“Disasters seem to come in waves.”
After John exiled the aging emperor to a monastery, the days were filled with a unusual tension between Morea and the capital. The first signs of an chaos appeared in the capital when a corpse with blackened skin was discovered. A chilling thought ran through everyone’s mind as the news spread.
The plague had arrived.
The two brothers’ response to this new calamity was ruthless yet swift. John, with his younger brother Theodoros leading the effort, ordered the immediate quarantine of ports and anyone deemed suspicious.
Meanwhile, Prince Constantine fully isolated refugees arriving from the capital, offering only the bare minimum of humanitarian aid. To ensure no risk remained, they imposed strict inspections on all incoming ships from the capital and burned any suspected contaminated cargo.
Unsurprisingly, these harsh measures met significant resistance. To shield himself from the growing discontent, John placed Theodoros at the forefront of the operation. Prince Constantine, however, leveraged his unshakable influence in Morea to enforce obedience. Thanks to their firm actions, the situation began to stabilize within three months.
But the aftermath was beyond their control.
To rebuild faltering public trust after the plague, John saw the need to redirect attention outward. Rumors blaming the calamity on the empire’s hesitation against the “enemies of the faith” began circulating.
With these whispers, there was little reason left to resist the arguments of the war faction. Soon enough, news reached Morea that Mehmed’s youngest son, Mustafa, was being promoted as the next sultan of the Ottoman Empire.
“Your decision to prepare for war has proven correct after all,” Sophia remarked with a mixture of admiration and jest.
“…The problem is that we’re in no position to wage a war right now,” Constantine replied, unable to muster his usual sharp retort. Though he had anticipated a conflict and had already begun stockpiling resources, the unexpected arrival of the plague had disrupted all control. His knowledge of the future proved insufficient to account for the sudden emergence of localized epidemics—a blind spot in his otherwise extensive foresight.
Desperate to prevent the spread of the plague, Constantine had enforced drastic measures. While these actions succeeded in halting the disease’s advance, they cost him the support of key cities in central Greece.
Additionally, the majority of trade routes between the capital and Morea were operated by Venetian merchants. Burning cargo suspected of contamination had provided immediate relief but had also sparked backlash. Recent letters from Venice, veiled in courteous language, carried a sharp tone of protest.
The empire’s grip on central Greece was weakening. Relations with Venice were deteriorating. The blueprint Constantine had painstakingly drafted to counter the Ottomans was beginning to crumble, all due to an unforeseen epidemic.
Even his firm resolve to persevere faltered under the weight of the situation. As doubts gnawed at him, he recalled the words he had once repeated to himself while preparing for war:
“History has yet to choose anyone… but is that really true?”
Was history truly undecided? With each passing day, as the situation spiraled further, Constantine felt his confidence waver. His steadfast belief that he could alter the empire’s fate seemed increasingly like arrogance. Perhaps it was stupid to think that he alone, with his limited abilities, could change the course of an empire doomed to destruction.
What was the glory so fervently sought by leaders throughout history? What was honor? Were these concepts mere empty slogans, or did they truly embody values worth sacrificing one’s life for? Constantine couldn’t find a simple answer. His era and experiences had shown him the sacrifices often demanded in the name of glory, leaving him skeptical of its worth.
Yet, he understood the irreplaceable value of sovereignty and freedom for a people. He knew the deep scars left when such rights were stripped away. Was it better to relinquish these ideals for the sake of a prosperous life, or was it worth fighting to preserve them, even at the cost of death?
This was the core of Constantine’s dilemma.
There were already enough people who chose the former, along with viable alternatives for survival. For those who chose the latter, however, Constantine resolved to be their rallying point—their alternative.
Survival alone was not the answer. But if the empire was destined to fall, he would ensure it did so fighting, not groveling. History would record that Byzantium did not go quietly. And besides, not all options had failed yet.
“At least Epirus managed to avoid the worst of the plague, preserving its strength. That’s fortunate. This was precisely why we allied with Serbia—to prepare for such situations,” Constantine noted.
“It’s not a total loss. Didn’t you also gain skilled spies in the process?” Sophia replied slyly.
Constantine chuckled, shrugging his shoulders in response.
“Well, then, I’ll hope for a move as clever as the one Serbia used to evade our watchful eye with Hungarian support in the past.”
“Oh my, was there really anything to monitor? Ivania, wasn’t it? Perhaps you should treat her a bit more warmly. There’s no one as unpredictable and dangerous as a woman starved for affection.”
“…Is that so.”
The prince quickly caught on. Yet, despite what could be considered a betrayal by his subordinate, he displayed no signs of condemnation or anger. His calm reaction puzzled Sophia enough to prompt her to ask.
“You’re not going to reprimand her?”
“How could I hold someone guilty when, as you said, she is simply thirsty for affection?”
“So, you’re aware you’re using her… Hah, what’s this? Guilt for your own sake? Is that why you’re keeping her at arm’s length?”
“I believe love between a man and a woman can only be realized when their hearts are ready to accept one another.”
“…”
What in the world is he talking about? Sophia’s gaze seemed to pierce him with such a sentiment. She had never imagined a man, who should understand better than anyone the obligations of his noble lineage, would utter something so idealistic. Normally, the prince would have ended the conversation there, but in an unusual turn, he continued.
“Ivania has been a loyal companion since the days when I was nothing more than a mere prince. She’s devoted herself beyond what any mercenary captain of high standing could ever offer. Perhaps Ivania is already prepared to love.”
“Do you realize how childish you sound?”
“Sophia, I’m not so twisted as to dismiss matters of the heart as mere trifles, like you seem to.”
“Then why won’t you embrace her? Even if it’s not for love, couldn’t you at least hold her to satisfy your desires?”
At some point, Sophia had taken a seat on a nearby chair, locking eyes with the prince. Perhaps it was because he had opened up, or maybe it was the rarity of their personal conversation—one that felt clearly different from their usual business like exchanges.
“It’s because I cannot cast off the Red Cross that rests on my shoulders.”
“The Red Cross…?”
“A cross stained with the blood of my enemies—a symbol of both the empire’s restoration and the peace it must achieve. Now that the very essence of a universal empire has faded, the true value of unity among countless peoples lies not in legal systems but in religious ideals. Thus, I must be more devoted to religion than anyone else. That is why I cannot embrace a woman.”
“You think this decaying nation is worth all of that? Do you truly believe this crumbling land, with nothing left but the remains of its once-great triple walls, holds that kind of value?”
“Sophia, you once asked why I cared so much for this empire.”
The prince closed his eyes, exhaling thoughts and emotions forged over the years.
“A thousand years is not just a thousand years.”
It was the reason he was burdened with duty and responsibility, the reason he couldn’t stop struggling. The curse that bound him could not be taken on by anyone else.
“That is why no one can replace the empire.”
“Not even a woman who loves you?”
“No one.”
Not yet. With those words, the prince opened his eyes once more, gazing at his clenched fist.
The battle had already begun.
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