A considerable amount of time had passed since the idea of a co-emperor was first raised.
During this period, the prince devoted himself to governing Morea, acknowledging concerns that a series of reform measures could destabilize the region.
But that was merely the surface justification.
In reality, Morea, led by the prince, and the capital, Constantinople, had been engaged in ongoing discussions about the matter of a co-emperor.
While the prince’s ascension was now inevitable, voices warning against the empire’s fragmentation had gained significant attention.
Emperor Manuel, who had been forcibly confined and would have to step down for the prince’s eventual enthronement, remained silent.
He feared that any influence he still held would cast a shadow over the new rulers of the empire.
Meanwhile, the current emperor, John, had seen his authority severely weakened by a series of disastrous failures.
More than anything, the people of the capital placed the greatest importance on the prince’s intentions.
Did he still hold any attachment to the empire?
Seeking an answer, Demetrios Kantakouzenos personally travelled to Morea, prompting the prince to make his own decision—to journey to the capital.
Thus, on September 23, 1423, the prince boarded a Venetian merchant vessel bound for Constantinople, accompanied by a modest staff of about a dozen attendants and Ivania.
True to his reputation as a man of strict military discipline rather than a flashy diplomat, his attendants were less.
Yet, thanks to the goodwill of the Venetians, the voyage posed no major difficulties.
One noteworthy event, however, was his stop in Thessalonica.
There, the imperial banners were being lowered from the city walls, replaced by the golden lion standard.
The citizens of Thessalonica, having received little meaningful support from their own government, were tired yet somewhat relieved to welcome new rulers.
The capital had been too preoccupied with its own survival, and Morea, embroiled in desperate struggles of its own, had little direct connection to Thessalonica.
In contrast, the Venetians arrived proclaiming their intent to transform the city into a “second Venice.” For the citizens, this was at least a promising prospect.
Watching the once-crumbling city stir with renewed energy, the prince could only let out a bitter smile.
“Let’s just hope Venice holds out for a long time.”
His stop in Thessalonica had not been for political reasons alone.
More importantly, he wanted to see firsthand the state of the city’s defenses.
And as expected, the situation was dire. The empire’s strained finances barely allowed for the maintenance of its own triple walls, let alone Thessalonica’s fortifications.
Closing his eyes slowly, he retraced his memories.
Historically, Thessalonica had endured under Venetian rule for about seven years after 1423 before eventually falling to the Ottomans.
Back when he first learned this, he had dismissed it as a useless piece of trivia.
But now, who could have predicted that such knowledge would prove vital? This was precisely why, in negotiations with Murad, he had insisted on an eight-year buffer rather than ten.
The goal was to find another power willing to share the burden of defending Thessalonica.
And the key to that strategy lay in the Venetian Senate’s resolve.
If Venice’s patience wore thin and they abandoned the city to the Ottomans, everything he had painstakingly planned would collapse.
That was also why he had granted Venice rights over Larissa and permitted them to station their fleet there.
It was a calculated move to strengthen their defensive position.
Additionally, the Thessalonica–Larissa route would one day be crucial for reclaiming Macedonia, a region that had to be retaken no matter what.
This was why he sought to avoid unnecessary conflict with Venice.
Until now, Morea had remained close to its own borders, engaging in mostly short, decisive battles.
But the next campaign—the battle to reclaim their lost homeland—would be a long, grueling war.
In such a drawn-out conflict, supply lines were everything.
That was why Albania was his next target.
That was why he had surrendered so much to Venice rather than Genoa.
To utilize the ports of Albania, he needed the cooperation of Venice, the dominant power in the Adriatic Sea.
Perhaps this was all a futile dream that might never come to pass.
But even so, he had to prepare for it.
Keeping these thoughts to himself, the prince opened his eyes as he sensed someone approaching.
He spoke first.
“We were never in a position to breathe new life into this city. Now, all we can do is hope that under the guidance of the Most Serene Republic, its people will finally know prosperity.”
“If the Senate knew that Your Highness held such admiration, they would be most pleased.”
“It seems the noble citizens of Venice know exactly how to say what others want to hear.”
With those words, the prince turned his back on Thessalonica.
Time would tell what would become of the city.
He could only hope it would hold out for eight years under the relentless pressure of the Ottomans.
His voice, a quiet murmur, was lost to the wind, unheard by the others.
Yet, his concerns continued to weigh on him.
As long as there were no sudden storms or unexpected pirate attacks, sea travel for passengers was an excruciatingly dull experience.
The cramped cabins, the mediocre food—far from what one was used to on land.
Perhaps that was why so many travelers kept journals. It was a way to endure the boredom.
But for him, there was another reason why this journey felt different.
Because of the figure standing before him.
“……”
“………”
A small table sat between them as the prince and Ivania faced each other in silence.
Fortunately, there had been no major issues between them. But perhaps that was the problem.
“……”
“……………”
Wriggle.
A pitch-black silence filled the cabin, with neither of them uttering a word.
The only movement came from a single pale index finger, inching its way across the tabletop.
Slowly, steadily, it crept forward until it reached the man’s arm, hesitating just before contact.
The finger quivered, curling and uncurling, as if debating whether to touch or retreat.
And then—whether by accident or sheer determination—
“….♡”
The very tip of the finger brushed against his arm, and a silent scream filled the room.
But by the time the tension peaked, the overly excited finger had already retreated, now clutching itself tightly against its owner’s chest. Ivania, her face burning red, rubbed her finger against her cheek as if savoring the sensation.
“…Haaah.”
The prince, on the other hand, could only sigh.
With fewer attendants, security had become a major concern.
For the Ottomans, this was the perfect chance to rid themselves of a persistent thorn in their side with a single swift strike.
That was precisely why, despite the rumors their association had stirred in the capital, he had chosen to bring Ivania along again.
She might appear to be a slender woman with a bit of muscle, but she was, in reality, a knight of considerable skill.
Not to mention, he had made a promise—to honour the dreams she had long harboured alone.
With his reputation as an unwavering bachelor, sharing a cabin with her had been a practical decision. And yet…
“…Hah, just once more…”
For someone who had shown all manner of disgraceful behaviour as an inexperienced youth, she now carried herself like this?
Just what kind of woman was Ivania?
The prince let out another sigh, remaining still as he awaited her next move.
If he made the first move and touched her instead, he had no idea what sort of catastrophe might unfold.
“Huueeeh♡!”
“Urgh…”
Sensing that paying any more attention to her would be harmful to his sanity, the prince shifted his thoughts elsewhere—to Thomas.
The young man who had taken his place among Murad’s forces.
More than a mere relative, he had become a companion, a sworn ally. What sights was he witnessing now?
“….Haaang♡”
…The Ottomans were surely watching his movements as well. During his last negotiation, the confidence Murad had displayed had left him uneasy.
There was something more. He could feel it in his gut, but the possibilities were too many to pinpoint any single cause.
“…J-just a little more…”
“………”
—The prince endured.
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