Author: Renegade

A shimmering golden bay.

Gazing down at the sunlit waves that glistened like gold, John was lost in thought. Who could have predicted that even after becoming Emperor, nothing would go his way?

His brothers had transformed from allies into rivals, and his enemies remained as formidable as ever. With so much happening, what was the right course of action?

The chance for reconciliation with his brother, Konstantinos, which should have been a united effort for the revival of the empire, was now lost. The moment Konstantinos demanded the establishment of an archbishopric in Morea, the possibility of coexistence between the central government and Morea vanished.

Declaring that they would no longer adhere to the authority of the church signified much. If his brother’s demands were met, it would effectively create two nations under one banner.

Morea had to be kept in check.

Only through a strong, centralized unity around the capital could victory be achieved. If his brother and Morea resisted, another civil war could engulf the empire. Confronting their enemies was crucial, but internal division would be disastrous.

Thus, John had deliberately withheld information about the blockade of Edirne. It was time to make it clear, despite Morea’s growing influence, that the central government had not entirely fallen.

There was still a need for close cooperation between Morea and the central government, and if anyone had to bow, it should be Morea.

A month passed.

Unfortunately, it seemed John’s efforts had failed. Morea continued to govern central Greece independently, and they went further by absorbing officials dispatched by the central government into their own faction. These officials, recognized for their abilities, showed no hesitation in pledging loyalty to the capable prince.

Though fuming with betrayal, John could understand.

In contrast to himself, who had achieved little, his brother, who had shown promise from a young age, had begun the grand reclamation of Greece. Yet, wasn’t it an unfair fight, where he hadn’t even been given an equal opportunity?

Why was he preemptively convinced that he couldn’t accomplish what his brother had? This was John’s grievance. Supporters of his brother, Konstantinos, echoed these sentiments.

They argued it was right to support the proven prince over the unproven John. Among those who said this was their father, Manuel, who looked at him with an expression of pity but without any sense of remorse.

Yet, beneath the jealousy and denial, there was an accumulation of resignation and despair. The more he denied, the more these thoughts grew. The more he tried to ignore them, the more they loomed.

Could I truly achieve what Konstantinos did?

His brother, who abandoned his path to the throne to secure an alliance for the empire, swiftly seized central Greece at a desperate moment. Could he have so easily forsaken the throne? Could he have resisted the allure of the thousand-year empire’s crown and done what needed to be done with such confidence?

The turmoil persisted for hours.

Eventually, footsteps echoed faintly.

“What weighs so heavily on your mind, Your Majesty?”

John immediately recognized the voice’s owner, cold though it sounded now. She was a woman who masked her passion with a façade of coldness. Joannina Kantakouzenos, a determined woman who, despite being rejected, immersed herself in the whirlpool of mystery and politics to remain by the side of the man she loved.

Initially, John had been captivated by her boldness, but he found himself increasingly drawn to her. She was a woman of extraordinary beauty and considerable intellect, who harboured deep affection for a single person. Had his self-control been weaker, he might have cast aside all promises and embraced her long ago.

However, the promise he made to her was bound by the honor of an emperor.

If he did not even have that, who would regard him as Emperor? Who would elevate someone lacking the pride and honor of an Emperor to the throne? Thus, John had spent years in solitude, never laying a finger on her, hoping she would take an interest in him and approach—just as she had now.

“Joannina, you must be quite pleased with Morea’s growth, aren’t you?”

“Your Majesty?”

“I mean, watching the man you admire rise so triumphantly must fill you with satisfaction.”

“…Are you jealous?”

Jealousy—yes, jealousy.

It was absurd to be jealous. As the ruler above all earthly monarchs, why should he envy a mere prince of Morea? Yet, Jogn envied and admired Konstantinos. Himself, a mere prince without the title of Emperor, and Konstantinos, who, even without the title, had earned recognition by standing against the Ottomans.

Those who followed him did so out of hope for his authority, while those following his brother were drawn by his accomplishments.

Even the beautiful woman at his side was looking at his brother, not him.

Unknowingly, John clenched his teeth. Where were those who held expectations for him, the Emperor? Yet, such base feelings were unbecoming of an Emperor. Concealing his true thoughts, he offered a gentle smile.

“Of course not. I’m merely ashamed of myself for achieving nothing while my brother has accomplished so much.”

