Prelude (2)
The emperor entered the palace. At his appearance, all the nobles observed the proper etiquette, paying their respects to him. In response, the emperor raised his hand, signaling them to dispense with the formalities, and took his seat, gazing upon the assembly.
"I thank you all for responding so swiftly to my sudden summons."
The nobles replied to the emperor's perfunctory gratitude with simple bows. Basil II knew full well that they found this gathering uncomfortable. That was precisely why he was deliberately amplifying their unease.
"The reason I have gathered you all here today is for a commendation."
"A commendation, sire?"
At Devgoros's question—one of the nobles aligned with the aristocratic faction—the emperor nodded.
"Indeed. I intend to personally praise the one who rendered the greatest service in the war against Georgia."
The nobles recoiled in dismay. And who could blame them? Basil II was notorious as a miser, known to all. He was the sort who skipped triumphal processions for returning victorious soldiers, even ordering them not to clap because it wasted energy. For such a man to assemble the nobles for a commendation was utterly inconceivable—everyone in the room knew it.
Yet the emperor persisted with this inefficient display. The nobles couldn't fathom his motive just yet, but their instincts told them there was a profound purpose behind this unusual behavior. Thus, they held their tongues, watching to see what he would do next.
Seeing the nobles' sour expressions, Basil II chuckled inwardly and played his next card.
"Lord Rogerius Uranus."
The doors slowly creaked open at the emperor's call. Through them stepped a tall man with a lean, wiry build. Rogerius Uranus. The nobles swallowed dryly as they stared at him.
He was, in truth, a Varangian who had come to the East Roman Empire as a hostage under Lord Manuel. Just another foreign mercenary assigned to the emperor's Varangian Guard. Foreign hires were commonplace in the empire, so the nobles paid him little mind—at least, not until they learned his true identity.
But everything changed in a mere few years. Caught the emperor's eye as a teenager, he was appointed supply officer and thrust into the Bulgarian war. There, leading supply troops, he routed the enemy commander and earned the recognition of Lord Uranus—not mere praise, but adoption into the Uranus family.
From that moment, the nobles knew he was no ordinary man. Though he became a target of their wariness, Rogerius grew bolder still. Using mercenary guilds, he cornered the olive oil market, achieving economic dominance. He even eliminated the Mavrozomis family, patrons of the nobles, effectively monopolizing olive oil distribution in Constantinople.
After clashing with the nobles, Rogerius abruptly departed eastward on imperial orders. The nobles, eager to block his marriage prospects with the Porphyrogenita Zoe, were delighted to see him go. Rumors swirled of his impossible task: holding off three thousand cavalry with just a thousand infantry. They assumed he'd soon be a corpse and erased him from their minds. History was littered with empires that had crumbled before nomadic horsemen; three thousand riders were a catastrophe.
Yet Rogerius did not yield to the crisis. Instead, he won over the nomads, placed them under his command, raided Georgia, and rescued the beleaguered Manuel and Asakios. He even assaulted the capital and captured King Giorgi alive—an unprecedented feat. Soldiers dubbed the foreign mercenary the War Terminator. The Varangian's Fury. True to his legendary reputation, Rogerius now strode confidently before the nobles. Gone was the boyish teen; in his place stood a man in his twenties exuding the overwhelming presence of a lion, dominating the chamber.
Instinctively, the nobles sensed a threat to their survival in his presence—like prey before a predator.
"Ahem..."
"Cough..."
Prey could not meet a lion's gaze. The nobles cleared their throats awkwardly, averting their eyes from Rogerius's stare. He walked slowly through their midst and knelt before the emperor, performing the proper obeisance.
"You are my sword and shield, hero of the Bulgarian War, and the one who ended the Georgian conflict. I congratulate you on your victories."
The emperor's words rang with genuine warmth. As Basil II's commendation concluded, Leonus stepped forward from the side and stood beside Rogerius.
