“…..It’s been a while since I’ve been here, Your Highness.”
“Indeed. I thought it hadn’t changed, but even this place has.”
Perhaps her efforts to be mindful before disembarking had paid off—today, Ivania spoke more modestly than usual.
The prince gave a quiet nod in agreement with her sentiment.
Ever since he began dedicating himself to ruling Morea, he had kept his distance from the capital.
As a result, his memories of the place were little, and the long gaps between visits made even the smallest changes feel striking.
“People neither excited nor resigned…”
The deep despair and resignation that once filled his childhood memories were nowhere to be found.
The suffocating air of hopelessness had long since lifted.
But neither had the people reverted to their past, overly lively selves.
It was as though they had resolved themselves to something, maintaining a firm silence.
What could this attitude possibly mean? The prince silently scanned the streets, pondering the change, before he began walking again.
His attendants and Ivania followed close behind.
Perhaps it was the unfamiliar aura they carried—before long, all eyes on the street turned toward the prince’s party.
His presence alone drew attention.
He walked with purpose but without arrogance, confident yet not overbearing.
The red armor he always wore after the fierce battle only added to the attention. And still, the people said nothing. There were no cheers, no outbursts—just silent observation.
Despite the fact that no official had come to greet them, it didn’t matter.
The crowd that had gathered their small group of barely a dozen into what looked like a procession of hundreds.
When they finally reached their destination, the Blachernae Palace, the palace guards greeted them.
The moment was so still that no words were exchanged.
Even as the prince and his party passed through the palace gates, the silent crowd followed them with their eyes. Standing just outside the invisible bars formed by the palace guards, they stared at the prince’s retreating figure.
Once safely inside, the prince let out a sigh of relief.
“…I thought something was going to happen…”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I had my hand on my sword the entire time, just in case.”
“…So we were already on the verge of disaster. That’s… a problem in more ways than one.”
The tension must have worn even her usually strict and serious demeanor thin.
When Ivania gave a self-satisfied little cough, clearly hoping for praise, the prince could only shake his head in disbelief.
Only the attendants watched with their usual stoic expressions, though they shared a common thought:
‘His Highness has softened considerably.’
To those who had known only his upright integrity and near-superhuman composure, the current prince seemed like a different man.
Even the forceful presence that once overwhelmed his own subordinates had diminished.
If the previous prince was like a drawn sword, ready to strike, then the current prince was like one still in its sheath—measuring his opponent before taking action.
And it wasn’t just the attendants who were surprised by this change.
“Hm. You’ve grown more relaxed since we last met.”
The moment the pleasant voice—too beautiful to be reassuring—reached his ears, the prince’s expression stiffened. He turned instinctively toward the sound.
There stood a man in imperial outfit, a charming smile on his face. A smile that could draw anyone in with its natural grace.
This was the current Emperor—John.
There was much the prince wanted to say, things that burned on the tip of his tongue. But he knew exactly what he needed to do.
“Your Majesty.”
Even as the prince of Morea, he had no intention of fueling the Empire’s division.
If he denied the Empire’s authority, the separation between Morea and the Empire would be irreversible. So he bowed willingly. That didn’t mean he felt at ease, however.
As tension began to build between the prince and the emperor, a third presence stepped in to break the uneasy silence.
“There’s no need to be so wary, Konstantinos.”
A man with graying hair and weary eyes, looking far older than his age. Leaning on an attendant’s support, he glanced back and forth between John and the prince before offering a gentle smile.
“It’s practically our first time seeing each other, isn’t it? You never left your room when you were young. And I left for Thessalonica before there was a chance to meet.”
“…So you’re the third brother. What about your leg?”
“I appreciate the concern, but there’s no need to look so pitiful on my behalf. It’s just heavier than most, that’s all. What’s more important is what Brother John intends.”
Faced with Andronikos’s question, the prince fell silent.
Ivania and the attendants did the same—this was not a moment they could interrupt, but their displeasure was clear.
It was, after all, Emperor John’s reckless decisions that had led to such a desperate war.
If not for the prince’s own wit and strategy, all hope might’ve already been lost.
Naturally, it left a bitter taste—even if the man before them was the emperor of a thousand-year-old empire.
Even if they had braced for this, facing it directly was something else entirely.
John opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then closed it again—over and over.
His face flushed red with shame and guilt, unable to hide his expression. Clenching and unclenching his fists did nothing to loosen his tongue.
What could he possibly say?
It was a war born of his own misjudgment.
A miracle forged from a series of unlikely coincidences. But there was no denying that the one who brought about that miracle was his own younger brother.
He had intended to support his brother, and yet had ended up forcing only cruel decisions upon him. The tragedy of Nemeapatre was no different.
The prince may have been the one to burn the city, but it was John who had made him do it.
Watching the struggling emperor with sympathy in his eyes, Andronikos finally stepped forward between them.
Despite the attendant rushing forward to help him, Andronikos’s expression remained calm.
“I understand both your hesitation, Brother, and Konstantinos’s wariness. These conflicts arise not merely from personal feelings, but from the burden of power siblings must carry.
