Chapter 715: Father’s Words
Upon entering the room, Prince Leo was immediately struck by the critical condition of his father. The old emperor lay on the cushions, his entire body covered in bandages and bruises, his chest visibly rising and falling with labored breaths. His head was propped upright, and nearby, the physicians hurried to prepare medications to tend to his numerous wounds.
When the young prince entered, everyone in the room stood up quickly, including the courtiers who had already gathered there. They all understood the gravity of the situation—the emperor’s condition left no doubt about who they would need to listen to as the next generation of leadership took shape.
Leo, however, had no time to notice the shifting allegiances of those around him. His focus was solely on his father. He rushed to the emperor’s side and gazed at the frail man who had once been a towering pillar of strength. The once confident, energetic boy now stood before his crumbling father, filled with a mixture of grief, fear, and uncertainty. What would happen to him if the pillar holding up the empire began to collapse? Would the roof that had long sheltered the people and the state come crashing down? Would opportunists from beyond the borders swoop in like vultures to claim the remnants of the empire? No one could answer these questions, and no help seemed forthcoming.
Sensing his son’s presence, the old emperor slowly opened his eyes for the first time in over a day, fighting through weakness. The physicians in the room exchanged glances, their faces briefly lighting up with hope as their sovereign struggled to open his eyelids, which were crusted with dried tears and mucus. The emperor made an effort to rise, but quickly realised he could not move a single muscle. Every inch of his body was racked with pain. He tried to call out to his son, to speak Leo’s name, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a scream of agony.
Leo stood motionless, his heart torn as he watched his father—a man who had always seemed indomitable—reduced to such a state. He held his father’s hand tightly, offering the only comfort he could. The physicians rushed forward, gently lifting the emperor’s head and carefully pouring a freshly brewed syrup down his throat. After a few moments, the medicine took effect, easing the emperor’s torment. Though the pain did not fully subside, it allowed him to stop screaming.
With great effort, the emperor finally managed to fully open his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he looked upon his beloved son with a frail, but meaningful gaze.
"I am sorry, my son." The emperor spoke first, his voice frail as he reached out with his twig-like arms, trying to touch his son’s youthful face but losing strength halfway. Seeing this, Leo quickly reached out and gently guided his father’s hand to his cheek. "I am sorry, Leo, for making such an irresponsible decision."
"No, no, father." A bitter tear slipped down Leo’s cheek, falling onto the emperor’s hand and slightly wetting the bandages.
"There is no need for you to apologise, my dear father," Leo said, his voice trembling. "But right now, at least, can you tell me... what do we do next?"
"What do we do next?" The emperor’s weak expression stilled, as if the question itself left him momentarily lost. As a seasoned sovereign who had led his empire for decades, Antonius had often contemplated plans for when he could no longer rule. Yet now, with the time truly upon him, the words he once thought he’d have ready failed him. The real question struck him—could he truly entrust this vast empire to the child standing before him, still so young, barely showing the first signs of adulthood with the thin line of a mustache on his lip? Whom could he depend on?
In that moment, Antonius realised something critical he had long ignored—his loyal companions like Julian, Abdullah, Alexios, and Helios were either too old to continue or had already passed on. They were no longer there to guide and support this sprawling empire. Meanwhile, the newer generation of leaders had not yet gained the experience or wisdom to shoulder the immense responsibilities that came with their positions.
The emperor lay there, staring blankly into the void. Leo, observing his father’s silence and distant expression, knew the answer before Antonius could say a word. With a heavy sigh, Leo forced a smile, leaned in, and embraced his father gently. "It’s alright, Father. You’ll be fine. You’ll recover, even stronger than before, and return to us. Everything will be alright."
"No, my son." Antonius suddenly sat up, gripping Leo’s arms tightly, his eyes locking onto his son’s with a desperate intensity. "No, Leo, I know myself. I know my own body, and I made a terrible mistake in overestimating my strength. I feel it—every second, every minute, my body is slipping away from me. It feels as if everything inside me has been torn apart, as if my organs have been upended and my skin is burning from within."
