A New Era (2): Zoe's Counsel
After hearing my story, Zoi pondered for a moment before speaking to me cautiously. "Granting territories seems inevitable given the circumstances. But that doesn't mean we can completely rule out the possibility of the Komnenos family turning their swords against us."
High-level local autonomy. Most cases at that level ended in rebellion. It was only natural for those with power to crave higher positions. Of course, the Asakios I knew wasn't like that. But decades later, his descendants might raise the flag of revolt. Conversely, a poor emperor from the Uranos-Makedon family might provoke a rebellion to curb his tyranny. In short, no matter how you looked at it, we couldn't entirely eliminate the risk of uprising.
"What if we abolish the manor system, but only in the Kingdom of Anatolia?"
Manors. When a monarch granted land to a lord under the feudal system, that land became the lord's manor. It encompassed not just villages and farmlands but also forests and rivers. In essence, the lord held all rights over the territory. These were called manors, and lords divided them among their vassals. In the East Roman Empire, they were known as latifundia, evoking images of grand estates. But in truth, they were more like massive production facilities akin to factories. It was for this reason that I could produce olive oil from the Uranos family lands I received from my foster father, Lord Nikephoros.
In any case, I proposed abolishing these manors. The reason was obvious: most of the labor in manors relied on slaves.
"If slaves multiply, it'll shrink our tax revenue, lower productivity, and degrade the quality of our fighting forces."
It wasn't about a modern man's desire to dismantle class systems. Slavery had clear limitations. The biggest problems with slaves were plummeting productivity and weakened combat effectiveness. Serfs and above had no choice but forced labor. Just as in past communist experiments, coerced labor paired with equal compensation inevitably led to productivity collapse. The same held for warfare. Since it wasn't their land, they had no reason to risk their lives—they'd drop their weapons and flee at the first opportunity.
"But we just collect taxes from them, so it shouldn't be an issue for us," Zoi pointed out. She was right; as monarchs, as long as Lord Komnenos fulfilled his military and tax obligations, that was enough. It was standard medieval logic, so her view wasn't wrong for the era. But I saw it differently.
The more serfs, the fewer ways to check the lords.
"If they build independent power bases and rebel, we won't have any way to stop them."
Zoi's face clouded with thought at my words. I realized she needed more convincing.
"We've executed most of the nobles, so we can't rely on them to keep the lords in check anymore."
Most nobles who collaborated with Ioannikios had been hanged. As the intellectual class of this era, their absence created an administrative vacuum. That's why I'd built schools to cultivate commoners into that intellectual layer. But if we created slaves in such a situation, the intellectuals would inevitably feel alienated from society. Their choices would boil down to two.
"They could collude with lords to become new nobles, or overthrow the system itself."
One might think socialist revolutions were impossible in the Middle Ages. But actual history—especially Roman history—showed they happened often enough that we couldn't dismiss it. Unlike the East, where monarchs were unquestioned, the West had tried republics and oligarchies multiple times. Suppress the intellectuals, and they'd shatter their chains through radical action.
My persuasion seemed to land; Zoi nodded. Then she spoke cautiously. "So, in the end, you're saying we should abolish the class system."
"Not right away. But it'll evolve that way gradually."
Immediate change was impossible. With nobles gone, there was no need to maintain the class system, so we'd proceed incrementally. To sustain future reforms, we'd base it on knowledge and meritocracy.
"There'll be backlash. Especially from those who earned merits quelling this rebellion."
"That's why we're establishing the council. The Senate seats are theirs."
If those who risked their lives got nothing, why would the meritorious follow me? Solutions were twofold: slaughter them like Emperor Liu Bang of Han, or favor them with honorary positions lacking real power, keeping them close under watch. It sounded ruthless, but it was unavoidable. With most nobles dead, purging the meritorious too would leave us vulnerable to external threats.
"We can handle Lord Angelos, Lord Ioannis, Lord Himerios, and Lord Andronikos that way... but what about the others?"
Angelos, Ioannis, Himerios, and Andronikos—East Romans. They'd likely cooperate if their families retained Senate seats, even honorary ones. But Halvar, Chaur, Arslan, Bachana, and Alton were different. Viking Halvar preferred material rewards over honors. The Alan leaders Bachana and Alton felt the same. They could be bought with wealth, not titles.
"Ioannikios hoarded quite the slush fund."
Zoi nodded. As magistros who'd run the realm briefly, he'd amassed a fortune equivalent to two years' budget for a theme. Add the confiscated Keroularios assets branded traitors, and it was immense.
"I'll distribute some to those three."
"That's a huge sum. Is it alright?"
"It's compensation for their service."
A lavish reward that might seem excessive. But considering the dangers they'd faced on battlefields for me, it was modest.
"Understood. If that's Glyke Mou's will. What about Lord Chaur and Lord Arslan?"
Now for Chaur and Arslan, leaders of the Turkopoloi. I explained my prior plan.
"I'll divide Lazica between Chaur and Arslan."
"Granting the vast lands of Lazica to those two?"
"It was our original promise to them."
The Turks who'd joined as mercenaries. Basil II had sent me to Trapezunt to recruit them amid their pastures' devastation. He'd promised land to secure their cavalry. They'd helped conquer Georgia per that vow, but the emperor's assassination derailed it. When Ioannikios rebelled, they followed me to Lazica. I'd yielded part of it to keep them in our forces. In a way, I'd honored the emperor's promise. But only halfway—our base shift to Lazica limited what I could give. Now was the time to rectify that, adding merits to grant all of Lazica.
"It's not just about that promise."
The real reasons were political and military.
"Politically, with the civil war over, we can't leave the Komnenos-Lazica branch in Lazica anymore."
"Right. Lord Asakios is right below them."
Lord Ioannis was Asakios's brother. Even as a branch, their ties were tight. Placing those two powers on the weakened Anatolian peninsula amid our administrative frailty was begging for rebellion.
"That's why I'll appoint Lord Ioannis as imperial steward to the vacant post and keep him in the capital."
Leonus, purged with the rebels, had begged his meritorious adopted son Lord Michael—but bloodless ties meant nothing. The long-held steward position was empty. I'd install Ioannis there to watch him closely.
"Lord Ioannis is an East Roman prodigy; he'll excel at stewardship."
Superior in civil affairs over military, he'd greatly aid the palace, as Zoi said.
"What's the military reason?"
"Georgia might see our post-civil war weakness as a chance to reclaim lost Lazica. They'll attack relentlessly."
Ioannis's defensive tactics had held Lazica during the capital's reconquest. But we hadn't fully repelled them, so the threat lingered.
"So you're granting Lazica to Lords Chaur and Arslan for that?"
"Exactly. Those two can not only hold off Georgia but counterattack."
They'd seized the Georgian palace with me before. With that experience, defense and retaliation were feasible.
"A solid plan. Can I add a little to it, Glyke Mou?"
"Got a good idea?"
Zoi nodded eagerly. "Appoint Lord Chaur as King of Georgia."
Her brilliant scheme left me admiring her acumen.