Stories Thread

[OverKnight]

(Coop with Ignoramus)

Constantinople, 1095

Ioannis marched boldly towards his father's private chambers within the Imperial Palace. The guards respectfully retired as they saw the Caesar coming towards them.

"Greetings father! I trust your campaign did you well?" began Ioannis.

The Basileus smiled as he looked up from reading a letter. He motioned his son to a seat beside him.

"Hello Ioannis. A bit of luck in Sofia with our agent, he found some citizens who wished for the return of the Empire's rule and they opened the gates. Bucharest took a bit longer, but I was able to take that pirates' lair easily enough."

Aleksios leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "The trick will be in having the locals accept the true faith. I hope the new Church will help."

Putting aside the letter he asked his son, "And how was your campaign in Anatolia? More than one close call with the Turks it seems."

"It was," agreed Ioannis, "but thankfully we managed to outpace them. Comes Chrysovergos is hoping to return all of Pontus to your rule. The Turkish horsemen are of little use in besieging coastal cities. We can simply bring in supplies by sea."

Turning seriously to his father, Ioannis looked him squarely in the eye. "Father, we have done well so far in managing the Magnaura, but I am worried about how long we can manage to hold them in check. They're baying for war against almost anyone they can think of. One would think we were a pack of Huns under Attila."

Aleksios drummed his fingers on the table, thinking for a moment, and then spoke, "While there are a few Senators who would be more suited to a life of pillaging and rapine, I would not make the mistake of lumping the entire Senate into that category. Senator Ampelas seeks a more moderate path. Even Senator Tagaris wishes to show mercy to the cities we capture.

"For all the talk of war, the Edict authorizing may not even be seconded. Surely that is encouraging?"

Sighing, Ioannis continued, "Yes, but how long can it last? Sooner or later we will find ourselves fighting both the Catholics and the Moslems at the same time. Remember how that scoundrel Bohemond and his father threatened war against us? Thankfully, his father is dead and the son disinherited, but his ambition knows no bounds. I would not like to be facing him and the Turks at the same time.

"At the moment there is no discontent amongst the nobles, but as this past century has shown, establishing a dynasty is anything but easy."

Aleksios nodded, "Too true. War will come, one way or the other. I hope the Senate will have the wisdom to wait, so we can initiate hostilities at a time and place of our choosing when we are fully prepared.

"As for a dynasty, I'm just content that my reign has already been longer than that of any of the last eleven Emperors, including the last three added together. Think of that, my son, and weep for the Empire."

[AussieGiant]

Constantinople, 1095

Apionnas sat in the governors chambers.

Around him the staff where preparing for his imminent departure. Final word from the Basileus was all that was left. His time in the capital had certainly been beneficial as the city was a hub for much of the Empires administration. Having a clear picture of the economy and military situation was something he was going to have to work a lot harder at from the town of Bucharest.

He looked down once more at the Arabic letters in front of him and recalled the final words spoken to him before his compatriots left for Cairo.

Traitor, infidel, the list was longer and far more disparaging that he could have believed. Explaining why he had made his decision to comrades that had fought with him for a decade had fallen on deaf ears.

Moreover on their final meeting one of them had handed him a note. It was short, to the point and ominous.

The flowing words of the Arabic letters were a stark contrast to the meaning held within them.

"The Sultan has reformed the Mansuriyya slave regiment.

All survivors of the massacre at Adana shall report to Cairo in the month of June in the year 1100. If they do, not they will face eternal damnation, be branded cowards and traitors to the Sultan.

The penalty, death by dismemberment.

Grand Visier"

[Zim]

Mavrozomis estate, Athens, Late summer 1095

In a small room in the Mavrozomis estate, sparsely furnished with only a table and a pair of chairs, two men are seated one summer night, far later than one would expect to find members of the household awake. One of the men is seated in a corner of the room, his features shrouded by a heavy cloak. The only readily apparent identifying features he has are the fact that he is slightly above average height, and the bit of light colored hair peeking out from under the hood of his cloak. Well, those and a small symbol on the left breast of his cloak, obscured by the darkness and folds of fabric.

