Chapter 43: Disgrace, Humiliation and Defeat
[Sacred Palace, Constantinople]
Sultan Mehmed I, whom had been held captive by John after the Bulgaria-Ottoman War, was promptly transported to Constantinople for an audience with Emperor Manuel II.
In contrast to John's assertive diplomatic approach, Manuel II favored a more nuanced, diplomatic approach, prioritizing his nation's interests above all else.
In order to efficiently handle the repercussions of territorial expansion and the shift in governance within the recently acquired lands, it was essential to detain the Sultan, thus preventing any ill-advised actions by the Ottomans during the stabilization of these newly acquired territories.
Upon hearing the news of the Sultan's defeat and eventual capture, Beyezid Pasha, the Grand Vizier, and the court officials in Edirne hastily abandoned the capital, leaving it deserted.
Without the bureaucrats to govern the city and the region, Ottoman Rumelia eventually collapsed, akin to a lion without its head.
The territories that once belonged to the empire shattered, rendering it leaderless and vulnerable to predation.
In response to this crisis, the Megas Domestikos of the Byzantine Empire, Gavriel, promptly assembled the Byzantine army to take control of various abandoned territories, pacify it, and secure its borders.
He began by reclaiming the rest of Thrace, and especially Edirne, Ottoman's previous seat of power. He then extended westward into East Macedonia, reintegrating these formerly lost territories into the empire.
While there were some resistance, particularly in large cities and fortresses which refused to surrender their holdings, and adamant to keep the Turkish influence alive, it was swiftly quelled by the reformed army under his command.
Within just under a month, the entire Balkans were liberated from Ottoman control.
Nevertheless, it was not all that easy for the empire.
The opportunist lords quickly recognized the weakened grip of the Ottomans in the region and seized the opportunity, rapidly acquiring lands from the advancing Byzantine expedition forces.
Without any prior warning, the Serbians immediately took control of Ohrid and Skopje right under the empire's nose, firmly establishing dominance over the northern part of Macedonia.
Fortunately, Andronikos, the Despot of Thessaloniki, acted swiftly to secure the borders by taking over Serres, Bitola, Kastoria and, the remaining provincial cities in Southern Macedonia and the eastern part of Epirus.
This effectively formed a defensive line for the empire.
In Thessaly, the situation was quite different, as various lords who had previously been Christian vassals of the Ottomans declared their own independence, forming federated city-states known as the Federation of Thessaly.
They banded together to oppose any attempt of the Romans reestablish their rule over these parts.
The newly federated city-states then sought a defensive alliance with the surrounding rulers of multiple Epirus independent lords, forming a strong coalition to resist the expanding empire.
The rapid and ever-evolving nature of the region's dynamics was undeniable.
Although the empire gained the most in this first-come, first-serve struggle, the persistent obstacles in this war-torn region prevented it from fully reclaiming its former glory as the Roman Empire.
Nevertheless, they emerged as the foremost victors, reclaiming most of the lost territories in the process.
With Bulgaria firmly under the Empire's control and the lost territories rejoining its dominion, the potential resurgence of the empire seemed imminent.
The slumbering phoenix was poised to spread its wings ablaze, and only time would reveal when this transformation would occur.
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In this opulent chamber nestled within the Sacred Palace, two figures seated facing one another. Each was the paramount leader of their respective nations, adorned with their own distinct aura of authority and prestige.
In this scenario, there was a clear victor and a vanquished party. The victor sought to bask in their triumph, while the defeated aimed to conceal their humiliation.
This room, ensconced in gleaming white marble that dominated the palace's design, exuded a solemn ambiance that paid homage to the resplendent legacies of Hellenistic culture and the Roman Empire prestigious might.
It was a chamber where the proud Roman Emperors toiled tirelessly for the betterment of their people—a regal sanctum befitting an emperor's station.
In one corner of the chamber, cabinets displayed an array of sculpted heads representing the lineage of past rulers, while the walls bore witness to both portraits of the Lord's Last Supper and a personal rendering of the reigning emperor.
The very essence of the room seemed to mirror the spirit of Emperor Manuel II himself.
After finishing the palace restoration, John swiftly enlisted skilled artisans to spare no expense in embellishing the room with opulent grandeur, perfectly aligned with the refined taste of the revered emperor.
On one hand, it served as a grand exhibition of an emperor's superiority over his rivals, while on the other, it showcased his immense power to such an extent that it would leave any adversary who entered the room utterly breathless.
Sultan Mehmed I had longed for such an opulent chamber ever since he envisioned the conquest of Constantinople.
