The tension that had reached its peak when the capital was surrounded had already become an event of years past.
In the meantime, an unexpected peace had persisted for Morea, and the Ottomans, focused solely on the capital, had not issued a single threat or warning toward either Morea or Emperor Dragases. Throughout that time, the emperor had believed this was because the Ottomans were concentrating entirely on the siege.
At the same time, he had also recognized it as a kind of provocation. If Emperor Dragases were to make a move to rescue the capital, the Ottomans would see that as a pretext to mobilize their forces.
Had they not already experienced such a thing once before? The Ottomans intentions were so blatantly obvious that few failed to notice. Yet even among those who saw it as a provocation, only a handful believed the Ottomans might be preparing something even greater.
Even Emperor Dragases could do nothing but groan under the weight of a vague sense of hunch. Even Francisco, who had faced the Ottoman army firsthand, was only half convinced.
When the emperor came to consult with him about this anxiety, Francisco clicked his tongue and replied:
“Don’t you think you’re overthinking this, cousin? How often do you think the Ottomans can go on campaign? Even they have limits. They’ve been fighting constantly for years now. On top of that, they’re in the middle of reforms. I doubt they’d get much out of any further action at this point.”
“Indeed…”
Though his silly demeanor often undermined him, Francisco was a knight with considerable battlefield experience. He hadn’t formally studied politics, yet compared to most knights, he was quite capable in military operations.
As if finally revealing this side of himself, Francisco laid out his arguments clearly and logically. The emperor found himself nodding in agreement without realizing it.
It was a sound argument.
From the early days of his reign, the Ottomans had drawn their swords to subjugate Bulgaria. After trampling the region and defeating the claimant Mustafa’s forces, they immediately moved to besiege the capital, then tried to pursue and annihilate the Morean army advancing from the south.
Just when it seemed they would succeed, a rebellion broke out in Anatolia, forcing the Ottomans to withdraw their troops and ultimately claim victory there instead. The frequency of their campaigns had been excessive, and in several battles, they had taken considerable losses.
Indeed, it seemed that the Ottomans lacked both the time and resources to attempt anything more.
“Perhaps I was overly worried, as you say…”
“That’s what I’m telling you. Why don’t you take this opportunity to rest? You’re not alone anymore, after all.”
“…Yes. That’s true.”
Every word rang true. Perhaps he had been overestimating the Ottomans all along. Even with a strong foundational power, there were limits. And this was the judgment of one of his key retainers—Francisco. Nor was he the only one.
Your Majesty, while it is admirable to remain vigilant, what good is it if you cannot fight properly because you never allow yourself rest? Excessive caution only wears down the mind and body faster.
Dearest Brother, even the Ottomans have been on campaign multiple times already. Having undertaken so many in such a short time, they must be exhausted too. You should rest for now and prepare for the next battle in peak condition.
It was a rare letter from Prince Thomas, recently returned to Epirus, and his advisor Demicleos. Only then did the emperor finally set down the heavy burden on his shoulders. Having only ever raced forward until now, Emperor Dragases was, at long last, able to take a proper rest.
Truly, he had never once enjoyed a proper rest, always tormented by hardship and duties—many of which he needn’t have taken upon himself.
Now that a faint hope had finally appeared, no one could blame the emperor for taking a break. So while his officials carried on with state affairs, he allowed himself to enjoy some much-needed sleep.
He sat in the chair by the window, basking in the warm sunlight, or lay down on his bed at early dusk and fell fast asleep—he repeated this for several days. But habit is a fearsome thing. In just three days, instead of sleeping soundly, the emperor found himself slipping into deep contemplation once more.
And the question he reached, after repeated thinking, was always the same.
“…Just as Brother Andronikos said. Gaining experience with artillery, suppressing anti-reform opposition… I’m not dismissing their importance, but those two reasons alone don’t justify the continued siege of the capital.”
The blockade was enforced with 8,000 troops and even a naval fleet. Considering the cost of maintaining such forces, was it truly worth bombarding a capital that showed no signs of surrendering anytime soon?
Moreover, the army hadn’t conducted a single raid in nearly two years, so they must be relying heavily on supplies from the homeland. Was it really worth it? The emperor could not answer that question. Dragases could only tilt his head in doubt.
But even if the Ottomans had ulterior motives, he couldn’t turn his gaze away from the capital’s hardship. This was the Ottomans, after all.
Even if they were far weaker than in the original history, they were not to be underestimated. Morea had survived thanks only to a chain of coincidences and swift adaptability. The emperor, who had struggled to create variables to overturn hopeless odds, could never let his guard down.
If he could use such tactics, then surely so could the enemy.
He must never forget that simple truth.
