Two weeks have passed since the first battle.
Yet, there is no sign that the trembling in my hands will stop. I cannot afford to waste time like this. I cannot remain idle here. I know exactly what I must do. I’ve tried reasoning with myself and even scolding myself harshly, but nothing has changed. Perhaps this trembling is the price for enduring the shock that a child’s body should not have had to bear when I crossed swords with that knight. If this trembling doesn’t subside, I won’t be able to wield a sword on the battlefield. Only yesterday, I might have shed unsightly tears over this.
But today was different.
Will I stop just because my hands are shaking? Knowing what a single mistake or failure can lead to, am I really going to say that I couldn’t act when the worst was upon us because my hands were trembling? If I cannot stand on the battlefield myself, I can delegate to others. There are soldiers who will wield swords in my stead and officers to lead them. But only one person can carry this expedition forward. I cannot afford to give up on what I began because I didn’t want to see others surrender to despair.
Though my hands still trembled, I rose from the bed. This particular expedition was too critical to take lightly.
The goal is to reclaim the Peloponnesian Peninsula and establish a stronghold for a counteroffensive. If we can unite the forces of southern Greece, it might even lead to forming a trustworthy alliance. Above all, what truly matters is instilling hope in the people. I believe this campaign will show them that we can succeed. It will prove that it’s not yet time for our downfall. It will urge them to stop resigning themselves to fate and to keep fighting.
Nothing is impossible to overturn.
Bolstered by an inexplicable confidence, I clenched my fists. My hands still trembled visibly, and perhaps others would pity me for it. But physical limitations don’t mean I cannot do my best. With firm steps, I got out of bed and moved toward the door. A wave of regret hit me—I had delayed too long. Scolding myself, I reached out with my relatively steady left hand to open the door, only to be startled by the familiar face of a woman standing there, equally surprised.
“…Your Highness?”
“Ivania.”
Though I often tried to keep my distance, shocked by her eccentric tendencies, I couldn’t deny her skill as the leader of an exceptional mercenary company. Personal feelings aside, I resolved not to let my disapproval of her bleed into official matters. With her blocking my path, I figured it was better to speak calmly and obtain her cooperation than to push her aside.
“Do you have an important report?”
“…Your hand…”
“Ah.”
I had tried to hide it, but being this close, there was no way she hadn’t noticed. Ivania, far more experienced than this naïve prince, must have deduced the cause of the trembling.
“You’ve avoided meeting anyone for the past two weeks because of your hands, haven’t you?”
Her voice was uncharacteristically clear and steady, her words flowing naturally. Yet, there was a strange undertone of anger mixed in. For someone usually so expressionless, the slight distortion in Ivania’s face was striking.
“If you need more rest, please take it. It would be far better than forcing yourself onto the battlefield.”
“I’ve rested enough.”
“With those hands, you say?”
“Not everyone on the battlefield wields a sword.”
A brief silence fell between us. It wasn’t particularly welcome, but the unusual wavering in Ivania’s eyes made it difficult for me to say anything further. Eventually, she broke the silence.
“…I deeply regret saying this, but Your Highness is still just a child.”
“That’s true.”
“Even so, you’re carrying a burden far too heavy for your age.”
“That weight is too much for anyone, regardless of age.”
The atmosphere grew somber. I hadn’t intended for things to become this heavy. Searching for a way to change the subject, I recalled something and decided to shift the focus.
“Now that I think about it, you haven’t explained why you came here.”
“Well… rumors have been spreading that you haven’t appeared or shown up at all., Your Highness.”
“It’s hard to call it loyalty when your intentions seem less than pure. Still, I must acknowledge your persistence in addressing me as ‘master’…”
That term again. It unnerved me how I was slowly becoming accustomed to being called ‘master.’ Regardless of her true motives, it wouldn’t be right to rebuke someone who had come all this way out of concern. Ever since the strange experience that brought me here, I’ve only thought of protecting others. Perhaps being in a position of receiving gratitude for so long has made expressing my own thanks awkward.
It was a rare opportunity.
“Thank you, Ivania, for your concern. I am grateful for your care, beyond our contractual ties.”
I bundled together a smile, words of gratitude, and formal speech I had been putting off. Did it come across well? Looking up at Ivania with a peculiar sense of expectation, I felt oddly like a mischievous child. Surprisingly, she was even more expressionless than usual, though her face was flushed a deep red.
“M-Master… I have a request.”
“Time is short. Unfortunately…”
Suspecting it was another precarious demand hovering on the edge of propriety, I moved to refuse, but Ivania abruptly knelt.
“…A hug. Just once.”
“As I said earlier—”
“Just once.”
Seeing the unwavering resolve in her eyes, I reluctantly stepped closer and opened my arms. She immediately leaned forward, collapsing against me as if she’d been waiting for this moment. Honestly, she was heavy. Incredibly so. Remembering the cat I used to keep, I briefly thought about letting her stay like this, but then…
“…Haa… Hnngh…♡”
“Enough. Let go.”
A pervert is still a pervert.
Two weeks of rest later, Constantine reorganized the expeditionary forces and advanced toward Kalavryta.
Despite being outnumbered and outmatched, Kalavryta quickly fell to the young prince. The Latin rulers who had controlled the city were expelled, replaced by imperial magistrates. Securing one of the key strongholds of the Peloponnesian Peninsula was an impressive achievement, but Constantine was not satisfied. His goal was to reclaim the entire peninsula in one decisive campaign.
However, the delay caused by his two-week rest proved disastrous.
The ever-deliberate Venetian Senate had stationed a force of 1,500 in Patras, the last major city of Achaia. Given the empire’s current strength, there was no way to overcome them. Constantine lamented bitterly, knowing that had he not hesitated, he could have prevented Venice’s interference. With their involvement, the dream of reclaiming the Peloponnesian Peninsula was out of reach.
Meanwhile, the Latin lords of Achaia, though motivated by Venetian aid, were still deeply unsettled.
“Our previous ruler, Theodoros, only cared for the stability of Morea, and peace prevailed. But this young lord is different.”
“Mistra has stabilized at an astonishing rate. If they gather strength, they might annex us before Venice can intervene again.”
Though they had weathered the immediate threat, the Latin lords were acutely aware of their precarious situation. It was then that the Venetians made a proposal to balance the scales.
“What about a marriage alliance?”
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