kingdom of nations

Chapter 296 Broken Wings (14) Two chapters combined
On the same night, Cyprus welcomed a peculiar guest.

Theodora?

Both Natia and Portia had heard of this woman—she was Manuel I's niece and one of his concubines. She had suffered both his favor and his torment, and her only solace was perhaps the daughter Anna left to her by the late queen.

Upon hearing of the emperor's wicked scheme, the enraged mother tore his throat with her teeth—unfortunately, she failed to kill him—before leaping into the sea.

As if by divine intervention, they were on a cape overlooking Cyprus—Manuel I wanted to see the flames she had set ablaze—when she encountered a merchant ship while adrift at sea, which brought her to Anna's side.

They met for the last time, and Anna entrusted her to César before dying.

People, including herself, believed that the best thing for her would be to live in seclusion in a convent, and she did just that. But her sudden appearance here today inevitably raises concerns about her motives—even a mother can be jealous, jealous that another girl has everything her daughter never had.

The Edessa knights, from Natia to Cesar, disapproved of Portia going out to meet this strange and unpredictable woman, who could give birth at any moment.

Portia's abdomen had now swelled to its limit. Even though Portia was strong, she now looked like a trembling creature hanging from a branch, supported by only a thin stem.

People were worried that a sudden shout or a shove from her partner could cause her to give birth in a dangerous situation.

Although people at this time would use whipping prisoners to intimidate pregnant women and urge them to give birth as soon as possible, this method was only used in cases of difficult childbirth, a kind of cruel choice made out of desperation.

If possible, they would prefer that the mother give birth smoothly after sweating profusely and shouting loudly, without the slightest mishap.

But Portia was adamant; she always remembered what Dandolo had told her: she could love César, her husband, but the bitter wine brewed by love, especially romantic love, was jealousy—it was hard not to be jealous, everyone has possessiveness.

But César's first wife was simply... a Medea-like figure. The favor she bestowed upon César was so profound that his subsequent wives, and even their descendants, benefited from it.

If you feel jealous, Dandolo reminded her, "Just think about it, think about Cyprus, think about your children—their best future was nothing more than getting a seat in parliament in this narrow, damp city of Venice."

But now they may be the masters of a vast and wealthy territory, and whoever becomes the Doge of Venice in the future, whether my enemy or my friend, will have to bow down to you, and—as long as the blood of you and Cesar still flows in this land, Cyprus and the surrounding sea will be an unobstructed road for the Venetians.

You must always remember that Cesar and this child are the foundation of your life. You are intertwined and inseparable. If you love yourself, you must first love them. Every decision you make should be for their benefit. In fact, sometimes Cesar is more important than anything else.

Now it was time to put Cesar aside. She didn't know how Cesar viewed Theodora, but she remembered that Cesar had once said that Theodora was Anna's foster mother, and that he would treat her as his second mother.

In fact, that's exactly what he did. Before setting off for Castel Sainte-Croix, César would send a servant with gifts to visit the unfortunate lady every month.

Theodora was equally surprised. She waited, thinking that among the people she would meet might be Cesare's sister Natia, but Cesare's current wife Portia might refuse to meet her.

However, her trip to Cyprus was not to take care of pregnant women—and people's assumptions are correct.

The Governor's Palace was nothing like any of the residences she had seen before. Both the architecture and decoration had been renovated. It was not extravagant, but extremely comfortable—especially for a pregnant woman.

The pregnant woman was surrounded by people, whether they were relatives, servants, or knights, all of whom treated her with utmost respect and care.

Her first thought was that if Anna were still alive and had Cesar's child, all of this would belong to her—the love and protection her husband had given Theodora something she had never had, something she had hoped Anna would have, but things had not turned out that way.

Now she had to watch another young girl enjoy everything her daughter never had, and a strange feeling welled up inside her.

But this feeling vanished when he saw Portia struggling to move to him with the help of two maids.

She had never been a mother, but she had seen other women pregnant and giving birth, and of course knew that the dangers faced by pregnant women were the greatest when they were about to give birth... Whether in the Byzantine harem or in Christian castles, pregnant women and women in labor could not receive treatment from priests, and they had no right to enjoy holy sites.

Theodora's gaze fell on Portia's belly. While everyone else was tense, she kept a distance and asked gently, "Is it not your due date yet?"

