A new year is nearing.
Nearly half a year has passed since the war with the Ottomans—a nightmare for both Morea and the Empire.
In that time, the political landscape has undergone many changes.
The most significant development is that the expeditionary force led by Murad II has departed from Edirne.
The Sultan’s army now includes the reorganized troops, the forces of Prince Thomas of Epirus—who has taken the place of his elder brother on the battlefield—and even Genoese mercenaries.
Their presence exudes an air of determination, as if they seek to avenge the disgraceful losses suffered in the previous war.
And that’s not all.
Despite the considerable losses Murad II himself endured, his army still numbered a staggering 12,000 troops.
In stark contrast, Morea’s forces had been driven to the brink of annihilation, leaving no realistic prospect of recovery.
But this outcome was inevitable. If anything, the Morean army deserved praise for having held out as long as they did.
Even so, one undeniable truth remained.
—In the end, the Empire failed to inflict decisive damage upon the Ottomans.
Yet the Ottomans, too, had failed to achieve their goal.
The Sultan, who had sworn to destroy the Empire once and for all, found himself caught in the very trap Prince Dragaš had painstakingly laid for him.
To those unaware of the full picture, it seemed like a miracle of the Holy Virgin. But to those who could piece together the events leading up to it, the reality was far different.
Foreign observers and scholars in Morea, those with a keen sense of political affairs, had already begun to express overwhelming support and admiration for Prince Dragaš.
Those who had glimpsed even a fraction of the truth could not help but shudder.
Grand plans were easy to conceive, but bringing them to reality was an entirely different matter.
The odds had been abysmally low, the conditions almost impossibly demanding.
Yet the prince had accomplished what no one else could.
And those closest to him felt this most keenly.
No one was more shaken than Sophia, who had been deeply involved in the war.
Though she had sought a political marriage after recognizing his abilities, the extent of his competence had far exceeded her expectations.
That realization was what had ultimately driven her to resolve to aid her husband.
To think he had managed to pull it off… Fixing her black eyes on the map before her, Sophia muttered to herself.
“Prince Constantine… You truly understand how to manipulate Venice, don’t you?”
His strategy had been to provoke internal discord within the Ottomans while stalling for time against the Sultan’s forces.
At the heart of this plan was Venice.
And the prince had wielded Venice with remarkable precision and intent.
He had designed the situation so that their pursuit of self-interest would, in turn, serve his own goals.
By leveraging Genoa’s sudden intervention, he stirred Venice into action and intentionally weakened defenses in the Aegean, luring the Ottoman fleet southward.
But that was just the beginning.
The unpredictable movements of Genoa and Venice at such a critical juncture had led the Sultan to suspect the arrival of a Crusade.
That alone could have clouded his judgment.
When Sophia received the report that the Venetian fleet had begun to withdraw once more, she quickly ran the calculations in her mind.
—A perfect opportunity to cripple the Ottoman navy.
If reinforcements were dispatched to Prince Dragašes tired forces, they might just be able to hold out against the Ottomans.
This conclusion had been reinforced by an extraordinary rumor spreading throughout Morea.
“So there was even that aspect to it…”
She had always assumed he was nothing more than a solemn, unyielding man.
But it seemed his demeanor was backed by true capability.
Though the reports were undoubtedly exaggerated, the martial feats Prince Dragaš had displayed on the battlefield were far from ordinary.
The mere fact that he had held his ground against the Ottomans was enough to establish him as one of the most capable Christian rulers in the Balkans.
And yet, if this were the extent of it, Sophia’s admiration would have faded quickly.
His feats against the Janissaries, his ability to feign death for a single ambush, even his ruthless decision to burn an entire city to defeat the Ottomans—none of these acts compared to his true strength.
She realized this when she had sent her agents to Epirus. By the time her informant had returned, the forces of Epirus had already completed their preparations to march alongside the Genoese army. She would never forget the conversation that followed.
