"Your Majesty, as the monarch so highly anticipated by the Romans, how could you do such a thing!?"
The morning after the "Night of the Scimitars," upon learning that his Caesar had launched a coup the previous night, completely seizing control of the city, Justinian Seresnus, the Chief Minister who had always been amenable to Caesar, uncharacteristically burst into the Grand Palace to see Caesar. No, it was less a request and more an interrogation.
As if he had long anticipated his Chief Minister's fury, Manuel, who immediately granted him an audience, calmly had the real and fabricated charges against the nobles he had arrested yesterday laid before Seresnus after hearing his interrogation. "Are these reasons not enough?"
But the Chief Minister swept the documents aside without even a glance, staring directly into Caesar's brown eyes, and continued to question why he had done such a thing. "Your Majesty, I want the real reason!"
"They refused to accept, and even resisted, Us. Is that reason not enough?"
Caesar's understated tone only further enraged the already furious Chief Minister, causing him, in his emotional state, to even utter something quite audacious: "Your Majesty, you are a monarch, not a tyrant. This is not something a monarch should do..."
"Enough!" The exasperated Manuel finally roared at his minister, rising to dismiss him. But the Chief Minister fearlessly met his gaze, as if something compelled him to stand his ground, even at the risk of losing everything he currently possessed.
Before the Chief Minister could say anything more, the impatient Caesar gestured to his guards to surround his Chief Minister. Some guards had already drawn their scimitars from their sheaths, pointing the blades at Seresnus, who had not yet reacted, waiting only for Caesar's command to ensure that this former powerful minister of the Autocratic State would meet an untimely end on the spot.
At this moment, Manuel shook his head and sat back down in the chair he had just occupied, observing the expression on the face of the Chief Minister who had followed him for many years: from astonishment, to shock, then to helplessness and indignation. All sorts of complex emotions appeared on the face of this Chief Minister who had served him for over a decade.
"Never mind," Caesar finally said with a wry smile, instructing the guards to sheathe the blades pointed at the Chief Minister. "For a while, for my sake and for yours, go somewhere else to calm down. I think the Apennine Peninsula would be a good choice."
"Your Majesty, I am the Chief Minister of the Autocratic State..." Seeing Caesar about to turn and leave, Seresnus momentarily wanted to continue speaking, but was directly silenced by Caesar's angry roar as he turned.
"Seresnus, do you want Me to spell it out so clearly? You are suspended!"
With that, Caesar turned and left, leaving his old subordinate to stand bewildered in the wind.
After a long period of reflection on having fallen out with his Chief Minister at such a critical juncture, Manuel finally settled down at an oak table, took out paper and pen, and began writing a letter. He wanted to inform his Brother-in-law of some of the events currently unfolding in Constantinople and to offer him counsel, persuading Constantine, who was still Basileus, to make the choice he believed was right.
Before long, his handwritten letter, along with the stubborn Palaiologos family supporters arrested last night, would be sent to Morea. At that time, even if Constantine XI did not understand the meaning of the letter, he would surely grasp his deeper intentions from those who were escorted there.
What choice would this nominal Basileus make then? Thinking of this, Manuel couldn't help but rise and look out the window, his eyes filled with tension and seriousness. No matter what, he had to be prepared for the worst, such as another civil war among the Romans.
Two mornings later, in the Mistras Palace, Constantine XI, Basileus of the Roman Empire, received an envoy from Constantinople. What made him uneasy was that the envoy claimed to be acting on behalf of his Brother-in-law, Bosporus Caesar Manuel, and that the ship he arrived on also carried some unidentified individuals. This only deepened Constantine's worry and confusion: what had his good Brother-in-law been doing while he was away from the capital?
But when he questioned the envoy, the other party merely smiled casually, handed him a letter from his pocket, and said no more. Left with no choice, Constantine XI complied with the envoy's wishes, and only after confirming that the letter was indeed handwritten by his Brother-in-law, did he open it and begin to read.
Skipping the superfluous greetings and prayers, Constantine quickly scanned his eyes to the most important part of the letter, silently reading every word:
"Brother-in-law, I know you are very puzzled and worried about what I have been doing in Constantinople. Before God's justice, I can only answer: doing what a Roman should do."
"Reading this, you might be puzzled, or indignant, or even want to tear this letter to shreds immediately. Because you have undergone holy baptism, and have God's grace..."
