Chapter 714: The Prince To His Father
Leo knew he had to be strong, not just for his father, but for the entire empire. The days ahead would be filled with challenges, both seen and unseen. Yet, as he sat there, surrounded by the very people who were supposed to aid him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation. His father’s health was failing, and with it, the stability of the realm seemed to teeter on the edge of a precipice. He would have to draw on every lesson his father had ever taught him, every piece of wisdom he had gleaned from watching the court’s machinations.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. He could not afford to falter. The eyes of the empire were on him now, whether they knew it or not. The mantle of leadership, once so firmly held by his father, was slipping towards him, and Leo had to be ready to grasp it, or risk losing everything. The thought was sobering, but it also steeled his resolve. The path ahead was fraught with peril, but he would walk it, for the sake of the empire, for the sake of his father, and for the sake of his own legacy.
The heir of the empire slowly rose from his seat, his expression dark as he surveyed the courtiers before him one by one.
The courtiers, having no knowledge of the purpose behind this meeting, exchanged uncertain glances. They waited in silence, apprehensive as to what the young prince might say when he finally spoke.
"New intelligence suggests there is a traitor among us," Leo began, his voice cutting through the room. "Someone has been selling information about our trade and merchandise to the Venetians."
At these words, those present who still carried the memories of the recent purge—where countless lives were lost—stood rigidly. Thoughts raced through their minds as they anxiously awaited what was to come from their prince.
Instead of continuing, Leo walked past each one of them, meeting their gazes with deliberate intensity. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, returning to his seat and sinking into it with a slow, deliberate motion. His icy, silent stare swept across the room for an uncomfortably long time, sending chills down the spines of many.
"I know most of you here are innocent," Leo finally said, breaking the oppressive silence. "I apologise for the trouble, my dear friends. This isn’t something I wanted to do, but a thorough investigation will now begin—each and every one of you will be questioned. It will take time, of course. But there is good news!" His voice shifted to a forced cheerfulness. "I’ll personally treat all of you to lunch. I assure you, it will be splendid! Be prepared!"
The more than fifty men standing below the dais remained solemn, unmoved by his forced levity.
Leo scanned the room once more, his expression hardening. "What? I’ve never hosted a buffet before, and this is the first time I’m doing it—with you, no less. Are you not delighted? Are you not rejoicing? Are you not honored? Why is no one smiling? Why is no one clapping?"
Only then did the courtiers force strained smiles and begin clapping, the sound hollow and mechanical.
At the prince’s command, the palace guards entered, and the Varangians secured the exits. Several palace officials rushed in, armed with papers and quills. They began calling the courtiers one by one, asking each a series of probing questions that spanned nearly their entire lives. The process took nearly an hour for each person, and once questioned, they were escorted to another room where they were politely but firmly locked in. It was clear this would take well over a day to complete. Some courtiers protested to the Varangians, brandishing their titles and noble ranks, but the Varangians merely replied that they understood no Greek.
A few tried to approach the prince for explanations, but Leo had already slipped away.
He mounted his horse and rode swiftly out of the palace, galloping towards the Golden Gate as he made his way out of the city.
Leo rode through the streets of Constantinople with a fierce intensity, gripping the reins of his horse tightly as if they were the only thing grounding him in the moment. His mind raced, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, he had to maintain the appearance of control within the court, but on the other, his thoughts were consumed with the health of his father. Each beat of the horse’s hooves against the cobblestones seemed to match the rapid pace of his heart.
The news of the emperor’s fall during the hunt had shaken him to his core. Though he had been raised in the shadow of his father’s greatness, Leo had never felt more uncertain about the future. His father had always been the unshakable force that held the empire together, but now, as the possibility of the emperor’s death loomed over them, Leo feared that the weight of the crown would fall too soon on his own shoulders. The pressure was suffocating.
Each messenger he passed on the road heightened his anxiety. He halted them abruptly, pulling them off their paths with a sense of urgency that only deepened their own fears. "How is my father?" he would ask, his voice betraying none of the calm he had forced himself to show in the palace. Each messenger’s reply—either evasive or uncertain—left him more agitated than before. No one seemed to know anything definitive. His heart thudded painfully in his chest with every unclear report, every shrug of confusion.
Finally, Leo received the news he had been dreading.
The emperor had fainted again, this time in a small seaside town, that is not far away from Constantinople..
Without pause, Leo galloped towards the town, never stopping for a moment. Within an hour, he reached the village, which was already bustling with commotion. The villagers, disturbed from their daily routines, had rushed from their homes to witness the unusual scene unfolding in their quiet village that is not seen for almost the entire century. Three lavishly decorated carts had arrived abruptly, coming with it a fleet of cavalries, taking over one of the rooms, while guards formed a tight circle to keep everyone away from entering the premise. To add to the chaos, an entire army had surrounded the village, horsemen charging in and out, transforming the peaceful place into something resembling a war zone.
The humble villagers, mostly fishermen, craftsmen, and sailors, had rarely seen anything like this in their town. They gathered in small groups, whispering and speculating about who this important figure might be.
"It must be the governor of Adrianopolis!" one man suggested.
"No, no," another, shaking his head, replied. "I’ve served in the army before. Look at those guards! These aren’t just any soldiers. This must be someone much more important—a grand general, perhaps?"
"Maybe General Helios!" another guessed.
As their murmurs grew louder, a few Varangians noticed the gathering crowd and chased them away.
Inside the room, the emperor’s condition was dire.
The blood had been cleaned from his body, but his frail and aging frame could not withstand the fall he’d taken from the galloping horse. The impact had devastated him—his internal organs were gravely injured, and his ribcage might have shattered. Now, he lay breathing weakly, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. His eyes remained tightly shut, his face pale as sweat beaded on his forehead from the excruciating pain and the infection that had begun to set in.
The physicians bustled around, trying everything they could to stabilise him. Though they had managed to keep him alive, he had yet to regain consciousness. It was as if something deep within him was keeping him trapped in his own mind, unable to wake and respond to the world around him. Despite their best efforts, none of the doctors had been able to bring him back.
As the physicians worked, a line of smoke in the distance signaled the approach of another fleet of riders. Cerberus, now in control of the situation, quickly cleared the villagers from the path, recognising the figure in the distance—someone donned in purple, a sign of royalty.
Leo had no time for questions. He leapt from his horse—almost falling in his haste—and rushed directly towards the guarded room, instinctively knowing it must be where his father lay.
The closer he got to the house, the heavier his heart became, weighed down by his own thoughts. He feared that his father was still unconscious, that perhaps he would never wake again. The uncertainty gnawed at him—what if his father never opened his eyes? What if he left behind his mother, his sister, and the entire empire, unprepared and vulnerable?
Shaking off his thoughts, Leo composed himself as one of the guards opened the wooden door for him. The creaking sound of the door echoed in the heavy silence that hung over the room.