The other man is seated at the table. He is of average height, with dark hair. Despite being in his night clothes, the dark circles under his eyes suggest he has been awake to this hour rather than roused from bed for the meeting. Although likely once of medium build, the man looks thin now, as if from long illness or lack of food, his skin drawn tight over sunken cheekbones. Acquaintances of the man would recognize him as Kosmas Mavrozomis, comes of Athens, although they'd remark on his haggard appearance.

Kosmas sits hunched over the table, writing on a sheet of paper. His hand shakes as he writes, though whether from illness or fear it is hard to say. Every few sentences he looks up at the other man in the room, who nods and motions for him to continue. This goes on for a short while, until it appears he is finally finished. Kosmas signs the letter with his seal, stands and shows it to the other man, who nods and takes it from him. As the man then leaves, Kosmas lets out a sigh of relief. He sits down again at the table and falls asleep with his head resting in in arms, where his servants will find him that morning.

While it is impossible to say for sure what Kosmas wrote for his guess that night, shortly after their meeting a letter with his seal begins to circulate, it's contents causing some amount of stir among those close to House Asteri. Nonetheless, when asked Kosmas affirms it completely, and friends of his note that his health is returning, although gauntness seems to have been exchanged for a haunted look, and he can be found frequently looking over his shoulder, and jumping at sudden noises.

The contents of the letter are as follows:

I, Kosmas Mavrozomis, Comes of Athens,
find myself no longer able to lead House Asteri due to poor health and the stress inherent in the position. For the good of my House and my health, I hereby grant dominion over Athens to Ioannis Kalameteros, and allow him to voluntarily rescind his oath to me, so that he may become House leader. As I wish to remain of service to House Asteri, I swear an oath of fealty to Nevoulos ek Philadelphius.

[TinCow]

Zagreb, 1095 AD

Torchlight spilled across the rampart, marking the passage of a patrolling guard. Randolf touched his squatting companion on the knee, halting his silent count.

“The count was five hundred and forty three,” the man whispered.

Even in the deep shadows of the thick brush, Randolf’s grin was wide enough to gleam in the meager starlight. “The garrison is even smaller than we had been told.” He took a fistful of dirt and began to sprinkle it absentmindedly. “A five hundred count, I could never have imagined we would be so lucky. We could march an entire regiment up to the wall before an alarm was even sounded.”

The dark cloaked companion nodded in agreement. “So the plan will go forward then?”

Randolf turned and looked back towards the walls of Zagreb, once again dark as the guard disappeared around a bend, not to replaced by another for a very long time. The Byzantine Empire had expanded with unprecedented ferocity over the previous decade. At first, it had been a minor affair, considered by most of the Catholic nations as an internal situation. After all, settlements such as Arta, Durazzo, Scopia, and Sofia had long been part of the Byzantine Empire. Their reconquest was nothing more than the Emperor reasserting his authority over his own lands.

Yet, the conquests had not stopped there. Belgrade and Bucharest had soon fallen to their armies as well, both territories to which the Byzantines had questionable claims. True, that had been under the control of Constantinople in recent decades, but they had been ruled by the Bulgarians for nearly five hundred years before Basileus Basil II had reconquered them in 1018. Much of the populations remained Catholic and they had had no love for Greek culture or authority. As if that were not enough, the Byzantines had pressed their western ambitions even further, towards Iasa and Zagreb. Their claims to these lands were even more tenuous, and the population even less hospitable. While the former had so far eluded their grasp, Zagreb had fallen unexpectantly.

The tales of the fall of Zagreb had reached even Randolf’s modest manor in Lydham. The man responsible, Methodios Tagaris, was apparently renowned for his chivalry, yet that had not been enough to appease those he conquered. The population was discontent and rioting soon broke out. The Byzantines had prevented a full-scale revolt, but the people were greatly displeased with their new rulers and the situation was tenuous.

