The coup in the Ottoman Empire once again disrupted the political landscape of the Balkans.
The ascension of the new sultan was not only a source of unease for Prince Dragaš of Morea but also for others, including Serbia, now a vassal of Hungary, and the imperial capital of Constantinople. Everyone was desperate to gather information about Murad II. Fortunately, in Morea, there was a woman named Sophia who knew how to utilize the Jewish community.
“The reason the new sultan has gained the loyalty of the Janissaries is clear. While he has a strict side, he is deeply devoted to his subordinates. The very first thing he did after ascending the throne was to improve military supplies,” Sophia reported.
“This won’t pass quietly,” Prince Dragaš remarked.
“A ruler whose power is grounded in military support will inevitably dream of conquest. It solidifies their authority, after all,” Sophia replied.
Under monarchy, a nation’s foreign policy often reflects the ruler’s personality. To understand Ottoman intentions, it was necessary to grasp Murad II’s character. In this regard, the Jewish community, scorned by many yet rarely distrusted, proved invaluable. Through them, Prince Dragaš was able to receive updates on rumours and developments that others could not.
This affirmed that his decision to prepare for war was correct, though it left him with mixed emotions. Why? Perhaps because, deep down, he harbored faint hopes.
He wished Murad II would prove to be a more lenient and friendly ruler. Yet, with war now an inevitable reality, those hopes were in vain.
The challenges before him were significant. Most of the Balkans were under Ottoman control, and aid from Western Europe was out of reach. Morea would have to rely on its own strength to resist. The prince’s only viable strategy was to delay the Ottomans’ aggressive advances and gradually undermine Murad II’s authority—a plan that, given the circumstances, was the empire’s best chance.
While the Ottoman Empire continues its centralizing reforms, the sultan’s authority fundamentally relies on tribal leaders and theologians. Aware of this, these groups resist allowing the sultan’s power to grow unchecked. Internally, the empire is divided between the Janissaries, loyal to the sultan, and the old guard of statesmen and military elites.
The traditional elites were reportedly hesitant about military campaigns, even though they subtly supported Murad II’s predecessor, Mehmed I. How would they respond to Murad II, who enjoyed strong Janissary backing? For now, they might submit. But if Murad II’s authority surged after a string of victories or faltered after failures that weakened the Janissaries, divisions could emerge.
Preventing the Ottomans from waging an aggressive war was essential. Murad II was strongest during the early stages of his reign, so it was crucial for the empire not to provide him with any pretext for war. A baseless war would only deepen the divide between the Janissaries and the old guard. This concern brought the prince’s thoughts to the growing faction of war hawks in Constantinople.
The hawks likely believed that Murad II’s grip on power was still unstable due to his recent ascension, and they would advocate for a preemptive strike. The prince could only hope the capital would refrain from making such a reckless decision.
Unfortunately, circumstances were rarely favorable to him. The reigning co-emperor, John VIII, owed his position to the hawks’ support. The prince’s anxiety deepened.
Naturally, Sophia, perceptive as ever, noticed the worry etched on his face.
“My, you seem troubled by something,” she teased.
“There’s never been a time without trouble, so that’s nothing new to hear,” the prince retorted.
Though the prince cooperated with Sophia out of necessity, he was not a man who softened easily. His blunt response was followed by a contemplative silence.
Preparations for war were still underway. Adrianos continued stockpiling supplies, including the Greek Fire, while Ivania trained soldiers after resting her mercenary forces.
Though the prince had yet to meet Ivania in person, she was an indispensable asset in Morea, where capable officers were sorely lacking. However, using her did come with a tinge of guilt. The prince resolved to reward her generously when the time came.
Now, there were other matters to address.
“I need to reassign Ivania. Have her protect Demicleos and Plato while they handle negotiations, and let Venetian advisors continue training the troops. As for persuading the patriarch in Constantinople, we’ll rely on Bishop Nikephoros. It’s regrettable, but it must be done.”
Demicleos and Plato would be tasked with convincing the influential nobles of central Greece, who had been acting suspiciously.
Ensuring their safety was necessary. Ivania, as Morea’s most capable commander, was the ideal choice for this role. Regarding the patriarch, Nikephoros was the only viable candidate to appeal to Constantinople.
If the prince attempted it himself, he would undoubtedly be ordered to come to the capital and display repentance. If such a demand were made, the prince was prepared to openly defy the patriarch, even if it meant arranging the crowning in Epirus under the supervision of the Bishop of Morea instead.
Such a move would effectively sever Morea’s ties with the empire, a step neither the patriarch nor the prince wished to take lightly.
And so—
“So, why are you telling me such things in front of me?”
“Still don’t get it? That was your cue to leave and get to work.”
As Sophia’s expression subtly twisted, the prince amended his words.
“No, on second thought, staying a little longer might not be so bad.”
“…Haha, I wonder what made you change your mind.”
“I just wanted to observe that distorted expression of yours a little longer.”
Crack. The unmistakable sound of something breaking came from Sophia’s hand. A glass cup, undoubtedly brought from Serbia, had developed a small crack. The prince’s smile grew even more satisfied, as if the fragile glass symbolized Sophia herself.
Naturally, Sofia responded with a faint smile of her own, though hers brimmed with seething anger.
“For someone so cornered that he must rely on a woman’s hand, do you really think it wise to provoke me like this?”
“Did you make that odd remark in mockery?”
The prince had resolved to seek support from all quarters to save his troubled empire. Be it Jews scorned across Europe, wandering gypsies, or even women—if their help was useful, he would gladly employ it. In some ways, they were even better.
To overcome the inherent limitations of their excluded status, they often worked harder under harsher conditions. In return, they would be rewarded with passion rather than gold.
The prince also harboured hopes that such an non discriminatory policy would gradually transform the empire.
After the nightmare of the Fourth Crusade, when the capital fell, and the empire splintered, its people had grown hostile toward outsiders. But this wasn’t a mere matter of attitude. The very essence of being a universal empire was at stake. If, through the prince’s policies, other peoples joined in the empire’s reconstruction, they could, while still despised, achieve a degree of recognition.
Even if centuries-old prejudices couldn’t change overnight, if these groups contributed to the reconstruction effort, accepted governance under imperial law, and gradually found common ground—then, perhaps—
“Mock me all you like in that regard; it won’t work. I don’t care who they are. I will slowly draw them into the empire’s embrace. If I can’t finish it in this generation, I’ll at least lay the groundwork for it.”
No matter how difficult or painful the moment, the prince would not lose sight of preparing for the future.
The resolve to choose the path toward the future, the path of survival, meant precisely this. What was the point of overcoming the present if the future crumbled? Conversely, what good was focusing only on the future if it led to collapse in the present?
Yesterday, which shaped today; today, which must be conquered; and tomorrow, which must be sustained—only by considering all three could the empire change its fate of doom.
“…Indeed, they weren’t wrong to call you the last hope.”
How Sophia interpreted this wasn’t of concern to the prince. As Sophia, lost in thought, fell silent, the prince dismissed her once again before rising from his seat.
He needed to prepare countermeasures—for whatever might come.
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