Joannina’s blue eyes momentarily reflected suspicion and caution, but soon they softened with warmth.

“Even so, is he not still one of your vassals? Rather than opposing him, wouldn’t sharing imperial authority with him be a wise choice?”

“Sharing imperial authority…”

It was a sensitive issue, and John’s irritation was understandable. Yet, his reason whispered that it was not a bad idea. If the empire, already divided between Morea and the capital, were left as it was, a split would inevitably occur. If they ascended as co-emperors before that, at least they wouldn’t be fighting each other with the Ottomans at their doorstep. His brother, who had fought solely for the empire’s survival against the Ottomans, would ask for no more.

Though he didn’t want to admit it, though he wished to be the sole supreme ruler…

Following Joannina’s proposal might end his feud with Konstantinos. He knew well enough who the real enemy was. The vision he had long dreamed of resurfaced. If they acted on this plan, John and Konstantinos would be remembered as brothers united in saving their faltering homeland.

But that wasn’t all.

“And Joannina, you would then have the opportunity to choose between the two co-emperors.”

In the distant future, when Konstantinos and John inevitably clashed, each vying to be the sole autocrat, the support of the prestigious Kantakouzenos family, with Joannina as empress, would determine who amassed greater power. Joannina would be elevated from a mere empress to a decisive player capable of overturning the political landscape.

To this, Joannina responded with a subtle, mysterious smile.

“Everything is settled, Your Majesty.”

The words came from a loyal Janissary, part of the Sultan’s elite guard. At that moment, Murad, seated on the throne, knew that all preparations were complete. For a full month, he had worked relentlessly to solidify his position, purging potential rivals. This had the unified support of the entire Ottoman court.

They had learned from past experiences what their greatest vulnerability was.

Reflecting on the events following the death of Bayezid, a formidable conqueror, it was inevitable. The Ottomans had been forced into a decade-long rest, held back by succession laws that were not properly established due to their nomadic roots. Even the Sultan did not have the authority to alter centuries-old traditions swiftly.

But with multiple claimants to the throne, conflict was inevitable.

Thus, only one remained.

Murad was, by all accounts, the most suitable successor, armed with ambition, exceptional abilities, and the trust of his subordinates from a young age. Unlike the weak-willed Mehmed, Murad knew how to wield power.

He had also pledged to fulfil an ancient prophecy, promising to one day transfer the thousand-year-old city to the Muslims.

A ruler of true tolerance, destined to spread the true faith among the Christians who still clung to their old beliefs.

The court’s theologians and nobles praised him as such, and the Janissaries, too, preferred Murad over the soft Mehmed, who shied away from conflict. Hence, despite the suspicious circumstances surrounding Mehmed’s death, they easily supported Murad.

Determined to prove that their decision was right, Murad had devoted himself to eliminating other claimants as soon as he became a prominent contender.

The result was clear.

No one remained within the country who could threaten Murad’s position. Yet, even Murad could not completely dispel the shadows cast by the former ruler’s weak resolve. The Christians had a chance to unite against the Ottomans once more, and two claimants to the throne—both coincidentally named Mustafa—had fled.

One Mustafa, having already been defeated once, might not inspire much awe among warriors. However, Murad’s younger brother, who had yet to prove his worth, remained a formidable threat.

His favouritism by the late ruler and his youth were enough reasons for him to eye Murad’s position. Naturally, as Sultan, the right decision was to eliminate such a danger.

“You won’t easily kill your brother.”

Their father, the former Sultan, had mocked Murad one last time before closing his eyes. Despite the hurried blockade of Edirne and the ruthless killings, Mustafa had not appeared, just as their father had predicted. Murad deduced that Mustafa had fled to their enemies, reinforcing his belief that his actions were correct.

Their father had prioritized the safety of his favoured child over his duties as a ruler, making him unfit for the Sultan’s throne. Yet, Murad closed his eyes, feeling a dull ache in his chest.

What words could express the complex emotions left behind, mingled with disappointment toward his father? Unable to answer this question, Murad rose from his seat.

Soon, everyone in Edirne would learn of the new Sultan’s ascension.

Without anyone to oppose and with overwhelming support from the court, Murad sat on the throne once more, gently stroking the sword of the first Ottoman Sultan in his hand. Who would have thought a mere band of wanderers could forge an empire? What seemed impossible had been made possible by divine will.

