Faith is a double-edged sword.
It strengthens a person, but when that faith crumbles, so does the person.
Trust is much the same.
It brings people closer, yet trust alone cannot discern whether someone will wield a blade against you.
The more one relied on these two, the more their heart collapsed, and the vicious cycle repeated endlessly.
By the time he realized why old tales of heroism were passed down, the fierce flames that had once burned in his heart had already died out.
And in that moment—when not even a trace of warmth remained in his chest, and only the cold wind quietly filled the void—he came to a realization.
At some point, his hair had begun turning white.
The illness gnawing at his body tormented his already weary mind.
Yet, nothing changed.
His country remained in danger, and their fate was still uncertain.
The only thing he understood from the news reaching him from beyond was that there existed an immense tide, one he could never hope to resist alone.
Only when even standing on his own two feet became a struggle did the long-awaited news finally arrive.
Someone had appeared to inherit this heavy burden.
By all rights, he should have felt remorse, and indeed, a sense of guilt lingered within him. Yet, his relief and joy far outweighed it.
At last… would he finally be free?
He was sick and exhausted. He had given his youth and his life to meet his father’s expectations.
No longer. He would not devote himself to them any further.
Even as he writhed in pain, groaning under the weight of his affliction, he had resolved himself to this.
And so—
“…Forgive me, Father. I must ask that you wish no more from me.”
His voice barely escaped, and at his words, his father’s face darkened noticeably.
Yet, he felt no guilt.
Had he truly become twisted?
He considered the thought, but countless emotions were still trapped within him.
He simply felt them.
He merely wanted to ask—was this not enough?
But he could not bring himself to voice the question. He swallowed back the words that threatened to spill out, choosing silence instead.
What had his father seen in this moment?
It was his father who eventually broke the long, awkward silence between them.
“You must have gone through much in Thessalonica.”
A single sentence, mixed with concern.
He had expected to hear these words one day.
Back then, he had wondered what he would feel if such a moment ever came.
But now that it was here, nothing felt particularly dramatic.
There was no anger, no frustration.
Joy and sorrow were even further removed.
He looked at his father and gave a slow nod before speaking of the city his father had once ruled.
“Yes. It was unrecognizable as the place you once governed.”
Once, Thessalonica had flown his father’s banner high.
It had been the heart of resistance, pushing back against the emboldened Turks after their victory over the Serbian coalition.
But abandoned to its struggles, left to fend for itself, the city’s people gradually forgot the fire they once held.
Survival—continuing on to see another tomorrow—became their only concern.
And so, what could he say to the young man who had been dragged there, suddenly made Ruler of Thessalonica, ignorant of all this?
A thousand words came to mind, yet knowing they would never reach that boy, they scattered like mist.
“…Father, I wanted to protect that city.”
Each time the Turks marched their forces near, they demanded an exorbitant tribute.
Resisting them with Thessalonica’s meager army was out of the question.
The people had long abandoned any thoughts of fighting; they had chosen to pay rather than take up arms.
No matter how much he raised his voice against it, nothing changed.
When faced with the question—would he truly challenge the mighty Turks?—he had no choice but to fall silent.
And great tributes inevitably required heavy taxes.
To avoid battle, the lives of the citizens had to be sacrificed.
Each time people came to him, pleading with tearful eyes, his heart felt as though it was being torn apart.
It was not by choice that he imposed such hefty taxes.
It was not by choice that he bowed his head.
A man who had given up the fight had only one path left to survive.
Yet, even so—he knelt before the Turks, time and again.
If only to reduce the tribute by a single coin.
“…And though I may not have been the best, I did my utmost.”
He had no imperial authority.
Who would call a man ‘Ruler’ when he ruled over nothing but Thessalonica?
Who would call him ‘Ruler’ when he knelt, begging to lessen the tribute?
The city’s nobles remained wary of him, and under relentless Turkish pressure, the streets slowly withered away.
He had hoped for change.
But the change he sought never came.
The Turks grew stronger by the day.