‘Your Highness, Epirus was already fully prepared to depart. In fact, Prince Thomas even remarked, “So my brother is only sending word now?”’
‘…Only now?’
‘It seems His Highness intended to deploy the Epirus army at the decisive moment to deal a critical blow to the Ottomans.’
What words could describe what Sophia felt in that instant? Dizziness? No, it was more than that.
It was a mixture of reverence and relief. Constantine Dragaš Palaiologos. He had concealed his forces, ensuring that they would strike at the Ottomans when least expected.
Whether his goal was the reconquest of central Greece or a devastating flanking maneuver, his intent was unmistakable.
It was only natural for Sophia’s thoughts to progress further after what she had learned.
Could it be that Dragases had anticipated she would reach this conclusion and guided her toward it?
She dismissed the notion as absurd, yet the lingering “what if” refused to fade from her mind. When she considered the balance of power among the factions that had settled across the Balkans following this war, her suspicions only grew stronger.
Glarentza, now under Genoese control.
And Venice, which had successfully entered Thessalonica without bloodshed after the Empire had struggled to hold onto it.
Both locations were easily isolatable should their occupants turn hostile.
Glarentza had always been more heavily influenced by Venice, making it highly vulnerable to collapse if given the opportunity.
Meanwhile, Thessalonica was completely surrounded by the Ottomans on all sides except for the sea. To Venice, which dominated the Aegean, this might not even seem like a significant threat.
—Which was precisely why Prince Dragases had deliberately facilitated the recruitment of Genoese mercenaries for the Sultan.
He knew what the Genoese would demand. More than that, he had created an opening to threaten Venetian naval supremacy.
In doing so, he ensured that neither side could afford to ignore him. Between Genoa and Venice—two powers that could never truly coexist—one would inevitably have to ally with him. If a [true Crusade] were to form instead of this [fabricated Crusade], the Ottomans would face a grave threat.
“…You really are, truly… an incredible man.”
The two great maritime powers, the Empire, and the Ottomans.
Dragases had meticulously laid his pieces on the board, maneuvering the various forces toward their respective goals on an ice-thin battlefield.
It was clear that he had been preparing ever since he realized that a clash with Sultan Murad II was unavoidable.
As a person, he was not particularly pleasant company. But as a ruler? Men like him were exceedingly rare.
When everyone else believed there was no way forward, he carved one out for himself.
That was what Sophia admired most about him. Dragases true talent lay not in commanding a single battlefield, but in his keen insight into the broader geopolitical landscape.
He had the ability to set events in motion and manipulate entire factions. It was no wonder people regretted his arrival.
Why had he only appeared now?
Why had he come so late?
Sophia shared the same thoughts.
“If only you had been born a few decades earlier, Serbia might never have collapsed the way it did.”
The last hope.
Was there any title more fitting for him?
Yet, unlike the others in Morea, Sophia’s expectations for Dragases were slightly different.
She already knew that the current emperor had declared his intent to proclaim Dragases as co-emperor. That meant her husband would soon embark on his own independent course.
Once that happened, he would undoubtedly throw himself into securing alliances.
And Serbia had to be among those allies.
“…Now that the Ottomans have silenced their internal strife, their next targets will likely be Morea, the lands north of the Danube, and…”
My homeland—Serbia.
Sophia pressed her lips together.
She may have been a foreign princess, her influence fluctuating with her homeland’s power, but that did not diminish her affection for her country.
Serbia, caught between Hungary and the Ottomans, remained vulnerable to the issue of ‘dual vassalage.’ If the Ottomans consolidated their strength further, they might seize the next opportunity to annex Serbia completely.
With Hungary still entangled in war, there was no room for complacency.
“…I hope we can discuss this as soon as I return.”
Closing her eyes, Sophia silently wished for a favourable outcome.
TL : Tbh, I would have liked Sophia more if she weren’t so promiscuous. you know lol, I should talk like this more often.
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