Portia glanced down at her belly, which was almost completely obscuring her legs, somewhat confused by Theodora's meaning, but she still cautiously answered the question: "The priests say he should have arrived in January, or even earlier. If that's the case, he should indeed have been born. But I've heard that the timeframe might be shorter or longer, it's not so strict." She was referring, of course, to Cesar. Although Portia rarely mentioned the fetus in her letters, Cesar seemed to see her distress and worry from a hundred miles away. In his replies, he always accurately assessed the child's current condition and offered her reminders and reassurance.

In his letter, he estimated that Portia conceived a month later than the priests had predicted, and that a pregnancy could last up to 42 weeks, so she didn't need to worry and just needed to monitor the frequency of fetal movements every day.

He even said at the end of the letter that perhaps the child was looking forward to his father coming to his side so that he could see him at first sight, which is why he was late.

Such words and actions greatly alleviated Portia's anxiety; after all, this was her first child, a child on whom people placed their hopes. Every now and then, she would interact with the baby in her womb, feel his/her reactions, and record them as César had requested.

When she felt frustrated or irritable, she would look through this book or play with the gifts Cesare had sent. These gifts were not all jewelry or silk; some were wildflowers that Cesare had seen during his campaigns, which he had dried into paper-thin flowers and placed inside the book to bring to her; there were also pebbles from the lake, and even some polished fish bones. These things might not fetch a single copper coin in the hands of a merchant, but Portia treasured not the objects themselves, but the deep affection and friendship they represented.

For this reason, she would not make things difficult for Cesar anywhere, even if it meant asking her to serve Theodora as a mother—after all, Portia's relationship with her own mother wasn't particularly close.

Although she was still a little scared.

Theodora was not ugly; in fact, as a woman, although she was older than Portia or Natia, her beauty was unmatched by either of them.

When she took off her hood, the whole hall seemed to light up. Portia remembered the flowers César had sent her; though they had lost their youthful moisture, their dried colors made them even more vibrant.

It is understandable that this lady was able to enjoy Manuel I's favor for more than a decade.

Those present were speculating about her intentions. Did she want to stay? Did she want to share in the legacy left by his half-daughter, Princess Anna? Or did she want to gain some power through César's pity and affection for her? Or perhaps she hoped to become Manuel I's concubine again, which was not impossible.

But then they heard news that seemed unbelievable to anyone who heard it.

"You're saying Manuel I might attack Cyprus?"

Everyone knows that the change of Cyprus was entirely due to Manuel I's own cleverness and wishful thinking—for which he was willing to sacrifice his own two children. But he probably didn't expect that his eldest son, Alexius, would be so stupid, naive, and impulsive, nor did he expect that his daughter Anna, whom he had always neglected, would be so crazy.

At that time, the priests were preparing to administer the Last Sacrament to her, but unexpectedly, she was able to endure the immense pain and fear of death and insisted on completing the consummation ceremony with César—whether it was true or not, the final step of the wedding was completed in the presence of many witnesses.

This means that Cesar now not only possesses the entirety of Cyprus, but also all the power that comes with being the son-in-law of the Byzantine emperor, including the right to inherit the Byzantine throne.

Who made Manuel I, in order to prove to the world how much he valued gratitude, even re-recognize Anna's identity?
In other words, when Anna got married, she had already become the emperor's daughter again, having gone from being an illegitimate child.

Of course, the latter was merely a pretext. Although Manuel I's eldest son, Alexius, was dead, he still had a grown son whose mother was the sister of the current Grand Duke of Antioch, and he would certainly be able to gain the support of the Principality of Antioch.

But Cyprus? Under what pretext does the Emperor intend to reclaim Cyprus?

Cesar never denied the marriage and observed a year of mourning for Anna. He did not instigate a rebellion and fully fulfilled his duties as a son-in-law and vassal. Although it was only a little over a year, the tribute and taxes were delivered to Constantinople on time without any shortage.

If such an engagement can be arbitrarily cancelled, who will obey the emperor's decree? Heaven knows, Constantinople's reputation is already bad enough.

When faced with people's questions, Theodora remained silent for a long time. "This is a message that one of my maids gave me."

She had meticulously cultivated her position in Manuel I's harem for over a decade. Was it all just to compete with those poor women for his favor? Of course not. She knew better than anyone that in the harem, in Constantinople, and in the vast Byzantine Empire, their only enemy was Manuel I, and no one else.

All her arrangements were for Manuel I.

"what news?"

"The emperor recently received a sum of money."

"how much is it?"

“Fifty thousand gold coins.” One of the Edessa knights laughed. He had initially been worried that the other party might have brought some earth-shattering information—at this moment, he didn’t want any accidents to happen.