But the divine never allows success to come lightly, always arranging trials to test the faith of believers. As Murad mentally reviewed the state of affairs, he posed a question to the court’s scholars, retainers, and warriors.

“Your Sultan asks you, who are our enemies?”

The elderly theologian was the first to respond.

“If you ask who our enemies are, I would say the atheists. But if Your Majesty asks about your personal enemies, then it is the Christians.”

“I would name Porphyrogenitus of Rome (born to the purple), the one reigning as the Despot of Morea, as His Majesty’s enemy.”

( TL : Porphyrogenitus is a title of respect shown towards Byzantine Empire )

“Are you referring to Dragases?”

Though Dragases’ power and reputation might not yet match those previously mentioned, Murad found himself nodding in agreement with the Janissary’s response. Surprisingly, others also seemed to acknowledge this notion. However, a rationale was needed. At Murad’s inquiring glance, the Janissary began to elaborate on their thoughts, speaking slowly and deliberately.

“It’s a fact that many did not believe, but it was Dragases, only twelve years old at the time, who led the unification of southern Greece. He persuaded the Emperor to unify Morea and spent the last seven years reorganizing it, driven solely by his hatred for us.”

“He also benefited from the indecisiveness of the late ruler.”

“Yet, had we struck Dragases, we would not have escaped without significant losses. The timing of Venice’s and Sigismund’s interventions was no coincidence. Moreover, the swift control over Athens and Thebes was nothing short of astonishing.”

( TL: Sigismund is the King of Hungary )

“…You’re suggesting that the rebellion led by the elder Mustafa was likely a scheme orchestrated by the Empire.”

“And it’s undeniable that Dragases is intricately involved at the heart of this sinister plot in some form.”

Only then did Murad understand why he so readily accepted Dragases as an enemy. Dragases possessed capabilities that had almost been overlooked due to the prior ruler’s poor judgment. From a young age, he had vowed to save his crumbling nation, honing his blade of vengeance for nearly a decade.

Consider his skill in leveraging surrounding circumstances to achieve the best possible outcomes. His quick judgment and decisive actions in the face of adversity were qualities that could not be overlooked.

The more Murad pondered, the more he realized that Dragases was, in many ways, his rival.

As the ruler of the Ottomans, aiming for global dominance from humble beginnings,

Conversely, Dragases appeared as the “last lighthouse” at the twilight of a fallen thousand-year empire.

True honor can only be claimed by defeating a worthy adversary. If Murad sought to become the new sultan, he must first dismantle the remnants of old glory. He felt his heart swell with anticipation. The stronger and more honorable the opponent, the more brightly he would shine.

Indeed, Dragases was his “rival.”

A divine ordeal, seemingly arranged by fate itself. The inevitable clash between two forces at the brink of history, stirring the fervor of youth within him.

On this day, Murad realized with clarity who his true adversary was.

While the prince busily maneuvered, Sophia moved with equal diligence, careful to remain unnoticed.

Naturally, Ivania, ordered to keep a close watch by the prince, did not miss these movements. Sophia had become a thorn in Ivania’s side, having taken the spot beside the prince that Ivania wanted. With a bright smile, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman approached Sophia.

“It would be wise to avoid any rash movements, Princess.”

Ivania issued her warning with a confident posture. However, Sophia remained unfazed, countering with a new proposal.

“…Now that I think about it, you’ve had feelings for His Highness, haven’t you? How about this: I’ll turn a blind eye if you were to have an affair with him.”

“?!”

Thus, the negotiation was a resounding success. Thanks to Ivania’s silence, Sophia urged her father, Stefan, to raise an army once more with Hungary’s support. Yet, as Sophia struggled, the prince, her competitor, achieved victories effortlessly. His accomplishments included the remarkable recapture of Athens and central Greece.

This stood in stark contrast to Serbia, which barely avoided missteps and remained anxious.

Centered around the prince, Morea swiftly secured control over the reclaimed territories, demonstrating the prince’s exceptional decisiveness and judgment. It was only then that Sophia realized she had underestimated the prince, despite her high regard for him.

She lacked the tactical experience to comprehend his prowess fully.

However, she acutely felt his strength in the unstable balance of power. Defeating the formidable Ottomans underscored his capabilities. Sophia’s thoughts shifted; continuing to oppose the prince would only push her further from power.

‘Improving my relationship with His Highness is essential.’

