While the prince pondered the matters of the future, his retainers were also moving busily in various ways.
Among the news that reached him, the one that pleased him the most concerned none other than Francisco.
The self-proclaimed cousin who had volunteered to lead the Sipahi on a chase, allowing for the retreat to Corinth.
Since then, his whereabouts had been unknown, and the prince had assumed he had fallen in battle, unable to overcome the dire situation.
But the rumors said otherwise.
It was Demicleos, who had joined after the meeting with Venice, who relayed this news.
“Your Highness, the Latin knights have been gathering those who were scattered from the army during the last war.”
“Latin knights…”
It was Francisco.
The moment he heard the term “Latin knights,” the prince was certain.
As he had sworn, this seasoned knight had survived.
Not only that, but rather than immediately joining up upon hearing of the general pardon declared across central Greece, he had chosen to gather as many nearby forces as possible.
No doubt, he had carefully considered which choice would benefit the prince the most before making his move.
The prince, in a rare moment, smiled and nodded.
“Good. Those who rendered great service in this war should be rewarded as well.”
He had already been in need of capable administrators to govern the newly acquired territories.
It would be ideal if the empire—or Morea—could manage all these lands through its own administrative structure.
But unfortunately, the prince lacked such resources.
Even the establishment of civic assemblies and new councils in the recaptured cities had already stretched his capacity thin.
Rather than holding onto more than he could manage, it might be wiser to distribute lands in the form of estates, earning the favor of the Latins.
Of course, these estates would have to be granted in a way that prevented hereditary succession.
As he mulled over this idea, his worries about Francisco faded.
He would return once he had gathered enough forces.
Unless something extraordinary happened, no news was good news.
Besides, there were too many other pressing matters to deal with—one of which, as expected, was diplomatic relations with Venice.
The one who brought this issue to the prince’s attention once again was Demicleos.
“Your Highness, the Venetians are requesting the right to dock their fleet in Larissa and the right for their resident merchants to settle there.”
“So they are uneasy after all.”
They had greedily seized Thessalonica, lured by the tempting prospect of a bloodless entry.
But now that they had taken it, they could not help but feel anxious.
Just as the prince had predicted.
Their request for a trading post in Larissa was likely driven more by political concerns than economic ones.
However, the prince had no intention of granting their request so easily.
The empire had suffered too greatly in the last war.
While the empire was undoubtedly the one in need, too many deep wounds had been inflicted for the Ottomans and Venetians to simply reconcile.
Venice was not in an especially favourable position either.
“Demicleos.”
“Command me, Your Highness.”
“You will handle the negotiations with Venice. Our demands are simple.”
The cession of Thessalonica had already settled the score for their strict trade ban and for involving Genoa.
The empire longed to build a more amicable relationship with Venice, to stand as brothers protecting one another.
But sadly, the empire had suffered too much damage to afford such generosity.
The Venetians were shrewd; they would understand soon enough.
That was the prince’s only wish.
Yet Demicleos remained unconvinced.
And understandably so—after all, their counterpart was Venice, a state highly sensetive to its own interests.
“Will those misers really help us so easily?”
“Though they hesitate to fight outright for fear of disrupting trade, Venice’s true enemy—holding dominion over the Aegean—is ultimately the Ottomans. The Venetians know that when the right opportunity presents itself, they must fight the Ottomans if they wish to retain their colonies.”
Ironically, the Ottoman ambition to become the dominant power of the new era was forcing Venice and the empire into the same camp.
The empire, struggling to escape its fate of destruction.
Venice, desperate to preserve its maritime supremacy.
And with even more factions ready to intervene, the fate of the Balkans was anything but certain.
And in the midst of such chaos lay the chance to alter a predetermined future.
“I entrust this to you, Demicleos. Time is pressing.”
The battle had begun. Every passing second was a risky tightrope walk, where even the slightest misstep could trigger their downfall. With annihilation just one mistake away, every action had to be both deliberate and swift.
Remaining entangled solely in relations with Venice could jeopardize everything.
“In the meantime, I will decide how to handle the Genoese and the Turks who remain in the occupied territories.”
“As Your Highness wills.”
As he watched Demicleos bow his head, the prince turned his attention to the matter of Genoa.
The agreement with them was simple yet provocative enough to unsettle Venice.
He had promised them the right to station merchants in Glarentza and even to dock their fleet there. This move served two key purposes.
The first was a contingency plan in case cooperation with Venice fell through. If Venice chose to be uncooperative, the sea—Ottomans’ greatest weakness—could turn into a dire threat for the prince. Genoa was the countermeasure. And should the day come when a decisive clash with Venice was inevitable, the Genoese would be indispensable. Dominating trade in the Black Sea, their fleets had to pass through the Aegean to reach the Mediterranean, putting them on a collision course with Venice regardless.
The second, though less desirable, was to project the prince’s influence into Genoa itself. At present, Genoa’s colonial holdings were concentrated in Crimea, the Black Sea coast, and parts of Anatolia.
In other words, the empire’s leverage over them was shallow at best. So far, Genoa had always had the option of abandoning the empire if the terms were no longer favourable. But granting them a base in Glarentza would serve as a restraint.
Furthermore, Glarentza lay at the entrance to the Gulf of Patras, making it possible to blockade and crush the Genoese fleet in coordination with Venice, should the need arise.
“As for the Anatolian coast, Murad will handle the negotiations, so that’s settled.”
Now, four major powers were entangled in this struggle— the Empire, the Ottomans, Venice, and Genoa. The more complex the web of conflicting interests, the less likely war would break out in the short term.
Buying even a little time would be enough. The prince pressed his lips together, turning his thoughts to another pressing issue: the matter of the Turks.
“…Now I stand at a crossroads.”
In this era, nations were not only defined by culture but also by religion. The Turks and the Greeks were prime examples.
Whether intentional or not, the two peoples had intermingled significantly over time.
Despite the massacres and plundering that had occurred along the way, the reality was that the Turks of today were at least distant kin.
Some customs had blended as well. But now, one thing alone divided them—
Were they Christians, or were they Muslims?
The prince’s contemplation deepened.
In the path of the empire’s collapse, what was needed most was religious fervor.
Yet, relying solely on religious devotion risked turning into blind fanaticism, leading to instability. Cruelty could not be allowed to take root. The prince slowly closed his eyes.
And after a moment, he opened them again.
“They must be asked to convert.”
Of course, it would not be a brutal purge like the ruthless inquisitions against Jews and Muslims in Iberia.
The prince had witnessed a more effective precedent firsthand.
There were two things no human could escape—death and taxes. When a comparatively soft approach existed, why resort to the sword?
(TL : 3 things actually and the third is me. XD)
Regardless of whether they converted or not, they would still be recognized as citizens of the empire.
However, all non-Christian subjects would be required to pay a religious tax, based on fair standards.
At the same time, he planned to introduce a system of tax rebates for those who cooperated with the empire.
For this, a strong financial foundation was essential. But with Morea’s current treasury, such plans were far beyond reach. For now, all he could do was resolve to make it happen someday. The prince slowly shook his head.
There was simply too much to do.
Expanding into Albania, consolidating control over the occupied territories, managing diplomatic ties—these were just the beginning.
As the empire reclaimed more land, the religious conflicts and questions of tolerance would only intensify. He had to prepare for them in advance.
And while the prince was lost in thought, an unexpected event was about to unfold—one he had never anticipated.
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