With the return of Prince Thomas of Epirus, Emperor Dragases was finally able to step down from his role as regent.
However, Thomas was still young and lacked any notable accomplishments, leaving his authority weak.
To compensate for this, the emperor volunteered to become Thomas’s guardian himself. Of course, it was no easy task for the ruler of Thessaly, Athens, and all of Morea to also dedicate attention to Epirus.
Thus, someone had to be appointed to assist Thomas in the emperor’s stead.
The problem was that there was no one particularly suitable among the emperor’s retainers to send.
What Epirus needed at this stage—just as its foundations were being laid—was not a military expert, but someone confident in administration.
And the emperor was already struggling to find suitable commanders to lead his own reorganized military. Ivania was busy training noncommissioned officers for the Paramone–Alagia formation.
Francisco was burdened with the Latin troops, the Stradioti, and even the Mourtati. Any further reduction in manpower would make it impossible to move forward.
No more personnel could be spared.
The emperor considered sending Gemistos Plethon, who had relevant experience, but this was the time when Plethon needed to focus on nurturing future talent.
The academy had only just begun to operate after the war, having finally secured a teacher. It was far from fully established, and removing Plethon now would be too much.
Besides, Plethon was fundamentally a scholar. The emperor had already worked hard to calm the church’s opposition.
For both Plethon and Dragases, maintaining the current situation was the safer choice. Not that there was a better alternative.
Bishop Nikephoros of Morea, currently serving as the region’s bishop, was also not an option.
His mere presence secured the church’s support for the emperor. Regardless of his abilities, Bishop Nikephoros had to remain by the emperor’s side to ensure stability in Morea.
Without realizing it, the emperor let out a deep sigh, laced with frustration.
“In the end, that leaves Demicleos, by process of elimination…”
The issue was that Demicleos was currently spearheading the establishment of the public assembly and adjusting the laws for each region on behalf of the emperor.
Though things were starting to get on track, this was still the critical foundational period that could determine the success of the next several decades. Pulling him away was not a decision to make lightly.
Thus, the emperor found himself in a rare dilemma so intense it made his head throb.
Not sending anyone to assist Thomas in governing Epirus wasn’t even worth considering. Yet pulling a key official from their duties would undoubtedly cause setbacks in that field.
Perhaps if the emperor personally made up for the shortfall, things might somehow function. But given the punishing workload and stress he already bore, that was far from a wise solution.
While each official handled their designated responsibilities, Dragases was the one orchestrating the entire reform. Most of these reforms had been his own sole decisions—there was no one else to delegate them to.
“…I need to think on this,” he muttered.
A sigh from the emperor was never meaningless.
Leaning back in his chair in a rare moment of looseness, the emperor was far from his usual strict, solemn, and serious self.
Whenever no one was watching, he would occasionally allow himself to rest in this manner.
But even then, true rest avoided him. The empire’s circumstances were so dire that even falling asleep felt like a luxury.
Even now, as he slouched, the emperor’s thoughts were racing—searching for a suitable candidate.
“If I absolutely must send someone, then Demicleos would be the right choice.”
It was deeply regrettable to send him away before the newly forming administrative system was complete—but change was just as necessary in Epirus.
The recent focus on Thessaly and Athens had caused the governance of Epirus to suffer naturally. A shortage of capable personnel had directly led to a lack of administrative capacity.
That was why the emperor intended to delegate most of his authority in Epirus to Thomas and the person who would support him. He would do everything he could to provide aid whenever possible—but direct involvement on his part was no longer realistic.
After all, Dragases had more than enough on his plate. Not only was he leading the reforms, he was also devising strategies to prevent the rise of the Ottoman golden age.
Given the current situation, Demicleos was clearly the best choice.
The real question was—if he left, who would take over the reforms in Morea? Whoever it was, even if lacking experience, needed to have a firm grasp of why the reforms were necessary.
Not just because Dragases said so, but because they personally believed it was essential for the country’s future.
“…As reluctant as I am, perhaps sending Plethon would actually be better…”
Considering his fame as a scholar, it was a reasonable option. But even as he spoke the words, the emperor found himself shaking his head.
It wasn’t that he doubted Plethon’s intellect—but implementing institutional reform required a particular kind of aptitude.
Demicleos, already acknowledged for his capabilities and even active as a judge, was far more reliable in that regard.
Either way, the painful truth remained.
There simply weren’t enough capable people he could trust. The emperor knew this all too well—and that’s why he could never truly rest.
About three days later, a change came over the once-peaceful atmosphere of Mistra.
The only sounds in the emperor’s office were the scratching of a quill and the strangely overlapping rhythm of quiet breathing. *Quills are feather that people used to write in the old ages.
