1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Mistras, the capital of the Grand Duchy of Morea.

The forty-four-year-old sat alone in his room, staring blankly at several open letters on the table.

One of the letters was from his mentor and staunch supporter, George Sphranx, who was then Minister for Foreign Affairs.

It mentioned that Emperor John VIII was seriously ill and might not recover.

John VIII had been in poor health for years. However, due to Grand Duke Lucas Notaras' opposition to church unification, he had been neglecting his duties, leaving the affairs of state to Constantine, the regent, and Sphranx, the foreign minister.

One was inside the country and the other outside, working together to protect the ageing empire.

In recent years, one piece of bad news after another had come. The Ottomans were at the height of their power, subduing all who dared to challenge them.

Sphranx travelled from one Western European country to another, but all he received in return was sympathy.

While all Christian countries, including Venice and Genoa, did not want to see the fall of Constantinople, they were also unwilling to make any real sacrifices.

The situation abroad was grim, and there were contradictions at home too, with die-hard opponents stirring up public anger and opposing the unification of the Church.

The only good news came from the south, where his son, Isaac, was expanding the empire in North Africa.

Constantine smiled at the thought of his son, whom he was so proud of, but then he frowned as he thought of something.

Constantine picked up the second letter.

"Your Excellency, the Despot of Morea, Lord of Mistras, my dear father Constantine..."

"Under God's protection, I have successfully taken all of Cyrenaica, blocked the Mamluk counterattack and formally established the Kingdom of Cyrenaica."

Constantine threw the letter aside and sighed.

In recent years, his son Isaac had become increasingly successful, and many people in the country were envious of him.

The parasites in Constantinople insisted that the new territories in North Africa should belong to the Senate and the people. They demanded that the Despot of Syrte hand over part of his fiscal revenue and the proceeds from his expedition to West Africa.

They also criticised Isaac's good relationship with the Pope, stopping just short of calling him a 'traitor'.

The matter became so serious that it even reached the ears of the bedridden John VIII.

Confronted with these discordant voices, Constantine did his best to suppress them, trying not to let these idle rumours interfere with his son's career.

In fact, these nobles from Constantinople had no real influence over Isaac and could only express their dissatisfaction in this way.

In hindsight, not only did Isaac know the situation in Constantinople inside out, he also despised these parasites and had developed a rebellious attitude.

Attacking Bilinchi and establishing his own kingdom...

Did he want to start a new dynasty and refuse the jurisdiction of Constantinople?

Did he still want to inherit the Roman Empire? Constantine was feeling a little depressed.

In his view, Constantinople was the greatest city in the world, surpassing all others combined.

He wasn't alone in this view; almost all Roman nobles felt the same way.

However, it was clear that Isaac wasn't particularly enthusiastic about Constantinople or the supreme authority it represented.

Whenever he mentioned the capital, Constantine could sense a peculiar... regret? Why was that?

Constantine didn't want to think about it.

He stood up and walked into the courtyard.

Whenever he was in a bad mood, he would come here to walk around and read a book.

He picked up The Life of Yaroslav, a famous book from Kievan Rus, opened it at random and read a few pages softly, trying to calm his restless heart.

"On 27 July 1053, the Lord became flesh. Amidst wind and snow, 'the Wise One', Yaroslav Vladimirovich Rurik, passed away at the age of 75..."

A gust of wind blew and a maple leaf fell onto the book, obscuring the text behind it.

Constantine felt uneasy, closed the book and looked up at the red maple tree in the courtyard, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Theodosius, what are you doing?"

"Planting trees."

"Why are you planting trees?"

"Mind your own business!"

Little Thomas burst into tears and ran to his eldest brother, John.

Constantine remembered that this red maple tree had come from his second brother, the former Grand Prince of Moravia.

At that time, the four brothers had gathered in Moravia, preparing to recapture the remaining lost territories on the peninsula.

Theodosius loved red maple trees because of their beautiful color.

"Thomas, red maple trees are unique to the Morea region and symbolize love and family..."

John was extremely patient, and all his brothers, including the proud Theodosius and the wayward Demetrius, respected him very much.

