"By the grace of the Lord, I hereby formally declare that I entrust the crown of the Basileus and the authority to govern Rome to my co-emperor Theodore III Gavras… From this day forward, I shall only serve as a co-Basileus of the Empire…"
In October 1475, after sending his eldest son to campaign against the Mamluks, reclaiming Cilicia and Antioch, and adding "Lord of Antioch" to his titles, Manuel III Gavras formally announced his abdication in the Senate in Constantinople, entrusting the great power of ruling the Empire to his eldest son.
It was from this time that Manuel began his extensive travels throughout the Empire.
During this period, imperial palaces across the Roman Empire rose one after another, with five being built within the 25 years of the emperor's abdication.
Among them, Manuel's favorites, apart from his old home, the Mangup Palace, and the Trabzon Palace, which were filled with memories, was the Malta Palace.
During the old emperor's subsequent 25 years of retirement, he visited this palace, located within the island fortress complex, a remarkable 12 times, with his cumulative stay even reaching 8 years.
It was also on this island that Manuel began personally cultivating cabbage, experiencing the joy of an old farmer.
"However, the soil on this small island is still too barren," the emperor, who had been growing cabbage for many years, complained to his family and confidants on a summer night.
Twenty-five years passed in a flash—
In the deep night of early 1500, the 88-year-old Manuel III Gavras lay peacefully in the Grand Palace, situated by the Golden Horn.
Surrounded by his descendants, confidants, and servants, he lay quietly on his bed, dressed in clean and tidy ceremonial robes, awaiting his final moments.
The former emperor was once quick-witted, able to arrange the entire country meticulously after only a moment's thought, but now he felt tired even concentrating.
Therefore, with his graying beard trembling slightly, he could only narrow his eyes to feel less weary.
Fortunately, he had already settled all his affairs a few hours prior.
Thus, after giving his final instructions, he was able to let go of everything and find peace in the last moments of his life.
What path would the Roman Empire take after he was gone?
In his 88 years of life, Manuel personally led this ancient nation out of the brink of destruction, restored the Romans to their former glory, and crushed, annihilated, and defeated all of Rome's enemies.
In the 25 years since he laid down his burden, the White Sheep Dynasty, which once threatened the Empire, had been in turmoil; the Mamluks, who had intended to expand their sphere of influence in Asia Minor, were instead so thoroughly defeated by East Rome that their prestige was lost, causing the Emirs of Syria to begin defying orders; across the distant Atlantic, he had specifically used his knowledge from his previous life to draw maps, leading the Romans to discover a new continent right after the Iberians, and the greek language began to take root in the Antillia islands ①.
Now, across the vast lands of Romania, the Romans, the main body of the Empire, enjoyed grain grown in the plains along the Aegean Sea and dairy products, pork, beef, and lamb from the Anatolian pastures, sprinkling West Indian and Cypriot cane sugar on their white bread.
After eating their fill, they would drink delicious and high-quality wine from the Greek Peninsula, and those with some spare money would sip beverages brewed from tea leaves from the distant East.
Talented young citizens diligently studied to attend the University of Constantinople, and orthodox priests everywhere sincerely proclaimed the "restorer" Manuel's benevolence to the Roman people: thanks to the Roman field army's periodic sweeps against Turk horse bandits every few years, even the countryside, which the emperor's large hands rarely touched, became much more peaceful.
As for the pagan commoners within the borders, every emperor "mercifully" pointed out a clear path for them: conversion, migration, or taxation.
After he began incorporating nomads into the governing system and gently transforming their Islam-soaked traditions through orthodox, many Romans were surprised to find that regions they had considered completely paganized actually showed signs of reverting to orthodox—though this "orthodox" could hardly be called devout.
By then, he had laid the foundation for the Roman Empire's resurgence, awaiting his descendants to exert their efforts and fully guide the Roman Empire back to its rightful direction.
Recalling this, Manuel, who had anticipated it, came back to his senses and glanced at the bedside.
His personally chosen heir, Alexander Gavras, who was both his grandson and great-grandson, was sobbing uncontrollably for his grandfather and great-grandfather, making Manuel reflect on past events with a sigh in his heart.