Just three days prior, the office had been Dragases alone—but now, for some reason, it was bustling with unexpected guests.
Calling them “guests” felt slightly off, but either way, even with new arrivals, the emperor’s naturally stiff air did not soften one bit.
“Ugh, it’s suffocating… I know we’re working, but I seriously want to get out of here…”
Despite being scolded countless times for frequent mistakes, the Jewish maid Maria always managed to wear a bright, cheerful smile.
Yet even she had no way to deal with Emperor Dragases. What fun could she possibly have talking to a man as impenetrable as a fortress, one who didn’t crack a single smile no matter what was said?
It was a perfectly reasonable thought—but Maria’s mistake was forgetting that not everyone was reasonable.
“You can’t complain already, Maria. How do you expect to serve properly like that?”
“Sophia, you’re the weird one… I mean, what’s so fun about staring at him like that? Emperor Dragases is the ultimate fortress of chastity, you know. He’s practically a monk—completely uninterested in women.”
Swallowing her last words mid-sentence, Maria subtly turned her gaze to glance at the emperor. Though he rarely had time to groom himself due to overwork, his appearance was always neat, except for his naturally curly hair.
That said, his impeccable self-discipline likely explained his tidy image. Still, perhaps he was too disciplined—so much so that he had yet to lay a hand on any woman, including Sophia.
“Honestly, even if he did try something, I doubt any woman would be thrilled about it.”
Emperor Dragasēs was regarded as an ideal sovereign due to his strict self-discipline and unwavering devotion to the welfare of the empire.
The consequence of this was an excessively inflated reverence. Not only was he not someone easy to approach, but he also seemed virtually flawless, which only intensified that distance.
The few exceptions were women who, by intention or by circumstance, had managed to grow close to him.
As such, Maria’s observations were entirely reasonable, every word of them.
“Isn’t that actually a good thing, though? It means he’s a decent man deep down, and yet easy to monopolize.”
Unfortunately, her remark was wasted on someone who had no intention of accepting it. Sophia sat in one of the nearby chairs, resting her chin on her hand.
At first glance, she appeared to be deep in thought, but in truth, her posture was simply to give her an excuse to gaze at the emperor for a long time. Her dark eyes darted about tirelessly, tracking his every movement as always.
The moment that brazen stare reached him, the emperor let out a sigh and set down his quill before turning toward Sophia.
“Still at it?”
The remark carried multiple implications, but Sophia understood immediately. The way she smiled in response said it all.
“We’ve only just started getting close.”
Sophia’s eyes softened briefly, then lifted playfully with mischief. Like a cat waiting to be entertained, she looked at the emperor with a teasing glint in her eye.
This look marked the most notable change in Sophia ever since she started visiting not for urgent news or important information, but for no reason at all.
Naturally, it wasn’t a welcome change for the emperor.
“Madam, as I’ve said before—let’s not waste each other’s time…”
“And you’ve been saying that for two years now. Isn’t it time you realized which one of us is really wasting whose time?”
She cut him off before he could even finish. The air darkened quickly, shifting from lightheartedness to a heavy, tense atmosphere. Only Maria, who had quickly backed up toward the door after sensing the shift, let out a dazed sound like “Uwaaah~.”
At this point, rather than confront her head-on, the emperor chose silence. He had a plan in mind, yes—but if it were discovered prematurely, the consequences could be explosive.
Between Joannina and Ivania, the emperor’s plate was already overflowing. There simply wasn’t room to include Sophia as well.
But having seized the rare opportunity, Sophia clearly had no intention of backing off.
She continued pressing him with her gaze. Meanwhile, the emperor, picked up the quill again and busied himself with the rest of his paperwork.
How much time had passed?
Suddenly, the silence was broken by quick, confident footsteps that echoed clearly in the emperor’s ears. As expected, a soldier acting as a messenger burst into the room, pushing aside a startled Maria in the process.
“Your Majesty! A report from the Academy you are sponsoring—!”
“I was planning to go there myself. It sounds urgent, so I’ll hear the full details on the way.”
“Ah—yes, of course!”
There was no way the emperor would miss such a chance.
As if he had prepared for this moment long ago, he wore his cloak with fluid ease. No one even had time to stop him. Leaving only a quick gasp of awe behind, the messenger dashed out. Peaceful silence returned to the office once more.
The next voice came only after a long while.
“…His Majesty made a very smooth escape, huh.”
“Huhu… I’m sure he knows. That no matter how it happens, he’ll eventually have to form a relationship with me.”
“You’re very composed, Sophia.”
“Well…”
Given the pace of the past two years, Maria’s comment was more than justified. But Sofia, completely unfazed, lightly tapped the quill the emperor had left behind with her index finger and closed her eyes slowly.
“Because His Majesty and I are already husband and wife.”
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