But 50,000 gold coins... indeed, 50,000 gold coins is not a small number for a king.

But what did that mean to Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire?

To thank the Crusaders for their rescue, he immediately offered 150,000 gold coins as a reward.

"But he had almost nothing left to sell, except Cyprus." It was precisely in order to raise funds for the Crusaders that the Emperor sought out every possible way and means to exchange for gold coins during that period—don't think that the Crusaders were mercenaries who could arbitrarily delay their wages; they never minded coming to "take" the money themselves.

“But I’ve also heard,” said César’s sister, Natia. Theodora bowed slightly to show her respect, and Natia returned the bow before continuing, “but I’ve also heard that Cyprus hasn’t had a governor for quite some time.”

Because the governor who came here would inevitably have to fight against the fierce Saracens, and the local Cypriots would not submit to their rule and would only want to treat them as hired thugs—could such an official position still be sold for 50,000 gold coins?

Although the Byzantine Empire was in decline, it still possessed extremely vast territories—Thebes, Athens, Nicaea, Thessaloniki—all were possibilities. Why would it be Cyprus?

“The original Cyprus was certainly not worth this price. Back then, its enemies were not just the Saracens of Egypt,” Theodora glanced at the knights in white robes with red crosses—the Knights Templar. However, these knights did not show any unease. To them, the Cypriots who believed in the orthodox church were heretics, even more detestable than pagans. It was not surprising that they would have some conflicts with the Cypriots when escorting pilgrims to the Holy Land.

“I think he might negotiate with you. If Manuel I is willing to retain your existing powers, or even generously give you some cities, would you refuse?”

The Templars instinctively lowered their heads to avoid showing their embarrassment. They certainly wouldn't refuse—some of them were already somewhat dissatisfied with Cesar's handling of the situation. After all, in their eyes, Cyprus's ability to calm down so quickly was thanks to them, a contribution that couldn't be erased.

They also vaguely sensed that Cesar was more like a lord or king than a knight. What he wanted was not gold or glory, but real power. A divided power could never be considered perfect.

But for Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire, Cesar had the power that came with the marriage, a fact he was powerless to change. But for the Templars, there were many more ways to act—divide, sow discord, bribe… If all else failed, they could wait for a new Grand Master and perhaps buy back the cities they had previously used as bribes.

"The Saracen Fatimid dynasty of Egypt has fallen, and it has been replaced by Saladin of the Ayyubids. He has just suffered a major defeat in Damascus and will likely not have the opportunity to regroup for the next few years. Even if he does, he may not continue to attack Cyprus."

After all, it was the Fatimid dynasty, not the Ayyubid dynasty, that had a navy.

In other words, the southern part of Cyprus will remain calm for the next ten or twenty years. Moreover, Cyprus now has a new product – rock sugar, which is already in short supply. Whether people simply love its taste, portability, or its value, or for the sake of flattery, showing off, and admiration, the price of rock sugar has already exceeded its original price. Some people even travel thousands of miles from Cyprus to the northernmost part of Frankfurt, where rock sugar is almost equivalent to the same volume of gold.

Nobles and kings flocked to this new sugar.

At their banquets, if one could only use powdered sugar to build miniature castles, one would surely be ridiculed. Only crystal-clear new sugar, which, under the light, resembles ice cubes, could garner praise and flattery.

Both Pope Alexander III and Pope Manuel I were long dissatisfied with their meager quotas, or rather, they considered it a grave act of disrespect that Cyprus dared to set quotas for them.

“What they want is not products, but workshops.”

"Who wouldn't want that?"

Cesar and his sister Natia analyzed that he temporarily limited the rock sugar workshop to Cyprus and kept it a secret because he would later use it as a fixed salary to pay his loyal knights.

After the knights obtained the secret recipe for producing rock sugar, the production of rock sugar would certainly increase significantly, but even so, it would be impossible to fill the bottomless stomachs of Manuel I and Pope Alexander III.

On this matter, he could not compromise with either Manuel I or Pope Alexander III.

Although he might launch new products, if he backs down on rock sugar, how can he stand firm on other matters? César's attitude was very firm (perhaps also due to some instinctive aversion and disgust), and his sister Natia and wife completely obeyed the oath he had made, only they probably did not realize that Manuel I was no longer young.

And his son is still so young.

Theodora learned from her spies in the harem that in her rage she had torn Manuel I's throat with her teeth. Although it hadn't been fatal, and the priests who arrived had healed the wound, perhaps because of his old age, or perhaps because the wound was in a vital area, Manuel I always felt difficulty breathing, his tongue felt tight, and he even felt pain when swallowing.