Though he might lack finesse in dealing with women, as a leader guiding a nation, there was none quite like him. Had her father, Stefan, been half as capable as the prince, such blunders wouldn’t have occurred.

Now that Stefan had practically submitted to Hungary, Sophia had no allies to support her. Bowing to the prince was a highly rational decision.

From that point, Sophia utilized her greatest strength—her network of Jewish spies—to gather rumors that would pique the prince’s interest. While informing him of Constantinople’s reactions wasn’t a bad idea, Sophia knew it wouldn’t truly captivate him. Understanding the prince to some extent, she focused her efforts accordingly, and the results were successful.

The prince’s eyes flickered upon hearing Sophia’s news of “Edirne’s blockade.”

Sophia relayed all the information she had to the prince. Although she couldn’t provide details about the city’s internal situation due to the Ottomans’ thorough blockade, she ensured he understood that something significant was occurring within the Ottoman court.

“At a time like this, Edirne’s under blockade…”

Even as he muttered to himself, the prince’s mind was racing with countless thoughts. Why was the capital suddenly sealed off now, after the war had ended? This was a scenario he had always feared, but the timing made it even more alarming. The flood of words that passed through his mind further fuelled his anxiety.

One word stood out most clearly…

“A coup, perhaps.”

Sophia’s offhand remark struck the prince, catching him off guard and shaking him. If a aggressive ruler were to replace the current sultan, who had chosen diplomacy over war, the implications were clear. Could he have managed the situation better if he had known the sultan’s political foundation was so fragile?

…His brief contemplation soon concluded with a resounding no.

Even if one hoped for the current Sultan’s regime to continue, the recapture of central Greece was a necessary development for the Empire to prepare for a counteroffensive. It was a swift and correct decision to act when Serbia began to act recklessly, even if it led to the downfall of the friendly Sultan.

Meanwhile, the prince shuddered at how little was known about such a significant event. To only now learn of a nation’s capital being blockaded was alarming. He could not claim he hadn’t been paying attention; all of the Empire’s intelligence efforts were focused on monitoring their nemesis, the Ottomans. Yet, to be outpaced by a private organization belonging to a foreign princess reflected the Empire’s decline.

Alternatively, the central government might have abandoned further cooperation, threatened by Morea’s growing insubordination. The possible causes were numerous, but as always, there was a lack of time and funds to address the root issues. The prince needed strategic assets he could deploy immediately.

Of course, the possibility that Sophia was lying could not be dismissed.

He entertained the notion that she might be stalling for time with some deceptive maneuver. Yet, what could she achieve by stalling? Nothing came to mind. Despite this, the prince couldn’t shake his wariness of Sophia. Her actions still bore many dubious aspects, making his caution understandable.

But…

‘A tenuous path to the future.’

Amid overwhelming national weakness, this much had been achieved. Though it might be challenging now, gradually building strength could eventually reverse the balance of power.

Thus, the prince’s primary goal was to overcome the darkest “present.” In that context, Sophia’s proposal was, in many ways, familiar. Just as the Empire had sold its ports before, it had to sell its future to survive the present.

The future can only be found by overcoming the present.

Repeating this thought endlessly, the prince looked up at Sophia. The seductive smile on her greedy face suggested she knew his answer was already decided, exuding confidence. The prince wasn’t generous enough not to be irritated by her demeanor.

Yet, irritation, pain, and distress were mere emotions compared to his resolve to protect the Empire. Pursuing a rational decision, the prince gave Sofia the answer she sought.

“The terms?”

“The same as before. We’re re-negotiating from the start.”

Empress, huh. An empress involved in an affair could easily be deposed. No matter how she struggled, the proud Empire’s nobles would not tolerate such a scandal. If the aristocrats’ protests were combined with an accusation of breaking marital vows, annulling the marriage would be simple.

‘If I can use her until then, I will.’

Whatever scheme she was planning didn’t matter. The prince resolved that no matter how Sophia tried to entrench herself, he would uproot her entirely.

“I am honored to have such a wise wife, madam.”

“Heh… As expected, what a remarkable change in attitude. I look forward to our time together, Your Highness.”

Were those eyes filled solely with greed, or did they also harbour contempt for the prince’s change in stance? Their cold exchange of gazes contained nothing but mutual wariness.

There was no exchange of trust between them.

The meeting between Georgios Gemistos Plethon and Prince Constantine was highly successful.

