John, Andronikos, and Constantine.
Though brothers, this was the first time all three had gathered in one place.
John had been too preoccupied with escaping the Empire’s pitiful reality, Andronikos had left for Thessalonica at their father Manuel’s command, and Constantine—having done little other than train while shut in his room—naturally had no acquaintance with either.
That these brothers who had walked such different paths were now meeting face-to-face could only mean one thing: the matter of the coronation.
Yet John and Constantine, who had long been at odds, showed no signs of speaking first.
John sat there pressing his lips tightly shut, weighed down by shame and guilt.
Constantine, on the other hand, remained silent as though frozen in place.
Andronikos couldn’t help but sigh inwardly at the awkward tension.
In the end, it fell to Andronikos to break the unpleasant silence.
“There’s been much debate, but the people of the capital have finally agreed. They understand why Constantine must be crowned as co-emperor.”
As he opened the conversation, he couldn’t help but guess at their father’s true intent.
Constantine, who didn’t trust the capital. John, who had kept Morea in check. A mediator was clearly needed between the two.
The order to aid Constantine must’ve been to ensure cooperation between the capital and Morea. Regardless, the fact that Constantine had even come to the capital was a promising sign.
Andronikos recalled the prince’s temperament, then continued.
“Before that, His Majesty the Senior Emperor will officially declare his abdication. One week from now.”
( Abdication is a fancy word for resignation for kings, monarchs or people of similar status )
Despite the private nature of the meeting, Andronikos deliberately referred to their father as Senior Emperor rather than Father.
This was because the prince treated everything with solemn decorum.
In a situation where simply keeping the conversation calm would count as a win, Andronikos had no desire to get sentimental. Whether the tactic worked or not was unclear—but at least Constantine wasn’t glaring at John.
“And what will he do afterward?” Constantine asked.
“He said he’ll spend his remaining years writing in a monastery. He is getting old, after all.”
Andronikos answered calmly. No one looked particularly surprised or disappointed—it was somewhat expected.
Perhaps they assumed he was asking from a son’s concern.
After replying with a slightly softened tone, Andronikos then purposefully hardened his expression.
“Thus, Constantine, your coronation will be held two weeks from now. Both His Majesty and the Senior Emperor have agreed to this. There’s no need to be wary.”
“Two weeks from now?”
“Is there a problem?”
“It just seems… rushed.”
The prince’s concern was not without merit.
While some time had passed since the announcement of his joint coronation, Constantine had heard the capital needed more time to be persuaded.
Adding the abdication of Emperor Manuel into the mix, it indeed felt hasty.
Of course, that was only from Constantine’s point of view. Andronikos and John sighed quietly. The gulf between the capital and Morea was clearly deeper than they’d thought.
“…In this case, I believe His Majesty should be the one to explain.”
Eventually, Andronikos turned his gaze to John, who had remained silent until now.
As the reigning emperor in the capital, he would be better suited than Andronikos, who governed Thessalonica, to explain the situation.
Understanding this, John nodded and spoke.
“Constantine. Let me tell you why the capital opposed your coronation.”
“Is that important?”
“If you’ve truly decided to become emperor, then yes.”
With that, Constantine fell silent.
Only then did John begin to speak about what Constantine, too focused on ruling Morea, might not have known—about the mood in the capital.
“The biggest reason people opposed your coronation was none other than the Ottomans.”
“The Ottomans?”
“Yes. More broadly, it was about the Empire’s relationship with the Ottomans.”
Upon hearing this, Constantine began to understand the reason behind the capital’s resistance.
The Empire and the Ottomans had long since become irreconcilable foes. Yet at the same time, they were allies. And now, the prince of Morea served the Ottoman sultan.
Looking further back only made the picture more grim.
There was a time when the Empire had fallen so low it declared itself a vassal of the Ottomans.
“…I was prepared for that much. If I ascend as emperor, the Ottomans won’t remain idle. I expected some form of interference.”
“It’s not something to take so lightly, Constantine.”
But despite his answer, Andronikos shook his head. His sigh deepened.
His brilliant younger brother had always done more than enough, often too much—but perhaps, in trying to juggle everything, he had missed something important.
Andronikos, who had been ordered by their father to support Constantine, couldn’t help but feel concerned.
“You’re about to be crowned while still a vassal of the Ottomans. That makes your previous vow of fealty as Prince of Morea… murky. The current sultan is thorough—he’ll demand clarity in your relationship with him.”
“If it buys us time, I think it’s worth it.”
Constantine’s voice grew sharper, stung by the accusatory tone.
Who was in any place to scold whom? The capital had nearly led the Empire to ruin. Morea had been the last line of defense. He may have promised to extend trust first—but emotions couldn’t be so easily reined in.
As his tone grew colder, Andronikos raised a point Constantine hadn’t considered.
“You think only Morea will be interrogated, Constantine?”
“If not Morea, then wh—”
…will they question?
The prince’s words caught in his throat.
He understood.
He had expected that Morea would be pressured due to the coronation. But the Ottomans likely wouldn’t strike Morea directly, not with its strengthened ties to the West—especially Venice. He had assumed they could maintain a delicate balance.
But then… what about the capital?
The thousand-year-old city. The symbol of a fading empire.
What fate awaited it?
The answer came again from Andronikos.