He summoned priests to treat him, but their efforts were ineffective. Even when they told him he was cured, he refused to believe them, always suspecting that Theodora might have poisoned his teeth or something. Theodora, however, hadn't done anything like that. She was overjoyed, mistakenly believing that Manuel I still harbored some affection for Anna, even though he was incredibly stingy with the dowry—aside from Cyprus—she thought it was because Manuel I had impulsively promised to give the newlyweds all of Cyprus, and later regretted it, hence the contradiction.

She had no idea that the emperor had already regarded Anna as a pawn destined to be discarded, and would not even allow her the slightest bit of happiness. When she bit into Manuel I's throat, she wished she could have foreseen the future and put poison on her teeth.

Manuel I's suffering likely stemmed more from his paranoia. His only legitimate son was still a minor, and once he died, the regent Queen Mother of Antioch would inevitably quarrel with his ministers, possibly even coming to blows. Intrigues would abound, and even with Bohemond in the Duchy of Antioch, he could not be certain whether the mother and son could continue to enjoy their former honors after losing his protection.

Of course he would feel anxious, but now Cyprus is like a gem that has fallen into the mud and has been picked up again and polished to shine. How could he possibly give up Cyprus?
With Cyprus, his son would receive a significant boost, whether through bribery or transactions.

“But the engagement is already made,” a Templar Knight said. “The Emperor may be able to back out—the priests of Constantinople are all useless bastards—but doesn’t he consider the consequences?”

Everyone nodded in agreement. This was incredibly foolish, even short-sighted. There had been kings who had done similar things, breaking their oaths and going back on their word. Even without church punishment, no one was willing to believe them afterward, no one fought for them, and countless subjects rebelled. Their final fates were almost always tragic.

"I spent nearly forty years in Constantinople, and, gentlemen, served Manuel I for more than a decade. No one knows better than me what a disgusting thing an emperor is."

"My lords," Theodora glanced at the knights around her, "you are not adept at politics, much less skilled in intrigue—you are upright, courageous, and abide by the laws established by the king and the church. Like some good men, you have naive ideas, always believing that everything in the world should proceed and develop according to God's will, that covenants are necessarily valid, that oaths are necessarily respected, and that those in positions of power are also subject to the constraints of faith and virtue."

But that's not actually the case. You would never guess that in all the struggles, the most fearsome are not tyrants, nor powerful ministers, nor wise scholars and brave generals.

On the contrary, what we should fear most are fools, or those who have lost all restraint.

“They will go to hell if they do that,” one knight immediately retorted.

“Yes,” Theodora clapped her hands, “what if they’re not afraid of going to hell?”

These words left the upright Edessa knight speechless, and he could only stare at her: "What if they don't care, or think that their status as priests and kings can grant them a pardon?"

Look at you, just because I am a woman and I swore an oath, you allow me to sit face to face with your mistress, even though she is about to give birth—you may think that Princess Anna once entrusted me to your mistress, and that your mistress treated me with the respect due to a mother.

“I should be grateful for his kindness, suppress my jealousy, and treat your mistress and the child well,” she glanced at Portia’s belly. “I will not do anything to harm the child, but what if I don’t? What if I suddenly go mad, suddenly become possessed—and the slightest evil I could do might be to kill this woman and the child in her womb, while you—still cling to this hope.”

"But you've already said it..."

"What's the point of telling you? You still haven't taken any action. Fine, even if I didn't mean any harm, can't I change my mind? Anyone can have a thousand different ideas at any time."

"We can stop you."

"What if you can't stop it? Will you commit suicide to repent to your master? Even if you commit suicide, can you save the pregnant woman and her child?"

You cannot.

Manuel I, however, wielded far more power than I did, and given the implications for Cyprus, we cannot even say he was acting unilaterally—there were certainly many who would support him.

As you can see, it is so beautiful and prosperous now, just like a good tree that can bear abundant fruit at any time. Who wouldn't want that?
Manuel I wanted it, those in purple robes wanted it, and his governors and ministers wanted it even more.

And if he makes this decision, can any of you change his mind? Even if you could stand in front of him and condemn his shamelessness, ingratitude, and dishonesty, let alone whether you could do it, what harm would it do to him?

The people gathered around him are there for their own benefit. Without that benefit, you wouldn't be able to drive them away either. He would still have many supporters, not to mention—you are heretics to us, so they might not feel any psychological pressure.

