Uranos-Makedon (4)
Michael Kerularios ascended to the position of Ecumenical Patriarch. As Michael I, he became the leader of all clergy in the East Roman Empire. An unprecedented figure who rose to the patriarchate at a remarkably young age. While his own talents were exceptional, the external forces supporting him played a crucial role in placing him there.
"The vestments suit you well, Your Holiness."
A man approached Michael with a smile. Archbishop Asporos offered his congratulations.
"It's thanks to you, Archbishop Asporos."
"No, I merely followed God's will in aiding Your Holiness."
Asporos replied humbly. Yet his eyes gleamed with evident desire. A devout believer from Sicily, he had witnessed Christian children abducted by Muslim slave traders in his youth. People sold as slaves to row the great galleys, forced to pull oars until the brink of death. Disobey, and they gouged out eyes; resist, and they tore out tongues. Muslims of unmatched cruelty.
Later in life, he encountered Muslims who had converted to Christianity, and through conversations with them, he learned that Muslims were not inherently so. Through this series of experiences, Asporos refined his thoughts. Humans were beings capable of reform. He concluded that Islam—the religion that turned blank slates into demons—was the root problem.
But the Muslims' power was overwhelming, and his family's influence in Sicily alone was insufficient. He realized that to expel these mighty heretics, the Christian world needed to unite. That required the power of the Ecumenical Patriarch. He planned to have the patriarch, wielding immense influence over the church, denounce the Muslims and call for their expulsion by force. Asporos believed this would reunite the fractured church to attack the heretics.
To achieve this, he had his eye on a young, ambitious candidate: Michael. Seeing him as a divine revelation, he actively recommended him as the faction leader. Thus, Michael I became Ecumenical Patriarch—the fruit of Asporos's labors.
"Now that Your Holiness has become God's herald, what will you do first?"
"The world is full of suffering souls, tormented by war, famine, and violence."
Michael made the sign of the cross with a pious expression. Asporos followed suit, crying "Amen."
"In the East, heretics have taken root. It was once holy land following God's teachings, but now defiled and ruined by filthy, ugly pagans."
"Well said."
Asporos nodded in agreement.
"I shall pray for the Christians there and reclaim the holy sites graced by God's glory, bringing them peace and rest."
"Excellent words. But Rome is divided and plunged into chaos."
Divided Rome. Michael knew better than anyone that the East Roman Empire was faltering.
"Only a united Rome can be the true spear piercing false faiths."
Asporos nodded in empathy. He then drew a letter from his robes and handed it to Michael.
"A letter from the Kerularios family."
A letter from his own family. Michael frowned slightly upon seeing his father's name. His parents, whom he had scarcely met due to harsh training from childhood, had long used him as a tool to expand the family's influence. He instinctively sensed they wanted something again.
Their relationship was one of letters alone. Though priestly in name, it felt more like father and son—and Michael inwardly regarded the archbishop before him as a true father figure. Asporos felt the same. Knowing Michael well, he immediately noticed the subtle shift in expression.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Since it's from the family, I'll read it."
Michael examined the letter's contents. Fully grasping his biological father's demands, he made no effort to hide his displeasure.
"What does it say?"
"Pardon me. It's so distasteful I hesitate to speak it."
Michael handed the letter to Asporos. The archbishop read it and frowned just as deeply.
"Excommunicating rivals to eliminate them? What do they take God's herald for?"
Asporos voiced exactly what Michael had been thinking. Michael nodded in agreement.
"Infuriating."
"Yet I reached this position with the family's help. Openly defying the Magistros who advises the emperor would be difficult."
Michael judged the situation coolly. True to his noble faction origins, he was exceptionally adept at politics.
Asporos pondered briefly, then raised a finger as if struck by a clever idea.
"If you can't refuse the demand, why not postpone it?"
"Postpone... you mean?"
"Yes, Your Holiness. There's no deadline for a reply, so delay as long as possible and observe the situation."
"By 'situation,' you mean stand by while the nobles and Emperor Rogerius clash?"
"Precisely. Both sides hold legitimacy; no need to make enemies of either."
Michael had risen to patriarch with family aid. But now at the pinnacle of church power, he had no reason to be swayed by them. As church head, he should prioritize the church's interests.
"But prolonged inaction will bring pressure from the Kerularios family."
"Then raise the matter of a holy war."
"A holy war...!"
Michael's eyes lit up. As evident from his talk with the archbishop, under Asporos's influence, he yearned to drive out Muslims and reclaim the holy lands. But as patriarch, direct war involvement had limits. He needed secular power—armies.
"Secure firm promises of participation, troop commitments, and funding before issuing excommunication. It won't be too late then."
"Sound logic. But if the Kerularios family gains dominance, they'll likely be lukewarm toward it."
The fractured East Roman Empire. Even after reuniting Rome, war with heretics required 4-5 years of preparation—Michael knew that. Yet even accounting for it, Kerularios dominance meant tepid crusade support. A family producing a patriarch and eliminating Rogerius would face no rivals in the empire, wielding power to topple birds from the sky. With such might, they gained little from a crusade—hence their reluctance.
Michael knew his father Ioannikios well. A man who sent his own son to patriarch for power would never fight a holy war out of faith.
Sensing this, Asporos made a proposal.
"Then how about this?"
The archbishop raised the index fingers of both hands. Michael watched with interest.
"Propose the holy war to Emperor Rogerius and Empress Zoi as well."
"To them too?"
"Yes. If they embrace it enthusiastically, who could deny their true Christianity?"
It sounded sophistic, but rang true. The crusade's purpose was holy land reclamation—a faith-driven act. Eager participation proved devout Christianity.
"No need to excommunicate the truly faithful, right?"
Asporos smirked. Michael applauded the archbishop's brilliant scheme in admiration.
After the coronation, numerous Anatolian warlords—the duces—came to visit.
"They all look tense-eyed, like they're here to find some flaw in Your Majesty's armor," Geoffrey said.
Humphrey, beside him, grunted in agreement.
"Black-hearted lot. Tsk."
My brothers remained as sharp as ever. I smiled and chided them gently.
"Some can be persuaded."
They nodded. Having governed as count of Reggio Calabria for some time after its conquest, they had quickly grasped the political nuances.
Regardless, since the coronation, my brothers had insisted on formal address. To lighten the mood, I teased playfully.
"That aside, with just us three brothers here, must you keep up the stiff formality?"
"We can't... Ow! Why hit me, Geoffrey?"
Geoffrey glared. Then, turning to me with proper decorum, he replied.
"You are no mere count of a small land, but the leader and emperor of a vast empire. Even among us three, protocol must be observed."
A crisp response revealing Geoffrey's regard for discipline. I had no retort—Angelus had done the same. Once casual comrades, even before my coronation, he had switched to formal speech. Lord Ioannis too. Thus, no exceptions for blood brothers when outsiders demanded decorum. As leader, it was inevitable; too many exceptions would dilute my words and actions.
"You still teach me, brother."
Geoffrey smiled in response. Seeing it, Humphrey looked abashed.
"Everyone's here."
Zoi arrived right on cue. As she entered in splendid robes, my brothers bowed in respect.