At the same time, this sudden expansion of Byzantine territory had alarmed many Catholic noblemen. Yet, none of the nations of Christ had been willing to confront their unbridled aggression. There had been movements for war within several nations, but they had been struck down by their various Kings in the interests of ‘peace.’ Peace indeed. This pacifism was simply allowing the Emperor to establish a foothold from which he would never be dislodged. Heretical Orthodoxy would spread across all of Europe from that bastion of power. Why, even Italy and the Holy Roman Empire were within range of armies operating out of Zagreb. Appeals had been made to the Pope to call forth a Crusade against Constantinople, but he had been unwilling to make an enemy of the Byzantines. He continued to proclaim that the Muhammadans were the foremost threat, despite their isolation in the East.

So, with no one else to call upon for aid, individual men, of common blood and noble alike, had gone eastwards to do what they could to confront this threat to Catholicism. As they met, they formed into small bands, and then into regiments, and finally into armies. Randolf of Lydham had been nominated by near unanimous consent to lead them. The disgruntled local populations had swelled their numbers as they had approached their targets. These same men provided an excellent source of intelligence, as they could come and go within the cities without suspicion.

As it turned out, the Byzantine expansion had been so sudden, that the garrisons in many settlements had yet to arrive. They were guarded by feeble forces which had barely the resources to keep order, let alone repel a full-scale attack. They were not even sufficient to scout the nearby lands for enemies, and as such the advancing armies had gone unnoticed. Such arrogance would be repaid in full.

Word had reached Randolf’s camp west of Zagreb that the Byzantine aggression in the East had spawned a similar response from the Muslim residents, particularly at Sinop. The Muhammadans and Pagans had rallied around some renegade priest who had take up the unlikely name of Spartacus, obviously in an attempt to incite a similar rebellion against the Eastern Romans as his predecessor had done against the Roman Republic. With rebellions appearing on both sides of the Empire, it was the perfect time to strike. The armies had been dispersed to launch attacks all across the western frontier, in an effort to liberate the unjustly claimed cities from the Byzantine foes. Randolf’s army at Zagreb was the strongest, but the armies sent to Belgrade and Bucharest were strong as well, more than capable of defeating the meager and neglected garrisons of those cities.

And so it was that Randolf of Lydham was to be found squatting outside the walls of Zagreb in the dark of night, counting the frequency of the garrison’s patrols. He looked at his companion and nodded. “It is time. The Byzantines will pay for their folly.”

-----------------

Note: This is an Event for the purposes of Rule 1.5. Due to the slightly shortened Megas term, it has technically only been 9 turns since the previous event. I like the idea of having them timed to correspond with the normal Senate Sessions, though, so I’m going to go ahead with this one right now. If anyone has a problem with it occurring 1 turn early, let me know and I will delay it one turn.

This Event will result in the creation of large Rebel armies which will be placed outside of Zagreb, Belgrade, Bucharest, Sinop, and possibly a couple more cities. The army outside Zagreb will be led by the rebel general Randolf of Lydham (a chivalrous fellow in southern italy) and the heretic priest Spartacus (in Arabia I think) will be placed near the army at Sinop. I will then attempt to take control of the rebel faction through console commands and move the armies myself to attack the Byzantines. Any avatar inside a threatened city will have one turn to flee before the city is besieged. Anyone who remains inside a besieged city will be at serious risk of death. If this turns out not to be possible (I’ve only ever tried with normal factions, not the rebels), I will instead let the rebel armies sit where they are and instead take control of the taxation of the cities. They will be increased until the population is rioting and I will remain in full control of the taxation until the rebel armies in each of these provinces are defeated. At that time the taxation will revert to the control of the province owners.