However, that dream now lay shattered, unfulfilled, crushed beneath the feet of his bitter enemy, John VIII Palaiologos.
In his lifetime, he would never have the chance to grace such a resplendent chamber as a victorious ruler; instead, he stood as a defeated loser.
His presence in this room felt like a taunt from Manuel II, as if he were saying,
"The sight before you only reserved for you this once. Next time, you'll be gazing upon the tombstone with your name engraved on it. Savor this moment while you can, for you'll never witness it again in your lifetime."
Entering, savoring, and occupying the same space as the ruler of the nation that had humiliated him so profoundly only served to underline the depth of his disgrace.
It seemed that just as he had entered this room for the first time, it would also mark his last.
In front of him, a grinning figure observed him, treating him with an air of condescension. Although the eyes appeared welcoming, they concealed a profound mockery, aimed squarely at diminishing the once-mighty Sultan.
"I trust it meets your approval, dear Sultan," Manuel II remarked, his lips forming a crescent-like smile.
"Indeed, your majesty," replied the dejected Sultan.
It was chilling. Not because the weather outside was harsh; in fact, it was quite pleasant. However, inside this room where this figure resided, the temperature dropped drastically, as if winter were approaching imminently. But was it merely the temperature? Unlikely. The sensation was created by the aura emitted by the emperor.
"I trust that your stay here has been accommodating so far. I hope the welcoming party has done its best to treat you well."
Manuel II continued, relishing the opportunity to assert his status as an emperor, unlike in the past when he had to plead for help during his empire's crisis.
"While you did indeed negotiate terms with my beloved son, our meeting here today will determine whether your fate flickers or fades away."
"..."
"Did you get a chance to see the city on your way here? What are your impressions, if I may respectfully inquire?"
"It... *sigh* It was incredibly beautiful, truly living up to its mystical moniker as the 'Queen of Cities.'"
"Thank you for your candid response. However, everything you see here is a testament to the tireless efforts of my cherished son. Without his foresight and insight, none of this would be possible, and even the city itself would appear lackluster. It was John who brought vibrancy to its very essence. Truly, it is a sight to behold, wouldn't you agree?"
"..."
"If we could turn back the hands of time, even if your father had succeeded in capturing this city, you would have never beheld such a magnificent spectacle. Instead, all that would have met your eyes was desolation and crumbling walls,"
Manuel II's voice grew solemn as he spoke, alluding to the period when Beyezid I laid siege to the city walls, subjecting his people to great suffering.
Were it not for the timely intervention of the Timurids, the city might have already fallen into Ottoman hands, potentially erasing the empire itself from history.
"However..."
"Such an event did not come to pass, and the heavens blessed my son with wisdom in the end."
Manuel II reminisced as he gazed up at the ceiling of his chamber. Meanwhile, Mehmed I's face had turned as white as paper, drained of color.
Different rulers, different outcomes. In these distinctions, Manuel II contemplated his future as the emperor, while Mehmed pondered the decline of his newfound rule.
"Mehmed, from now on, your rule over this region ended. As long as my son lived, you will never set foot unto this city ever again, not even you descendants be able to. Twas my oath to you."
Manuel II gaze pierce deeply into Mehmed I's eyes as if trying to stab him in his heart. These words were not mere promise, but threats.
He couldn't muster any retort with his mouth as he was indeed the loser in the fight.
No matter what he said, it would be pointless as the terms were already agreed and his empire were deposed from the region, never to regain its foothold ever again.
"I... understand." he replied with a defeated tone, while his raging anger deep within his heart surged ferociously, he couldn't express his resentment towards the dignified emperor.
"Leave. My men will escort you as far as Nicaea, after that, you are on your own."
"Oh, and remember... Romae Invicta."
With that, the last conversation between these two figure were concluded, never again the Ottoman Sultan would come face-to-face with the emperor ever again, because for the next few years, he would be too busy reestablishing his diminishing reputation as the Sultan.
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After a grueling journey spanning more than 32 miles from the city of Bizye, John and his companions finally reached their destination. His heart continued to race unabated,
'At last...back to familiar scenery...'
War has never been pleasant nor was it glorious. Nevertheless, the sensation he felt throughout this campaign still deeply affects him. Gore and death, being a modern man who hasn't experience any horrors of wars other than from movies and games, it was a surreal feeling for him.
Nevertheless, he did not find it repugnant despite the fact, which perplexed him.
Upon successfully passing the inspection at the town's front gate, he and his men ventured inside, covertly. Hiding his identity was paramount, as he had no desire to attract undue attention, especially given the recent fame he gained after the war.
