They were days of deep contemplation for Dragases, newly reborn as emperor, caught between the reforms he was implementing and Sophia’s subtle provocations.
For once, the emperor had stepped out of his office and into the open air.
Of course, it wasn’t just for a moment of leisure.
As he watched the soldiers rolling across the training yard in their drills, sharpening their endurance, the emperor found himself swept up in a peculiar train of thought.
Beside him stood a rather loud and overly talkative knight.
“What’s got you thinking so hard, cousin?”
Don Francisco—the crusader knight from Aragon.
He had recently been appointed as the commander of the Latin knights, but their structure remained fairly feudal in nature.
This made organizing training difficult, and so Francisco found himself with a fair bit of idle time.
When he heard that Emperor Dragases had come out to inspect the training yard, he tagged along.
Naturally, conversation was the best remedy for boredom, and Francisco was the first to speak.
The emperor responded without hesitation.
“Jan Žižka is dead.”
“Jan Žižka? The one who drove off the Crusaders?”
“Yes. He defeated knights, but not disease.”
The emperor had once hoped to meet Žižka and exchange a few words of counsel.
Unfortunately, Žižka had been branded a heretic.
If he wished to recruit the one-eyed general, he would’ve had to abandon the Crusaders.
In the end, the emperor gave up on any dealings with the Hussites.
Knowing how essential the Crusaders’ support was, he had no choice. Still, the news, relayed by a Venetian, left him with a bitter smile.
“It would’ve been reassuring to have someone like Žižka on our side.”
“Well, neither I nor that woman really feel like commanders. We’re more like individual warriors.”
Though the comment could’ve been taken as insulting, Francisco nodded in agreement.
It was only natural—any comparison to Jan Žižka would fall short.
Just as El Cid had become a legendary figure in Iberia, so too had Žižka in Bohemia.
Whether or not he was a heretic, turning pitchfork-wielding peasants into soldiers who repelled Crusader knights was nothing short of miraculous.
And it was precisely such feats that made the emperor desire Žižka’s strength.
Francisco shrugged as he watched the emperor wrestle with regret.
He’d finally achieved what so many longed for—he had become the Emperor of Rome—yet he remained unchanged.
Noticing the deep shadow on the emperor’s face, Francisco grinned mischievously and spoke again.
“So? Did you come all the way to the training yard just to scold someone?”
“No, I was hoping to speak with you or Ivánia.”
“Conversations are fine. But when you say ‘conversation,’ it always means business.”
“Then what kind of conversation are you hoping for, cousin?”
“How about… something on marriage?”
“You seem quite interested in my wife. Shall I suggest you join her followers as a knight?”
“Ugh! Alright, alright, I get it. I’m sorry, truly sorry. I’ve committed a grave sin, Your Majesty!”
The emperor’s eyebrow twitched at the unexpectedly strong reaction.
He hadn’t expected such a response to a half-serious remark.
Given how much he had been worrying over things lately, it was only natural he’d become curious at Francisco’s outburst.
“You don’t like her?”
“I’ve met her type before, so I know them well. Whether they’re good or evil, they’re always hard to deal with. And men who fall for those kinds of women always end up one of two ways.”
“Two ways?”
“Either they’re ruined… or they end up completely under her thumb.”
“That’s one more reason to throw her out.”
“Well… you’re kind of different. You two go back and forth, but in the end, you still hold the reins.”
Wondering what Francisco was getting at, the emperor scrutinized his face—but to his surprise, there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in those clear, earnest eyes.
His pride stirred. He couldn’t show weakness in the face of such pure faith. So the emperor chose silence, which Francisco took as confirmation of his beliefs.
Of course, whatever Francisco was thinking, it wasn’t a particularly helpful topic for the emperor.
It was time to change the subject.
“I’d rather not discuss her any further. There are more pressing matters. I want to know the Latins response.”
“Well, most of them being from the Duchy of Athens, they came reluctantly. Still, things have gotten better. Those who already have estates grumble about the restrictions on inheritance, but those without them seem pleased. All in all, I’d say they’re reasonably satisfied.”
“Where do they want their estates?”
“Some are hoping to be granted lands near Larissa, but many prefer somewhere safer. I noticed quite a few of them aiming for regions like Mistra or Leontarion—places that were mostly untouched by the war.”
So they’d realized inherited rights would be difficult and were instead hoping to become a new class of influence near the center.
Even if they gained land near Mistra or Leontarion, the poor soil there would limit how much farmland they could work. Besides, what was the point of awarding Latin knights even limited lands?
If they wanted peace, they could farm. The most he was willing to give them was land around Athens.