Please be aware that I have not yet made the proper changes to the save game, so it is not currently available. It will be done and made available this evening for you to look at. Remember, Events can be blocked by a simple majority vote, if that is desired.

[Ramses II CP]

It was the dream again. Vissarionas ek Lesvou was back on the fields southwest of Antioch. His guardsmen, slowed by long years of bloodless, boring siege and the endless grind of training in the field, had taken far too long to mount up on the Grandmaster's command and now the ill equipped militia from Antioch had managed to melt away into the countryside. Dozens of nearly unrecognizable men flooding out of the gates, perhaps just fleeing the conditions within, but perhaps seeking reinforcements from the hard used villages surrounding the city. A decade of foraging had not been kind to the peasants of the Levant, and while few of them would find the courage to bear arms against the Order of St. John, fewer still would aid or love the Orthodox soldiers.

With the host assembled at last the sergeants of the Order turned as one and rode along the walls of the city. None of them thought to check the gates or look back to see how the general advance was proceeding, their eyes and will were bent with utter absorption to the first truly exciting task they'd had since the siege began; hunting down the deserters from the garrison.

Hours later, having split to search, rejoined to plan, split again to question villagers, and finally come back together wholesale the mounted men had rounded up about sixty sickly looking prisoners. The slow march back to camp was not met by any messengers, and so the sight of the nearly empty camp with only the Grandmaster's tent abuzz with activity was a shock. Where were the common troops? Where were the captains?

In his tent Makedonios was clearly recovering from his wound, if slowly due to his illness, but he could not yet speak to relate what the situation was within the walls. Vissarionas' siege slowed mind was still trying to come to terms with the whole sequence when Rafi, now Vissa's page, ran up and pointed to a thin stream of smoke rising above the city,

'There must be fighting in the city! The men need you!'

Vissa nodded, 'Ride with me Rafi, but keep your wits and ride clear of any engagements; you're not equipped for street fighting!'

Weary to the bone from the long chase into the countryside, and uncertain of the situation within Antioch, Vissarionas ek Lesvou and the sergeants of the Order nonetheless found the strength to drive their mounts to a gallop and reached the open gates of Antioch in some haste. Within the walls the situation was difficult to grasp. All along the main thoroughfare shattered doors littered the streets, partially covering a few splashes of deep red blood. The sergeants split up, some making east and west along the inner wall to secure the city gates and seek fighting, while others attempted to find any Greek speaking citizen who might tell the tale. Vissarionas' stomach had begun to twist as his suspicions grew. Calling to his guards to ride hard he bore down at the forefront and, with Rafi at his side, made for the square.

As he neared the large open space of the square he began to pass groups of women, many of them weeping and wailing as though they'd seen the end times come. Some carrying small children with the shellshocked look of the half dead. No few of the kids had hands streaked with red, and most of the women's skirt hems were darkened by drying blood.

At the wide end of the street a crowd of older women and teenage boys remained to block the view. Hearing horses at a full gallop, and seeing the tabards of the Order on the riders, they scattered with terrified looks at the soldiers. A few of the boys carried rocks, but the sight of the heavily armoured horsemen ensured most of the rocks returned to the street. At last the path to the square cleared, and Vissa could see...

...and smell...

...and even taste...

...death. Hanging thick in the air, like a blanket of flies and filth over the very surface of the earth. The unholy, unimaginable stench of it, fit to warp even the most pure intent. A towering rage overtook Vissarionas as he cast about for what enemy could be so vile as to have committed this black act, what ungodly race of demons brought forth this slaughter! Nearly all the remaining peasants now scurried away under that gaze, and even the boldest slunk into the shadows of nearby buildings.

...but surrounding the piled dead were no enemies, no imagined Muslim blackguards, towering ten feet tall and leering like beasts. No, around the square, many still carrying weapons running red with the blood of innocents, were the soldiers of the Order of St. John. White and purple tabards stained nearly black with blood. Gore covered boots tramped from structure to structure on every side of the square.