So how could he not worry about some unforeseen variable? The Ottomans would surely be looking for a way to reverse their unfavorable position. No doubt, they were devising a plan to break the unity among the surrounding powers that had restricted their actions. As this thought crossed his mind, Emperor Dragases’s gaze sharpened. There was only one force that could realistically be the Ottomans’ target.
“…So in the end, it’s Morea and the Empire you’re after, Murad.”
Serbia and Wallachia were under Hungarian influence. If the Ottomans were to attack them directly, it would inevitably provoke the suspicion of the Western Church. Moreover, given the toll of frequent campaigns, the Ottomans had every reason to avoid the threat of a Crusade.
In that case, there was only one plausible direction for the Ottoman blade to point. If the siege of the capital itself was merely a ploy to provoke a fight, then their persistence could certainly be explained.
But such a strategy had clear limits.
In fact, once Emperor Dragases resolved to ignore a few murmurs of discontent, the likelihood of war plummeted. Could that be why the siege was starting to ease?
Had Murad himself realized that continuing the siege would yield nothing further? Was the sultan someone capable of making such a judgment? Countless questions tangled and clashed in his mind. As the emperor’s thoughts burned, he eventually opened his mouth.
“Is anyone waiting outside?”
“Your Majesty’s loyal warrior, Halid Murtad, answers the call.”
“Halid? You? …Fine. Come in.”
He had originally intended to send a nearby guard to fetch Halid, but this was even better. With that thought, the emperor gave the command, and Halid pushed the door open without hesitation and walked inside.
“How long have you been there?”
“Since I heard Your Majesty had decided to take some rest.”
“Amazed you didn’t go around lopping off heads.”
“I was ready to cut down anyone who dared disturb Your Majesty’s rest.”
“I’ll take that as a joke.”
“It was, in its own way, meant as one, Your Majesty.”
Halid responded with a faint smile at his lips.
But the air was far too grim for the smile to seem warm. The emperor merely twitched his brows a few times in response. Perhaps he simply didn’t know how else to react.
Thinking back, none of the warriors around him could truly be called decent men.
Calming himself, the emperor asked his question.
“We are not ones to meet simply to exchange pleasantries. Let’s get to the point. What have you come to say, Halid?”
“Your Majesty, have you heard anything about recent Ottoman movements?”
“Ottoman movements?”
Of course the emperor looked puzzled. Until now, the Ottomans had made no significant moves. Aside from gradually loosening the siege out of exhaustion from constant campaigns, there was nothing particularly noteworthy.
But it was clear that this wasn’t the answer Halid was seeking. If no one was more wary of the Ottomans than the emperor, then no one knew the Ottomans better than Halid.
Reminding himself of that fact once more, the emperor looked at Halid.
A man born of a traitor, who called himself a traitor. A man whose arrogance was backed by real skill. Now, with only the battlefield left to test him, Halid met the eyes of his emperor, almost demanding a response. In that moment, the emperor faced another decision. Should he trust him? Or remain cautious?
The hesitation lasted.
“You’ve come with a suspicion, haven’t you?”
“Yes. There are rumors spreading as far as Morea that Skanderbeg of Albania has suddenly ceased his activities.”
“By ‘activities,’ you mean military?”
“I am still verifying the truth, but considering Skanderbeg’s achievements thus far, it’s difficult to grasp why he would abruptly stop. Unless something in the Ottoman movements has changed.”
“…Surely not.”
A loosened siege of the capital, and the sudden halt of Skanderbeg’s conquests.
There must be a connection between these two events. And the emperor suspected that they were deeply linked. There could only be one cause.
‘Has he noticed Morea’s approach to Albania?’
Perhaps the Ottomans deliberately loosened their grip to draw out evidence of an alliance between Morea and the Christian lords of Albania.
If Murad was that desperate to secure a pretext, it was entirely plausible. That is, assuming the rumors were true. Even so, it was a possibility worth investigating. And so, Emperor Dragases gave the order to Halid.
“It seems the Ottomans attention is turning away from the capital. Look into the truth of these rumors, Halid. We must watch how the situation unfolds.”
“If that is Your Majesty’s will.”
Responding in his usual arrogant tone, Halid turned and left. Watching his retreating figure, the emperor could no longer contain his anxiety and sprang to his feet.
There had never been time for rest to begin with.
For two years, the Ottomans had seemed dormant. But now, in some form or another, they were moving behind the scenes. It was a clearly difference from their former method to rely on brute military force alone.
No one could say how much they had changed. But even that change alone posed a grave threat to the empire. In that moment, the name Halid had mentioned surfaced again in the emperor’s mind.
Çandarlı Halil, was it?
Something is changing.
Before the uncertain intentions of the Ottomans, this was the only conclusion the emperor could draw.
Leave a Reply