Under John's guidance, Thomas wiped away his tears and began to giggle.

Constantine pretended to be mature, reading a book nearby, but he couldn't help listening to his eldest brother.

This would be the last time the brothers were together.

Later, disputes, civil wars and the empire's predicament destroyed their family ties.

John, his most beloved older brother, spent years travelling between the courts of Western Europe, humbling himself to beg for aid that would never come.

Gradually, domestic doubts and foreign ridicule robbed the once cheerful young man of his openness, leaving him gloomy and taciturn.

Constantine witnessed this decline, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Just as with the fate of this thousand-year-old empire, no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop its inevitable decline and demise.

At the beginning of the year, red maple leaves fell all over the ground in a rainstorm.

The next day, news came that the despotic Duke Theodosius of Messenia had died of illness.

And now...

The wind gradually grew stronger, drowning out the sound of footsteps and the opening of the door.

"Your Highness! A letter has arrived from Constantinople saying that His Majesty John's soul has gone to the Kingdom of God. Please try to find comfort!"

The messenger walked into the courtyard, unable to open his eyes because of the strong wind.

There was no response.

"Your Highness?"

The messenger looked up and saw Constantine standing under a bare tree, facing away from him.

"I know."

His face tense, Constantine strode out of the courtyard, leaving a trail of fallen leaves behind him.

...

"I hear you are now known as the 'regicide'?"

In Bilinchi's palace, Isaac sat in Yusuf's former seat, looking down at Marzia.

Marzia nodded, saying nothing.

Yergubai, the ten-year-old boy, looked at Marzia, his face showing no sadness.

"Yergubai, it is good that you have found your way back and embraced Jesus."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Isaac nodded.

Before he was officially crowned King, he had asked his ministers to continue addressing him as 'Your Highness'.

"I hear that there are still many people in the city who support you?"

Yergubai was suddenly panicked.

"Your Highness, they are all my father's former supporters. I..."

"If they cause trouble, Your Highness can deal with them as you see fit. It has nothing to do with me!"

Isaac waved his hand, signaling for him to relax.

Was he really that scary?

After a moment's thought, Isaac called for a map to be brought forward. "I plan to assign you to this area."

He took out a pen and drew a circle on the map.

It was east of Tobruk, west of Matru Port and north of the Karanshu Desert.

This place used to be quite good, but after Isaac had destroyed it, it had become a no-man's land.

Several months later, some of the polluted oases had recovered ecologically and some refugees had returned to live there.

The area was close to the coast and the Green Mountains, and had abundant groundwater resources. Many places could be re-drilled to support large numbers of herders.

Although it was not as good as before, it was still quite decent.

Before Yergubai could respond, Isaac drew his sword with a 'zing' sound.

"Yergubai, listen to my decree!"

"I obey your orders!"

Yergubai knelt on one knee.

"You have committed a grave crime by fighting against Rome, but considering that you have repented and surrendered with your people, I will pardon and reward you."

"Yergubai Balasbei is hereby appointed Count of Baidi. The lands east of Tobruk and north of Karanchu shall be your domain."

"You are also granted permission to recruit subjects from Bilinchi City and the surrounding tribes."

"May you protect the border and treat your people well!"

"I will obey your orders!"

Yergubai was somewhat excited.

He had lived his entire life in the shadow of his older brother, Yusuf, who was suspicious of him and never allowed him to hold any position. As a result, he had never truly experienced the taste of power.

Was he finally going to become a lord, holding the lives of others in his hands?

"Marzia, listen to your title!"

Isaac turned to Marzia, who stood by looking helpless.

"I hereby appoint you Baron of K--."

The regicide was taken aback, then knelt down to accept the appointment.

Yergubai looked at Marzia kneeling before him; his young face betrayed his disappointment.

"Yergubai, do not worry. You will remain by my side to learn about military and political affairs. Once you come of age, you can return to your fiefdom."

"I will also send personnel to oversee the Baron of Cambut, ensuring that he delivers the annual tribute to you."

Yergubai finally felt happy again.

Isaac unsheathed his sword and handed it to Yergubai, who was kneeling.

