Chapter 687: Time Spares No One
Throughout history, numerous vast empires have rapidly expanded under the rule of charismatic conquerors, only to crumble just as swiftly after their demise. Often, the absence of a strong leader leads to a rapid disintegration, exacerbated by the ambitions of generals and lords once loyal to the cause. This pattern looms as a potential fate for the Third Roman Empire—a question that remains unanswered, even to the emperor himself, who now rides with his son. In a symbolic gesture, the emperor shares his horse with his teenage heir, demonstrating a unity and a shared path forward, contrasting sharply with the solitary conquests of his past.
The Serbian King, sandwiched between the encroaching powers of the Romans and the Hungarian Croatians, found himself compelled to negotiate under less than favourable conditions. The presence of the formidable Roman military—highlighted by the stoic Varangians and the threatening gleam of spear tips and artillery—left little room for negotiation. The deal struck, however, was surprisingly benign, focusing more on economic cooperation than on military subjugation.
This new treaty abolished all tariffs and trade barriers between the two nations, promising open markets for the landlocked agricultural and mineral wealth of Serbia and Bosnia. This arrangement promised to invigorate their economies by providing access to the Roman Empire’s expansive trade network, which was crucial given the lack of a Serbian port.
Moreover, the agreement included the mutual recognition of each state’s currency from the following year, simplifying trade and economic interaction. This monetary alliance was to be bolstered by a mutual defence pact, committing each nation to come to the other’s aid in times of external aggression.
Presented as an equitable trade and defence agreement, this pact seemed to offer a fair exchange, right?
The King of Serbia and Bosnia, relieved that the Romans had not imposed vassalage or tribute upon him, readily signed the treaty. This agreement liberated him from being wedged between the competing interests of the Romans and Hungarians. For the first time, he had definitively chosen a side, aligning his kingdom’s future with that of the Romans.
However, within a month, dissent brewed within Serbia. A faction of lords vehemently opposed the treaty, denouncing it as detrimental to national sovereignty. They argued it would erode the kingdom’s autonomy, a stance that failed to resonate widely. The majority of the populace, eager for economic opportunities and access to international markets, supported the treaty. They saw it as a chance to sell their goods abroad and import coveted items, enhancing their quality of life. Meanwhile, merchants anticipated the prospect of conducting cross-border trade with fewer hindrances.
The resistance was led by a local vojvoda (duke), whose name has since faded into obscurity as his rebellion dwindled. Proclaiming a mission to "cleanse Serbia from foreign influence and restore autonomy," he and his followers began a violent campaign against supporters of the treaty and Roman traders. They went so far as to crucify Romans caught within their territory, posting them as grim warnings along the roadsides.
This insurgency severely disrupted the newly established trade routes, instilling fear in Roman merchants and halting their ventures into Serbian lands. As commerce stalled, King Stephen Tomašević saw an opportunity to showcase his diplomatic acumen—albeit questionably. Opting to remain neutral, he watched from the sidelines, speculating whether the Roman response might allow him to extract further concessions or gains from the treaty. This passive approach, however, risked letting the situation spiral out of control, threatening the economic benefits the treaty was intended to secure.
However, Emperor Antonius, ever resolute, interpreted the Serbian revolt as a direct affront to his authority. Upon learning that King Stephen Tomašević was unable to quell his rebellious lords, the Emperor sent a stern message: if the King could not enforce order within his realm, then the Romans would intervene on his behalf. With decisive action, Antonius mobilised his troops northward, targeting the fortress of Smederevo, the stronghold of the insurgents.
King Stephen, while regarded as a shrewd diplomat, was under no illusions about his military capabilities, especially when contrasted with the formidable Roman forces he had observed near Vidin. The famous Roman general, Julian of Constantinople, was also rumoured to be in Bulgaria, adding to the Serbian king’s apprehensions. Recognising the disparity in strength, Stephen hesitated to engage directly. Instead, he covertly dispatched support to the rebels, hoping to prolong their resistance until the Romans were forced to withdraw due to logistical challenges.