Even if Manuel I's credibility is questioned for this reason, so what? How long can he live? Even if he is ridiculed and difficult to trust, it's only a matter of a few years. When his son succeeds him, he only needs to put on a pious act, and there will naturally be people willing to flatter and cheer him on.

Among them might be the governor of Cyprus, who knows exactly where his power comes from—unlike Cesar, your master undoubtedly owns Cyprus and has no gratitude toward the Byzantine emperor.

Whether it's the present one or the future one.

The room fell into silence.

After a long silence, Natia stood up. “Please let me arrange for you to rest. You must be very tired after traveling all the way from Arrasa.”

Theodora stood up, nodded, knowing they might have something to discuss, but not in her presence. She followed the maids to a quiet but safe bedroom, where the people waited until Natia returned before starting to chatter.

The knights of Count Edessa always stood by Natia's side. The Count entrusted his two most important men to them, and their loyalty had become unwavering when Cesar granted them land and workshops.

Members of the Knights Templar and the other two major knightly orders also had their own different opinions.

The Knights Templar were somewhat embarrassed, after all, Theodora had pointed out that they wouldn't mind getting more benefits from Manuel I.

However, the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, because of Baldwin, still sided with Cesar. They believed that if Manuel I was truly so treacherous, then nothing he said was reliable, especially since he would also send a governor—wouldn't that governor also want ownership of all of Cyprus? Their power would also be limited, and they would have to face a heretic.

Have you all forgotten how happy you were when Cesar acquired ownership of Cyprus? It was precisely because he was a Crusader, not a Byzantine.

These words resonated with the knights of the Charity Knights.

The Order of the Good Hall was mostly neutral, neither favoring the king nor the church, but as a knight and lord, Cesar was an indisputable role model. No one did better than him, let alone a governor appointed by Manuel I.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Theodora was unaware of the outcome of the discussion, but she was comforted by the fact that when she was allowed to walk on the street, accompanied, or rather, under the watchful eyes of her maids and servants, she could clearly sense that the city's security was tightening.

She certainly hoped to see this scene, as an emperor's concubine, the foster mother of a deceased man, and a Byzantine woman, arriving with an extremely dangerous signal, yet without any substantial evidence—although she spoke with great conviction and authority in front of Cesare's sister Natia, his wife, and the knights, she herself was not sure if she could convince them.

Before this, she even wondered if she had become anxious and insane because of what happened last time. Perhaps it was just a test and extortion by the emperor—to that minister. Or perhaps the 50,000 gold coins came from another deal? For example, from those Genoese people? Although their annual income was only 50,000 gold coins.

But she knew she shouldn't take chances; everyone had seen the consequences of taking chances last time.

She had prepared herself mentally before boarding the ship, and she accepted the hostility, suspicion, and ridicule she would receive, as long as her reminder could arouse even the slightest wariness towards Byzantium. However, things developed far beyond her expectations.

They believed her and indeed strengthened their defenses. Under her frank reminder, the Knights Templar swore an oath that they would not make peace with Manuel I of Byzantium—and if the emperor did indeed break his oath, the knights of the other two orders did the same.

Although vows are not always reliable, they are better than none at all.

"Is it just my imagination?" she asked in a low voice. Despite the increased security, the market in front of the governor's palace was more bustling than she had ever seen.

Perhaps she was preoccupied with the death of her adopted daughter Anna at that time, or perhaps her memory was distorted.

“Indeed, there has been a change,” the maid beside her said with a smile. “Madam, it wasn’t always this neat.”

"It's not just tidy; if I remember correctly, it didn't originally have so many shops and goods."

Apart from Cesar, no one could have predicted that such a simple move would have such a profound impact on the people of Cyprus.

Although rock sugar couldn't possibly be sold at such a market, countless merchants would still come to try their luck. Perhaps they would encounter a knight who was eager to woo a woman he loved and had to sell his share of rock sugar, or a maid who had just had a brief affair might bring out a gift she received the night before to exchange for her favorite silk and jewelry—such unexpected events didn't need to happen too often. Even if only one in ten thousand people encountered such good fortune, the others would still rush over.

Perhaps he will be the next lucky one.

The value of rock sugar lies not in how much gold it can be exchanged for, but in its ability to serve as a stepping stone to a lord or king, allowing even the humblest traveling merchant to rise in rank.

The merchants' nature meant they would never come empty-handed; they always carried all sorts of goods, either for direct trade or barter. Before long, the market in front of the governor's palace had become a bustling commercial center.

