Reconstruction (4)
Far in the distance, the enemy army came into view. For forces moved so close to the border, their calm demeanor aroused suspicion.
“What would be best, Your Majesty?”
Angelos’s question gave me pause. I pondered for a moment.
“Since the enemy shows no intent to attack near the border, it would be wise to attempt dialogue first.”
Angelos nodded at my words. At his gesture, the Varangian unit waiting behind advanced.
“The Varangian Guard will protect His Majesty.”
The Varangians stepped forward in response. With my ascension to emperor, the emperor’s personal guard—the Varangians—had naturally become my guard.
“Everyone, keep your weapons ready and stay vigilant.”
At the command, Halvar mounted his horse. Now captain of the Varangian Guard, he advanced slowly at my side, ready to support me.
As we arrived, the commander of Trebizond Kalesi dismounted. Spotting the flag I bore—purple with a golden eagle—he offered formal obeisance.
“I pay my respects to the glory of East Rome.”
Like Himerios, he exuded an air of not yet acknowledging me as emperor. That was only natural; I had not publicly proclaimed my emperorship. To become emperor required marriage to Zoi and announcing it—but doing so would make me a target for all. With Lazica only just recovering, drawing every eye upon us was unwise. For that reason, I planned to expand my power base first, then formalize my marriage to Zoi and declare my emperorship to the world.
Be that as it may, in this moment, few in the empire were unaware of the imperial flag, so his show of respect was expected.
“I am Andronikos Kantakouzenos, catepan of Trebizond Kalesi. Who might you be, flying His Majesty’s banner?”
Andronikos Kantakouzenos inquired politely about my identity. Seeing no hostile intent, I answered.
“I am Rogerius Uranus, consort of Empress Zoi and autokrator of the Roman Empire.”
At Zoi’s name, Andronikos immediately bowed his head. In stark contrast, the grim-faced man beside him regarded me warily before slowly offering obeisance.
Something felt off. I posed a question to them.
“What brings you leading soldiers onto my territory?”
“That is…”
The young catepan glanced nervously at the man. The grim-faced one stepped forward, offered an awkward obeisance, and introduced himself.
“I am Peter Deljan. As a mere peasant by birth, I beg your indulgence for my poor manners.”
Peter Deljan. One of the Bulgarian independence fighters who, under Michael IV, had rebelled to revive the Bulgarian Empire. Still, I needed to confirm if this was the man I thought.
“Your Greek is unpracticed. Are you perhaps from Bulgaria?”
Peter glanced at me cautiously. His name wasn’t even Greek, so hiding it was impossible from the start.
“…Yes. I am Bulgarian by birth. And…I know of Your Majesty’s dread title.”
War Terminator. Recalling where that epithet originated made Peter’s words all too understandable. The figure who had greatly contributed to Bulgaria’s defeat—and plundered the imperial palace, hauling off untold treasures—could only appear a savage Viking to them.
“Do I inspire fear in you?”
Peter hesitated at my question. When our eyes met, he finally dropped to his knees and confessed the truth.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Yet even so, you’ve led an army here alongside your lord. Why?”
Peter could not answer immediately. His lord, Andronikos, finally stepped forward.
“I… I insisted we come.”
“M-my lord.”
Andronikos raised a hand to silence Peter and continued.
“We… we came seeking alliance.”
“You bring an army to the border seeking alliance?”
“…”
“If the foe proves strong, ally; if weak, attack. That was your intent, no doubt.”
The purpose of marching troops to the border. Even absent direct intent to attack, deploying forces nearby was a military provocation, regardless of motive.
“N-no, it wasn’t like that. We had no idea Your Majesty was in Lazica…”
“No idea? My appointment as dux of Lazica was announced before my marriage to the porphyrogenita. Do you deny this?”
I had already secured Lazica before becoming emperor through marriage to Zoi. Claiming ignorance of my presence was absurd. I had struck at the heart of the matter. As my mood soured, Peter stepped forward.
“Your Majesty speaks true.”
“Peter!”
Andronikos looked shocked.
“My lord bears no guilt. It was I, a Bulgarian, who plotted this out of thirst for vengeance against Your Majesty.”
Bulgarian vengeance. In modern times, with notions of ethnicity and national identity, it might hold water. But this was the Middle Ages. A peasant’s loyalty to a nation was laughable. Moreover, Peter was half-Armenian, half-Magyar—not mainstream South Slav Bulgarian—so ethnic ties were tenuous. His claim rang entirely false.
“A lie.”
As Peter tried to double down, Andronikos interjected.
“Forgive us, Your Majesty. I will tell you the full truth.”
This time, Andronikos spoke without trembling. The young lord explained clearly why he had undertaken this folly. After losing his father, Trebizond Kalesi teetered on collapse. Desperate to survive, young Catepan Andronikos sought allies—only to receive humiliating demands from neighboring duces, not offers of alliance. Thus, he planned to pressure the vast but underdeveloped lands of Lazica militarily to force an alliance. And if Lazica seemed vulnerable, he intended to conquer it outright. My earlier prediction had been spot on.
A young lord striving to protect his house. A deputy risking all for the lord who saved him. Touching loyalty, perhaps—but no reason for me to indulge it.
“In the end, your plan contemplated war. I see no cause to understand—or forgive—you.”
Andronikos and Peter paled. At my words, the soldiers behind began forming battle lines. The air thickened with imminent combat.
Andronikos pleaded desperately.
“Your Majesty, I swear we knew not of Empress Zoi in Lazica. We sought only… alliance.”
“Too late.”
Battle preparations concluded in an instant. At my command, the Turkic cavalry surged forward.
Then Peter knelt and begged mercy.
“Take my head. Please, show mercy!”
“Is a peasant’s head worth so much?”
Cold words, but natural in a stratified world. To end it all with one life demanded a status to match. In this harsh realm, a peasant’s worth was cheap.
“Seek mercy? Then surrender your army to me. Or face war.”
War with Trebizond Kalesi would ravage Lazica. Yet I pressed hard to subdue them without battle. An alliance would benefit us— their expertise in fortifications could accelerate Lazica’s growth. But I refused for one clear reason: pressuring foes into alliance signaled weakness. The moment they deemed us easy prey, the pact would shatter, and they’d devour us. Militarily equal but morally superior, I exploited this to crush them and absorb Trebizond bloodlessly.
Thus, I demanded surrender. Andronikos replied without hesitation.
“We surrender. To… Your Majesty. B-but…”
Trembling in terror, yet bargaining. His spirit pleased me; I would hear his terms, granting them if reasonable.
“Peter acted only for me. Forgive his misguided loyalty.”
Not pleas to save his house or status—but for his devoted deputy. In a world rife with betrayal, this young catepan’s nobility outshone power-drunk nobles.
“I accept.”
“Th-thank you. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Andronikos thanked me profusely for sparing his deputy. Peter, deeply moved, seemed ready to lay down his life.
“I shall not destroy the Kantakouzenos house, which truly cherishes its men. I hold it as one of the empire’s most noble lineages.”
Andronikos gaped in shock. With equal forces, ruining them was near impossible. I planned to expand my power through them—using their loyalty as propaganda.
“Thus, I appoint the Kantakouzenos family as dux of the Kaldia theme.”