“Declaring the coronation of an Ottoman vassal as co-emperor is, in itself, justification enough for the Ottomans. Morea may now belong to the Empire, but it still serves the Sultan. If we tried to remain neutral, dual vassalage might have worked—but everyone knows you’ve broken with the Ottomans.
Just naming the ruler of such a disputed region as emperor is provocation enough. And if the Ottomans oppose your coronation, Constantine—then we’re looking at war.”
At that moment, the one who flashed through the prince’s mind was none other than Murad, the man he had faced across a sea of treaties at the negotiating table.
He knew, from the way they had looked at each other then, that Murad was no ordinary man.
And that confidence Murad had shown in the end—though the prince hadn’t known why at the time—had left a shadow of fear deep in his heart.
Now, after hearing Andronikos’s warning, he could do nothing but grit his teeth.
‘Murad… Did you calculate even this far ahead?’
That Murad would pressure Morea was predictable.
But that he might also target the capital—an issue the prince had overlooked due to their ongoing rivalry—was just as inevitable.
The prince had not been a man who protected only Morea.
He had gone there to protect the Empire.
And if Murad had seen through that truth, he would never have forgotten to press the capital as well.
How could he have taken it so lightly?
As the prince began grinding his teeth in frustration, Andronikos turned to him with a question.
“Now do you understand what decision the capital has made… and what kind of resolve they’ve had to carry?”
At that, the prince turned his head and looked toward John, who sat silently beside him.
The young emperor had his eyes closed as if deep in thought, not saying a word—like a prisoner awaiting judgment.
Andronikos looked at both brothers as he continued.
“Though for now, they seem to be prioritizing putting down the unrest in Anatolia, once that’s done, the Ottomans will surely bring heavy pressure down on the capital.
Several cities in Thrace that were only just reclaimed will fall again in an instant.
And the amount of tribute they’ll demand won’t be small, either.
With the capital having no real military strength left to speak of, paying up will be all they can do.”
Andronikos, who once ruled Thessalonica, could easily foresee the capital’s future.
The weak are always taken from.
Those who cannot defend themselves are either killed or forced to surrender.
That is the brutal truth of political reality.
The only thing separating Constantinople from Thessalonica is the triple-layered walls—but everyone present knew that wasn’t nearly enough.
“Konstantinos.”
“……”
“There was a time when the people gave up. When they turned away.”
He knew all too well how this bitter reality must have looked to those who still thought of themselves as heirs to Rome.
People who were left with nothing but wounded pride.
So they clung desperately to the glory of the past and refused to accept their fate.
“There were countless attempts. Many who tried to resist their fate.
But in the end, they all failed.”
There had been those who rose up to defy that fate.
But the faded light of a thousand-year empire had been enough to blind their judgment.
Over the groans of a suffering people, with enemies closing in from all sides, there had been more than one civil war born out of a lust for power.
And yet, the Empire had endured—because even after failure, there were still those who stood back up again.
Manuel, the reigning emperor, was the clearest example.
He became emperor when everything was falling apart.
He had to destroy with his own hands the last Anatolian cities that remained under imperial control, just to avoid provoking the Ottomans further.
He, the Emperor of the Romans, had to slay those who fought to the end for Rome.
How must it have felt to cut them down?
When Andronikos was a boy, he had never understood his father’s choices.
He couldn’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing.
But now he knew.
Now he understood the tragic contradiction of destroying in order to protect.
Manuel had done it all for one reason only: for the sake of a future hope.
“And it’s the same for John and me.
Brother John was once known for his Corruption.
And me? Well, there’s no need to even explain.”
Andronikos didn’t hesitate to call himself a failure.
He simply acknowledged it with quiet honesty.
Had his past self seen him now, he might have called him pathetic and disgraceful.
“But even so, here we are—both of us.
And there’s only one reason for that.
Because of you.”
Because of the prince’s struggle, they had come to realize what they must do.
Because of the prince’s presence, they could see that the nation had one final chance.
Though the process and outcomes had been far from ideal, these “brothers” had not forgotten their duty as royalty.
And it wasn’t only the brothers who were moved by what the prince had done.
“The people of the capital endure for the same reason. Do you think they’re unafraid of the Ottomans? They live holding their breath, uncertain of what the Ottomans might do next. And still, they accepted you as their new emperor. They braced themselves for what this coronation might bring. And they were ready to wait—ten years, maybe longer—if that’s what it would take.”
A cruel wait.
The Ottomans would crush the capital to pressure Morea and its prince.
And how long could the already-devastated capital possibly last?
“If I asked you now to take John’s hand, it would be too shameless of a demand. But don’t turn away the trust of the people you fought to protect. Don’t doubt or fear it. They are the ones you must protect. They are the ones you must lead.”
Tap.
Startled by the sudden sensation, the prince looked up to find Andronikos’s hand resting on his shoulder.
Despite his injured leg, he had somehow gotten up and walked over.
And even before the prince could realize what kind of expression he was making, Andronikos ended in a voice drained of strength—
“…Because they believe in you, and they’ve chosen to crown you emperor.”
TL : Honestly the capital knows its fate is inevitable so they are trying to rope in Konstantinos. Constantine has nothing to gain from helping them except trust of the capital which he would need to earn by saving them. At least they know what they are asking for is shameless.
In real life Constantine after being crowned as emperor, left Morea to save the capital from Ottoman invasion where he eventually met his doom. I hope our mc knows this fact and takes a different path but he is oddly similar to the real Constantine so I think he would help them even knowing this.
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