Rage fled from Vissa as quickly as it had come, and reluctantly, painfully he forced his eyes back to the mounds of dead. Most were yet intact, not hacked apart in cruelty, simply killed. They wore no armor. They were ill fed, and badly clothed. Here and there a body might carry some mark of service in the city militia, but most were simple peasants.

Not one bore a weapon.

His mouth twisted as though a dung beetle were rolling it's precious cargo within his cheeks. A thin, dry croak was the first sound to emerge from Vissa, but then he took hold of himself and managed to bark out,

'Back. Ride back now Rafi. Carry my sword back to my tent now Rafi. Go on boy, ride! Do not return. I will come for you.'

Perhaps it was foolish to go among the recently conquered people of Antioch armed only with a dagger, but suddenly Vissarionas couldn't bear the sight of his blade, with it's mark of noble St. John on the hilts. Touching briefly on the thought of drawing it from it's scabbard, even in self defense, nearly unhinged his sanity, and he turned his mind away, towards other things. Rising in the distance across the square, perhaps two hundred yards from where he now sat, was the ornate facade of Antioch's main Orthodox church. Waving a command at his guardsmen to remain where they were Vissa strode as fast as he could manage to the stone steps of the minor cathedral, intent on seeking guidance in prayer.

Nearly running up the few steps Vissarionas was about to step into the building when he realized that his last footfall had squelched.

An audible groan escaped him. His gaze tracked gradually downward, from the beautiful, sacred doors of the church to the simple stone steps and at last to his own blood drenched boots. Further back, pulling his body all the way around, he saw a bloody print on each step he'd taken ascending towards the holy structure. Beyond that his eyes moved on away from the holy place, and following his path across the slaughterhouse of the square left him now with his back turned firmly on the church at his gaze locked on the piled corpses the victims of the siege of Antioch.

There the dream ended.

The parallel was obvious. If he entered that church to seek guidance regarding his part in the hideous acts of the day, would he not be commiting a sacrilege and implicating the Orthodox church in these sins? If the Order claimed to obey God's will then what part of the capture of Antioch was in accordance with it?

Vissa had puzzled over and fought with these issues for months, and finally for years. Rafi had felt him withdraw, and at a time when the young man needed guidance the most, but had stood with him. He had gone about his daily duties as if in a dream, spending as little time in Antioch as possible. With the Senate now in session Vissa had found himself unable to participate, no longer certain enough of who he was or what sort of House he had joined to espouse an opinion. Now, however, the vote had been called. Duty required that he fulfill his obligation, both as a senator and as a member of the Order. Duty could not be denied, not even for a man who believed himself to be bereft of honor and perhaps even undeserving of his place in life.

Duty called, but also... penance. He must inform his brothers and then seek the Patriarch.

As he turned to go Vissarionas recalled something one of the more erudite brothers had read to him from a book in the Order's library. (From the Wheel of Time books): Death is lighter than a feather, duty is heavier than a mountain.

[flyd]

Constantinople, 1095

"Are you asleep?"

"Huh? What?" Makrianos awoke from a light slumber. "No. Not at all."

"Good, because I would like to continue our conversation," said Eirene, "the one we were having before we digressed somewhat."

"Yes," Markianos responded, "how we digressed indeed! But I distinctly recall initially hiring you as a spy, not as some sort of a political advisor."

Eirene was quick with a comeback, "I think our initial agreement became void when you started courting me."

"Hey!" Markianos was not yet admitting defeat, "Let the record show that you smiled at me first. I was a victim. In any case, I really shouldn't be discussing sensitive political things."

Eirene was going to say something, but Markianos was quick to realize his grave mistake. He continued, "that's not to say that I don't trust you. That is not the case at all. It's just that certain things are not for discussion... to certain... at certain... times." He had backed himself into a corner and there was no escape. He had to concede, and continue making the point he was making five to forty minutes ago (depending on who you ask).