Constantine read on to the next paragraph without hesitation. Clearly, he was more interested in the situation in the capital, as described by the other party, than in empty flattery. And he instinctively believed that the more flowery the pleasantries in the letter, the worse the situation in Constantinople must be.
"...Ottoman Sultan Murad II is the most benevolent and kind Sultan among the Turks, yet even a monarch who displayed such nobility still tore up the peace treaty we made with him last year, seeking to crush the hope of Roman revival. To save the Empire at that time, we all stood up for our homeland, doing our respective duties."
"During this period, I was fortunate to receive the help of Constantinople and its residents, expending great effort to defeat the invading Turks, and then, by chance, I even killed this faithless infidel outside Adrianople. Afterward, the vast Turk state fractured, and with the help of the remaining Romans in the ancient Roman lands, I was fortunate to reclaim these lost territories, helping them return to the Empire."
"I have heard that those who have lost their wealth and homes, even if they retain their sincere hearts, cannot pass it on to their descendants; I have also heard that ancient families, once renowned throughout the world, have turned to dust under the wash of time's long river;"
"Even if we can retain our love for our homeland after the destruction of the Roman nation, which all of us Romans sincerely love, how long can that last? A hundred years? Three hundred years? Or five hundred years? Now, from Britannia to Italia, even that small and lovely city-state on the banks of the Tiber River, where we originated, has gradually separated from the Roman world after the collapse of the Western Empire, and even the Romans in those lands have degenerated into barbarians speaking Latin."
"Brother-in-law, you know better than I how the beloved children of Christians in those fallen lands were snatched away by infidels, turning them into savages who then suppressed their own compatriots. 'The barbarians drive us into the sea, and the sea drives us towards the barbarians.' Brother-in-law, you know Gildas's words, don't you?"
"...Reading this, you might think I am telling empty lies, using ridiculous sophistry to trick you into making concessions. But in this matter alone, I hope you can trust me: my feelings for the Roman nation are second to none. I do not wish for a day, years from now, when a group of people reads our texts, yet uses ridiculous theories to argue that we are not Romans but something else. I even more so do not wish for a day when someone will call us all 'Byzantine' or 'Little Thrace,' thereby dividing us from our ancestors."
"Therefore, I hope to lead the Empire. And what about you?"
Reading this, Constantine already understood the other party's actions and intentions. But in such a significant context, a thought that was very out of place couldn't help but pop into his mind: "From which ancient texts did my Brother-in-law learn so many parallel phrases, and cite so many classics to express his feelings?"
Setting aside this irrelevant thought, Constantine also understood what the other party sought. Manuel's meaning, though veiled, was not difficult to guess: he wanted to claim the imperial title, to become the Basileus who dominated the Empire, rather than merely holding a co-ruling title.
Understanding this, Constantine felt a mix of emotion and a tingling sensation on his scalp. But he could only force himself to continue reading. After a cursory glance through a few paragraphs that were beautifully worded but lacked the previous sincerity, the letter reached its conclusion:
"Furthermore, Brother-in-law, your wife, son, and mother will temporarily be cared for by me. You need not worry about them, as they are, after all, my relatives. I swear before God that I will not harm any innocent person, so I have chosen to send your people to your territory to continue serving you."
"I hope that you will be willing to allow me to share the glory of the crown, as previous Brother-in-laws have done. I will not invade Morea, as a token of my sincerity in sharing the glory, and Thessaly I also cede to you, hoping that you can quickly reclaim this silk-rich treasure land after the Turks flee and before the Slavs arrive."
"May the glory of the Holy Trinity protect you forever."
After reading the letter, Constantine XI was unsettled for a long time. He wanted to reproach Manuel for plucking the fruit that should have been his, yet he clearly understood that his own preservation, and that of Morea, was due to the other party's efforts; he wanted to curse Manuel for usurping a crown that he should not have taken, yet he involuntarily felt ashamed of his own lackluster performance after being crowned; he wanted to scold Manuel for being cunning and cruel, yet he knew that only such a ruthless yet measured person could save the Empire.
He thought a great deal. Finally, he laughed uncontrollably at the envoy, and after a good while, Constantine XI Dragases Palaiologos still made what he believed was the most correct choice:
"Tell my Brother-in-law that the crown he is about to wear, and that city, are both what he deserves."
"Your Majesty, you seem to have misunderstood something," the envoy "politely" reminded him, "Constantinople belongs to no Majesty, nor to anyone else; she is the city of all Romans, nothing more."