Still, their reaction had been far more calmer than expected, and the emperor couldn’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief.
“So the Latin issue is more or less resolved…”
“What really matters now is the supply of cavalry horses, cousin.”
Just as he was about to finally find a moment of peace, Francisco—like a ghost—pointed out another issue. The problem was that he was right.
What makes a knight a knight? Their powerful charges and ability to break enemy formations. And the key strategic resource that made that possible was none other than cavalry horses.
“Didn’t you say you were planning to organize a new cavalry unit, not just knights? Something about Larissa being suited for breeding warhorses? Even if that’s true, you can’t form a cavalry corps overnight. Besides, you’re not going to have your messengers running barefoot. You’ll need a good number of post horses too, not just warhorses.”
“…That’s going to require a tremendous amount of funding.”
“You might not get enough even if you throw a fortune at it.”
“Looks like we’ll have to take control of the horse markets near Larissa. Might as well use this chance to systematize things.”
Establishing a policy where households, villages, or even cities could receive tax exemptions or reductions in exchange for offering a set number of warhorses would be an effective solution.
The emperor decided to entrust this task to Demicleos, who was currently touring various cities and helping to adjust the people’s assemblies.
In one careless statement, he had dumped an enormous workload on his subordinate. The more despairing truth? That workload wasn’t the end of it—there were still more tasks to be handed out.
“By the way, Francisco, what’s the status of the Mourtatoi?” *Mourtatoi is a special unit in byzantine empire composed of archers
“…Cousin, I’m barely a cavalry commander, even being generous.”
“Then I’ll grant you temporary authority over the Mourtatoi. Find a suitable successor from among them.”
“God have mercy…”
“It’s important work. Don’t take it lightly.”
“Wasn’t being bored supposed to be a good thing…?”
With a groan of despair, Francisco dragged a hand down his face, grumbling over his ill fortune. But it couldn’t be helped.
The emperor had founded an academy and even embraced a fair number of scholars who opposed the Church, but rapid expansion had led to an equally rapid rise in demand for bureaucrats.
And with Adriano—the only other person with significant military experience—having fallen in battle, there were few left who could handle true command.
From that perspective, Francisco was a critical talent who couldn’t afford to rest for even a moment.
And despite a few flaws, there was one more person who needed to stand alongside Francisco as a pillar of the empire.
“How’s the non-commissioned officer training going under Ivania?”
“Non-commissioned officers… Oh, the mercs? Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Francisco, who had just been sulking in gloom, suddenly brightened and pointed with his thumb.
Right on time, Ivania and her squad of NCOs were returning from a march.
Some were sighing, covered in dust and grime, while others—like Ivania—had bright smiles and wide blue eyes, unbothered by the dirt. Naturally, she belonged to the latter group.
“Your Majesty!”
Though she looked relatively intact, training had still left her looking more messy than usual.
And yet, she ran up without a second thought to her appearance—testament to the sheer joy and excitement she felt.
Only Francisco clucked his tongue in mild pity, but the emperor didn’t flinch at the sight of her messy state.
“Your Majesty, what brings you to the training yard first today? If you’re looking into anything suspicious, I’d be glad to assist you personally!”
“I couldn’t help but wonder how many had volunteered. Ivania, can you give me the numbers?”
“O-of course! At present, we have enough to form a full allagia, Your Majesty!”
“Roughly a thousand, then…”
To have gathered a thousand in Mistra alone, in less than a month—that was incredible, even accounting for lingering wartime excitement.
At this pace, it might not take long to restore the army’s former strength. But when it came to trained soldiers, that would be another matter entirely.
All the emperor could do was hope the transition of injured veterans into recruitment officers or NCOs would proceed smoothly.
But Ivania’s hopes seemed to be elsewhere.
The golden-haired knightess, her cheeks flushed, stood proudly and looked up at the emperor—now nearly matching her in height.
“Y-Your Majesty! Though the training period was brief, I’ve done everything I could to instill military discipline. P-perhaps you’d consider reviewing the soldiers as they form up? Just to offer your judgment?!”
“Oh, Lord above…”
Francisco sighed beside them, wearing a thoroughly dry expression, but the Aragonese crusader was already out of Ivania’s line of sight.
After all, the only one whose opinion mattered was the emperor himself.
Caught in that pleading, almost desperate gaze, the emperor couldn’t bring himself to turn away.
“Very well. Let’s see just how dedicated you’ve been.”
“Thank you! Everyone—quit rolling in the dirt and stand up! His Majesty will be inspecting you personally!”
Ivania marched forward with confidence.
The emperor followed slowly behind her, his eyes fixed for a long moment on the bright red flush of her ears beneath her swaying golden hair.
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