"It seems it was only the Order who bet on the wrong chariot. I can't say I've taken it personally, but the whole thing has not endeared them to me greatly. I thought they were above plotting and scheming, but it is strange that a bunch of holy men, who publicly claim to follow the Patriarch's proclamations that we should not war with the westerners, would support Tagaris who has never disclaimed that he wishes to instigate a war with them, but not declare it so as to circumvent the wills of the Senate, Basileus, and the Patriarch.

"It seems strange that the Order would support him, and I expect secret agreements to have taken place, which hardly seems befitting what the Order claims publicly to be. But they did sack Antioch too, so they're a strange bunch of holy men by every definition of 'holy men'! Still, I don't exactly wish to see them destroyed, but they won't come to expect support from me more than the minimum they need to survive, especially if these rumors of revolts are accurate, for we'll need much resources at home.

"As for Tagaris, well, he is now in the most isolated and most poorly garrisoned city we have, and is directly responsible for any revolts in the area. Further yet, he planned to take more cities and defend them weakly, so he looked to start even more revolts. And do they not say that whatever a man will sow, that he will also reap?"

Eirene giggled. "I like it when you're being treacherous."

"What? That's not treachery. It's in the Bible, sweetie. I won't give him any less than he deserves, but it isn't much."

"Yes," she said, "but it just so happens that all those you have complaints about are the ones who voted against you. That makes it treacherous."

"Not at all," he responded, "I have clearly outlined the reasons, and they extend far beyond poor voting choices. Besides, there are Senators who voted for me whom I dislike."

"Vringas?"

"No, not really. The conversion makes me less suspicious, and the Basileus will be able to keep an eye on him. I'm not too worried. I was referring to that Michail Arianitis."

"What has he done?"

"Why, he has taken over the White Team and found them some new racer. Supposed to be good, too."

Eirene laughed. "So? That's just chariot racing."

"What?" said Markianos with great surprise. "How can it be just chariot racing? How is it even possible to construct that sentence! Just chariot racing. I dare say it's the most ridiculous thing I have heard in a while."

"Oh, stop it," she said, "I just don't see how it's that important. Chariots go around the track, one of them does it the fastest. Everybody goes home, you know, to worry about more serious things."

"More serious things? Fine. I'm going to sleep."

[Privateerkev]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This story is a co-op between myself and OK.

1095: Constantinople, right before leaving for Antioch.

Makedonios walked down the hallway with a cane in one hand and holding a rag to his mouth with the other. The Senate session had gone relatively well and there was just one thing to do before returning to Antioch. The Grandmaster approached the double doors to the Emperor's chambers in the Palace. As the guards stood by, an aid checked a list. Seeing that Makedonios had an appointment, he nods to the guards who open the doors.

The Emperor sees a man different from when he last saw him. While still tall, and with a head of shoulder-length blonde hair, Makedonios stands stooped over a cane. He holds a rag over his mouth and periodically coughs into it. His face is sweating profusely and his skin is pale. What Alexios doesn't know is that this is one of Makedonios's better days. It is not often that he is even able to leave his bed anymore.

Dressed simply in plain white loose fitting clothes, Makedonios does the best he can to stand at attention.

The Basileus, seated at a desk, looked up from a letter he was reading. If he was taken aback by Makedonios's appearance, it did not show. Motioning him to a seat, Aleksios spoke.

"Senator, you look dreadful. Can I have a servant bring you some mulled wine? You should take advantage of the baths while in the city."

Makedonios clumsily plops down in the chair with as much grace as someone in his condition can manage.

"No thank you, though I might need some water before we are done. I seem to have caught something while sieging Antioch and I have never quite shaken it."

The man takes a moment to cough. It is partly necessary and partly to buy a moment while he works up the strength to give the most important pitch in his life.