His homeland withered just as steadily.
The tides of history hardened, showing him only a empty future.
The more time passed, the more the demanded tribute increased.
The taxes he had to impose to meet those demands rose with it.
And as the citizens voices of discontent grew louder, he remained—a Ruler unrecognized by anyone, but one who had to exist nonetheless.
A Ruler whom no one helped, but who had to stand guard regardless.
“…Even if I don’t explain in detail, Father, I trust that you will understand the hardships I have endured.”
“…..”
“Father, I have obeyed your will my entire life. Now, I ask this of you—please grant your son a moment of rest.”
“….But Andronikos, you know as well as I do that this is your last chance. Konstantinos needs an advisor by his side. Originally, Thomas should have been there, but he chose to become an Ottoman vassal and serve in the army to support Konstantinos.”
Konstantinos.
His name alone stirred a mix of emotions within me.
A boy who willingly shouldered the heavy burden that everyone else turned away from.
A younger brother to be proud of, yet also a pitiful child who had thrown himself into the most merciless fate.
That was why I never hesitated to support him.
But what I truly wanted to understand was my father’s heart.
“…Forgive me, Father. Even so, I must ask again—please, grant me rest.”
“….I’m sorry, my son. But Andronikos, I came to you because I knew you would understand my feelings. I beg of you.”
“……”
Faced with my father’s repeated, heartfelt plea, I gave no answer. I simply reached out and pulled back the blanket covering me.
At last, my hidden legs were revealed.
I saw the momentary shock in my father’s face shift into sheer horror.
“Andronikos, w-what happened to your legs!?”
“A disease that is eating away at my body.”
My legs, bloated with layers of hanging flesh, had become unbearably heavy.
A grotesque sight I had tried to conceal for as long as I could. But at that moment, I instinctively knew I could hide it no longer.
I covered them again with the blanket, then looked directly at my father.
I had spent a lifetime by his side. I knew what answer he would give just by the look on his face.
And yet, I asked the question.
“If you truly wish to command me further, then order me as an emperor would his subject.”
For a long moment, we simply stared at each other.
No words passed between us—only the weight of our gazes.
Then, my father’s eyes reddened with emotion.
Our bond was not so shallow that I could fail to understand its meaning.
“……I’m sorry, Andronikos. I’m so sorry.”
“…..”
“…Then, as your emperor, I give you this command. Andronikos Palaiologos, former Emperor of Thessalonica—you shall serve as an advisor to Prince Konstantinos of Morea and aid him in his cause.”
As I saw the tears slip down my father’s wrinkled cheeks, I slowly closed my eyes.
And when I opened them again, I found myself instinctively smiling as I performed the formal bow of a royal.
“Since you have chosen to speak as an emperor, I shall fulfill my duty as a prince. I will obey your command, Your Majesty.”
“….Will you not see your mother?”
“….No. Please, Your Majesty, grant your loyal subject this final reward.”
“…If that is your wish…”
A faint realization stirred within me.
This would be the last time my father and I met.
The certainty of it settled in my heart as I looked into his eyes one final time.
Even so, neither of us spoke of it.
Instead, we confirmed our resolve, just as we always had.
Then, my father turned and left.
And I was alone once more.
By the time his figure disappeared from the room, I could hear the distant sound of a woman’s sobs.
The footsteps and weeping gradually faded, leaving only silence behind.
I let out a deep sigh.
“Father, even if you had not commanded me, I would have aided Konstantinos willingly.”
Even with little time left in this body, I understood just how heavy his burden was.
How could I not help?
And more than that—I had spent my life watching what my father struggled for.
How could I possibly refuse his request?
That was why I made my vow—not just as a son, but as a subject of the empire.
I would aid Konstantinos, not out of mere familial duty, but in obedience to my emperor’s command.
…I simply wanted my mother to remember me as I once was—strong and whole.
“….Perhaps I should seek out my brother one day.”
For once, there seemed to be much to talk about.
TL : Wow Just Wow
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