Leo stood frozen, unable to find the words to respond, his throat tightening with emotion.
Antonius’s face flushed hotter with each passing moment. He glanced around the room, seeing the concerned faces of physicians and servants gathered by the walls, and his ever-loyal Cerberus standing guard by the door. With a weary sigh, the emperor issued a quiet command. "Everyone, give us some space."
Under Cerberus’s guidance, the physicians and servants quietly filed out of the room, leaving the father and son alone.
"Listen, Leo, I don’t have much time," Antonius said, feeling a rush of blood to his head that suddenly sharpened his thoughts, causing his words to quicken. He gripped his son’s hands even tighter. "Abdullah is reliable and loyal—but he’s old, and he’s conservative. Still, he can help you navigate the difficult period that lies ahead. And beyond Abdullah, trust Alexios. Remember, this land beneath us has been scarred by war for far too long. Our territories have expanded too quickly, and there are still countless separatist factions lurking. Keep in mind, my son, that we govern a diverse empire, made up not only of the old Romans but also the new Romans—Bulgarians, Turks, Lombards, Rus’, and Serbians. They have not yet been integrated into our empire; they have only been subdued by force. It’s likely that unrest will arise among them in the future. Our forces are stretched thin across our vast borders, defending against enemies on all sides, and if internal conflicts erupt, we’ll be crushed like a sponge under pressure. Do you understand?"
Leo nodded urgently, his eyes brimming with tears.
"What else... Yes, don’t be fooled by the prosperity of Thessaloniki and Constantinople. It’s an illusion. Most of our people still live in dire conditions. But I trust you on this, for I know you’ve already seen it with your own eyes on your recent journey. You made me proud, Leo. We can’t raise more armies or expand our borders—the people cannot endure another draining war that forces them from their fields and disrupts their livelihoods. And remember, never trust the Genoese or the Venetians. Their promises are like poison, disguised with sweet words."
Suddenly, the emperor paused, coughing, as he glanced down at his hand. What he saw on his son’s arm was a faint stain of blood.
"Yes, I know that, Father," Leo replied, tears streaming down his face as he nodded repeatedly. "I understand! Please, Father, lie down and rest. We can talk more when you feel better..."
"No, no, Leo, I can’t be sure I’ll wake up again. I can’t take that chance now—not when I’ve already taken so many risks in my lifetime," Antonius shook his head and looked up at his son. "Remember, Leo, do not be like your brother Giovanni. You must always know that we are not invincible. We can be overwhelmed, we can be defeated, and we cannot afford to make too many enemies at once. Keep friendly ties with neighboring powers... The Turks, under the Zaganos brothers, may be weakened now, but they will rise again when they regain their strength. The Latins to the west can be our friends, as long as we respect their trade interests. Kiev is friendly, but that’s because we don’t yet have conflicting interests. I fear that day will come when they push into Crimea and Kherson. The Serbians and Bosnians are our allies but not always dependable. As for the Hungarians... their focus lies elsewhere, allowing us to maintain peace with them. Remember, my son, the more friends we have, the safer we are."
"...And speaking of Giovanni?" Leo asked, his voice strained with emotion.
"Your brother Giovanni has been good to us," Antonius acknowledged. "That’s why you can trust him. Make him your closest ally in the army—he has no claim to the throne. But always keep him near. He is a lion, and if you let a lion roam too long in the wild, he will become wild. Your mother... I failed her. I promised her a peaceful life, that I’d spend more time with her, but I let her down. And your sister... I wasn’t there for her during her years of growing up. You, Leo, are not yet married, but remember this: a man’s duty is to love, care for, and be present for his family."
"Yes, I understand," Leo whispered, nodding again as tears continued to flow down his cheeks.
