Despite the shocking confession from the mercenary captain, it could not obstruct my mission.
As long as the Ottoman Empire remained unable to direct its gaze southward, there would be no better time to expand our influence. The target, naturally, was the Latin lords who ruled over Achaea. However, should the crusaders sense that our forces were aimed at these lords, their benefactors in Venice would surely intervene. Yet, the presence of the Ottoman Empire would tie Venice’s hands. Before the Venetian Senate devised a solution to this predicament, I planned to strike decisively. Such was the core of my current strategy.
To execute this plan, strengthening coordination among the expeditionary forces and stockpiling supplies were paramount. Both tasks were far from easy to achieve within a short time frame. Fortunately, I had access to tributes sent by the cities that had resubmitted to the Empire after the Corinth campaign. While converting these into arrows and provisions, I entrusted the training of the expeditionary forces to Ivania. Despite her being personally irritating—and an shameless woman—there was no other talent of her caliber at my disposal. Her scores in leadership and combat prowess, nearing or surpassing 20, made her indispensable, even if her other attributes barely reached 10.
“Ivania, trusting in His Majesty’s commendations from the last campaign, I entrust you with the training of the expeditionary forces. Though time is short, I expect you to give it your all.”
“By your command.”
Her resolute answer bore the strength and vigor of any seasoned man. Rising to the position of mercenary captain as a woman was no small feat, especially in these arduous medieval times. Truly, she was remarkable.
“…My master.♡”
Yet, the harsh years of struggle had apparently shattered her moral compass. It was an irony not lost on me. Still, stop saying that! Though I was tempted to yell, I opted instead to demonstrate patience befitting a magnanimous leader. After all, her mercenary company was pivotal to the Achaea campaign. Why invite discord when I could showcase my tolerance? Moreover, there were no guarantees of finding better mercenaries at this stage. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder—what could she possibly want from a scrawny child like me?
“I don’t quite understand what you expect from me.”
“…Your touch, if I may.”
With a resigned sigh, I shook my head, only to find her kneeling before me, head bowed. Reluctantly, I placed my hand atop her head. Since her earlier confession, she had requested physical contact—not too much, not too little. This compromise had been reached after heated debates. While my skill, Solitary Growth, demanded strict avoidance of contact with the opposite sex to maximize its efficiency, she seemed not to view this as anything romantic. Truthfully, neither did I. Far from excited, I found myself oddly calm in this bizarre situation.
Still, women’s hair was a mystery. Her golden locks, sullied and tangled from battles, were inexplicably soft. Did she maintain them herself, or was this some visual novel effect at play? In this strange fusion of reality and game mechanics, uncertainty plagued me. Was even this texture a fabrication? My thoughts wandered until, without realizing it, my hand drifted to her cheek.
“…!”
Startled, I withdrew my hand immediately as she flinched. Touching an unmarried woman’s face uninvited could be a serious scandal, potentially drawing the church’s wrath. Yet, Ivania looked at me with an expression of longing. That gaze won’t work on me. I’m not giving in.
“Would it be permissible, then, for me to hold your hand?”
This time, her tone was different. Her blue eyes gleamed with a bittersweet mixture of longing and pain, reflecting an attachment born of bitter memories. Perhaps no ordinary woman would wield weapons as she did. Still, my answer remained firm.
“Remember the terms of our contract.”
“…Ugh.”
Her face contorted with frustration, and a chuckle escaped me unintentionally. A woman disappointed at not being able to fidget with a child’s hand—what an oddity. Restricting inappropriate contact within the bounds of our contract had been a wise move. Even an eccentric like her seemed bound by the rules of her profession. Still, I wasn’t entirely heartless. As a gesture of goodwill, I placed my hand back on her head, murmuring softly.
“This is…?”
“Improper contact is forbidden, but as your lord, I can grant you a blessing for victory on the battlefield. May the Sovereign of the Heavenly Kingdom, the Almighty Father, guide this servant to the glory of triumph. Grant her the strength to never lay down her arms until her mission is complete.”
With those words, I withdrew my hand. While such blessings were traditionally bestowed by priests, there was no rule against others performing them. Ivania remained silent for a moment before looking up at me with a flushed face. She seemed unusually fond of this dynamic—kneeling and looking up, while I sat and looked down coldly. Hmm. Her tastes remained incomprehensible.
“Fulfill your duties, and may the prayer I offered reach the heavens.”
As I sought to conclude the matter on a positive note, she spoke again.
“My lord… I am but a happy servant…♡”
“I will not question your words this time. Now leave!”
…She was, indeed, a deviant.
Once military affairs were somewhat settled, I could finally focus on what I excelled at.
Logistics. By storing grain shipments precariously close to maximum capacity and employing a significant number of non-combat personnel, I managed to secure substantial supplies. While this quickly drained a considerable amount of funds, it was a necessary expense. In a time-sensitive campaign like this, delayed advancements due to inadequate supplies could be catastrophic.
At the same time, it was crucial to remind the arrogant elites of the Peloponnese that the Empire was still alive. However, the stakes were high. If this expedition failed, the recently subdued city-states might once again declare independence. But hesitation would only result in missed opportunities. The Empire was already crumbling. Time was running out before the Ottomans overtook us. How much longer could this fragile alliance last? Whether it was Mehmed I or my father, Manuel II, it didn’t matter. If either of them fell, peace would end.
Now was the time to take a perilous step forward, toward that faint glimmer of hope. May the goddess of destiny ensure their endurance until we reclaim the Peloponnese.
The expedition, temporarily paused, resumed with renewed vigor on July 15.
Prince Constantine informed the Emperor of his intent to lead five hundred troops into Achaea. Before departing, the prince appointed Emperor Manuel II as temporary ruler of Mistra. This decision addressed the prince’s critical shortcoming: his age. For two decades, Emperor Manuel II had held the Empire together. Using his diplomatic insight, he sought to quell internal disputes in Mistra and considered establishing an Archbishops office there to assert imperial authority.
All these plans, however, hinged on the prince’s success.
Though many harbored doubts, the prince’s resolve was unshaken. Unfortunately, the Empire’s officials knew all too well that his assessment was correct.
During the final month of preparation, the prince often visited the training grounds, observing Ivania drill the troops. While impressed by the discipline of the Italian mercenaries, he likely reflected on the future direction of the Empire’s military. Yet, to secure that future, the present challenges had to be overcome.
Finally, on August 15, the Feast of the Assumption, the campaign began.
This day held great significance for the Empire, marking both a major feast in the Orthodox Church and the anniversary of Constantinople’s recapture from the Crusaders. The prince’s intentions were clear. He marched toward Achaea to uproot the remnants of the Crusaders once and for all.
Naturally, such movements could not escape the notice of the formidable marine power backing the Latin lords.
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