The prince officially declared Plethon’s repentance and formally requested the establishment of an archbishopric in the ever-growing Morea. Naturally, the ancient capital, Constantinople, was thrown into an uproar.

Some condemned it as an unforgivable act, others feared that Morea had definitively turned its back on the central government, while the rest simply observed the situation with an unsettling silence.

Particularly unexpected was John’s reaction. Contrary to his usual attitude of keeping his brother in check, the young emperor remained emotionless and avoided commenting on the archbishopric.

Nevertheless, the matter of the capital would come later.

Immediately after demanding the establishment of the archbishopric, the prince began leveraging Plethon’s reputation as a scholar to persuade the southern Greek nobility.

Although the honor gained by supporting a distinguished scholar or artist was intangible, it always bewitched the nobles, especially when the person advocating for Plethon’s academy was the ruler of Morea.

Merchants, intrigued by these developments, responded positively to supporting the academy. The prince treated them with utmost favour, not solely for financial reasons. Merchants, with their extensive travels across various nations and cities, knew many influential individuals.

The prince believed it was essential to cultivate these relationships, anticipating a time when the academy would flourish and attract exceptional scholars and artists.

Thus, even amidst the growing tension between Morea and the capital, the matter of supporting Plethon’s academy proceeded smoothly. The prince himself found it hard to believe, murmuring, “This can’t be… It shouldn’t be this easy,” as he nervously bit his fingers.

Of course, a playful maid who witnessed this spread the truth, only to be swiftly dismissed as unbelievable. This is why building a strong reputation is crucial.

Fortunately, the prince’s concerns proved accurate…

Solving one issue only led to another. This was the inescapable fate of a ruler, but still, this felt excessive. The prince, having briefly shaken off his usual stern demeanor, let out a deep sigh. Those familiar with him would be startled by such a sight. However, those who had observed him since long ago would feel differently.

They would recall the bright boy who once ran around joyfully with a loose screw or two.

In reality, this was a relic of the prince’s darker days, before he realized the harshness of reality, when he naively believed the world was his personal paradise.

Tragically, his youthful eagerness to impress women, despite his sincere efforts, was futile—after all, how many women would be attracted to a child under six? Moreover, his attempts at impressing were too intense for a 30-year-old virgin, ultimately coming off as a plea for playmates, stirring motherly instincts instead.

There’s always a reason for being a virgin at 30.

When he finally gained popularity with women, he had already grasped the weight of his position and the grim reality, resolving to save the empire. He resigned himself to the thought, “I was never meant to succeed.”

Yet, merely having such thoughts was evidence of the prince’s transformation.

Despite the somber reflections, the prince once again thought of “romance.” A change that hadn’t occurred for many years had begun. The days spent desperately struggling to overcome the present continued, filled with urgency and anxiety. However, now, the prince possessed a new strength he hadn’t had before.

Confidence.

It might be tiny compared to the overwhelming might of the Ottomans, but hope had emerged. Morea, experiencing a rebirth after two centuries, was rising as a center of resistance, and the Ottoman expansion had slowed.

It wasn’t arrogance; the empire’s strength was still insufficient to defeat the Ottomans. Hence, the war party’s fervor was understandable. The grave issue was that, while he knew his limits, the war party did not.

Naturally, as his confidence grew, so did his resentment toward those who treated him merely as a tool.

The prince, now more composed but with a hint of irritation, gazed at the girl before him. Although she was two years older than him, categorizing her as a young woman rather than a girl seemed appropriate.

Her clothes were surely a bright yellow, yet they appeared almost black, likely due to the decadent aura she exuded. However, what seemed like seductive charm was, in fact, something entirely different.

The discerning eye honed through chaotic experiences spoke to him.

That decadent aura and gaze that seemed to melt were not the result of seductiveness. Instead, it was the sheer magnitude of her greed that disguised as lust. As far as the prince knew, no one embodied such overwhelming greed as this woman. Even John, who had turned against him, seemed noble by comparison. This woman, bowing her head submissively, spoke softly.

“It seems I’ve been utterly defeated. Your abilities far exceeded my expectations, Your Highness.”

Frankly, to be honest, the display Sophia presented to the prince did not move him in the slightest. Although they were husband and wife, her actions in the war just a few months prior had posed a significant threat to Morea. Had the prince not made the bold move of engaging Ivania, the consequences could have been catastrophic.