"I, Basil II, emperor of great Rome, appoint Rogerius as Dux of Lazica and Admiralis."
A Dux commanded armies and governed military districts, while an Admiralis led the navy. This granted Rogerius absolute control over all military authority in Lazica. The nobles gasped in shock at the unprecedented promotion, glaring at him with envy.
Rogerius, however, remained serene—he had already been promised these posts before deployment to Georgia. With the titles bestowed, the emperor seemed finished. But Basil II pressed on.
"Furthermore, I appoint Lord Rogerius Uranus as Praetorian Prefect."
Originally denoting Praetorian Guard officers, the title had evolved to encompass investigative powers, effectively making one an inspector general overseeing administration, legislation, judiciary, and finances—a vice-emperor in all but name. For a foreign mercenary to ascend to this post, typically reserved for imperial kin, was unheard of.
At this audacious move, the aristocratic faction leader Ioannikios stepped forward.
"Lord Rogerius's feats are remarkable, but entrusting him with the grave duties of Praetorian Prefect seems excessive."
Devgoros and Alexios, at his side, chimed in.
"It is an office long forgotten."
"Even managing regional duties in Theme Lazica would overburden him, let alone the capital's demands. He is unfit."
As the newly appointed Dux of Lazica—a considerable distance from Constantinople—their argument seemed reasonable. Yet it was only half-true. The Uranus family estates lay in Constantinople itself, so Rogerius would commute there anyway. Moreover, the Prefect's core inspections could be delegated to staff, with him merely compiling reports for the emperor. It was feasible.
The nobles knew this. Their opposition stemmed from the obvious: the emperor planned to use his pro-imperial ally Rogerius to suppress them under the guise of inspections. They gritted their teeth, determined to block it.
The emperor listened silently, then rose and fixed the nobles with his stare.
"During the Bulgarian War, I once told you all something."
Silence blanketed the palace. The emperor paced slowly among them, murmuring lowly.
"I ordered troops drawn for Bulgarian pacification."
Devgoros replied at once.
"We said conscription was difficult and offered to fund mercenaries instead."
"Yes. So tell me—how much have you actually paid for those mercenaries in Bulgaria?"
Fury laced the emperor's words. Their promised aid had fallen far short of Basil II's expectations—a perfectly reasonable grievance. The nobles fell mute.
The emperor returned to his throne and continued.
"Family matters, external threats, Islamic incursions... You offered excuses and failed to honor your pledges to me."
"..."
"The infidels did indeed invade."
"True enough. But I trust only what my eyes see. I wish to witness the innocence of your claims firsthand."
In short: sweeping inspections via Rogerius. Most nobles here hid secrets, forcing even faction leader Ioannikios to hold his tongue.
As the nobles teetered on the brink, imperial steward Leonus intervened.
"Your Majesty is correct. However, the Praetorian Prefect's duties have lain dormant for so long that we need time to select and train new officials."
Leonus calmly persuaded the emperor. Unlike the nobles' outright opposition, his call for time swayed Basil II, who nodded.
"Above all, Lord Rogerius is a battle-hardened hero with no administrative experience—least of all as a foreigner overseeing East Roman affairs. Preparation is essential."
An irrefutable point, one even Rogerius conceded. Having convinced both, Leonus concluded by praising Rogerius.
"I have no doubt an exceptional man like Lord Rogerius Uranus will master it swiftly."
As a non-aristocrat, Leonus's words rang as sincere counsel, not politics. The emperor nodded and accepted.
"I shall heed Lord Leonus's advice."
The nobles sighed in relief. The commendation speeches for Rogerius wrapped up, and the mood shifted to conclusion.
"Finally, to Lord Rogerius, who has earned such great merit: what is it you desire?"
At that moment, Zoe entered the chamber. As all eyes turned to her, Rogerius rose as if prepared.
"Grant me permission to wed Zoe Porphyrogenita."