"My Emperor, thank you for meeting with me. I know your busy and I will get right to the point. I sent you a letter asking for your daughter's hand in marriage years ago and I have still received no reply from you. If it wasn't for your daughter informing me, of your belief that choosing me for her husband would not benefit you enough politically, I would have thought the letter lost in the mail. But, we've all gotten older. Time is passing and I wanted to take the chance to make my case in person."

Another cough and Makdonios continues.

"Your Highness, quite simply I am prepared to offer you something no other man would dare offer you. And that is something concrete. I'm sure the other suitors have all promised vague assurances of their loyalty, or the loyalty of their vassals. I'm sure they even mean it for now. But what will happen when the Lord takes you and your son ascends the throne? Will those men be there for him? Somehow I doubt it. I however will offer you something tangible and immediate."

After pausing for a second for dramatic effect, Makedonios says simply, "I will offer to go away."

Aleksios's right eyebrow quirked upwards at this, the only sign of emotion he had shown through the Grandmaster's monologue.

Letting the statement hang there for a moment, Makedonios explained.

"I care about your daughter and I want her to be happy. I had naively hoped that would be enough for you. But not everyone travels in the same language I use and I am trying to catch up. So I will make a political argument as for why I am the best choice for your daughter. Quite simply, I am the greatest political opponent your son will ever face. While you have done a good job at holding the Empire together and making sure everyone shares in the wealth, your son's words in the Magnaura, and in letters to me, make me believe he is not as fair. If he pushes too hard, which I believe he will, he will marginalize himself. Now, as a founder of a dynasty, I believe you want what every founder wants, and that is to know the dynasty will continue with success."

The Basileus began to drum his fingers on the desk between them.

Knowing he was treading on dangerous ground by bringing up the Caesar, Makedonios paused for a moment, took the chance to cough into his napkin, and pushed on.

"What I am giving you is a chance to dramatically alter the political landscape right now in a way that will definitely benefit your son. If you pick me as the Princess's suitor, then on our wedding day, I will step down as Grandmaster of the Order of St. John. I will even give my province to my second in command. I will remain forever ineligible to hold any sort of decision making position in the Order. I will simply be a Strator. Probably for the rest of my life. Now I know this was not the sort of grand political alliance that you were hoping to secure. But no other Senator will give you this deal because no other Senator cares for your daughter like I do. They all see her as some prize to win or some tool to help them advance politically. I just want to see her happy. And I am willing to give up everything I have to help make that happen."

Aleksios cooly stared at Makedonios for a few seconds and then spoke, "Why don't you have some water, your mouth must be dry."

The Basileus stood and went to a sideboard in the room. Pouring some water into a silver cup he came over and placed it front of Makedonios. Leaning against the desk he folded his arms across his chest and looked down on him.

"So let me summarize your offer: In return for my daughter's hand you will promise not to be 'the greatest political opponent' my son and your new brother-in-law 'will ever face'. You also offer to give up leadership of your Order if married, something required by its rules anyway. You also state that you, and only you, are capable of making my daughter happy."

Aleksios paused, shook his head slightly and spoke again.

"I must say, you have a high opinion of yourself and the power you wield."

Makedonios took a moment to drink some water and evaluate the situation.

"It would indeed be presumptuous to think this about myself. But it is those in the Senate that let me know I am on the road to being powerful when they oppose my Order with faulty arguments. And your son lets me know he considers me a threat by demanding that I stop expanding. And not only that, but demands I give Antioch up. These things tell me that some in the Senate are quite frightened. I admit, power was not my goal when I formed the Order. I just wanted an organization of like-minded men to help the Empire guard the Holy Land."

Taking another drink, Makedonios took a gamble.

"As for my claim that I can make your daughter happy, those are her words Sir, not mine. I know she talked to you about me. But her words obviously did not sway you. So now it is up to me to try to change your mind. But it is what a man does when he is falling in love with a woman."

Aleksios crossed to a window and took in the view as he pondered his response.