Without any hesitation, he made his way directly to the Sacred Palace passing through the busy street of Mese passing through Forum of Constantine, and into the palace compound. Meanwhile, Demetrius and Giorgios was entrusted with the critical task of alerting the Patriarch to the impending threat.
John, on the other hand, sought an audience with his father.
On his way, he closely scrutinized the city's residents, vigilant for any signs of the looming plague. So far, he saw none, but this offered little solace, for he understood that the city was not immune, and the plague could strike at any moment.
Upon reaching the entrance of the palace, the hooded co-emperor was promptly halted by the guards. Almost instantly, he displayed his insignia.
"Co-emperor! You've returned!" exclaimed one of the guards, his excitement evident as he recognized the figure before him.
And why wouldn't they be excited? It was John, their revered co-emperor who had achieved a glorious triumph against the formidable Ottoman Empire; all the while leading an army comprised mostly of peasants.
Not only had he successfully captured the enemy Sultan himself, but he had also secured an unprecedented triumph that had become the talk of the town among Constantinian citizens in recent days.
This victory not only increased the co-emperor's popularity but also cemented his place in the annals of history of Rome as the Turk Slayer, Tourkoktónos.
"Lower your voices... I'm in a hurry. I must meet the emperor without delay!"
"Of course! The emperor has been expecting your return for days, your highness."
"Is that so? Very well then, return to your station - and don't say anything about me as of yet, not until I met with the emperor."
John reminded the guards before swiftly making his way into the palace.
From there, he proceeded down the corridor leading to the sanctum of the important officials before finally reaching the chamber where the emperor conducted his state affairs.
With the urgency of the situation weighing on him and impatience driving his actions, John dispensed with formal etiquette.
Without bothering to knock, he boldly pushed the door wide open, revealing Emperor Manuel II deeply engrossed in his paperwork.
Annoyed by the sudden interruption, the emperor was about to raise his voice but was instead shocked to see John standing at the door.
"Jo---"
"No time, father, immediately order the herald to sound the alarm!"
Frowned by the sudden urgency, Manuel II inquired, "What happened? Why an alarm instead of a triumphal arch?"
"The plague is imminent - we have to block any entry or departure from the city as soon as possible."
"Plague? That's mere rumor, there's no foundation to such claims."
"I assure you, father, it's true. I encountered individuals exhibiting symptoms of the 'Black Death' on my way back. If we don't take preventive measures now, our people will perish, and the city will be engulfed in death!"
He recounted his entire journey, from his arrival in Bizye, traveling from Tarnovo up to the present moment. He also provided recommendations for preventive measures so that the emperor should implement.
Manuel II does not entirely believing the story and was remained thoroughly skeptical of his son's sudden request and seemingly irrational demands, however, he pondered for a moment.
'The boy has never lied before... a plague?'
In the end, the emperor relented.
"Very well, I will issue a citywide quarantine order. I hope you are right about this - but first, we must consult the Ecumenical Patriarch."
"That's no issue; I've dispatched Demetrius and Giorgios to summon the Patriarch to the palace as soon as we arrived to the city..."
"Then..."
Right on schedule, the palace chamberlain emerged, his gaze immediately falling upon the co-emperor. However, instead of greeting him with first, the chamberlain's instead announced to the Emperor,
"Your Majesty, the Patriarch requests your audience. He awaits you in the throne room, accompanied by the Royal Commander and His Highness's escort."
"Very well, I shall proceed there forthwith. Come, John."
They immediately exited the chamber and made their way down the hallway leading to the throne room, the chamberlain inquired with a quivering voice.
"Your Highness, is it true? Has a plague befallen us?"
He had heard it first from the Patriarch who was seemingly annoyed and loudly burst his anger as he mentioned the word 'plague'.
"I do hope that it is not, but that is certainly not the case for the moment," John made vague remarks, speaking to himself almost, and not to the chamberlain who seemingly perturbed by the news.
"If it has been festering in the north for some time, it is highly likely that the pestilence has already reached our city, especially considering the ships from the north has been coming and going for a while. I fear the contagion may have infiltrated our midst."
The chamberlain trembled in fear upon hearing this horrible revelation, for he knew all too well the ominous implications of the plague, having experienced it himself once before.
"I just hope that we're not too late," John added, his tone somber and foreboding.
The encroaching darkness threatened to shroud the city's skyline in an inky veil, like a descending reaper gripping its scythe. This could spell the end if not averted in time.
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