A New Era (3)
“…Accordingly, We commend the efforts of those who ended the civil war and reunited our divided Rome.”
Empress Zoi’s proclamation rang out. At her words, Angelos, Ioannis, Asakios, Himerios, and Andronikos knelt before her.
“First, Lord Angelos.”
Called forward, Angelos rose immediately and stood before the empress, observing proper etiquette as he awaited her words.
“For his greatest contributions in the Battle to Recapture Constantinople, We appoint Lord Angelos as a senator of the council’s upper house and, simultaneously, as Exarch of Italy.”
The title of Exarch was tantamount to that of a viceroy. Yet it had lacked real power because Italy comprised so little of the Eastern Roman territories under actual control. There was scarcely any land under effective dominion. Even the scraps of southern Italy that remained were truly governed by Rogerius’s brothers, Humphrey and Geoffrey—figures closer to allies than vassals of Eastern Rome. Thus, the Exarchate was little more than an honorary post.
“I offer my deepest gratitude for Your Imperial Majesty’s boundless trust. I shall surely live up to Your expectations.”
Angelos made no effort to hide his joy. Though honorary, the position placed him third in the hierarchy of power—directly below Rogerius and Zoi. Moreover, it granted him the right to a personal royal banner, effectively allowing him to found his own dynasty.
“Next, Lord Ioannis. For defending the lands of Lazica from Georgia, We appoint you as a senator of the upper house. And at the same time, We entrust you with the duties of Imperial Steward of the palace.”
“As Imperial Steward, I shall fulfill my responsibilities and duties to the utmost.”
Unlike Angelos, Ioannis could not found a royal house of his own. Instead, he was granted a pivotal role at the heart of power in the imperial palace. Compared to Angelos’s post, this one held genuine authority. It was precisely this real influence that had once allowed Leonus to scheme over Basil II’s head, bypassing the childless emperor to position his adopted son as heir. The power to sway the palace was immense. Typically, such roles went to imperial kin or eunuchs, but not this time. As mentioned earlier, Ioannis served partly as a hostage—a restraint to ensure Lord Asakios behaved himself.
“Next, Lord Asakios.”
Asakios stepped forward at Zoi’s summons. As head of the Komnenos family, who had risen as southern warlords, he had inherited the armies of the great general Manuel—a true hero of these chaotic times. In essence, he was a king already. Thus, in consultation with Rogerius, Zoi had decided to formally recognize him as such.
“We appoint you, faithful servant of Rome, as King of the Kingdom of Anatolia. Continue to serve Rome with the same loyalty you have shown.”
“My sword shall always be for Rome. I will crush Rome’s enemies, even at the cost of my life.”
Asakios withdrew. Himerios followed, appointed leader of the imperial navy and Megas Dux, supreme naval commander. Like Angelos’s Exarchate, the Megas Dux evoked a viceroy’s role. He also governed the Mediterranean coastal cities—more precisely, those in the old Carthaginian territories. These North African cities had become Roman colonies after conquest, and the Megas Dux oversaw them all. But most of the region had already fallen to Islam, rendering the post as nominal as Angelos’s. Still, like the Exarch, it permitted founding a royal house—honor enough.
“All the infidels on the sea shall sink beneath its waves.”
Andronikos then became a senator, concluding the commendations for the five greatest heroes who had quelled the rebellion.
By merit alone, Halvar, Chaur, and Arslan could have stood beside them. But as subordinates rather than independent commanders, they inevitably ranked lower.
Now it was their turn. Zoi stepped back, and King Rogerius came forward.
“Lords Chaur and Arslan, step forward.”
Rogerius’s voice was grave and commanding. The two advanced and paid their respects.
“For your paramount contributions in the capture of Nicomedia in this war, I grant you the lands of Lazica.”
The vast territory of Lazica was now theirs. Half of it was already settled by Turks, so to outsiders it might seem a hollow gesture. But there was a world of difference between imperial bestowal of legal ownership—proclaimed before all—and mere permission to reside. Chaur and Arslan hid no trace of their delight.
