Chapter 685: Northwards
In the opulent halls of the Great Palace of Constantinople, twelve-year-old Leo, the son of Emperor Antonius, represented a new hope for the Roman Empire. Born during his father’s reign, Leo bore a striking resemblance to Antonius, yet his visage was unmarred by the scars of battle that marked the emperor’s face—a testament to a life shaped not by the sword but by the pen and the peaceful corridors of power.
Leo’s countenance, untouched by the harsh realities his father faced, suggested a gentler version of the emperor—one that might have existed had Antonius not been compelled by destiny to the path of conquest. Observers noted that the boy lacked the fierce aura of his father; however, Antonius viewed this not as a deficiency but as the fulfilment of his deepest aspirations. He often said, "I have weathered storms and waged wars so that Leo might thrive in the tranquillity of study halls, absorbing the wisdom of ancient texts and the strategic teachings of bygone saints."
Determined to prepare a stable and prosperous realm for his heir, Antonius committed himself to purifying the political and geopolitical landscapes of the empire. Despite the rapid decline of his health, his focus remained unwavering: to ensure that his son would inherit an empire unencumbered by the threats that had plagued his own reign.
Under Antonius’s governance, the empire’s boundaries had been meticulously fortified. To the north, it bordered Hungary and Serbia, its frontier safeguarded by the imposing Balkan Mountains and the Danube River, deterring northern incursions and fostering amicable ties with the Catholic states and mercantile republics. To the east, the situation was markedly stabilised; the once formidable Ottoman threat had been neutralised, with the natural barriers of the Aegean Sea and the Bosporus Strait serving as a robust defence against potential aggressions.
Antonius’s vision for his son was clear: a ruler who would command not through conquest but through diplomacy and intellect, a sovereign who would preside over an era of enlightenment and expansion borne not of conflict but of collaboration. As the aging emperor gazed upon the map of his empire—its borders more secure and extensive than at any time in the previous two centuries—he allowed himself a moment of pride. Yet, his heart remained heavy with the knowledge that his time was waning, and his greatest duty was to ensure that Leo was ready to ascend not merely as a ruler of territories but as a visionary leader for a new age.
As the dawn of the new era cast its light over the Roman Empire, its boundaries now stretched into the Black Sea, where the modest yet strategically vital outpost of Theodore stood guard. This bastion not only symbolized Roman resilience but also served as a testament to the burgeoning alliance with the distant north—specifically, the Grand Duchy of Moskva. This alliance was cemented by the annual exchange of students and the formidable Varangian soldiers, reinforcing ties and facilitating a robust military and cultural exchange.
In a tale that seemed drawn from the annals of clandestine legends, Ivan III of Moskva, known as the Great, had once disguised himself as a commoner to toil in the forges of Constantinople. This incognito sojourn was not merely for escape but a masterful ploy to absorb the advanced metallurgical arts of the Romans. Upon returning to his homeland, Ivan revolutionised Moscovian industry, ushering in an era of unprecedented military production that mirrored Roman techniques. With these newly acquired skills, Ivan forged an army that bore the hallmarks of Roman military doctrine. His forces, now numbering five thousand and armed with Roman-style weapons, scored significant victories, expanding Moscovians territories at the expense of the Khanate of Kazan and incorporating the vast Republic of Novgorod into his realm.
Despite these formidable fortifications and alliances, Emperor Antonius perceived a lingering vulnerability within the expansive map of Europe. A final piece, elusive and undefined, remained beyond Roman control, a reminder of unfinished ambitions and the fleeting nature of peace.
It was in the spring of 1477 that Emperor Antonius, now a venerable figure marked by time with silvered hair and beard, emerged from the seclusion of his imperial duties. Although his physique had grown more robust, his presence continued to command unwavering respect and adoration from his troops. As he rode out before his army, the air was rent with cheers of loyalty and reverence, echoing, "Long live the emperor! Long live Emperor Antonios I Ritsios!"