As Emperor Antonius led his forces into Serbia, he seized the opportunity to educate his son, Leo. The journey became an impromptu lesson in military strategy, geography, and the complexities of empire management. The young prince, rarely spending such uninterrupted time with his father, responded with infectious enthusiasm that lifted the Emperor’s spirits.
This period of bonding was abruptly shattered upon encountering the ghastly sight of Roman merchants crucified along the roadside, victims of the brutal rebel tactics, with their guts and intestines dropped out of the corpses, becoming a feast for various worms, flies, and vultures. The atrocities recounted by survivors further darkened their journey.
Witnessing such cruelty for the first time, Prince Leo was visibly shaken. Overcome by horror, he dismounted and retched beside the road, his face ashen and his youthful exuberance replaced by the grim realities of war. Emperor Antonius, though seasoned by countless battles, found no joy in this grim Chapter, for he knows that these people only entered the border because of his policies, and have now thrown their bodies here, becoming the first batch to sacrifice, due to his mistake.
As the Roman legion halted on the dusty outskirts of Smederevo, a cloud of dust heralded the arrival of General Julian of Athyras.
The veteran, accompanied by a contingent of three hundred Bulgarian cavalrymen, rode up to the imperial entourage with the air of seasoned authority. Disembarking from his horse, Julian’s war-worn visage and silvered beard marked the passage of relentless years spent in military service. The general, once a vigorous young officer bustling through the docks of Constantinople, now bore the scars and gravitas of decades spent safeguarding the empire’s frontiers.
Antonius, catching sight of his old comrade, was struck by the stark transformation. "Your hair was still blonde the last time we met, my friend," he remarked with a heavy sigh, clasping Julian’s hand warmly.
"Time spares none, Your Majesty," Julian responded, his voice tinged with the weight of his duties. "And Bulgaria is a demanding mistress. She has drained much of my energy in keeping her secure from threats, both from the local rogues and the Hungarians."
Glancing to the side, Julian noticed Prince Leo, who was attempting to regain his composure after witnessing the grim realities of war. The general’s expression softened as he addressed the young prince, "I apologise, Prince Leo. As the commander of the nearest army to Serbia, it was my duty to quell this insurgency swiftly. I regret that my delay brought you into contact with such horrors."
Leo, straightening up with a slight bow, managed a weak smile. "There’s no need for apologies, Uncle Julian. My father prepared me for the harshness of war, yet experiencing it firsthand has been a harsh lesson in reality. This, though jarring, will shape me into a ruler ready to face the ordeals of leadership. My reaction was my own, and no fault lies with you."
A slight emotion of surprise and awe fluttered through the weathered eyes of General Julian as he nodded solemnly, turning back to face Emperor Antonius. "Your Majesty, based on my latest intelligence concerning the rebellious vojvoda and the Serbian king, we must act swiftly. We need to crush the core of the rebellion before the king gets any bold ideas. It’s crucial we extinguish any hope he might harbour of emerging ’lucky’ from this confrontation."
The emperor responded with a firm nod, his voice resolute. "It will serve as a powerful demonstration of force."
"Yes," Julian agreed, his tone grave, "a demonstration of our might to crush dissent."
Young Leo, standing a little apart, listened but understood little of the grave military strategies being discussed.
Antonius turned towards his assembled troops, his command booming across the encampment. "Double the sentries! Maintain high alert at all times! We shall rest until three, then march at four! Make good use of your rest, lads, and steer clear of mischief!"
"Aye! Your Majesty!" came the unified response, echoing with discipline and readiness.
As the troops dispersed to their brief rest, the general and the emperor ordered the sentries and night watchers into position. They watched young Leo succumb to sleep, his youthful innocence a stark contrast to the burdens of command.
Then, the two seasoned leaders ascended a nearby hill, a spot offering solitude and a view of the encampment under the moonlight. "I’m sorry, Julian," Antonius began, his voice tinged with genuine regret, "I’ve left you alone in Bulgaria far too long. It’s time you returned to Constantinople, to rejoin your family. Your son has grown, my friend, and now studies in Thessaloniki under a renowned scholar."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Julian sighed, his gaze lifting to the heavens.