After his eldest son passed away five years prior, and because Theodore had no sons, Manuel, who had been behind the scenes, had to step forward to consolidate the position of this child, who was then still a youth.
Ten years earlier, he and his eldest son had already chosen to entrust the throne to the "born in the purple" Alexander, who was both his grandson and great-grandson—he was the only son of Manuel's second son, Marcus Gavras, and his granddaughter, Irene, Theodore's eldest daughter.
Furthermore, in his will, he also appointed his second son, Marcus, as co-emperor, who would continue to serve as co-emperor in his father's capacity after Alexander's enthronement.
It was somewhat ironic.
Manuel on his sickbed gave a bitter smile.
He recalled that when he and his son Theodore learned of the inappropriate private relationship between Marcus and Irene, his nephew and niece, the father and son, shocked and enraged, unanimously agreed to banish the pair to a monastery.
As he hesitated on how to deal with their illegitimate son, Alexander, his wife Barbara pleaded for the child.
Whether it was a sense of responsibility as emperor and patriarch, or concern for a blood-related descendant, or perhaps a hope for some miracle to be discovered, Manuel ultimately, driven by these complex emotions, took the child named Alexander under his wing and meticulously nurtured him.
Then a miracle truly happened.
As Alexander grew up, Manuel was surprised to discover that his great-grandson, still a youth, possessed outstanding talent and keen political acumen beyond his peers.
Thus, after discussing with his eldest son, Theodore III, who was still alive at the time, he made a bold decision—he had Theodore go through the adoption process, allowing Alexander to inherit the throne as Theodore's adopted son.
After all, with both his eldest and third sons likely not to outlive him, and his second son having been preemptively stripped of his succession rights due to an illicit affair, he could only choose from the male members of his grandchildren's generation.
And then everything was arranged accordingly, right up to this year, crossing into the next century.
After finishing his thoughts, Manuel felt his mind becoming increasingly muddled.
A month ago, when Barbara passed away, it seemed to be like this too, didn't it?
Thinking of his recently deceased wife, Manuel suddenly felt a sharp pang in his heart; his physical condition had deteriorated rapidly after that.
By then, the old emperor tried his best to recall everything from the past, but he felt his thoughts becoming increasingly sluggish.
It seems the time has come.
"Will we be able to meet again?"
Just as Manuel was thinking this in his heart, whether it was an illusion or reality, everything before his eyes suddenly froze, and then, a figure he had not seen for many years but was incredibly familiar appeared.
"Is that you? It's been decades; I thought I would never see you again after you resurrected me once."
Looking at the visitor, who was still dressed in a toga and whose appearance was no different from when he first met him during his transmigration, Manuel tried his best to force out a witty smile.
"Yes," He nodded peacefully, "It's been a long time, but I didn't expect that after decades, you still have the mood to speak humorously."
"Hahaha, don't mind these details," the Basileus chuckled dryly, then asked, "What is the world after death like? Can I see the people I want to see again?"
As he posed these questions, he was surprised to find his thoughts much clearer than before.
"The research you've done over the years has touched upon part of the truth."
The figure in the toga did not directly answer his question but spoke in a roundabout way.
"Is that so," Even with such an unclear answer, Manuel largely understood.
In his later years, after ceasing his travels within the Empire, he immersed himself in his study, and to explore why he had transmigrated, he became engrossed in the study of Gnostic theology, even writing many related works.
Consequently, in the last ten or so years of his life, things became awkward between him and the orthodox Church.
Out of various considerations, the elderly emperor ultimately chose to keep these heretical dualistic theological writings a secret.
"Your wife is waiting for you." He interrupted his thoughts.
Manuel nodded and rose from the bed; at the same time, he was astonished to find his appearance had reverted to that of his youth.
So, before his departure, he asked one last question:
"Was I a good Basileus?"
"Yes, you were."
What followed was simple.
Just as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, the complete end of one era is also the beginning of another.
And Justinian Seresnus, the last person of the "Era of Revival" initiated by Manuel, as it was later called, wrote the final footnote for this era, which would be yearned for by countless future generations, on the last page of his own "Secret History of the Goths":
"He rests, though fate was cruel;
He still exists, though gnosis has departed;
Things always happen on their own,
As if night falls, and the sun sets in the west."