Chapter 719: The Emperor Has Come To
"I remember that in my dreams, I found myself on countless battlefields, one after another. I remember standing atop the Theodosian Walls of Constantinople. I remember seeing our greatest foe — Mehmed II — the man we once believed we could never defeat. He stood on the opposite side of a river, his gaze turning back to meet mine. I remember seeing my dear friend Giovanni. He was there, standing proudly in the courtyard, his blade raised high, with his wife Therma standing just behind him. I remember all those brothers who followed me on the fleet long ago. They were all there, gathered in a circle, their hands linked together as they smiled at me with warmth and pride..."
The old emperor’s voice grew hoarser, his breathing shallow, but he continued. His eyes wandered, gazing far beyond the room.
"I remember seeing old friends from another era... Constantine XI Palaiologos stood before me. He still held that old, rusted double-headed eagle sceptre in his hand. He gazed across the Golden Horn with that familiar, watchful look on his face. Then, he turned back toward me and nodded, as if to say, ’You have done well.’ It was as if he acknowledged me as a worthy successor. I also saw my wife’s father. I never thought highly of him... but I saw him too. He was quiet as always, looking at me, not saying a word. He never said it, but I could tell he was worried about his daughter. I wanted to shout at him, to tell him, ’Your daughter is fine. She is well-cared for.’ But when I opened my mouth, no words came out. That’s when it hit me — I had not looked after Anna as well as I should have all these years."
His breathing grew slower, but he continued. His voice was now faint, but everyone leaned in closer to hear him.
"I remember in my dream... I saw Anjelo. Same as always, with his ash-coloured beard. We used to laugh at him and call him ’The White-Bearded One.’ But now... now I see that my own beard has turned white too. Slowly, without even realising it, we all turned into old men. I saw Yuri as well. He stood firm, as solid as a stone wall. But this time, his head was missing from his neck. And yet... I knew it was him. How could I not? His posture, his stance, that sturdy frame — it was unmistakably Yuri. He was the one who shielded me so many times on the battlefield. I saw him as clearly as I see you now."
A tear rolled down his cheek, and his voice faltered, but he pushed himself to continue.
"I heard the voice of Abraham too. I could hear him shouting with that fire in his voice, as he always did. He used to say he wanted to sail to the edge of the world, to see what lay beyond it. ’I’ll sail until I fall off the edge,’ he used to joke. I think... I think he’s already embarked on that journey in my dream. He’s gone ahead of me, looking for that edge. And I... I suppose I’ll follow him soon."
His voice trembled as it grew weaker, softer. His words came slowly now, each one like a final breath of air. His eyes, half-closed, drifted upward toward the ceiling.
"I saw... so many others. Friends, comrades, and brothers-in-arms. They came to me, one after another. Some of them, I can no longer recall their names. But I knew them. I knew them all. They were the men who fought beside me, the ones who stood at my side when no one else would. I hope I will see them again. I hope I will be worthy to meet them in Heaven. But I know the weight of my sins. The number of souls I have taken... it is too many to count. How can a man like me, with such a stain on his soul, hope to enter Heaven? Still, in my dream, I saw them... all of them. My brothers. They reached out to me. They tried to pull me up from below, pulling me toward Heaven. I saw them trying, and for the first time in so long, I felt hope. Perhaps they will succeed. Perhaps they will save me from the flames below."
He took a long, strained breath. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, began to close. But he managed one last thought.
"I used to doubt the existence of God. I used to doubt His kingdom. I thought, perhaps, that Heaven was just a tale told to comfort us. But now... now I want it to be real. I need it to be real. I want to see it with my own eyes, to see if it is any different from this world. I want to see if it is truly the place where suffering ends..."
With that, his voice fell silent. His head tilted slightly to one side. For a brief moment, the room remained completely still. No one spoke. No one moved. Only the faint crackling of a distant torch could be heard. His family and friends stared at him in stunned silence, as if they were afraid that even a whisper might shatter the fragile peace in the room.
Leo, holding his father’s hand tightly, rose his head and gently approached the old man’s face. His breathing had become shallow. His eyes were closed.
"Father...?" Leo’s voice trembled with uncertainty.
He shook his father’s hand, just a little.
"Father...?"
There was no answer. No response. No movement.
Then it happened. Slowly, steadily, Antonius’s fingers — which had been holding Leo’s hand so tightly just moments ago — began to loosen. His grip slipped away, his fingers falling one by one. His hand slid from Leo’s palm and dropped to the side of the couch, landing softly on the cushion below.
Leo froze. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he felt his entire world collapse. He blinked, but his heart was already pounding in his chest. His breath caught in his throat.
"Physicians! Physicians!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice cracked with desperation, his call echoing through the room.
The assembly of courtiers erupted into disarray. Some rushed forward in an attempt to see the emperor’s condition with their own eyes, while others fell to their knees, mourning and praying in a display of shock and grief. The room swirled with hushed gasps, sobs, and murmurs. Julian let out a deep, weary sigh as he slowly traced the sign of the cross upon his chest. Abdullah lowered his head in silent contemplation, his gaze lost in the distance, his thoughts known to none but himself.
Alexios and Helios, despite their age and frailty, rose from their seats with newfound strength. Their voices cut through the noise as they called for order. "Stay calm! Stay in line! Do not disgrace the presence of the emperor!" they barked, steadying the storm of emotions that threatened to consume the room. Slowly, the courtiers regained some measure of composure, though grief still clouded every face.
Amid the sea of mourners, one voice pierced the air louder than the rest — Anna. Her wails of sorrow echoed like a mother grieving her firstborn. She threw herself onto her husband’s still body, her fingers clutching his hand as if holding it tighter might breathe life back into it. Her tears streamed down her face, soaking into his bandages and his robes, as she wept uncontrollably.
"Why, Antonius?!" she cried, her voice cracking with despair. "You promised me! You promised me you’d stay with me until the end!" Her sobs shook her whole body, and she had to be pulled away from him by her children. Leo, his face pale and streaked with tears, wrapped his arms around his mother, his voice broken and hoarse. "Mother, please... please..." His sister Agatha held her mother on the other side, her tears silent but no less painful.
Antonius lay there on the bed, more at peace than at any moment in his long and arduous life. His face bore a serenity none had seen before. No longer did he wear the burdens of war, the chains of state affairs, or the weight of struggles unending. His soul had been freed from the cares of the world. As the sun rose higher in the sky, a beam of light from the window poured in, falling upon him and only him. The light bathed his face in a warm, golden glow, giving him an almost divine radiance. His still features, illuminated as if by the very hand of heaven, appeared saintly, serene, and filled with grace. It was as if God Himself had called him home.
The physicians did all they could. They checked his pulse. They listened for his breath. They attempted every remedy within their knowledge, but it was all in vain. Eventually, the lead physician raised his eyes to meet the gazes of the gathered nobles. His expression was grim but resolute. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.
