March (4)
"Before that."
A single phrase slipped from Himerios's lips, his tone laced with the intent to confirm something. Zoi started to speak upon hearing it, but I wanted to hear what he had to say first. With a brief nod of apology to her, I turned my full attention to him.
"There's something I need to verify."
"What is it?"
"Whether you're truly a traitor or not."
It was, by any measure, an exceedingly rude move. But from his perspective, it was entirely understandable. This wasn't just about checking if I was a traitor. Himerios, admiral of the East Roman navy and Admiralis commanding this fleet, was assessing whether I was worth serving—gauging my true capabilities.
"I've proven my loyalty to East Rome twice over, in two wars."
War Terminator. God's Wrath. All my epithets stemmed from the Bulgarian and Georgian campaigns. A foreigner like me taking up arms personally had complex reasons behind it, but to the East Romans, I appeared as nothing more than a soldier devoted to the state.
"That's a lie. The traitor is speaking falsehoods."
A lackey of Keroularios piped up from the side, addressing the admiral directly. I scowled at the wretch.
"I know who you are. I remember you leading soldiers to pressure His Imperial Majesty and dragging him to the palace."
"You cursed wretch. I remember watching my father get hauled away by you clear as day."
Himerios shot his deputy a look that demanded to know if this was true. "I've never done such a thing. This is slander against me."
"Even if we grant Lord Rogerius that much, Your Excellency Zoi—held as a hostage—has no reason to lie for him. I'm curious why you're insisting otherwise."
Himerios proved more logical than expected. As he said, even if I could be dismissed, Zoi, a captive, had no motive to perjure herself on my behalf.
"Th-that's..."
"Moreover, Your Excellency's demeanor doesn't exactly scream 'hostage.'"
Himerios frowned, then raised his hand. His deputies drew swords to the lackey's throat.
"Nothing you've claimed matches what I've seen with my own eyes."
"If... if you kill me, Lord Keroularios won't stand for—"
Himerios dropped his hand. The deputies' blades pierced the lackey's neck.
"Gaaahhh!"
Despite the screams, the merciless butchery continued. Soon, nothing remained but an indescribably mangled heap.
Without so much as a blink, Himerios had dispatched this nameless Keroularios crony.
"I trust this proves my innocence."
As he said, the admiral had demonstrated with action that he had no ties to Keroularios. Zoi pondered briefly beside me before nodding.
"Very well, Lord Himerios. We'll hear your story."
After expressing gratitude, Himerios turned to me. "It's true you've served the state devotedly in two wars. But that alone isn't reason enough for me to follow you."
Zoi's eyes widened at his words. Just as I'd anticipated, Himerios was testing whether I was worthy of his allegiance.
"As I mentioned earlier, my marriage to Your Excellency Zoi grants me legitimacy as the Autokrator's consort and co-emperor."
Marriage to the porphyrogenita bloodline. It was the ultimate weapon no one could deny.
"I've also proven my prowess in battle through monumental feats in those two wars."
The Bulgarian and Georgian campaigns. I'd claimed the greatest honors in both, securing priority rights to plunder as reward. Few East Romans were unaware of this, so Himerios likely knew it well.
"Finally, loyal military houses stand ready to aid me, and troops still loyal to me await in Lazica."
The houses in question were the Komnenos-Ioannis and Moselaph families. Promised lands by the emperor, both had already relocated to Lazica. Angelos had abandoned his prior holdings entirely, moving his whole clan. Ioannis hadn't shifted the entire Komnenos house, but his branch had secured its own fief—effectively a successful splinter.
"You're referring to the Komnenos and Moselaph houses, I presume. Powerful families; they'll be invaluable in reclaiming the empire."
Himerios spoke highly of Angelos and Ioannis. Yet his expression suggested the trial wasn't over.
"Even with those houses' support, your visible forces amount to little more than these Varangians and a handful of Alans, don't they?"
He glanced around, and I shook my head.
"In Lazica, Turkic men await my command, ready to devote themselves to me."
The Turks, still ignorant of East Rome's upheavals, might waver upon hearing of the emperor's sudden death and the empire's fracture. Three thousand cavalry could flood in, accelerating Anatolia's fall under Turkish sway by centuries—hastening the rise of Rum Turks or even Ottomans.
But they couldn't betray me. I was certain of that. Arslan's tribe elders, women, and children remained firmly in my grasp—under guild protection, to be precise. While I'd been away from Constantinople, I'd kept them "protected" to prevent any mischief. Arslan, with no major complaints, had publicly submitted, his son serving as my page. He couldn't refuse my order to safeguard them.
This safeguard minimized the risk of Turkish revolt. Of course, it offered no guarantee against greed amid the empire's chaos. That would require my personal intervention later.
For now, what mattered was that they were under my banner. I'd use them to sway Himerios.
"Can you tell me their numbers?"
"Three thousand Turkic cavalry."
Himerios's eyes widened in shock. In this era, three thousand horse was a cataclysm.
"I intend to lead them in reuniting our fractured empire."
Himerios stared at me, face etched with disbelief at my grand ambition.
"And I'll slaughter every noble who's raised a blade against the empire."
Blood and vengeance. At this clear vow, Himerios dropped to one knee in salute.
"I pledge my service to Basileus kai Autokrator Rogerius His Majesty and Zoi Her Majesty."
"Hoo..."
In the quarters aboard ship, I sank into a seat and let out a deep sigh.
"We came this close to losing our heads."
The imperial fleet was larger than I'd imagined. Had I failed Himerios's test, we'd have suffered devastating losses.
"I didn't expect a fleet this massive—rivaling the one Manuel unleashed on Reggio Calabria."
The nobles, gnashing their teeth to capture us, had dispatched this armada, likely intimidated by our renown from two wars.
"Still, turning the imperial fleet to our side without a drop of blood spilled is a boon. It'll be a massive asset."
Most of my forces were land troops. Vikings could handle amphibious ops, but losses from two campaigns and Bjorn's recent fiasco had thinned their ranks sharply. Loyal nomads and Alans had filled the gaps—fierce on horseback, but vulnerable at sea.
"Even a crushing land victory means nothing if we can't seize the capital."
Constantinople, across the Bosphorus—a natural fortress with impregnable walls. Built by the water's edge, it was inaccessible without ships to fend off attackers and counterstrike. The Ottomans hadn't breached it until Urbain's great cannon; capturing the City was no small feat.
"But now, with this fleet, that problem's solved."
Lazica's Black Sea coast allowed shipyards. Building vessels from scratch would take time, though, so I'd planned a long siege for the capital. This windfall changed everything.
"The real headache is heading back and convincing the Turks."
That was the crux. They were mine on paper, but I couldn't rule out defiance.
"Worst case, we take the women and children hostage to force a peace."
If they wouldn't submit, coexistence was impossible. Exiling them with family as leverage would stabilize Lazica. They might return, but it'd buy time to consolidate against rival warlords.
"Hoo... my head hurts."
Too many thoughts. Craving fresh air, I stepped out to the deck.
The sailors, spotting me, saluted as if to an emperor before resuming duties.
"Feels surreal."
From Hauteville rabble to East Roman mercenary, great noble, and now emperor—albeit one without real power. The ascent was dizzyingly swift, worrisome even, but retreat was unthinkable.
"No choice but to press on."
I gazed at the sea. Our new beginning drew near—Lazica on the horizon.