The meeting between Georgios Gemistos Plethon and Prince Constantine was highly successful.
The prince officially declared Plethon’s repentance and formally requested the establishment of an archbishopric in the ever-growing Morea. Naturally, the ancient capital, Constantinople, was thrown into an uproar.
Some condemned it as an unforgivable act, others feared that Morea had definitively turned its back on the central government, while the rest simply observed the situation with an unsettling silence.
Particularly unexpected was John’s reaction. Contrary to his usual attitude of keeping his brother in check, the young emperor remained emotionless and avoided commenting on the archbishopric.
Nevertheless, the matter of the capital would come later.
Immediately after demanding the establishment of the archbishopric, the prince began leveraging Plethon’s reputation as a scholar to persuade the southern Greek nobility.
Although the honor gained by supporting a distinguished scholar or artist was intangible, it always bewitched the nobles, especially when the person advocating for Plethon’s academy was the ruler of Morea.
Merchants, intrigued by these developments, responded positively to supporting the academy. The prince treated them with utmost favour, not solely for financial reasons. Merchants, with their extensive travels across various nations and cities, knew many influential individuals.
The prince believed it was essential to cultivate these relationships, anticipating a time when the academy would flourish and attract exceptional scholars and artists.
Thus, even amidst the growing tension between Morea and the capital, the matter of supporting Plethon’s academy proceeded smoothly. The prince himself found it hard to believe, murmuring, “This can’t be… It shouldn’t be this easy,” as he nervously bit his fingers.
Of course, a playful maid who witnessed this spread the truth, only to be swiftly dismissed as unbelievable. This is why building a strong reputation is crucial.
Fortunately, the prince’s concerns proved accurate…
Solving one issue only led to another. This was the inescapable fate of a ruler, but still, this felt excessive. The prince, having briefly shaken off his usual stern demeanor, let out a deep sigh. Those familiar with him would be startled by such a sight. However, those who had observed him since long ago would feel differently.
They would recall the bright boy who once ran around joyfully with a loose screw or two.
In reality, this was a relic of the prince’s darker days, before he realized the harshness of reality, when he naively believed the world was his personal paradise.
Tragically, his youthful eagerness to impress women, despite his sincere efforts, was futile—after all, how many women would be attracted to a child under six? Moreover, his attempts at impressing were too intense for a 30-year-old virgin, ultimately coming off as a plea for playmates, stirring motherly instincts instead.
There’s always a reason for being a virgin at 30.
When he finally gained popularity with women, he had already grasped the weight of his position and the grim reality, resolving to save the empire. He resigned himself to the thought, “I was never meant to succeed.”
Yet, merely having such thoughts was evidence of the prince’s transformation.
Despite the somber reflections, the prince once again thought of “romance.” A change that hadn’t occurred for many years had begun. The days spent desperately struggling to overcome the present continued, filled with urgency and anxiety. However, now, the prince possessed a new strength he hadn’t had before.
Confidence.
It might be tiny compared to the overwhelming might of the Ottomans, but hope had emerged. Morea, experiencing a rebirth after two centuries, was rising as a center of resistance, and the Ottoman expansion had slowed.
It wasn’t arrogance; the empire’s strength was still insufficient to defeat the Ottomans. Hence, the war party’s fervor was understandable. The grave issue was that, while he knew his limits, the war party did not.
Naturally, as his confidence grew, so did his resentment toward those who treated him merely as a tool.
The prince, now more composed but with a hint of irritation, gazed at the girl before him. Although she was two years older than him, categorizing her as a young woman rather than a girl seemed appropriate.
Her clothes were surely a bright yellow, yet they appeared almost black, likely due to the decadent aura she exuded. However, what seemed like seductive charm was, in fact, something entirely different.
The discerning eye honed through chaotic experiences spoke to him.
That decadent aura and gaze that seemed to melt were not the result of seductiveness. Instead, it was the sheer magnitude of her greed that disguised as lust. As far as the prince knew, no one embodied such overwhelming greed as this woman. Even John, who had turned against him, seemed noble by comparison. This woman, bowing her head submissively, spoke softly.
“It seems I’ve been utterly defeated. Your abilities far exceeded my expectations, Your Highness.”
Frankly, to be honest, the display Sophia presented to the prince did not move him in the slightest. Although they were husband and wife, her actions in the war just a few months prior had posed a significant threat to Morea. Had the prince not made the bold move of engaging Ivania, the consequences could have been catastrophic.
“It feels like only yesterday you fled in tears, yet here you are, composed.”
“It’s not wise to provoke a woman too much. The resentment a woman harbours can be sharper than any blade.”
“Sophia, you and I have walked such different paths that speaking of gender between us is irrelevant.”
Even though the prince had become more composed and had begun to think of romance, his primary concern remained the survival of the empire and the defeat of their nemesis, the Ottomans. Sophia was acquired solely for that purpose. If she proved unhelpful, he was prepared to cut ties without hesitation.
“Hmm. I’ll commend you for acting swiftly upon receiving Hungary’s support. But hasn’t this rendered Serbia practically a vassal state of Hungary? The alliance formed through our marriage has likely been shattered by my betrayal.”
“Precisely why I concede defeat, Your Highness.”
Despite the string of provocations, Sophia merely wore an enigmatic smile. Watching her carefree expression, the prince bit his tongue slightly. Had he grown stronger? It seemed every woman he encountered was either mad or ruthless. Strong women who would squeeze an ordinary man dry. Lacking any warped lust, the prince had no desire for such strong women, repeating this to himself countless times while remaining vigilant.
And sure enough.
“Therefore, I offer myself to you, not Serbia’s military might.”
Sophia’s confident smile appeared. Surely she wasn’t proposing her body.
“Well, you’re a smart woman, so you must know I don’t desire your body…”
The prince pondered what Sophia had to offer. Her overwhelming greed, her scheming creativity, and above all, her most valuable asset.
“You know something.”
Her network, leveraged through the Jewish community, offered intelligence far more valuable than Serbia’s military might. Having been crushed by the Ottomans thrice, their morale was likely at rock bottom. It might be more beneficial to acquire alternative assets than to rely on such allies. The prince quickly weighed his options and made his decision.
“Ha, you truly are worthy of the throne. Had we met under more friendly circumstances, we could have been excellent partners.”
“Get to the point.”
“So curt… Very well, as a gesture of goodwill to mark the end of our chaotic relationship, I shall share this.”
Sophia then revealed the news that the prince would find most concerning.
“The Ottoman capital, Edirne, has been completely sealed off.”
Leave a Reply