"Anna spoke of you as her favorite suitor, though not in the exact same terms you have used. Yet there is much more to marriage among the nobility than love, particularly when it concerns the daughter of the Basileus. I am more than just her father, I am the paterfamilias of the Komnenoi and leader of the Roman Empire. As a Princess she does not have the luxury of marrying for love. She will marry to advance the interests of her family and to strengthen the Empire. If it ends up a love match, so much the better, but it is not the primary goal."

The Basileus turned to Makedonios.

"You simply do not have enough to offer. I will not have my daughter marry a Strator. Nor will I have my daughter marry to ward off an implied threat of future sedition. You have asked for the hand of my daughter and my answer is no."

Sitting there calmly, Makedonios plays his last card.

"Alright, if you feel that way, then I will join your son's House and ensure the family line stays within a House loyal to you. I will also serve him for the rest of my life. While he certainly has men who have promised to that now, I can offer more. His biggest political enemy would turn into his biggest supporter. He would become my family. If that does not sway you, I do not know what else will. But I highly doubt the Princess's other suitors have offered anything so concrete."

The Basileus rubbed the bridge of his nose, "You don't understand Makedonios. The point of a political marriage is to bind one House to another. The rules of the Order negate this, as would you joining Ioannis's House."

Aleksios returned to the desk and sat down.

"This is an academic discussion anyway."

The Basileus held up the letter he had been reading when Makedonios had entered, "I have already chosen a husband for Anna."

Makedonios raised an eyebrow. Knowing the Emperor probably wouldn't tell him who it was, he decided to guess. He had nothing left to lose.

"Something you said keeps going around in my head. You said you won't marry her to a Strator. And now you say you want to bind a House. But which one? Tagamata basically exists to serve you. Your son's House is already loyal to him since they know he'll be Emperor one day. I don't see you taking Tapeki seriously. It wouldn't be one of the independents. It's not the Order. So it's someone in Asteri."

A bad feeling started to develop in Makedonios the more he thought it out.

"It would have to be someone high up. Wouldn't be Kosmas since he is pretty much family. Plus he retired. Anastatios is a butcher. Zigavinos and Nevoulos aren't high enough up. Hypatios the Hypatos is crazy..."

All of a sudden it dawned on him who it probably was and Makedonios's gut wrenched into a ball. He found himself coughing into a rag. Finally he spoke with an icy calm.

"Your Highness, tell me, what has your daughter told you of Ioannis Kalameteros?"

As Makedonios said that, he watched the Emperor very carefully for his reaction.

Aleksios responded, "She has said nothing about him to me, Senator."

Pausing for a moment to wonder if he guessed right, he decided that it did make the most sense since Ioannis did just get promoted to lead Asteri. Makedonios tried to remember the details of the story the Princess told him.

"Are you aware that he threatened the Princess's life and at least indirectly caused one assassination attempt on her person? He bribed the Princess's confidant to spy on her. In Hungary, the Princess caught her spying and the confidant tried to kill her. Oh Ioannis claims it wasn't his fault. Much like when a man gets drunk, beats his wife, and then claims he didn't mean for it to happen. But he has admitted to threatening the Princess's life. You can verify all of this with her."

Aleksios scoffed, "Really? Such a a fantastic story. I wonder why no one bothered to inform me that someone had tried to kill my daughter. I will ask Anna. If what you say is true, it would be most alarming. However, I must also consider the source of such accusations."

The Basileus stood, "You've had your audience and your answer, Senator. I wish you luck in the Levant."

Realizing he had probably pushed his luck far enough, and then some, Makedonios quickly relented. He set the water down, coughed into his napkin a little, and used his cane to stand up from the chair. Standing as straight as he was able, he said his final words.

"I thank you for your time Your Highness. If Her Highness collaborates my story, feel free to contact me, and I can help. We might not agree on much, but we both care about your daughter and do not want to see her hurt."

With that, Makedonios leaves.