Chapter 718: Memories
"Sorry I’m late."
Giovanni Giustiniani Junior burst through the doors, his towering frame momentarily blocking the sunlight. Clad in full armor, a blade still hanging at his side, he exuded an air of urgency. Behind him, Cerberus followed in agitation, speaking quickly.
"Your Highness! You mustn’t enter armed like this! All members are required to disarm before—"
Antonius waved a weary hand, silencing the protests. "It’s fine, Cerberus."
Before another word could be uttered, Giovanni dropped to his knees before the emperor, his face shadowed by a mix of guilt and solemnity.
"Giovanni," Antonius rasped, struggling to lift himself from his reclining position. "Come, help me up. I can’t stay lying here."
Giovanni sprang to his feet, moving to aid the frail ruler. Leo, ever attentive, also stepped forward to assist. Together, they gently lifted the emperor. As Leo began to step away, Antonius’s hand clasped his arm firmly.
"Stay," the emperor commanded softly. "You too, Giovanni. Both of you, stay with me."
The old emperor held their hands in his trembling grasp, his gaze shifting between them. He sighed, the weight of unspoken fears and responsibilities evident in his voice. "Listen to me, Leo, Giovanni. You are brothers—brothers bound by blood and by duty. That bond is unbreakable, stronger than anything else in this world. I need you both to remain strong, together, always."
Antonius turned his piercing gaze to Giovanni. "Giovanni, you are a master of the sword, a warrior of unmatched skill. And you, Leo, have been groomed for governance, a mind destined to rule. Together, you are the pillars of this empire. But, Giovanni..." The emperor’s voice hardened. "I must know one thing for certain from you."
The room fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. The emperor’s eyes locked onto Giovanni’s. "Swear to me. Will you remain loyal to your brother Leo, forever?"
The atmosphere froze as all eyes turned to the three men. The emperor’s words hung heavy in the air, their meaning unmistakable. Everyone understood the subtext: I fear that after my death, you, Giovanni, with your rising influence in the military, might turn against the new emperor.
Leo’s expression shifted to shock, his father’s request cutting deep. It revealed much—perhaps too much. It could only mean three things: first, the emperor no longer held absolute confidence in his heir’s ability to command the empire; second, he doubted Leo’s control over the military; and third, a possibility even more unsettling—Antonius had never truly trusted Giovanni Giustiniani Junior.
Leo, poised to object, was stopped short when Giovanni Junior, without a word, took a step back and knelt once again. Bowing his head low, the young man’s silence was deafening. The emperor, gripping Leo’s wrist tightly, exuded an energy that seemed uncharacteristic for a man so frail and bedridden just moments ago.
Giovanni Junior took a deep breath, his face resolute. Without hesitation, he drew a dagger from his belt. The room gasped collectively, the tension palpable, as the blade gleamed briefly in the dim light. Before anyone could react, the young man slashed his right cheek with a clean, deliberate motion. Blood streamed down, tracing a vivid crimson path along his jawline.
The room fell silent, stunned. Anna stifled a cry, her hand clutching her mouth in shock. Even the Varangians, who had seen their share of violence, stiffened.
"Now, father," Giovanni declared, his voice steady despite the pain etched across his face. He dropped the dagger, its metallic clink against the wooden floor reverberating through the room. "I swear to you, upon my blood and life, that I will remain loyal to this family, to Leo, and to the empire for all my days. If I should ever break this oath, then it will not be my cheek that I cut—but my throat."
Antonius locked eyes with his stepson. The emperor’s gaze softened for the first time, yet it held the weight of his years, his wisdom, and his unspoken sorrow. After a long moment, he leaned forward slightly, his voice tinged with both regret and tenderness.
"What are you doing, my boy?" Antonius sighed. "I only needed your word. There was no need for such a display, no need for blood. Someone, please, tend to him—get Giovanni’s wounds cleaned and bandaged."
