Preparations to confront the approaching Ottoman forces, now right on their doorstep, were slowly reaching completion.
Of course, compared to the Ottomans, who had been preparing for this for years, it was pitifully insufficient.
The attack had come too suddenly, and there hadn’t been nearly enough time to prepare. Yet thanks to the remarkable achievements of Emperor Dragases in what was clearly a doomed fight, a brief moment of stability and peace had come to the city.
And just when they thought they had finally reclaimed peace—it turned out not even ten years would pass before it crumbled again.
—Not that no one saw this coming.
Most people had no illusions that the peace between the Empire and the Ottomans would last.
Even the fragile alliance that had barely sustained it had now collapsed, leaving the Ottomans with no reason to hesitate.
It was universally expected—though grimly—that the Ottoman offensive would begin soon. And that very doubt had instilled a strange calm in the people.
The ancient city, with a thousand years of history, simply accepted the fate that had come knocking with solemn grace.
As a first response, twelve hundred able-bodied men were assigned to defend the triple walls.
Those without equipment followed behind priests and monks carrying censers, laying their hands upon the walls as they prayed.
They hoped the city’s greatest legacy, which had protected it for so long, would not fail this time either. Beneath the blue sky, the faded city steadily completed its preparations to face destiny.
Meanwhile, footsteps echoed across the terrace where the emperor of the capital resided.
In the open space with a view of the sea, the emperor sat in a chair, leaning back and silently watching the golden sunset.
The owner of the footsteps saw his back and, rather than approach immediately, first scanned the area. Only when it was certain no one else was around did he step forward and speak.
“I came upon hearing Your Majesty’s command, delivered through Secretary Sphrantzes.”
“I thought it was too soon… Kantakouzenos. Before I give you your orders, I want to ask you something.”
“Speak freely, Your Majesty.”
“Do you have no regrets about staying by my side?”
At those words, Demetrios Kantakouzenos, brother to the Empress, stared intently at Emperor John’s back. Naturally, he couldn’t see his face, nor could he guess what the emperor was thinking.
But the man standing before the golden sunset, which seemed to wash away all color, was still the emperor of this faded city. And Kantakouzenos himself was still a nobleman bearing the duty to protect it.
He made that clear.
“I do not know what moved Your Majesty to say such a thing. Still, I can give a definite answer: I will defend this city. So long as Your Majesty remains here, I will remain as well.”
John didn’t reply right away. He only murmured something to himself—too softly for Kantakouzenos to hear from that distance. Yet there was no place for inquiry. The emperor finally responded long after Kantakouzenos had spoken.
“…Thank you, Kantakouzenos. That one sentence brings me comfort.”
“Your Majesty?”
“I thought I had already made my decision, but I was still hesitating. Thanks to you, I can finally follow through. That’s why I entrust this task to the one I trust the most. Listen well, Kantakouzenos.”
“I am listening.”
“I hear the Ottoman fleet hasn’t yet entered the Golden Horn.”
“That is true, but positivity would be unwise. It will likely be sealed off in the near future. All the Venetian and Genoese merchant ships anchored there plan to depart before then.”
The situation was dire, but Kantakouzenos remained calm. Everyone had braced for this since the day Prince Dragases ascended the throne.
It was far more rational to seek practical measures than to despair over what had already come to pass. That clarity gave Kantakouzenos the composure to face reality clearly.
Perhaps pleased with his answer, the emperor let out a faint laugh, swept away in the sea breeze.
“Yes… The city will once again endure a long and bitter trial. A wait that may have no end is now nearly upon us.”
“If Your Majesty understands that, then I’m glad.”
“At the same time, I’ve come to realize that the fate of this city and the future of our empire no longer lie here.”
It was a truth everyone knew, yet none dared say aloud—until now, when it came from the lips of the emperor. Seeking to grasp its true meaning, Kantakouzenos glared fiercely at John’s back.
But the emperor never turned to face him. Was there nothing to do but wait? Suppressing a sigh, Kantakouzenos chose to remain silent and await the rest.
But the silence dragged on.
Just as he was about to break it, the emperor spoke again.
“I’ve kept your sister here for too long. See that she and Andronikos board a ship and take refuge with Konstantinos in Morea.”