“It feels like only yesterday you fled in tears, yet here you are, composed.”

“It’s not wise to provoke a woman too much. The resentment a woman harbours can be sharper than any blade.”

“Sophia, you and I have walked such different paths that speaking of gender between us is irrelevant.”

Even though the prince had become more composed and had begun to think of romance, his primary concern remained the survival of the empire and the defeat of their nemesis, the Ottomans. Sophia was acquired solely for that purpose. If she proved unhelpful, he was prepared to cut ties without hesitation.

“Hmm. I’ll commend you for acting swiftly upon receiving Hungary’s support. But hasn’t this rendered Serbia practically a vassal state of Hungary? The alliance formed through our marriage has likely been shattered by my betrayal.”

“Precisely why I concede defeat, Your Highness.”

Despite the string of provocations, Sophia merely wore an enigmatic smile. Watching her carefree expression, the prince bit his tongue slightly. Had he grown stronger? It seemed every woman he encountered was either mad or ruthless. Strong women who would squeeze an ordinary man dry. Lacking any warped lust, the prince had no desire for such strong women, repeating this to himself countless times while remaining vigilant.

And sure enough.

“Therefore, I offer myself to you, not Serbia’s military might.”

Sophia’s confident smile appeared. Surely she wasn’t proposing her body.

“Well, you’re a smart woman, so you must know I don’t desire your body…”

The prince pondered what Sophia had to offer. Her overwhelming greed, her scheming creativity, and above all, her most valuable asset.

“You know something.”

Her network, leveraged through the Jewish community, offered intelligence far more valuable than Serbia’s military might. Having been crushed by the Ottomans thrice, their morale was likely at rock bottom. It might be more beneficial to acquire alternative assets than to rely on such allies. The prince quickly weighed his options and made his decision.

“Ha, you truly are worthy of the throne. Had we met under more friendly circumstances, we could have been excellent partners.”

“Get to the point.”

“So curt… Very well, as a gesture of goodwill to mark the end of our chaotic relationship, I shall share this.”

Sophia then revealed the news that the prince would find most concerning.

“The Ottoman capital, Edirne, has been completely sealed off.”

It was true that I had hesitated until now.

Originally, I had no desire for the throne and avoided this path due to concerns about the potential repercussions. The establishment of an independent archbishopric in Morea was a dangerous decision. Reflecting on my father Manuel’s original vision of divided rule in Morea, he believed that the presence of large local Independence powers would significantly hinder the future unification of the empire.

This vision crumbled when a single person became the Autokrator – the absolute ruler – of Morea. I, too, had tried to adhere as much as possible to the central government’s control, fearing the long-term negative impact.

However, if the central government continued its misjudgements and control, the situation would change. Establishing an archbishopric would be a new measure to block such interference from the central government.

If Morea’s independent archbishopric were established, it would become much harder for the central government to suppress Morea using the authority of the Patriarch. Naturally, this would provoke strong opposition from many priest and the central government.

However, even if they refused to approve the archbishopric, it wouldn’t be a total loss. If it fell through, it would only sharpen the conflict between Morea and the capital.

From the day John turned against me, I decided deep in my heart to walk an independent path from the capital without anyone noticing. The opposition to the capital in Morea would translate into support for their sovereign, me.

One should never underestimate the support of the people. Though the empire emphasized bloodline succession, it only did so when accompanied by a certain level of competence. If someone with far superior ability and reputation appeared, they could challenge the throne.

If the day comes when John expels pro-Morean forces from within the capital, that will be the moment the war between brothers breaks out. This is the reason behind my proclamation to establish the archbishopric. I don’t truly expect it to succeed; I only hope the message as a powerful warning will be conveyed.

If the central government of the empire remains uncooperative, Morea will no longer bow to its authority and history.

Due to the surprise nature of my announcement, the court descended into chaos. Half were in shock, while the other half were moved.

The fact that Morea’s prince, the emperor’s brother, openly opposed the central government and Emperor John VIII, suggested a growing ambition for the throne. Moreover, most people in Morea supported me over John. This background allowed me to make such a bold statement.

Even Bishop Nikephoros, who had been intensely opposing me, knelt with tears streaming down his face. He had long urged me to become emperor. Perhaps realizing that I had finally decided to become emperor, he barely managed to speak with trembling lips.

“How many have awaited this decision! How many people of Morea, how many of Greece, have watched with hesitant breath until Your Highness made this choice!”