Here you can see all the goods that circulated in Europe and the Mediterranean region—copper ingots, tin ingots, glass, ebony, ivory, gold and silver jewelry, as well as crystal, amber, agate, shells, carnelian, glassware, resin, acorns, almonds, figs, olives, pomegranates…

Surprisingly, the area that had almost risen above the Governor's Palace was not chaotic at this point; on the contrary, it was quite orderly.

The ground was flat, the road was paved with pebbles, and there were drainage ditches on both sides, wide enough for two carriages to pass each other. The shops stood behind the drainage ditch. All the houses were built with stone bricks instead of wood, cowhide, or mud bricks. Although they looked a bit monotonous, they avoided the danger of fire and collapse.

"But the cost is just too high. Can the merchants afford it?"

“These were all built by the lords,” the maid said. “Then the merchants bought them or rented them.”

After walking only a few steps, Theodora keenly noticed that the roads here were almost all straight, meaning that they could be interconnected both vertically and horizontally—like the warp and weft threads on a spinning wheel, with the small grids outlining the locations of the shops.

For this reason, despite the large crowds, there was no congestion, and Theodora bought two bolts of silk and a bottle of sesame oil.

She then saw another place selling wooden utensils, with a water channel running through it. Merchants and their servants were drawing water from the channel, some scooping it up and drinking it, or offering it to their mounts.

The aqueduct was newly built, of course, and it ran through the entire market. The maid gestured happily, “The water is drawn from the Padias River, but drinking it directly is not in your manners. Would you like some iced?”

"ice?"

"There's an ice merchant here." The maid left quickly and returned just as fast, carrying a silver cup filled with purplish-red rose water and floating with pure white, crystalline snowflakes.

Theodora took it, but only touched her lips slightly before handing it to the maid. "You drink, child, I'm not that thirsty." She had been in the Grand Palace for too long and was no longer used to casually accepting food and drink from others outside.

She took two steps forward and curiously examined the thing hanging between the legs of a mule, which looked like a cloth bag.

The merchant saw a noblewoman examining his mule and, not daring to be too disrespectful, could only bow. When Theodora asked about the cloth bag, he was somewhat embarrassed but still honestly replied, "It's the rule of this market: neither human nor animal excrement can fall on the ground. Humans have designated toilets, Roman-style, very clean, but we can't control the animals, so we just put a bag under their rear ends. Once we've collected a bagful, we can exchange it for money. It's not much, but enough for a day's fodder."

Theodora then realized that her feet hadn't gotten dirty mud on them at all: "That's great."

“Isn’t that right?” the merchant agreed. “The streets here are cleaner than my bed at home. It’s a pity that the lord here doesn’t allow us to sleep on the street. Fortunately, the inns here aren’t expensive.”

Theodora gave him a silver coin, and the merchant was overjoyed, walking away with profuse thanks.

“How wonderful,” Theodora murmured again. This was exactly the scene she wanted to see, even though she had initially rushed here despite her own safety, hoping that Manuel I’s conspiracy would not succeed again and that her adopted daughter Anna’s wish could be fulfilled.

But now it seems that she may have done the most important thing—even if she goes to hell in the future, she will not be afraid of the devil's torture and trials because of this achievement.

After discussing the matter, Natia and Portia each wrote a letter to Cesare and Dandolo of Venice. The former was a warning, while the latter was a plea for help, or rather, a request for guidance from the old man.

Dandolo had served as ambassador to Constantinople for over a decade and had some understanding of Manuel I. In order to atone for the humiliation and torment he had suffered before, he had also planted some spies in Constantinople and should be able to confirm whether the news was true.

But the letter sent to Dandolo reached the old man immediately. Cesar would not see the letter until seven days later, after he had completed his fast and penance as a monk for Saint Jerome. Only then was he allowed to remove his monk's robes and return to the mortal world.

As an ordinary cultivator, everything given to him, whether it be letters, food, or supplies, would be inspected. Food would be cut open, supplies would be tapped to check for anything a cultivator was not allowed to possess, and letters would be opened and their contents examined.

However, because of Cesare's status, the abbot simply collected all these items and put them in a locked wooden box. He only returned the box to Cesare after he had completed his monastic training.

Cesar opened the box and the first thing he saw was the letter from Portia and Natia. He had just opened it and hadn't even had a chance to read it when the servants outside rushed in.

"My lord," he cried out in a panic, his face ashen, "His Holiness the Patriarch has been in trouble!"

(End of this chapter)