There was only one sister Kantakouzenos had—Joannina Kantakouzene, the Empress. Though their marriage had been purely political and their meeting had been mismatched from the start, at least one of them had harbored deeper feelings. Knowing that, Kantakouzenos could not easily accept the command. He had to ask again.
“…Your Majesty, are you serious?”
“Those who remain here are those who have chosen to wait. But your sister is someone who has been waiting all along. I do not wish to make her wait any longer. Andronikos, with his experience ruling Thessalonica, will be more helpful offering counsel in Morea than he would be here.”
Now, instead of speaking, Kantakouzenos simply gazed at John with a complex expression. Surely the emperor must have sensed that stare. Yet he still did not turn around—he only answered in a subdued voice.
“If you’ve guessed why I haven’t looked you in the eye… I ask that you pretend not to notice.”
“Your Majesty, how could you…”
How painful must your heart be to give such an order… The rest of his words were swallowed by the distant sound of cannon fire. Both men instantly knew. From this moment on, the Ottoman siege would begin in earnest.
The emperor could not remain seated.
John rose from his chair and shouted.
“Begin the siege. Lock the gates tight and move building materials to repair the damaged walls.”
“…I will follow Your Majesty’s command.”
“Before that.”
As Kantakouzenos hurried to leave, the emperor called out with one more order.
“See to their safety as well.”
It was displeasing.
Yet even as he bit his lower lip in frustration, Kantakouzenos answered naturally.
“I shall not forget, Your Majesty!”
With that, Kantakouzenos departed.
Alone again.
No sooner had that thought crossed Emperor John’s mind than another familiar presence approached—one whose voice he always welcomed.
“Will you truly be all right, Your Majesty?”
At Sphrantzes’s question, John finally burst into laughter—pure and genuine, without a trace of sorrow. Sphrantzes bowed his head in silence, watching the emperor laugh.
Only after some time did John finally answer.
“If I were all right, I wouldn’t be hiding my face.”
“I thought as much.”
“You still love teasing me, Sphrantzes.”
“Then let me offer a formal apology in hopes of your forgiveness.”
“No need. I will go to see my father. Attend me.”
“……”
For a moment, Sphrantzes was at a loss for words. Sensing the hesitation, John finally turned to face him. His face was clean, without tears, and full of gentle smiles.
“So it seems something has happened to my father.”
“…I’m sorry, Your Majesty. The former emperor didn’t want to burden the younger generation—those who must bear the empire’s future—so he asked us to keep it secret…”
“Is he in critical condition?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”
“Then we must go at once, before it’s too late. Lead the way.”
At the emperor’s command, Sphrantzes silently nodded.
The two left the palace grounds without even a proper escort. Even the imperial guards had been assigned to the defense of the triple walls. There were no longer enough men left to protect even the emperor.
Though it had fallen into decline, the streets where many once walked were empty today. The silence that covered the quiet roads was broken only by the occasional distant sounds of cannon fire and the faint, stifled prayers of those crushed by the heavy atmosphere.
It was not a welcome sight, yet it was one that had become familiar—and would have to be embraced as familiar from now on.
Even as he hurried along, the Emperor of the capital cast glances around the streets, letting himself sink into reflection.
Meanwhile, Emperor John and his secretary, Sphrantzes, arrived at their destination.
It was the monastery into which former Emperor Manuel had voluntarily entered after laying down his crown. Despite the bleak state surrounding the capital, this place remained devoted to spiritual pursuit and was no more welcoming to worldly visitors than before.
That was why black-robed monks emerged from somewhere to block John and Sphrantzes as they attempted to enter.
“Your Majesty, this is a place where monks undertake silent atonement. No matter who you are, you may not enter at will.”
“…So they say. Will you step back?”
The monk spoke firmly, and Sphrantzes turned his bright, clear eyes up toward John. The Emperor of the capital mulled over the monk’s words: even an emperor may not enter. As he repeated this thought over and over, a pleased curve formed on John’s lips. At last, he removed the crown from his head with his own hands and replied.
“I do not come as an emperor, but as a son wishing to see his father. I ask you to allow me in.”
A plea stripped of imperial authority or noble dignity. Upon hearing it, a smile spread to Sphrantzes as well. The secretary turned again to the monks and asked,
“His Majesty responds thus to your statement. What will you do?”
