Chapter 693: Passing Of Command
"Sequiturque patrem non passibus aequis »
"He follows his father, but not with equal steps."
- Virgil, Aeneid (29–19 BC), Book II, line 724
Resigned to his fate, the king, isolated and unsupported, picked up the quill. His hand trembled as he signed the treaty, effectively capitulating to the demands imposed upon him by the Roman empire. As he set down the quill, Markos swiftly collected the document, still wet with ink, and held it aloft, proclaiming victory to his subordinates. "The emperor’s got his wish! The Despot has signed the treaty! Long live the emperor! Long live the empire!" His men echoed this triumph, their voices filling the room with cries of allegiance to their emperor.
Turning back to the king, now a mere shadow of authority on his own throne, Markos assumed a slightly more formal tone. "Thank you, king of Serbia," he acknowledged with a nod, the power dynamics painfully clear. "I will be here with you for some time, for I now carry the responsibility to supervise that all of these are done properly according to the terms that you have signed. I do hope that we will have a pleasure working with one another in the future."
The king managed a weak nod, his fate sealed, as the Roman officer, now his overseer, laid out his intention to remain in Serbia to ensure compliance. The court was silent, the air heavy with the weight of a sovereignty compromised and a future uncertain, dictated by the terms of an imposed treaty.
In the aftermath of the coerced treaty, the once sovereign realm of Serbia and Bosnia found its autonomy irretrievably compromised. The despot of Serbia, overwhelmed by immediate and graver concerns, could not afford the luxury of mourning the loss of independence. The country was thrust into turmoil as the Serbian forces, under the vigilant eyes of Roman supervisors, launched a relentless campaign across cities, towns, and villages. Their mission was clear: to root out anyone connected to the recent rebellion, based on claims that anti-Roman elements had infiltrated all levels of society.
The crackdown was ruthless and indiscriminate. Community after community, whether involved in the rebellion or not, found itself besieged by Serbian soldiers. Attempts by locals to resist were futile; the ordinary peasants stood no chance against the well-organised might of a national army. Meanwhile, some locals and Roman soldiers simply stood by, witnessing the harsh measures as suspected rebels were subdued, bound, and carted away.
Within a month, the campaign yielded thousands of captives and led to hundreds of executions. The toll on the local population was immense and immeasurable, inflicted largely by their own countrymen under the watchful supervision of the Romans. This brutal purge effectively weakened any remaining resistance to Roman influence in the region.
For Emperor Antonios, however, these events were but a footnote in the broader narrative of his reign. Confident in his commanders’ ability to maintain order, he withdrew from the Serbian lands, leaving the continued enforcement to his subordinates. Before his departure, there was a proposal for a grand ceremony to honour General Julian’s retirement, but the old warrior declined. Julian expressed a desire for simplicity, prioritising the emperor’s attention on more pressing matters rather than on his retirement. His only wish was for a tranquil retirement, away from the scars of battle, to heal his wounds, remember fallen comrades, and enjoy a peaceful existence removed from the burdens of command.
The emperor assented, granting General Julian a handsome reward—an honorary noble title as the Megas Doméstikos, and a mansion beside the Bosphorus. This positioning made it convenient for the seasoned general to travel between his home and Constantinople, should issues demand his presence.
General Julian, accompanied by his guards, took the country road, leaving a silent figure behind for the ageing emperor. His back, now visibly stooped, betrayed none of the strength that had defined his younger years when he first joined the emperor’s mercenary band two and a half decades earlier. His mount, showing signs of long service in its faded coat and mane, had been Julian’s steadfast companion through many years and now bore him home.
"Father," Leo inquired, "where is Uncle Julian going? When will he return?"
"He is off to his sanctuary, his place of rest," replied Antonius. "Whether we shall see him again, I truly do not know, my son."
"I understand, Father," the young boy nodded. "What lies ahead for us then?"
A flicker of bewilderment crossed the old emperor’s eyes. He had completed the last piece of the world map, leaving no room for further expansion. The laws of the realm were established, and the nation’s affairs were now managed by his aging peers and a continuous influx of fresh graduates from the matured educational system.
Suddenly, the emperor felt redundant, as if there were no affairs requiring his attention, no crucial decisions pending. It seemed as if he were no longer essential, and the country could run smoothly under the current civil administration.
"Father?" Leo’s voice again pierced his reverie.
Looking down at his son’s still cherubic face, the emperor smiled warmly, realising his earlier thoughts were misguided. There was still one vital task unfinished, far more significant than any conquest.
"My son," the emperor said, "you’ve always dreamed of touring our country to see its vastness, haven’t you? To explore the mountains, beaches, rivers, villages, and towns, correct?"
A spark ignited in young Leo’s eyes as he nodded vigorously in his father’s arms. "Yes! Yes, I would love to!"
The emperor patted his son’s head gently, gazing into the distance with a sigh. "Then, your father shall take you to see the world ahead of you."
The emperor signalled, summoning his faithful follower Cerberus. As the latter approached, Antonius noticed something—Cerberus’ beard was also turning white.
Antonius sighed, giving his command to his loyal guard. "Pass my message to Constantinople: I will not be returning to the capital this time."
The Varangian commander was taken aback, stumbling as he urgently pleaded. "Your Majesty! The empire cannot be without its emperor for even a day! The entire state will descend into worry if you are absent. The government will fall into chaos, and the enemies we have quelled, both within and outside our borders, will rise again upon hearing this news! Please, Emperor!"
The old emperor, markedly different from his usual self, listened patiently to Cerberus. Dismounting, he helped his loyal guard rise from his knees. "Stand up, my faithful commander. Remember, this is not just a test for myself but also a test for the government we have built over the years. It must withstand any emergency that is foreseeable in the near future. Remember Cerberus, I know myself, I know my very own body conditions, I cannot be with the empire forever. There will come a day when I shall be gone from my reign, and the empire must continue without me."
Cerberus, tears welling in his eyes, remained steadfast, pleading once more. "But, Emperor..."
Antonius’ face hardened. "Commander Cerberus, this is my order. Do you wish to defy your emperor’s command?"
"I am not a true soldier, Your Majesty," the burly man replied, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I was merely a humble sailor, venturing down the Volga in search of fortune. It was you, and Master Yuri—may God bless him in heaven—who gave me everything I have now. I swore my life to you, Your Majesty. Please, let me stay by your side and protect you!"
The emperor’s lips moved, but he remained silent.
The Varangian commander bowed his head to the muddy road, weeping as he urged once again. "Please, do not leave me behind, Your Majesty!"
The old emperor made a heavy sign, as he pulled the tall Varangian to one side, took a look at his son, who is still standing there by the other guards with an ignorant face, and sighed, before pointing right onto the broad chest of the Varangian. "Listen, Cerberus! You are already in your forties, you are my Varangian commander in charge of over a thousand Varangians! You represent the face of this army, this empire, and me! And who said that you will be abandoned? I know, that I am a frail old man that might die at any time, but your career is not yet finished! That is your next step of your career, I wish that one day, you shall be called ’General Cerberus’, remember? Now, come here Leo!"
The young boy Leo came forward, still with that ignorant face.
Antonius gave a nod to the Varangian Commander in ashen beard.
The later immediately understood what his sovereign is hinting, as he kneed down again on one knee, with his hands on his chest, and his head lowered, towards the young prince of the empire. "Prince Leo your Majesty, with my blood, my honour, my prestige, I hereby swear my humble allegiance towards you, I shall see you as my sovereign, I will sacrifice myself for your safety when needed, I will be your left and right hand, I will be your sharpest blade, that you can have command over at all times, please, your Majesty."