Years of military reforms had transformed the Roman legions. Now, every sixth soldier was equipped with an arquebus, a testament to the empire’s embrace of gunpowder weaponry. These troops were further innovated with paper cartridges, enhancing logistical efficiency in ammunition transport and handling. Artillery, too, had found its way to the forefront of Roman military strategy, embedding itself as a central element in both the army’s organization and its approach to warfare. As Emperor Antonius surveyed his reformed forces, there was a palpable sense of a new Chapter unfolding—one where the echoes of Roman might would resonate through the corridors of time, driven by the beat of modern innovation and ancient valour.
The strategic vision of Emperor Antonius was unequivocally menacing; he aimed to march north, intent on solidifying control and asserting dominance over the fragmented states of the Balkans. Without hesitation, he dispatched letters to Stephen Tomašević, the ruler of both Bosnia and Serbia, and King Mathias of Hungary and Croatia, summoning them to a supposed council at the border fortress of Vidin. The Emperor’s march from Constantinople was a bold and aggressive manoeuvre, leading a formidable force of six thousand—comprised of artillery, heavy cavalry, and a massive logistical train thrice the size of his combat troops, a clear signal that this was no mere diplomatic parley.
In his communiqué, Antonius made his intentions starkly apparent. He wrote:
"Reflecting upon the tumultuous history of our continent, the Balkans have too often descended into chaos, spurred by persistent disunity and strife amongst its states. If we are to avert a repetition of such dark centuries—marked by civil wars, unchecked raiding hordes, and relentless foreign incursions—the states of Romania must unite under a single banner, guided by a singular leadership to repel invaders..."
This message, while concise, was hardly a gesture of peace but rather a thinly veiled ultimatum, bordering on a declaration of war. It underscored Antonius’ resolve to forcibly end the perennial instability plaguing the region by proposing an autocratic consolidation under his rule—effectively extending the imperial domain across the Balkans.
The proposal, instigated by Abdullah Miralai’s wary observations of the Habsburgs’ creeping ambitions in the area, was a calculated strategy to preclude any Germanic encroachments. Celebi argued that securing the Balkans as an impregnable buffer would shield the Empire from the vulnerabilities of a two-front conflict—a recurring dilemma that had stymied significant progress on both the Eastern and Western fronts throughout the 1460s. By consolidating control, the Empire could then concentrate its might more effectively, averting the strategic dispersal that had previously diluted its martial capabilities.
Emperor Antonius, recognizing the shrewdness in Abdullah’s counsel, eagerly adopted this aggressive policy, signalling a pivotal and menacing shift in the Empire’s approach to its northern neighbours. This move was not just a military campaign but a stark proclamation of the Roman ambition to dominate and reshape the political landscape of Eastern Europe under its hegemony.
King Stephen Tomašević is always seen as a figure that is not so experienced and talented in the areas of diplomacy when he first ascended the throne, but over the decade as he turned into his forties, the king of Bosnia and Serbia became much more matured, as he struggled to keep his autonomy in a land locked state between the Romans and the Hungarian-Croatians. Over the years he watched with his own eyes on how the Romans the Hungarians quickly expanded, while despite trying much, his two kingdoms did not show little experience.
And now, it seems like the old emperor of the Greeks have no more patience left, as he came here to break the balance of power, once for all. Stephen Tomašević is frightened, but not yet hopeless, for over the years he has already been aware of his situation; there is no complete autonomy when being stuck between two regional super powers – you either join one side, or they will come for you.
At least it is better than being incorporated by the Ottomans two decades ago.
The problem is there with King Mathias of Hungary and Croatia.
For he is not in Pest right now, instead he is now in Austria, far away with his army from Bulgaria, where the supposed destination for the peaceful talks between the three sides. King Mathias totally did not expect such sudden turn of events from the seemingly peace loving emperor who showed little interest in military related affairs over the years, and by the time King Mathias received the letter, the emperor has already led his army into Danube – King Mathias had to throw his entire army here in Austria, just in case if the Poles under Vladislaus Jagiellon comes to reinforce the king of the Germans.