“…Very well. But please maintain silence inside.”
The monks reluctantly stepped aside. Without hesitation, John and Sphrantzes entered the monastery. Despite being located in a decaying millennium-old city, the monastery retained a serene atmosphere steeped in faith.
It felt removed entirely from the despair outside. The interior was much the same.
Sunlight filtered in between the small windows, floating gently across the hallway.
Had John come here alone, he would surely have wandered in confusion. But with the capable Sphrantzes by his side, there was no such trouble. Together, they made their way through the quiet monastery and finally found what they were seeking.
There was someone unexpected there as well.
“See, Your Majesty. I told you that John would come on his own, even without being summoned.”
“…You’ve managed to find time in your busy days, John.”
The woman holding the wrinkled hand of the aged monk lying in bed was someone John knew well. The warm mother who had always cared for her children—Empress Dowager Helena—welcomed him with a gentle smile.
“I had a small wager with him. I said you’d come without needing to be called, but he insisted on being stubborn. Still doesn’t understand his children at all…”
“Mother…”
But John could not feel joy wholeheartedly. The moment he looked into the lifeless eyes of Manuel, he understood how little time remained.
The thought that he hadn’t visited his father sooner weighed heavily on him. Empress Dowager Helena, observing silently, slowly rose and stepped back.
“It seems you two have much to say to each other. I’ll take my leave for now with Sphrantzes. Have your talk.”
“Then, Your Majesty, I shall accompany Her Majesty the Dowager.”
With that, Sphrantzes stepped away in sync with the Empress Dowager.
At last, the father and son were alone after many years. John, unable to speak at first, sat in the seat his mother had left. He reached out and gently touched the aged monk’s hand resting on the blanket.
The hand, dried like an old tree, was calloused and coarse. As John caressed it, his throat tightened, and he could not bring himself to speak.
It was the old monk who broke the silence first.
“…I heard a familiar sound.”
“……”
“…The Ottomans have returned, haven’t they.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”
After that, the two spoke no further for a while. Outside, the occasional boom of cannon fire continued. After several of those sounds, the monk lying still closed his eyes softly.
“I was a father who drove his beloved children into slaughter… who made them fight one another. Rest is not something I deserve. I regret it each time I think of Theodoros, whose fate remains unknown. I wish I had done better by him.”
“Father.”
“Still… it was a wish I could not abandon.”
Manuel’s eyes, already drained of light, surely recalled unforgettable images behind their heavy lids—the moment the city he was meant to protect collapsed by his own hands, the corpses reaching out to him, the flames devouring even the rubble and ruined walls with greedy hunger. Perhaps in that moment, he foresaw the empire’s end. John could not fully understand what his father felt.
But the trembling of Manuel’s hand and eyelids conveyed his heart.
His shaking hand could barely grasp John’s fingers. So feeble was his grip that a mere movement would break it, and yet John could not dismiss it—he knew that this was the last of his father’s strength.
“I speak not as your father, but as an emperor.”
“…”
“Lead your brothers well, John.”
“Father.”
“…Take care of the children I leave behind. And do not doubt yourself.”
Manuel tried to open his eyes, but his weary lids were too heavy now. Sleep was descending. Realizing this, John pressed his face to Manuel’s chest without hesitation.
The frail body, sensing a familiar touch it hadn’t felt in so long, trembled for the last time. Holding that tremble, the old monk resisted the pull of slumber long enough to whisper—
“…John.”
That was the end.
The former emperor accepted sleep as it came. His breath slowed, and the pulse that had long sustained his old body began to fade.
Only then did John rise again. The Emperor of the capital kissed the index finger that had gripped his own—but he shed no tears.
“Sphrantzes, are you still outside?”
Rather than reply, Sphrantzes entered the room. He had known for some time that the old emperor’s life was nearing its end. Even with the emperor’s composed tone, he likely guessed what had happened. He could have accused John, asked why he was only now revealing this in his grief. But the Emperor said nothing.
He couldn’t—because he understood, however faintly, the heart behind Manuel’s choice.
“Let us begin preparations for the funeral.”
“As Your Majesty commands.”
This time, Sphrantzes nodded quietly.
Moments later, the Empress Dowager re-entered with Sphrantzes support and gently caressed Manuel. John watched, not missing a single detail.
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