Prince Konstantinos Dragases.
As the ruler of Morea and the pillar of the counteroffensive against the Ottomans, his concerns had become a tangible reality. While some viewed the new sultan’s ascension with dread, many saw it as an “opportunity.” In Morea, where the prince’s influence was overwhelming, his cautious stance controlled the calls for war. But the situation in the capital was entirely different.
“This is surely a chance granted by God, who has looked kindly upon our struggles. Now, we have a contender to the Ottoman throne to plant discord among the heretics, and we have Prince Konstantinos, who has reclaimed southern Greece. If not now, when will we drive them out?”
Such words would have been unthinkable seven years ago. Yet the growing strength of Morea and Prince Konstantinos’s success had led to this outcome. The leadership of the empire, unable to let go of the grandeur of the fallen millennium-old empire, grew increasingly impatient. Unintentionally, Konstantinos’s achievements had fueled their restlessness.
Only a handful of conservative figures dared to counter these claims.
The conservatives, led by Manuel II, dismissed the war proponents as reckless youths, while the war advocates mocked the conservatives as failures. The latter argued, “Salvation comes to those who strive to save themselves. How can you expect survival without making any effort?” They rebuked the conservatives for their inaction.
However, this division was merely superficial.
The conflict between the conservatives and the war proponents was, in essence, a rivalry between those favourable to Morea and those who were not. Past grievances over broken political marriages and demands for a Morean archbishopric had fuelled opposition. Yet, Konstantinos’s success in reclaiming central Greece had acquired him significant support. To complicate matters, an unusual rumor began circulating in the capital.
– The rumor was that Manuel II intended to depose his co-emperor, John, and name Prince Konstantinos as his successor.
As a result, even the moderate neutral factions, who had sought to avoid another civil war, were split. The ancient capital, Constantinople, now saw itself divided between two camps: those loyal to John, who sought to avoid civil war by preserving the current system, and those who believed that a capable ruler like Konstantinos should lead the empire to recovery.
The rivalry between the two factions grew sharper by the day, but ultimately, the resolution of this conflict lay in the hands of the two emperors.
Thus, John, accompanied by his brother Theodoros, made his way to Manuel’s office, where the emperor awaited them. As he walked down the hallways steeped in history, John made no effort to hide his icy anger.
“What is Father thinking? At a time like this, to make moves that could spark a civil war—has he truly lost his judgment?”
John had even entertained the idea of a co-emperor. He acknowledged Konstantinos’s capabilities and was prepared to make significant compromises for the empire’s restoration. But being entirely excluded from imperial authority? That was unthinkable. After all, who had chosen him as co-emperor? It was Manuel himself. Shaking with a sense of betrayal, John caught sight of Theodoros slowly shaking his head.
“…His Majesty has deceived our entire family. To consider naming a new heir when there is already a co-emperor—it’s unprecedented. Above all, making such a decision during a time when stability is important is a grave mistake.”
“Isn’t that why we’re going to see him? To speak with him directly.”
“And what do you expect to accomplish through conversation?”
The remark was attached with thorns, but John chose to ignore it. Nothing was certain yet. This could very well be a malicious rumor spread by someone intending to sow discord within the imperial family. John clung to that hope. But the moment he faced Manuel, that hope began to waver.
The emperor’s gaze carried a look of regret.
Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you staring at me with such pity?
Unspoken emotions churned deep within John’s heart.
“…Father.”
“You’ve come about Konstantinos, haven’t you?”
Just as Manuel was about to speak again in a bitter tone, Theodoros stepped forward from behind John. The now-aged emperor felt a searing pain as he met the icy gaze of his son towering over him.
That icy demeanor, directed solely at him—was this truly his child? Was this the burden of his failures as a father, now returned to him? The answer came, wrapped in the cold words of Theodoros, who no longer regarded Manuel as family.
“It is quite simple, Your Majesty. We have come to depose you, for we believe that in your advanced age, you are no longer capable of making sound judgments.”
“…Depose me? Depose…”
“You have done enough. The great work you could not complete will be carried on by His Majesty John. It is time for you to consider a peaceful retirement.”
“…John, is this truly your will?”
Both Manuel and Theodoros turned to John. At that moment, the wavering resolve within John solidified. As his trembling eyes steadied, he looked Manuel directly in the eye and asked the most critical question.
“I must ask first, Father. Is it true that your trust no longer lies with me?”
Manuel closed his eyes slowly in response. That act alone conveyed enough. John clenched his fists tightly, unable to suppress the surge of emotions. So you will not trust me, even now, Father? Betrayal turned to fury, but before he could fully express it, Theodoros’s urging interrupted.
“Rule as the sole emperor, Your Majesty. His Majesty, the predecessor, has already lost the clarity required to govern effectively.”
John, fully aware of his role as a public figure, understood the risk of blindly following Theodoros’s extreme words. There was no need to act as rashly as his brother suggested. Protecting his authority was essential, but there was no merit in resorting to recklessness.
“…I will send him to a monastery. I will visit him again once the war is over. He should prepare himself there in the meantime.”
“I am sorry, John.”
“…Is that all you have to say to me?”
The anguished cry of a son found no answer and dissipated into the empty air.
Walking away from Manuel, John quickly made up his mind.
“I will ensure that my imperial authority is never threatened again.”
“You’ve made your decision, then,” Theodoros said.
“Yes.”
John hesitated no longer. Any further indecision would only place his reign in jeopardy.
“We will proceed as the war proponents wish. Summon Mustafa. We will announce him as the Sultan of the Ottomans.”
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