1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 1 Born in the Purple Room
Isaac woke up in the big soft bed.

Looking around, the walls are carved with ancient reliefs and the furniture is of different styles, some with obvious Gothic colors, while others are exquisite objects from the East.

Compared with the ancient luxury of the room, the decorations seemed much more desolate. The cabinet where the amethyst pendant should have been placed was inlaid with dull glass, a marble statue was placed on a silver base, and the gold inlaid on the bronze mirror was missing, and no one knew who stole it.

Isaac rushed to the mirror and looked at his new self.

The young man in the mirror was about ten years old, with regular features on his pale face, brown eyes flashing with melancholy, a straight nose in the middle, a slightly upturned mouth with a hint of pride, and slightly messy brown-black curly hair that covered half of his beautiful eyebrows.

Looking at the handsome face in the mirror and the unusual decorations around him, Isaac smiled with satisfaction.

Under such conditions, this great opportunity of traveling through time was worthwhile.

Doesn’t the sense of immersion come all at once?
Boom, boom, boom!
"Come in!" Isaac was a little surprised that he could speak a language he had never heard before so easily.

The heavy wooden door slowly opened, and a man dressed as a servant walked in and bowed.

"Your Highness, I am glad to see you awake. Your uncle, the great Basilius, is very worried about you. If you are fine, please get dressed and follow me."

He really cherishes words!

After saying this, he bowed again.

"and many more!"

The attendant stopped.

Brother, I still don’t understand the situation. Please give me some more hints!

How should I ask the question? Will it reveal my flaws?

Cough cough--

"who am I?"

No matter! Since he is a prince, he has the power to be willful. It is not good to be mysterious.

The attendant was stunned for a moment.

"You are Isaac Palaiologos, your uncle, Ioannis the Great, emperor of Rome and the Romans, and your father, despot of Mystilis and all Morea."

Isaac's face changed drastically.

Sent it!

He traveled to the late Byzantine Empire. His uncle Ioannis was the penultimate emperor of Byzantium, and his father was the famous Constantine XI in history.

That’s not right. Constantine XI has no children. Is it the influence of my time travel?

A servant came running up,
"Your Highness, butler, His Majesty has finished mass at Hagia Sophia and is now meeting with the envoy from Rome, who has ordered me to send you forward."

"The Roman envoy?" The butler frowned. "Are they here to discuss the United Church again?"

The servant glanced at the butler's face cautiously, "No, it seems to be about the Crusades in the North."

"Your Majesty seems quite pleased."

After thinking for a while, he added another sentence.

Half an hour later, Isaac was dressed and boarded a carriage heading to the Grand Palace.

Along the way, the carriage passed through most of the city of Constantinople, allowing Isaac to gain a deeper understanding of this dying empire.

At this time, Constantinople no longer had the reputation of "the king of cities, the mother of all cities", but looked like a large rural market. Outside the city, more than a dozen villages were lined up along the city walls. When passing one of them, the plain-dressed peasants knelt down and saluted the carriage with family crests in fear, muttering something. Farmers and citizens were in a hurry along the way; craftsmen and local merchants were even fewer. The most prosperous districts were inhabited by Latin merchants from Italy and Turkic expatriates from Anatolia. The flag of St. Mark in Venice flew high, shining particularly in the sun, piercing the hearts of every Byzantine.

The horses panted as the carriage passed through Theodosius Square and Constantine Square. Some simple statues stood beside the squares. The marble and bronze bodies were still there, but the gold, silver, pearls and jade inlaid on them were nowhere to be found. In the catastrophe more than 200 years ago, the wealth accumulated by the entire empire for hundreds of years was looted. Although the warriors of the Lascaris family finally recovered the capital, the pain has continued to this day, causing the entire empire to be unable to recover.

"Here we are," the butler said briefly.

The carriage stopped in front of the Grand Palace, next to which was the famous statue of Justinian. The barren grassland not far away was obviously the former royal racecourse. In the distance, the spire of Hagia Sophia was vaguely visible.

This is the residence of the emperor, the center of Rome, the capital of the entire empire, and the center of the world.

Once upon a time, the hippodrome was filled with strong and proud armored knights, and the square was filled with the Roman soldiers who shocked the world!
Once upon a time, grain from Egypt, porcelain from the far East, amber from the Baltic Sea, precious wood from the Black Sea coast, and slaves from North Africa gathered here.

Once upon a time, decrees that could change the world were issued from here, teams of healthy and powerful city militias gathered here, and the leaders of each military region summoned well-trained cavalry and archers. The emperor would wear a purple robe, ride a horse covered with a purple horse coat, and the Roman eagle emblem on his armor would shine brightly.

The patriarch and monks of Hagia Sophia would pray for the empire's victory, wealthy merchants would donate food, weapons, and slaves, and citizens would shout "Victory" and throw wreaths at the troops as they passed through the streets.

The victorious armies would throw captured banners and treasures at Justinian's statue, which was inlaid with more and more gold.

Now, the Grand Palace is in a semi-abandoned state. The emperor does not have so many guests to entertain, nor does he have so much gold coins to maintain the huge palace complex.

The hippodrome gradually became deserted, the gold on the statue of Justinian was looted, leaving ugly scars on it, and the bells of Hagia Sophia in the distance seemed to reveal a sense of sadness.

This is the end of Byzantium, the final Rome.

Isaac calmed himself, bowed deeply to Justinian, and walked slowly up to the palace.

The old eunuch in the palace led Isaac to the meeting room, where bursts of hearty laughter were heard.

Push the door open and enter.

The person sitting in the main seat is a middle-aged man with half-white hair, high cheekbones on his thin face, and wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, which are signs of being under long-term stress.