"The Sword of Balsebe still belongs to the son of Balsebe."

After the war, the sword was handed over to Isaac, and now it had been returned to Yergubai.

Yergubai was deeply moved and quickly took it.

The Balsebe family had ruled the entire Green Mountain region for nearly twenty years, so the people still had feelings for them.

Upon hearing the news of Yusuf's death, many of those who had originally surrendered and converted to the true religion stirred up trouble once again, causing Isaac headaches.

Isaac did not want a former Cyrenaica that was united in name only.

Ultimately, Isaac decided to support Yergubai, giving him a piece of land and allowing his supporters to follow him. This eased the opposition among the people.

The Earl of Bairdi's territory was located on the border between the two countries. Given Yergubai's and Marzia's current reputations, it was clearly impossible for them to coexist peacefully with the Mamluks.

They could serve as a buffer zone around his core territory.

"The former personal guard of the traitor Yusuf and some of the Mamluks willing to surrender are now under your command."

After Bilinchi changed hands, some of the Mamluks fled by ship, while others surrendered to Isaac.

He did not want these soldiers, who had been pampered by Yusuf for many years, so he simply handed them over to Yergubai.

Allowing them to retain some of their strength would enable them to defend themselves against the Mamluk border tribes.

After seeing the two of them off, Isaac was greeted by his smiling Minister of the Interior, Isult.

"Your Highness, as you requested, the general framework for the administrative divisions has been completed."

"The entire Cyrenaica region is currently divided into four large districts, one military district and several fiefdoms."

"The Ajdabiya District includes the Ajdabiya Executive District, the Jalu Executive District and the Breiga Executive District."

"The Bilinchi District includes the Bilinchi Executive District, the Zawiya Executive District and the Mayrdi Executive District."

"The Beda Region includes the Tangier Administrative District."

"The Derna Region includes the Hauran Administrative District."

"Establish the Tobruk Military Directly Administered Area, build a fortress in Tobruk, and arrange for Martinez to go to the city to cast cannons for the eastern defense line."

Isaac listened and nodded.

"Not bad."

"Appoint officials for each district as soon as possible and have them begin their work."

"I don't care about the specifics, but remember these major points."

Isult quickly took out paper and pen.

"Please speak."

"Firstly, the most important task at present is to stabilize the situation and encourage the local population to accept our rule, so that they can resume production as soon as possible."

"Secondly, the Green Mountains have extremely favorable agricultural conditions. Arrange for the Greek people in the Surt region to migrate to the Beda and Delna regions and grant or lease them land according to plan."

"Thirdly, the Surt Joint Chamber of Commerce should be renamed the Cyrenaica Joint Chamber of Commerce. Local merchants should be invited to join and a trade network should be quickly established, covering the entire Green Mountains."

"This is crucial. You must coordinate closely with Urda on this matter."

"Fourth, once the local administrative structure has been established, we can resume resettling refugees. While the Ottoman army is still in the northwest, we will resettle the last batch of Dobruja Seljuks in the Green Mountains, separating them from the Guhs."

"Remember, what we have been doing all along is replacing the population, driving out most of the locals and bringing in Greek Orthodox believers and Pan-Hellenic nationalists who are loyal to us."

"I've already taken care of the first step for you, enduring countless insults in the process."

Isaac glared at Isult's gloating smile.

"I hope you can sort things out before I return."

"Where are you going?"

Isult was a little worried.

As Minister of Internal Affairs, he really didn't want Isaac wandering around, especially in West Africa.

Isaac threw the letter to Isult.

"Take a look."

"Emperor John has passed away."

Isult quickly finished reading it and looked solemn.

"How many troops should I take?"

"Eight hundred men from the First Legion of the Imperial Guard and twelve hundred men from the Slave Legion."

Isult nodded. That would be enough.

"May you return safely, dear prince."

On 8 November 1448, after initially stabilizing the situation in Cyrenaica, Isaac boarded the Grand Duke of Moria's warship, the Clark, and set sail for Mistras to meet Constantine.

Accompanying him were two thousand elite warriors.

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