Half Moon (3)
Having completely routed the noble faction's army alongside Angelos, I returned to Nicomedia with him, Halvar, and Himerios for a brief rest. While recuperating, we renovated Nicomedia's harbor.
"At this rate, the entire force can board at once and land in Constantinople," reported Himerios, the naval admiral. I nodded at his words.
"It certainly looks that way."
Nicomedia's harbor was vastly larger than the makeshift docks—now further expanded to accommodate over six warships at a time. We'd also built nearby warehouses stocked with supplies. If I gave the order to embark, we could complete boarding in half a day, cross the Bosphorus Strait, and land in Constantinople.
All this was possible thanks to Zoe's unwavering support. With the unification war underway, the administration had shifted to a full wartime footing. In such a system, most production funneled straight into the military, inevitably leading to inflation and a sharp drop in tax revenue if prolonged.
Zoe had foreseen this. Her foresight in implementing currency reforms ahead of time, bolstered by silk trade profits, prevented inflation from skyrocketing. On top of that, she introduced bonds—allowing ordinary folk to purchase state-issued debt, rapidly absorbing private capital. Though in truth, it was closer to forced collection than modern bonds.
These measures ensured we maintained capital even in the extraordinary circumstances of war. Financial stability meant supplies arrived not just on time, but in excess. By distributing perishables throughout Nicomedia, the locals had quickly accepted our rule.
"All that's left is reclaiming Constantinople."
As we focused on preparations, Halvar approached me.
"Your Majesty, the spy we sent to Constantinople has returned with vital intelligence."
"Vital intelligence?"
"The city is being pillaged."
The sudden news of looting stunned me. Constantinople—the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire—being sacked? It was hard to believe. The impregnable city. Of course, in the future, it would fall to the Crusaders' plunder and the Ottoman Empire's stone cannons, but that was the stuff of history yet to unfold. In my era, it had never been captured or looted—an invincible fortress.
A report of Constantinople being pillaged was almost impossible to credit.
"Pillaged..."
Angelos was just as flustered. Though the Moselaph family had followed me to Lazica, their ancestral home was Constantinople. It was as good as their hometown being ravaged—no wonder he was shocked.
"Did an internal rebellion spark the looting?" Angelos asked.
It was possible, as he suggested: the populace, crushed by noble exploitation, rising up. Maintaining and deploying armies required vast sums, burdens inevitably passed to the people. With recent battles vaporizing elite troops invested heavily by the nobles, taxes must have spiked to rebuild.
"No. The looters are the Bulgarian army and Holy Roman Empire mercenaries," the spy interjected.
At those words, I instinctively recalled the name.
"Nestoric."
Bulgaria's famed general. I'd never heard he'd been captured. No matter his brilliance, escaping the Eastern Roman encirclement was impossible. His evasion implied protection—only one man fit that bill: Ioannikios Keroularios.
"Precisely, Your Majesty. Nestoric's Bulgarian forces are leading the pillage."
"Hah..."
Angelos wore a hollow expression. Meanwhile, to grasp the situation fully, I demanded details from the spy.
"Explain why Bulgarian and Holy Roman troops are in the capital to begin with."
"Well..."
With elite forces gone, the noble faction lacked men to hold us back. Ioannikios had thus lured Nestoric—who'd rallied Bulgarian remnants—by promising autonomy. The plan was to summon him to the capital, then ship him to Nicomedia.
"I see. But what about the Holy Roman mercenaries joining the looting?"
The Holy Romans were tied by blood to the Keroularios clan; Ioannikios had requested allied troops. They'd arrived in the capital, but trouble ensued.
"While encamped near the city, their commander Anno II died, followed days later by deputy commander, the Archbishop of Bremen. The Holy Roman forces withdrew."
Withdrawing, they unilaterally voided mercenary contracts. Unthinkable today, but common in the medieval era when pay often went unpaid. These stragglers, now penniless, eyed the glittering city with predatory hunger.
Guards were thin, but mercenaries alone couldn't challenge the palace elite. Enter Nestoric, conveniently present.
"Bulgaria's general Nestoric is commanding the mercenaries in the pillage."
A man who'd lost his homeland to Eastern Rome. Outwardly cooperating with Ioannikios, inwardly he likely dreamed of vengeance. His vendetta aligned perfectly with the mercenaries' greed, unleashing wholesale plunder.
"Looting in Constantinople of all places... Tragic, but it looks like an opportunity for us," Halvar noted.
Angelos nodded in agreement. With the nobles' stronghold in chaos, we could seize it with minimal resistance.
"The people will suffer, but if we bide our time, we can retake the capital swiftly without our own losses," Angelos added.
"No helping it."
Both made valid points as generals. But I had to oppose.
"Halvar's view is rational, but it doesn't align with my goals."
"Your goals, sire...?"
"We must topple the nobles, rescue Emperor Constantine VIII from that traitor Ioannikios's clutches, and become liberators for Constantinople's oppressed masses."
Our ultimate aim: freeing the captive emperor and purging the nobles. We'd proclaimed it at my and Zoe's coronation—punishing Basil II's murderers and saving Constantine VIII.
"Reclaiming the capital matters, but it's merely a step."
Of course it was vital. But not after Nestoric's rampage ended.
"If Nestoric slays the nobles, we become just another provincial warlord."
We'd forfeit our righteous cause. It wouldn't doom us—my marriage to Zoe lent legitimacy, so losing the purge pretext might not cripple us. But a graver issue loomed.
"Worse, the emperor's life hangs in the balance."
That was the crux: Constantine VIII falling into Nestoric's hands. The nobles, monopolizing power by detaining him, had no reason to kill—mere neglect sufficed. Nestoric, unbound by such ties, might use him as a puppet. But that was unlikely. Fueled by rage at Basil II, he'd more probably murder the brother too.
Constantine VIII—father to Zoe and Theodora. His death would shatter Eastern Rome.
Whatever happened, we had to enter Constantinople before Nestoric reached the palace.
"Ah...!"
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. My shallow thinking..."
"No. You both acted as exemplary generals. I won't reproach you."
They expressed gratitude. With matters clarified, I got to the point.
"Halvar, take the Varangian Guard, secure longships, and head to Constantinople first."
Vikings excelled at coastal assaults thanks to swift, light longships—portable and fast, evading enemy sight.
"Secure the Golden Horn upon landing."
The Golden Horn: a narrow, 7-kilometer inlet on the Bosphorus, famed as a natural harbor and strategic chokepoint, barred by chains against fleets. Vikings had to neutralize it first.
"Understood, Your Majesty."
"Once the Golden Horn is ours, Angelos, Himerios, and I will lead the fleet there and march on Constantinople."
A massive landing. Normally, fierce counterattacks would inflict heavy casualties. But Nestoric's pillage had surely weakened defenses, enabling this bold stroke.