At this moment, a blush appeared on her face, the corners of her mouth slightly raised, and she was full of joy.

"Ah! Isaac, my child, I heard that you are feeling better now. Come and let me see you!" Emperor Ioannis VIII said happily.

"Let me introduce you to the envoy from Rome, the Auxiliary Bishop of Foggard."

Isaac looked over and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a chair nearby, wearing a white clerical robe and a Roman Catholic cross. Isaac bowed slightly.

"Your Majesty, I am now fully recovered. I am very happy to meet you and this distinguished guest. I wish you all good health and a good mood."

Ioannis VIII waved his hand, motioning Isaac to sit in the chair next to him.

"Your Majesty, what makes you so happy?"

"Bishop Fojar brought us good news. The troops of King Władysław III of Poland and Hungary have conquered the Turkish border fortress and arrived in the Varna area. The Grand Duke of Serbia and the mercenary troops from Bohemia will join them under the leadership of Hunyadi. By then, their troops will surpass that kid Muhammad in both quantity and quality."

“Not only that, under the order of Pope Eugene IV, the Venetian fleet has blockaded the Dardanelles. Murad II, who has withdrawn from the Karaman front, will be stopped in Anatolia and unable to provide timely support. The chances of winning this holy war are very high.” Bishop Fojar on the side also added with a smile, “The Pope’s order” sounded very serious.

Ioannis VIII apparently understood the hidden meaning of Fogar's words, and he stood up and put his hand on his chest.

"May God always bless him - the great Pope and crusader." He slowly lowered his head, with no expression of joy or anger.

Foggard also stood up with satisfaction and prayed for the Pope.

Isaac had no choice but to pretend to be pious, with a thousand horses galloping in his heart, and he sincerely greeted the Pope and the mother of Władysław III.

After a while, you won't be able to laugh anymore.

Popping champagne at halftime is a recipe for death.

After seeing off the Pope's envoy, the only people left in the empty hall were the smiling uncle and the miserable nephew.

Ioannis VIII was still immersed in the beautiful dream described by the envoy, fantasizing about taking this opportunity to regain the territory and recreate the achievements of Alexios the Great and Michael VIII.

But Isaac already knew the outcome of the matter.

The Venetian fleet did blockade the Dardanelles, but their arch-enemies, the Genoese, let Murad II's army go - after receiving a huge sum of money.

Murad II crossed the Bosphorus, marched thousands of miles, and fought a decisive battle with the Crusaders in Varna.

The war situation was originally stable and improving, but the young Władysław III suddenly became crazy and ignored Hunyadi's warnings, and led his knight guards to charge the Sultan's central tent.

The knights once reached the Sultan's tent, and the golden and red flag of Murad II was already in sight in the distance.

At the critical moment, the main Crusader general Władysław III shouted to kill the enemy, rode his horse into the battle line, and bravely took the lead - and then was stabbed to death by a soldier.

Suddenly, the entire army was defeated.

The joint king of Poland and Hungary, Władysław, was killed on the spot, and the legendary general János Hunyadi was the only one who escaped.

At this point, the Western Catholic world's large-scale military aid to Constantinople came to an end. The Ottoman Empire's reputation spread throughout Europe. The Latin countries were completely broken-backed, and for a long time they did not dare to become enemies with the Ottoman Empire.

In the following hundreds of years, traditional Christian territories continued to be lost, and the Ottoman iron hoof plowed across Southeast Europe, from the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire to the capital of the Holy Roman Empire.

But this is all for later.

"Isaac, you will be twelve years old soon, not young anymore. If you can recover a few territories this time, I will appoint you as governor!" Ioannis VIII was obviously very excited.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I do not ask for any fiefdom, but I wish the empire to last forever and Your Majesty good health."

Ioannis VIII curled his lips in displeasure.

"You are really not like your father. If he were here, he would definitely start bargaining with me."

"By the way, your father is now marching northwards on the Corinthian Peninsula to coordinate with the Varna Crusaders. I heard that the progress is going well."

As he spoke, he handed a letter to Isaac.

The handwriting on the letter was upright and fluent, written in one breath, obviously from a strong warrior.

After a quick glance, Isaac understood the current situation. Constantine's military operations on the peninsula were progressing smoothly and he did not encounter any decent resistance. However, there was a serious shortage of food and weapons, so he requested support from the capital.

In addition, Constantine expressed his wishes for the health of his brother and mother, and expressed his longing for Isaac, whom he had not seen for a long time.

"Your Majesty," Isaac looked up.

"Leave the transportation of military supplies to me this time. I also want to do my part for the empire's war effort."

Ioannis was obviously a little surprised and looked at his nephew carefully.

"You are only twelve years old, and your father is still relying on me to ride horses at this age..."

"But Mohammed next door became a sultan at the age of twelve."

Isaac raised his head and looked into his uncle's gray-brown eyes.

In the evening, Isaac sat at the table, thinking about the news he had received that day.

The time travel is a foregone conclusion, but it seems to be a dead end.

The defeat of Varna was inevitable—Murad II might have already crossed the strait by now.

Constantinople was in a mess at the moment. The more happy it was, the more panicked it would be when the news of the Crusaders' annihilation came.

His uncle agreed to his request, and he was able to leave the capital and go to the vast world.

No, we must do something to save Byzantium and our own fate!

Thinking of this, Isaac quickly wrote a few lines on a piece of paper and handed it to the servant outside.

"Andre, send someone to inquire about the situation of these people immediately, and come directly to the south to find me when you come back."

Andre, the chief attendant, was still as silent as he had been in the morning. He took the note and nodded.

(End of this chapter)