Now that he had learned more about the man he was about to meet, the emperor couldn’t help but fall into deep thought.
“There are about two thousand Murtati stationed at the training grounds. Considering we only have a hundred men under our command right now, any attempt at a forceful suppression would be reckless.”
“…It’s a bit unsettling.”
If they brought in more troops, the Murtati might notice something was off and launch a preemptive strike.
But simply going ahead with the meeting could be deadly if it turned out to be a trap.
The emperor and Francisco would be isolated in the middle of two thousand Murtati—there was no way the two of them could fight their way out.
Even if it was only a possibility, the circumstances made even the man’s stated intent of “serving as a commander” feel suspect.
Why had someone like him come all the way to Mistra?
Unconsciously, the emperor found himself biting his lip.
“The son of Evrenos Bey… Just what is he thinking?”
He had only heard a rough account from the soldier of who Evrenos was, but acquiring more detailed information would be simple enough.
A man who had once served the Empire, only to betray it, crush the Crusaders, seize its former territories, and even devise the devshirme system.
Though Evrenos had long since retired and died, he was far from forgotten in the minds of the people.
Evrenos Bey.
Given all that he had accomplished, there was no reason for his child to suddenly throw in with the Empire.
From the Empire’s perspective, he was a loathsome traitor, but to the Ottomans, he had earned honours befitting a founding hero.
So why would his son come all the way to Morea?
The emperor’s mind was troubled—there was no way to read such a man’s true motives.
Still, there was no avoiding the meeting. A man of this caliber could stir a tremendous rebellion using those two thousand Murtati.
If things simply ended with a peaceful standoff, that would be ideal—but if the man sensed anything suspicious and made the first move, the consequences could be severe.
After much deliberation, the emperor finally furrowed his brow and came to a decision.
“With that much of a numerical difference, provoking them hastily would be foolish. Pull the soldiers back. I don’t like it, but we’ll meet him on his terms.”
“Are you sure? There’s still a chance they might suddenly rush us.”
“In that case, you’ll take responsibility and clear the way.”
“Well, guess I’ll have to. I only just became the emperor’s cousin—can’t go down this easy.”
Francisco, arms crossed and trying to joke around, kept tapping his forearm with his right index finger.
He wasn’t the only one feeling the tension. The emperor too, for once, failed to keep his lips from tightening with unease.
The only thing that remained lively was the hand resting on his sword hilt.
What kind of man would they be facing?
Holding only questions tangled in doubt, the emperor finally began to move.
“We can’t delay any longer. Let’s head to the Murtati’s encampment.”
“Hope this ends well.”
“….”
“…Sorry for dragging you all into this. You’ve heard His Majesty’s order—return to your posts. Keep what you learned to yourselves as best you can.”
This time, the emperor said nothing more. Sensing the gravity of his mood, Francisco also dropped the jokes and focused on dismissing the soldiers.
Thankfully, the troops obeyed the command, even if they were still bewildered. Still, the fact that Evrenos’ son had come to Mistra would likely be impossible to keep secret.
Their intense reaction had been too great, and for good reason. Knowing this, Francisco couldn’t bring himself to order them more harshly.
How could he blame the soldiers under such circumstances?
Letting out a long sigh, Francisco rubbed his forehead and muttered with sincere frustration:
“If this really turns out to be a trap after all this trouble, I’m killing that bastard first.”
He followed behind the emperor, who had already begun walking. Tension burned between the two of them as they headed for the training grounds.
Neither spoke a word the entire way. The only thing that disturbed the silence was the cheerful noise of those unaware of what was going on.
A few greeted the emperor with polite bows, but the matter was too heavy for him to return the gestures, and he passed them without a word.
Eventually, as the crowds thinned and they arrived at the edge of the training grounds, the emperor came to a stop. Partly to ease his nerves, but more so to gauge the atmosphere inside.
When Francisco also stopped beside him, the emperor asked:
“You only issued a summoning order to the Murtati, correct?”
“Yeah. It takes time to gather that many, after all. And there were a lot of them—so we had to narrow it down. The ones who came to Mistra are mostly the selected few. We were too busy with troop assignments and such until now, so I only just got them here.”
“That’s a relief, at least. If they’re merely assembled, we might not need to worry about an organized resistance.”
“Once again, my actions turn out to be the saving grace.”
