The Eastern Horde (1)
“My lord, I have a report.”
Alberto rushed toward me with an urgent expression. I set aside the documents I’d been organizing and looked at him.
“A large group of nomads has arrived at the guild outpost in Theme Kolonias.”
“Nomads...?”
“Yes, they want to join the guild... but there are so many of them.”
If even Alberto was making a fuss, it had to be an impressive number. I read the report he handed me and blinked, wondering if I’d seen it right.
“Three... three thousand?”
In East Asia, that might seem like a single battalion—small-scale. But considering the military strength of nearby states like Georgia, Armenia, or Kakheti, which averaged under two thousand, this was a massive force. It was as if an entire minor kingdom near East Rome had picked up and moved.
No wonder Alberto was shocked by the sheer volume of people.
“Wh-what should we do?”
“First, we need to confirm if they’re really here for the guild.”
Even if they genuinely wanted mercenary work, accepting them would turn them into bandits in no time. Good intentions or not, we couldn’t just take them at their word.
“I’ll report to His Majesty in person.”
An Athēria unit numbered a thousand, so this was effectively three of them—a corps-sized force. Of course, not all three thousand nomads would be combatants. Even so, most nomads—from children to elders—could ride, making them viable soldiers. The guild might fall under my influence, but the emperor’s approval was essential.
As I prepared to leave with that in mind, a familiar voice called from outside.
“Angelos?”
“Knew you’d be here.”
Angelos Moselaph greeted me. As heir to the Moselaph family and a staunch imperial loyalist, he’d been dropping by the Uranus household like it was his own since we’d fought together on the left wing in the Bulgarian War.
“What’s up?”
“What else? You just got the report, right? Three thousand nomads heading to Theme Kolonias.”
Angelos’s intelligence network was faster than expected. Astonishing, really.
“No need to be surprised. I’ve got that intel locked down.”
The Moselaphs traced back to Arab immigrants, so it made sense that Angelos would catch wind of eastern movements first.
“You’re heading straight to His Majesty, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Mind a quick detour before we go?”
“Where to?”
“The Komnenos estate.”
“Komnenos?”
When Angelos had been protokentarchos, his direct superior was Manuel Erotikos Komnenos. Visiting them made sense, but why now?
As if reading my mind, Angelos answered promptly.
“You don’t know what His Excellency was doing while we were in Bulgaria?”
“No clue.”
“Holding off Georgia and the Fatimids.”
“Ah...!”
A historical fact clicked into place. During the Bulgarian War, Georgia and the Fatimid Caliphate had relentlessly raided East Rome’s frontiers. Georgia wanted lands lost to East Rome under Bagrat III. The Fatimids, aiming to check East Rome’s power, allied with them against common interests. These skirmishes had dragged on amid the Bulgarian campaign—and I’d been oblivious.
“How did I not know about this?”
“Because the Komnenos family handled it so well.”
No rumors meant no problems. The empire’s east stood firm under their command, as the saying went: no news was good news.
“Anyway, we should visit the Komnenoi, get the full picture, and secure more cooperation.”
Angelos’s suggestion rang true. We headed straight for the Komnenos estate.
Servants greeted us upon arrival. When we stated our business, a Komnenos family member emerged: neatly trimmed beard, commanding presence. A warrior through and through.
“Welcome, Lord Uranus and Lord Moselaph. I am Ioannis Komnenos, second son of the house.”
Ioannis Komnenos—the progenitor of the Komnenian dynasty and all direct East Roman lines thereafter. Unlike his fame, records before Asakios’s rebellion were scarce, leaving his youth a mystery. I hadn’t expected to meet him like this.
“Sorry for the sudden visit. Is His Excellency inside?”
Angelos’s question drew a shake of the head from Ioannis.
“Apologies. Trouble in the east—Father and my brother headed to the military district.”
The “trouble” was likely the nomad migration.
“That’s why we’re here.”
Ioannis tilted his head at my words, so I laid out the nomad situation.
“Three thousand nomads applied to my mercenary guild... or rather, it feels more like they’re seeking ennoblement.”
Even saying it sounded absurd. But with no better way to put it, I relayed Alberto’s report verbatim.
“So these three thousand nomads are all here to see you, Lord Uranus?”
“Nominally, yes. Though who knows their real intent.”
We couldn’t trust nomad words blindly. The moment three thousand set foot on East Roman soil, motives could shift. It wasn’t a simple matter.
“Nominally... I see. Since you haven’t met them yet, I understand.”
Ioannis seemed to grasp it (sort of). He pondered briefly, then asked leave.
“If it’s no trouble, could you wait a moment?”
“Of course.”
Ioannis returned in uniform.
“You’re both off to see His Majesty?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll join you.”
“What about your house...?”
Angelos’s concern prompted a dismissive wave from Ioannis.
“My youngest brother’s here. Let’s go.”
No sense arguing with the man himself. We set off together for the palace.
“By the way, Lord Ioannis.”
“Yes, Lord Uranus?”
“We came to the Komnenoi for intel on the east. Anything you can share?”
Ioannis shook his head apologetically.
“Sorry. I don’t know much myself.”
“Then why see His Majesty?”
“Your words worried me about Father and Brother. I’ll request to join them in the east.”
It made perfect sense from his view. Three thousand nomads posed a national threat; fretting over family was natural.
We rode and soon reached the palace. Flashing my Varangian Guard captain’s medallion—granting direct imperial audience—the guards opened the gates.
Inside, the emperor sifted through a mountain of reports.
“You’re here.”
His eyes stayed on the papers, but he continued smoothly, as if expecting us.
“Reports say three thousand nomads have reached the border.”
He picked up one report and fixed his gaze on me.
“They want to join your mercenary guild. Heard anything?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I learned this morning and came straight to report.”
“I see. Haven’t spoken to them yet, then?”
“No.”
“They haven’t reached here, so no face-to-face.”
The emperor rose and approached the map.
“Hours from now, they’ll hit Theme Kolonias.”
His finger pointed to the eastern edge—modern Armenia, fragmented now, with Kolonias covering part of Lesser Armenia in the west.
“Even if their purpose is innocent, their numbers demand vigilance.”
He turned to me.
“Lord Rogerius.”
“Your command, Your Majesty.”
“I appoint you strategos.”
Suddenly naming me commander of the border field army. He followed by appointing Angelos as infantry commander and Ioannis as administrative quartermaster.
We three stood stunned by the abrupt commissions. The emperor explained.
“If these three thousand seek surrender, Lord Rogerius, lead them straight to Georgia.”
Angelos reacted with shock, bowing formally.
“Do you intend full war with Georgia?”
“Georgia broke their pact with Us. We endured during the Bulgarian War out of mercy, yet they persist in encroaching.”
Lands due to Rome after David III. Bagrat III’s diplomacy earned imperial leniency—only partial annexation. Yet his son, George I, sought reclamation, striking Rome’s rear amid Bulgaria, allied with enemy Fatimids.
Georgia repaid grace with betrayal. From the emperor’s view, outrageous.
His sentiment was understandable—but only if the nomads truly surrendered.
“And if they use surrender as cover to plunder the border?”
Ioannis’s question drew a curt reply.
“Kill them.”