But didn’t you once say to me—
—That a throne held alone is utterly meaningless?”
“……..I did.”
“Konstantinos, I hope you understand how heavy a decision your brother made. Though you are to be crowned co-emperor, it was no light matter for him to offer that position to someone who has long walked a different path.”
“……”
The prince’s lips twitched, as though he wanted to say something, but he soon fell silent.
It was the truth. Naming a political rival—one who had opposed him until now—as co-emperor was not a decision that could be made lightly.
As the silent similar thought began to form among them, Andronikos gave a quiet nod before continuing.
“We’ve gone too long without truly speaking to one another, despite each of us bearing great responsibilities. Of course, I’ve since stepped down from the front lines…”
His voice held a mixture of relief and lingering regret. When the prince looked up, moved by that faint emotion, Andronikos offered a rueful smile and shrugged lightly.
“…Even so, I am still of imperial blood. And under the late emperor’s command, I must still serve this empire.”
At that moment, the prince recalled the letters he had exchanged with Andronikos—filled with words of encouragement and heartfelt sincerity that could not have been written by someone merely hopeful.
Desperate lines, written by a man who had likely suffered countless failures and disappointment.
A passion gone cold, a crumbling conviction, a resolve that had once broken.
And yet here he was, Andronikos, facing both the prince and John with unflinching eyes.
“Therefore, as a subject of the late emperor, as your brother, and as one who once bore the crown—I wish to speak with you both about the reason we have gathered here today.”
“…Are you truly sincere?”
Unable to hold back any longer, the prince stood and fixed his gaze on John.
They had long been at odds. Since it was all caused by his own choices, he couldn’t even ask to be trusted. Trust had to be earned—slowly, through time. John had made up his mind.
“Of course, Konstantinos. The preparations for the coronation are already in their final stages.”
“…..”
The prince gave no reply. He simply turned to look at Ivania. Perhaps it was the reward of years spent at his side—she immediately caught the meaning behind his gaze and shook her head slowly.
Only after seeing her subtle gesture did the prince give his orders to the attendants.
“Return to your assigned quarters and prepare yourselves.”
He hesitated briefly.
“I… have many things to discuss with my brothers.”
“As you wish, Your Highness. Dame Ivania, shall we go? I imagine you’ll need more time to prepare than the rest of us.”
“Eh? Wha—?! Your Highness?!”
One quick-witted attendant moved immediately. Once the others caught on, they joined in, and not even a seasoned knight like Ivania could resist.
She might be strong, but she knew when to respect politeness. Flustered and surrounded, she was swept away before she could protest further.
Only after the group had gone did the silence—unexpected, but not unwelcome—settle over them again.
“What exactly do you intend to do?”
“I’d appreciate it if Your Majesty would give me a moment to gather the context first.”
The prince’s reply was cold. Though they had agreed to talk, emotions didn’t shift so easily. His curt, blunt tone was natural, and John’s sigh in response was just as inevitable.
“You haven’t forgotten that a woman is waiting for you back in the capital, have you?”
“…….”
“The empress is a good woman. She reminds me a lot of you.”
“…In what way?”
At this point, there was no question who John meant—Joannina Kantakouzenos, his wife. A noblewoman who had volunteered for a political marriage between the Kantakouzenos and the imperial family. Even the prince acknowledged her good nature, but the idea that she resembled him was something he could never accept.
“How exactly are we alike?”
“Perhaps in how unwavering you both are.”
“…What are you talking about?”
John offered no further explanation. The vagueness of his words left the prince unsatisfied. Just as he was about to press again, Andronikos interrupted their conversation.
“Family talk is all well and good, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you separately. Is that alright, Konstantinos?”
As he said this, Andronikos stepped closer and placed a hand gently on the prince’s shoulder. To a casual observer, it looked like a proud older brother admiring his younger sibling.
And in part, that was true—but there was another reason hidden beneath the surface. In that brotherly moment, he lowered his voice.
“Your Majesty… John did not make only one great decision. He’s prepared another one—one as heavy as naming a co-emperor.”
“…As heavy as that?”
“Yes. A truly weighty decision.”
With that, Andronikos stepped back. His bad leg gave way and he nearly fell, but a nearby attendant quickly supported him. Perhaps it was the unexpected strain—Andronikos was short of breath, but he soon steadied himself and called out with a clear voice.
“If you two aren’t just going to stand there exchanging stares, let’s continue this in my chambers. I’ll go on ahead.”
At his words, the prince and John turned toward each other. For a brief moment, their tangled emotions clashed in silence.
But only for a moment.
Soon after, the two of them faced forward once again—and walked on.
Hey everyone, this is Renegade,
First of all, sorry for not noticing about the sudden hiatus of all the novels. I have been busy of late, so I haven’t got the time to publish new chapters. I have recently moved to a new place and had exams, so I couldn’t find the time to continue uploading new chapters. But after everything is settled, I will resume uploading new chapters daily by the end of this week. Thank you for your patience.
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