Europe in the 15th century was engulfed in chaos.
Even the division within the Western Church had yet to be fully mended, while the power of the Ottomans continued to expand with each passing day.
At such a time, Pope Martin V had one goal—to end the centuries-old divide between the Eastern and Western Churches. What greater achievement could there be to restore the shattered authority of the pope?
Yet, with the war against the Hussites ongoing, he lacked the means to act.
His heart was already set on Greece, where a war against the infidels raged, but it was an impossible dream.
As the pope looked at the grim news before him, he could only sigh.
The heretical rebellion in Bohemia continued to spread its influence.
Worse still, every attempt to suppress it had ended in failure—all because of a single man.
“Astonishing. To think one man alone could accomplish so much.”
The pope’s admiration was directed at none other than the one-eyed master tactician, Jan Žižka.
Leading an army of untrained peasant soldiers, he had repeatedly defeated the Holy Roman Empire—no, the very best knights of the Western world.
Even a Crusade had been repelled.
There were no longer any princes willing to take up the banner of another crusade.
Perhaps if the full might of the pope were invested, the tide could turn, but Pope Martin V’s focus had already shifted elsewhere.
For Jan Žižka was not the only man to have overturned the odds on the battlefield.
The pope’s gaze turned to Greece.
A land ravaged by the Turkish invasions.
Numerous resistance efforts and Crusades had been launched, only to end in failure, branding the presence of the Turks as an inescapable terror in the minds of Europeans.
Until now, the pope had prioritized dealing with the Hussites over the seemingly hopeless situation in Greece.
But the recent turn of events had changed his mind.
The pope had heard the stories.
Of a young ruler who, armed with frugality, endurance, asceticism, and fervent faith, had triumphed over the infidels.
A mere boy, yet one who had flung himself into the jaws of death and defeated the Turks.
A leader wise enough to force the enemy into retreat.
And when he heard that this young ruler had wore crimson armor and raised his spear against the Turks, the pope let out an exclamation.
“No king or prince in Europe possesses faith as strong as his.”
Despite having both the justification and strength to seize the throne, he had cast it all aside, dedicating himself solely to the struggle against the infidels.
It was a lesson the countless princes, locked in endless power struggles, would do well to learn from.
As the pope pondered what name to call this remarkable young man, he uttered the one already known beyond foreign borders—
“Dragases.”
From the perspective of uniting the Eastern and Western Churches, Dragases was a figure of utmost importance.
While the Patriarch of Constantinople and the emperor still wielded influence, their significance was diminishing in comparison to the rising power that had come to dominate central and southern Greece.
Moreover, Dragases frequently clashed with the capital.
Even the pope, far across the sea, was well aware of it.
“I must learn where he stands.”
If the pope was to plan a Crusade, Dragases could not be overlooked.
The Christians of Greece harboured deep resentment toward the Turks, yet their repeated defeats had left them disheartened.
Dragases was not only a leader capable of reigniting their morale but also a man of strategic insight.
If the pope could properly support Dragases and help him claim the throne, he would likely become an ally in the eventual unification of the Churches.
If such a union could be achieved, the pope was even willing to personally conduct his coronation in place of the Patriarch.
How great was the humiliation suffered by the pope under the immense external pressure of the Holy Roman Empire?
The struggle between pope and imperial authority had ultimately ended with the latter crushing the former.
Had the emperor merely sought dominance, it might have been tolerable, but he had gone so far as to attempt the complete eradication of popes authority, shaking the entire Church to its core.
This was precisely why the pope found himself so satisfied with Dragases’ actions.
A true defender of the Church was not simply one who wielded great secular power.
Only one who possessed unwavering faith could truly be recognized as the Church’s protector.
Having reached this conclusion, the pope picked up his pen.
The contents of his letter were as follows:
If Dragases so desired, the pope was prepared to hold a coronation at any time, recognizing him as the rightful emperor.
Not only that, but unlike other emperors, Dragases would be granted the independent right to attend Church councils.
The Western Church stood in full support of him and eagerly anticipated his visit at any time.
And finally, the pope requested that Dragases participate in the upcoming Crusade—even if he came alone, without an army.
After writing these words, the pope let out a weary sigh, having already made his decision in his heart.
“The forces to crush the Hussites—this will be our last chance.”
The time had come when a council for negotiating with the Hussites could no longer be avoided.
If there was ever a moment to suppress the Hussite rebellion once and for all, it was now, while the movement was divided between moderates and radicals.
But given the repeated failures of past Crusades, the pope feared that participation would be disappointingly low.
Even Pope Martin V, who had worked tirelessly to restore the authority of the pope, had to acknowledge this harsh reality.
But above all else, what he truly wished for was for Dragases to prove himself as a rightful protector of the Church.
And if there was one additional, minor curiosity lingering in his mind—
“Jan Žižka and Dragases…”
—he wondered which of the two would prove superior should they ever meet in battle.
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