Upon arriving at Corinth for the Achaean expedition, what awaited us was not a welcome party but an army stationed under a different banner.
The moment I saw the knights holding long spears at the forefront, I was convinced—they were remnants of the Crusaders still lingering in the Peloponnese. The Latin knights, a symbol of Western Europe’s military might, were naturals at devastating and breaking enemy formations with their powerful charges. None could deny their strength. However, they were opponents we were bound to clash with eventually. They were also the reason we had to hire mercenaries. Victory or defeat would be decided on whether we could hold them back.
“The center will be led by the mercenaries under Ivania, while the right wing is entrusted to Adriános.”
The one silver lining was the knights’ tendency to overestimate their prowess. Often, they ignored their lords’ commands in their eagerness to demonstrate their martial skills. Many of them were not just soldiers but also manor lords. If we could fend off one of their charges and secure victory on the left and right flanks, their forces would collapse. Naturally, the left wing, unmentioned in the orders, was my responsibility.
After all, I held the third-highest leadership capability in the expeditionary force.
While lamenting the Empire’s deplorable talent pool, I led a hundred soldiers to form the left wing. To counter the not-insignificant number of knights, I deliberately concentrated three hundred mercenaries at the center. If the knights broke through, it would be over. This battle would come down to which side was tougher. As the clanging of metal resounded and the knights began to draw closer, I realized I would soon witness firsthand the famed prowess that had terrified Muslims and Greeks alike for centuries.
Finally, the slowly approaching knights spurred their horses into a charge.
To say I wasn’t rattled by the immense tremor shaking the ground would be a lie. But the moment I saw the knights coming toward us at an incredible speed, I knew what I had to do. Raising the sword I could barely wield, I shouted at the top of my lungs.
“Hold formation!”
Soon, harsh sounds of impact echoed around us. The tightly packed formation rippled like a stormy sea. And yet, this was not the main force—it was only a group of about ten knights. Even so, the sheer power behind their charge sent chills down my spine. My voice must not have faltered, though, as I was busy calming my startled horse.
Amid the chaos, our soldiers managed to unhorse a few knights. I couldn’t spare a glance at the center; I was barely managing the left wing.
However, I noticed that the knights’ next charge was significantly weaker.
While the formation had wavered during the first clash, it now merely shook slightly. This was the moment to strike. Snapping out of my stupor, I ordered my men to encircle and unhorse the knights. Taking prisoners was out of the question; we needed to deplete their knightly ranks as much as possible to avoid tougher battles later. While issuing these commands, an unsettling feeling prompted me to halt and pull on my straps. The ominous premonition was about to become reality.
I was not wrong.
As a soldier let out a scream and was hurled backward, I turned to see several heavily armored knights charging toward us. Discarding their damaged lances from the earlier clash, they drew their long swords and roared. A few brave soldiers thrust their spears, but the knights’ armor rendered the efforts futile. I hadn’t considered the possibility that their charge into our center was merely a feint. My preconceived notions about knights had led to this situation, and as commander, I had no choice but to shoulder the responsibility.
“For Christ!”
As they charged with their battle cries, I turned my horse to face them, gripping my sword tighter. How dare those who trampled even their own brethren in the name of God utter His name so lightly? We were brothers of the same faith. Yet in this fratricidal war, invoking the divine felt blasphemous. This was no holy crusade but a worldly conflict. If so, it was only fitting to call upon a name rooted in this world.
“For Constantine!”
Clang!
The first clash reverberated through my hand. The jolt numbed my arm as though it had been shocked. My vision blurred, and for a fleeting moment, I nearly dropped my sword. But the sound of hoofbeats from behind snapped me back to focus. Pulling hard on my straps, I turned my horse sharply, and so did the knight. The impending collision filled me with dread. Would I lose my sword and fall this time? My blurred vision might have been from the dizzying proximity of death or tears born of fear.
I had seen many resign themselves to fate—those rising anew or crumbling into despair. I had stood witness to cities ruined and left with nothing but memories of past glory.
Releasing my straps, I gripped my sword hilt tightly with both hands. One hand wasn’t enough to win. I couldn’t afford to fall. Desperation wiped away all thought as the distance between us closed. I couldn’t see the knight’s expression beneath his visor, but I was sure I’d never felt more desperate than in that moment. A prayer, turned to a silent battle cry, circled in my heart.
O emperors who once ruled the Empire, O Holy Mother, protector of the capital—if I fall here, so too does the Empire.
Whoosh.
The arcs of our swords were eerily parallel. At this rate, they wouldn’t clash—one of us would die. I resigned myself to fate. Yet before my short life could end, I felt something through my blade. It connected. The instant I realized this, I swung with all my might. Though it didn’t pierce the armor, the knight’s weakening resistance told me he couldn’t withstand the impact.
Amid the noise of the battle, I barely heard the sound I longed for: the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.
I had unhorsed him.
Breathing heavily, I scanned the battlefield. The knights had been defeated, though the enemy infantry remained. Judging by the disorder in their ranks and the chaos in their movements, they were clearly rattled by the knights’ fall. Even as a ringing filled my ears, I didn’t lose sight of the opportunity to crush the resistance of the Latin lords completely.
“Charge! Break them!”
Our soldiers obeyed. They showed no mercy to the fleeing enemies. Those who resisted, even slightly, were swiftly executed. It was a warning—a solemn declaration that the Empire had come to reclaim its rightful lands.
Reports later stated that the Latin forces lost 700 men in the battle, including nearly 100 knights. Half of the knights were casualties, a devastating blow to the Latin lords. The people of Corinth, who had long doubted the Empire’s army, were overjoyed at the victory.
However, the toll on our mercenaries was significant.
We lost 70 men, with 40 more wounded, making reinforcements inevitable. Still, the left and right wings sustained minimal losses, as the enemy had concentrated most of their strength on the center. Despite the victory, it was clear that our forces needed to regroup. Thus, we decided to stay in Corinth briefly to consolidate the army and secure the city.
More than anything… with my hands still trembling from the battle, I knew I wasn’t in a state to fight again immediately.
Rest was essential.
//
News of the victory led by Prince Constantine soon reached Mistra.
While the mercenary captain Ivania had played a pivotal role, it was the prince, commanding the left wing, who captured the public’s attention. Everyone feared the devastating charges of the knights, yet he had maintained composure and led his troops while personally diverting the detached knights’ attention. This bold act, coupled with his calm leadership, gave hope to the public who starved for heroes.
Emperor Manuel II rejoiced in the victory, though his tone betrayed faint irritation upon hearing how close the prince had come to death.
“What were his attendants doing? If the prince had died here, it would have left a critical void in Mistra’s administration.”
“Your Majesty, it was an abrupt ambush that caught everyone off guard. In such chaos, the prince’s calm response and decisive actions are deserving of praise, not criticism.”
“…Send a physician to the prince. There’s a chance he suffered severe injuries amidst the confusion.”
“You’re showing undue favoritism. Surely Your Majesty knows that the prince possesses the capability to overcome such hardships.”
The emperor fell silent. With John designated as his successor, stirring unnecessary disputes was unwise. Though reluctant, Manuel II resolved to let go of his lingering attachments. Constantine’s role as a rallying point in the Morea would suffice. Thus, the emperor buried his remaining regrets.
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