His excessive flattery made my cheeks flush. Ahem, it slightly broke the calm demeanor I usually maintained. Nevertheless, I was experienced enough to quickly calm the storm within and bring the main issue, sidelined by the surprising announcement, back into focus.

“Can we now prove Plethon’s innocence? Can you tell me that I have chosen the right path as the protector of the church?”

“Your Highness, I can no longer dare to question your decision. How could I oppose the just cause of leading a person astray by false heretical knowledge back to the righteous path as the protector of the church? How could I rebuke a protector who will drive out those Muslims who have defiled the holy cross and invaded this land?”

With Bishop Nikephoros, who had opposed most strongly, now completely reversing his stance, the court’s atmosphere transformed.

No one voiced objection. Everyone bowed their heads, filled with excitement and joy. I turned my head to glance at the gathered retainers.

Tax Collector – Skellarios – Adrianos. A spirited young man who was appointed at a relatively young age, initially working as a tax collector but recently frequently deployed due to the intensifying conflict with the Ottomans.

Imperial Judge Demicleos. Appointed by Manuel’s command, he is considered the most seasoned and has reached the mature stage of his career. He successfully expelled the Latins, established a people’s assembly, and enacted laws suited to Morea’s situation, proving himself an excellent bureaucrat.

Bishop Nikephoros. Though not prominent, he prevented the large-scale suppression of Latins by the public, eliminating the potential for new conflicts, and thus is considered a moderate.

Leading these figures were many vassals gathered in the court of Mistra. They were a diverse group, each unique in their way. While some might be similar, none were identical. Some sought advancement, others were drawn by wealth or honor, but all shared a common mission:

To breathe new life into the decayed thousand-year-old empire.

There was a time when I was so repulsed by the sight of people who had despaired and resigned that I resolved to lift them up by force if necessary. At that time, I didn’t even consider how long it might take. But now, as I stand in this moment, I realize I had the wrong perspective.

Even if they had despaired and resigned, the people had not collapsed. It was now time to meet those who had continued to struggle in their own way.

Georgios Gemistos Plethon.

This great scholar awaited our meeting.

//

The prince who declared the establishment of the archbishopric, signalling his intent to fully engage in the struggle for the throne.

The events at the court of Mistra quickly spread throughout the Balkans. Naturally, upon hearing the news, John slammed his desk in fury. Yet, a far more crucial meeting took place in the Balkans: the encounter between Georgios Gemistos Plethon and Prince Constantine.

As the two exchanged opinions, they realized that their paths aligned.

However, they diverged sharply on the crucial issue of the church.

“The union of the church and empire has lost its efficacy. Every time the church has split over doctrinal doubts, the empire has been torn apart. If Your Highness truly wishes to rebuild the empire on a solid foundation, shouldn’t you ensure such divisions don’t repeat?”

Plethon argued, quoting a thousand years of history, that the empire must find a way to remain intact even if the church fragmented. He recognized the recurring social conflicts that arose from different interpretations of doctrine, notably since the rise of Monophysitism and Iconoclasm.

But the prince was not unaware of this either.

“If a thousand years say the church is unnecessary, they also say that the church has already become one with the empire. People have long accepted the church as part of their lives, and it’s undeniable that some prioritize the church over the empire.”

The prince confronted Plethon with reality.

“One ruler’s forceful change cannot easily alter people’s convictions. For the past thousand years, the church has been the unifying force of the empire, and now it stands as its final symbol. No exceptional ruler could change that.”

Indeed, even someone like him, who merely knew more than others, was no exception. No matter how outstanding or legendary a ruler might be, they couldn’t immediately change people’s perceptions. Aware of his limitations, the prince had come to meet Plethon.

“What a ruler like me can do is provide people like you with the time, place, and opportunity. It is scholars like you who bring about true transformation in an era.

Great scholar, lead the transformation of this age with your own hands.

It is the role of scholars to present and create a new focal point to replace the church and faith that have guided the empire for a thousand years.”

The church won’t leave the people’s side immediately. It will take a very long time for people to stand on their own will alone, without the church.

“…I now understand why people call you the last hope. You truly are the final hope for transforming this country. Please accept my loyalty, Your Highness. I will dedicate the rest of my life entirely to you.”

“It is an honor to have your support.”

The prince began to take that faint but definite first step.