Even as they exchanged a few short words, both men were cautiously surveying their surroundings. Only after doing so did they finally step forward again.
It was only natural, but the moment they entered the training grounds, countless eyes turned toward them.
The Murtati, who had just begun forming small groups and talking noisily, all fell silent at once, turning the air heavy with tension.
In the midst of this tense situation, the emperor and Francisco turned their attention to a single man—he alone among the crowd had risen and was approaching them.
Judging by his relatively smooth face, he looked to be in his thirties. Black eyes with unsettlingly intense pupils, a sharply pointed aquiline nose, and a beard that connected to his sideburns—he walked toward them with unwavering composure and a commanding presence.
The moment the emperor laid eyes on him, he understood. And Francisco’s words, which followed soon after, confirmed his suspicion.
“That’s him, cousin.”
“…That man is Evrenos’s son.”
The emperor had muttered it under his breath, but the man’s eyebrow twitched in an odd way. Had he heard it?
The emperor silently praised the man’s sharp ears before placing his hand calmly on the hilt of his sword.
Francisco, noticing the emperor’s movement from the corner of his eye, clenched his right hand into a fist and stepped forward. The man’s eyes slowly scanned the two of them, as if measuring their wariness.
A single misstep from anyone would undoubtedly spark a fight.
While the emperor and Francisco stood in a silent standoff with the man, the rest of the Murtati were not idle.
Those gathered at the training ground had sensed the shift in atmosphere and were quietly rising, grouping together. No one had drawn a sword yet, but it was only a matter of time.
If there was to be dialogue, something had to change—and it was not the emperor, but the man, who made the first move.
“…If you’ve already figured it out, why didn’t you bring soldiers with you?”
His voice showed no emotion—calm and subdued, it was impossible to discern what thoughts lay behind the question.
Yet even without knowing his true intentions, the emperor couldn’t ignore the opportunity this question presented.
With a sidelong glance, he checked on the quietly watching Murtati at the edge of his vision before responding.
“What do you mean, figured it out?”
“…That this meeting could easily turn into a fight if it goes poorly.”
“There are two thousand Murtati here, and only a small force immediately available to oppose them. We simply chose the path that would provoke less.”
“Hmm… Makes sense, coming from someone who understands the current state of things.”
The man nodded at his own answer, gaze fixed on the ground. Only after lifting his head to look back at the emperor did his strange behaviour stopped—and then, just slightly, he raised the corners of his lips in a faint smile.
“You may lower your guard. …If you’ve gone out of your way to avoid the path that leads to conflict, then it’s only right that I show a corresponding degree of restraint.”
“…Hey, I can put up with you being informal with me, but the man in front of you right now is the Emperor of the Thousand-Year Empire. You really ought to watch your tone.”
It was clear the man knew exactly who he was talking to. And yet, he still showed no deference befitting the emperor’s station. Francisco bared his teeth as he spoke, his expression sharp and alert—far from the usual carelessness he displayed. The faint smile that had been on the man’s face vanished without a trace.
“Don’t throw the authority of the Roman Emperor at me. I am not a Roman, I am a Turk—and he has not yet earned my loyalty. Why should I bow to a name that couldn’t even protect its own lands and people?”
“And you think you have the right to say that? The son of a traitor who helped take those very things away?”
“And still, you bring up a name that couldn’t even keep the loyalty of that traitor?”
“…Did you really come here because you want to be a commander?”
Francisco’s exasperated voice scattered into the air, while the emperor simply stood in silence, grappling with his emotions.
A nation too weak to protect its own land and people—he was being forced to confront the reality of a crumbling empire once again.
And perhaps because of that, he failed to notice the man’s piercing gaze as it focused on him with interest.
“Before my father passed away, there was a name he often mentioned.”
Those words, oddly forceful in how they attached themselves into the emperor’s mind, finally pulled him back to the present.
Though his mind had been consumed with worry, he and Francisco—who remained vigilant, watching the Murtati’s movements—both turned their attention silently to the man and his strange demeanour.
The man gave a wide, unrestrained smile.
“There’s only one name I need to surpass.”
As the conversation went on, the tension had begun to ease little by little.
The gathered Murtati gradually returned to their own conversations, their interest slowly shifting away.
Only the three men at the center of the standoff remained.
The strange confrontation lingered for a moment longer, until Francisco, seeing that the Murtati were no longer paying close attention, let out a long, weary sigh.
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