“Since this fulfills the promise made by Emperor Basil II, I shall bestow additional rewards commensurate with your merits.”
Chaur and Arslan betrayed their surprise at the extra commendations.
“Lord Arslan.”
“Speak, Your Majesty.”
“I appoint you Dux of Lazica.”
Arslan was stunned by Rogerius’s unprecedented reward. Appointing a non-Roman immigrant—a nomadic Turk, no less—as a Dux was extraordinary. In truth, most Turks now served Eastern Rome and were undergoing Romanization, more fluent in Greek and its culture than their native tongue. Still, officially, Arslan was chieftain of a Turkic nomadic clan. For such a figure to become one of Eastern Rome’s rare Duxes was astonishing.
Arslan trembled with emotion. Since settling in Eastern Rome, his nomadic people no longer starved; now they had land to call their own. To receive Lazica and the Dux’s title on top of that was overwhelming.
“Thank you… thank you, Your Majesty. Our lives are for Rome and Your Imperial Majesty.”
“I expect your valor and loyalty.”
Arslan kowtowed repeatedly before withdrawing. As he did, the emperor summoned Chaur.
Chaur knelt before Rogerius, who gazed upon him and continued the commendations.
“Chaur, who has shown me unwavering loyalty. I appoint you King of Georgia.”
King of Georgia. With a Georgian king already on the throne, Rogerius’s appointment carried clear intent: conquer Georgia and restore it to Roman fold. It was less a reward than a command to seize. Yet all nodded in approval, for it tied to Arslan’s appointment as Dux of Lazica. Arslan’s children had mostly gone independent; only his foster son Chaur remained at his side. In nomadic tradition, the last surviving heir inherited all. Upon the aged Arslan’s death, Lazica would effectively be Chaur’s. Lazica itself was legitimate Eastern Roman territory reclaimed from Georgia. The title “King of Georgia” had always been subordinate to the empire. Thus, Chaur’s ascension posed no issue. The real problem was Georgia’s current king, George—who had lost Lazica, Georgia’s heartland, and now faced outright denial of legitimacy from the Roman emperor. Chaur could openly denounce and attack him without reproach. With justification now on Chaur’s side, Georgia’s nobles had a choice: back Chaur or George. This split alone sowed division, benefiting Chaur regardless.
“I send infinite thanks for Your Imperial Majesty’s boundless grace. As King of Georgia, I shall reclaim our lost lands and offer them to Your Majesty.”
Chaur expressed genuine gratitude. Accepting his obeisance, Rogerius proceeded to commend Halvar, Bachana, and Alton.
“I appoint Halvar as Captain of the Varangian Guard and grant him ten chests brimming with gold as a bonus.”
Halvar already served as Varangian captain, though he had truly returned to guard duties only after the capital’s liberation. The work remained the same, so Rogerius bestowed gold enough to buy a castle outright. Varangians cared little for offices or honors; Halvar was no exception. He showed sincere emotion at the lavish material reward.
“I appoint Alton and Bachana, who aided Lord Ioannis, as Stratopedarchoi and grant each five chests of gold as a bonus.”
The Stratopedarchos—the role Rogerius himself had held in the Bulgarian wars—was an administrative supply officer in the army, a fitting rank. Like with Halvar, Rogerius emphasized material over title. To his two devoted subordinates, he gave gold enough for three factories.
“We shall always give our utmost for Your Majesty.”
“We pledge our lives in loyalty to Rome and the imperial house.”
The pair voiced heartfelt thanks. Commendations continued down through officers and common soldiers alike, each receiving according to merit. All rejoiced in their rewards, chanting the names of merciful Empress Zoi and Emperor Rogerius in acclamation.
Zoi and Rogerius extended their hands in response.
Everyone basked in joy, but not all shared the festive mood. The nobles loathed it. Having lost their fortunes and fallen to commoner status was bad enough; now their hoarded wealth funded others’ rewards, fueling their rage.