.’
“Long live Prince Konstantinos! Long live Prince Konstantinos!”
Everyone chanted with joy, their exuberant shouts spreading like wildfire, invigorating even the soldiers. Yet, the more spirited their steps became, the colder my heart grew.
‘It is clear that some secret agreement existed between Your Highness and Prince Theodoros. Understanding what Prince Theodoros desired allows us to infer the nature of that pact.’
The Blachernae Palace, where all the nobles and royals would be awaiting us, loomed ahead. The forthcoming marriage there weighed heavily on my mind. Would this union be a blessing or a curse?
‘If Prince Theodoros claims the throne, he will not leave another strong claimant unchecked. He will use his authority to conceal his collusion, revealing the conspiracy to undermine Your Highness’s standing and ultimately depose you.’
Neither the citizens gathered in welcome, nor the soldiers marching in step with them, nor the nobles who would be watching from the palace, held my attention anymore. My thoughts were consumed by one thing: Demicleos’s final words.
‘The day you abandon your claim to the throne will be the day you fail, and the empire falls. Steel yourself, wear the purple cloak, and rise in majesty to drive out the heretics who have taken our rightful lands.’
I couldn’t bear the thought of the city’s citizens succumbing to despair. I had chosen this path, foolish as it might be, in hopes that they would rise again. Was Demicleos right? Was this what the people truly desired?
One thing had become clear through his words.
At some point, my brother and I would inevitably find ourselves pointing bloodied swords at each other.
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