Two attendants quickly stepped forward to help Giovanni Junior rise, but he hesitated for a moment, as though waiting for the emperor’s further command. Finally, he allowed himself to be escorted from the room, blood still dripping faintly from his cheek as it smeared onto his armor.
Leo remained frozen in place, watching his brother leave. He glanced at his father and recognised the seriousness in his eyes—a reminder that nothing about the emperor’s questions, or his doubts, had been mere formality. Even on the brink of death, Antonius ruled with the precision of a man who knew the stakes were nothing less than the survival of his empire.
Antonius exhaled heavily and allowed his body to relax back into the cushions. His gaze drifted slowly over the room, taking in the people gathered around him. He first met the wide, uncertain eyes of his son Leo—full of fear, sadness, and shock. Then his gaze softened as it lingered on Anna. Her hair, streaked with gray, framed her sorrow-filled face. The faint scent of her perfume reached him, mingling with the salt of her tears. He moved his eyes to his daughter, Agatha, who nervously fidgeted in one corner, brushing away tears as they fell down her cheeks.
Finally, Antonius tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, his expression turning contemplative. His voice emerged as a faint murmur, almost inaudible.
"I dreamed of a thousand ways I might leave this world," he began. "In the storms of the seas, atop the highest mountains, or in the heat of battle, surrounded by my brothers in arms. I always despised the thought of dying on a bed like this...helpless, bound in place. But now," he paused, his voice trembling with emotion, "the only comfort I have is knowing you are all here with me—my family, my friends, my brothers."
From the corner of the room came the first soft sound of weeping, breaking the stillness. It grew gradually, as more joined in—sorrow, respect, and love filling the air like an unspoken prayer.
Antonius’ smile lingered as he gazed into the distance, his voice soft and tinged with nostalgia. His frail body seemed to regain a fleeting energy as he recounted the vivid dream that clung to his mind.
"I remember that dream so clearly, Leo," he began, his tone almost reverent. "It felt like stepping into the pages of a story I’d long forgotten. I saw your grandparents... standing on the docks of Genoa. Oh, how young they were back then—so full of life, though they lived a simple existence. I rarely spoke of them, you know. Not because I wanted to forget, but because they left little to the world besides me. Your grandfather... he was a carpenter, building houses for others. Your grandmother painted portraits on the streets, her hands always stained with colours. And me? I was just a harbor boy, dreaming of adventure but clueless about what lay beyond."
The emperor’s eyes softened, memories of his youth cascading through his words. "I saw them so vividly in my dream—standing on the dock, waving at me. Their smiles... oh, their smiles. I remember it as the last time I ever saw them. I stood on the deck of a ship, the Formidata, a sturdy vessel captained by Clinio Servello. Ah, he was a gruff man, full of curses and discipline. When he found out I was afraid of heights, he made it his mission to break that fear—kicked me until I climbed the mast. He even gave me my first blade, saying it was meant for his son, though his son would never wield it... Clinio died in a naval battle against the Franks not long after."
Antonius paused, a wistful sigh escaping his lips, before continuing. "In my dream, the scenes shifted. I found myself on a battlefield—chaos all around, the smell of smoke and blood in the air. But there beside me was my old friend Giovanni Giustinianni. Oh, how we laughed together in my dream. We drank, we quarreled, and we even exchanged fists. I remember when we first met in Sicily—we were both so young then. He hadn’t yet become a mercenary, and I was fresh off my first spoils of looting. I thought I was invincible, that the world belonged to me. Then Giovanni knocked me flat during an argument, and we laughed it off over drinks."
Antonius’ voice trembled as his gaze fixed on something only he could see. "But then, in the dream... I saw him differently. Giovanni, in full armor, his long blade raised high, charging headfirst into a wall of fire. That image... it felt so real. The fire consumed him, but he charged forward anyway, fearless, determined. It reminded me of the man he was—unyielding, a lion until the end."
