Chapter 726: Passing of Generation
At the back of the room, Cerberus stood silently, observing the scene with a heavy heart. His weathered face betrayed his concern. The young emperor had not rested properly in months, and Cerberus knew the strain this relentless pace was taking on him. It pained the old warrior to acknowledge his own aging body, unable to wield his axe with the same vigour as he once did. He worried, too, about whether the younger generation of Varangians—those who now stood in his place—could match the skill and ferocity of his old comrades.
Still, as Cerberus watched the emperor and the commanders rally around this looming threat, a faint flicker of hope stirred within him.
For in the eyes of these youthful commanders seated around the table, he saw not fear of the approaching conflict, but a burning eagerness—a hunger to prove themselves on the battlefield.
Finally, the most senior of the generals, one of the founding pillars of the Roman Army, Helios, rose from his seat. His hawk-like gaze swept across the room, sharp and commanding, before he spoke with the authority earned through years of war.
"The enemies in the East, despite their staggering numbers, are nothing to fear as long as we control the Sea of Marmara with our superior navy," Helios declared, his voice steady as iron. "Our fortresses along the eastern frontier are strong enough to hold, though this will come at the cost of heavy losses along our shorelines. But we must prioritise. Our focus should be on the weaker foes in the West—Serbia and Bosnia—whose rebellion threatens the very heart of our empire."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the silent assembly.
"We must strike swiftly and decisively, crushing these rebels to prevent further destabilisation. Once we have forced them into submission and secured peace in the West, we will turn our full might to the East. There, we will meet our enemies in a single, decisive battle. Victory will not only secure our borders for years to come but will also buy us the time needed to prepare for a final campaign—one that will ensure they never rise against us again."
As Helios concluded, the room fell into a heavy silence. Then, breaking through the stillness, came the sound of steady applause.
It was the young emperor, Leo.
"Well said," Leo remarked, his voice calm yet filled with quiet authority. "Then tell me, General Helios—who do you believe is up to this task?"
Helios glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the faces of the younger commanders before he sighed and shook his head slightly.
"If it were my old comrade, General Julian, I would say without hesitation that these rebels would be nothing more than a fleeting nuisance. But Julian is gone..." Helios’s voice grew distant, as if recalling battles long past. "As for the younger generation—I do not question their loyalty or spirit—but I doubt they possess the experience, the discipline, or the patience required to lead in a campaign of this magnitude."
His words hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow over the younger commanders. Their proud expressions faltered, and many sat straighter, their chests rising with indignation, though none dared speak—until Giovanni Junior could no longer hold his tongue.
Exchanging a quick glance with his fellow young officers, Giovanni rose to his feet, his face flushed with determination.
"Your Majesty, General Helios," he began, his voice firm, though edged with frustration. "I must respectfully disagree with the esteemed general’s assessment. We may not have the years of experience that General Julian carried, but we possess the valor, the discipline, and the strategic insight needed to face our enemies—and to defeat them."
Helios did not even lift his sight from the map spread across the table. His voice was low but sharp.
"Are you sure of that, young man? Do you not realise that I am trying to shield you from a burden greater than you can carry?"
Giovanni squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. "With all due respect, General, I do not believe we need shielding. We carry the same responsibilities as our forefathers, and we are ready to prove it."
At last, Helios looked up, his piercing eyes locking onto Giovanni’s. "You speak boldly in front of the emperor," he said sternly. "You should know that every word you utter here carries weight—weight that will follow you for the rest of your life."
Giovanni stood tall, his voice unwavering as he turned to face his sovereign directly.
"Then let my words carry that weight, Your Majesty. I pledge before you and before the double-headed eagle of Rome: I will lead an army to victory. I will crush the enemies of the empire, defend our borders with courage and patience, and bring no shame to you or to the legacy of our forefathers."
Emperor Leo rose from his seat, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly.
"I have heard your words, General," Leo replied. "And I believe you will not disappoint me—nor the empire."
After that, a smile emerged on the already wrinkled face of General Helios as he tapped the commanding stick against the map on the table and issued his orders.
"I have spent my entire life fighting the Turks... and now, I am old. I do not wish to travel far, but rather to remain in one place and rest my weary legs. Thus, I will need you—young, robust, and energetic warriors—to march into the mountains of the North with our mobile forces, to drive those rebels back to where they came from, and to ensure they will never again pose a threat to our empire.
Meanwhile, I shall return to the East to hold the lines against the Sultan. And when you are done with the war in the North, you will return to Anatolia, where together, we shall drive the enemy from our lands once and for all!"
With the orders given, the younger generals rose to their feet, their faces flushed with scarlet fervor, vowing to punish the enemies of the empire for their treachery.
Helios laughed alongside his old comrades, watching these young men before him—so much like himself in his younger years. The same fire, the same passion for Rome, burned in their eyes.
Giovanni glanced left and right before reaching out his hand to the center, his voice ringing through the room with excitement. "Come, comrades! Together as one, we shall prove ourselves, our strength, and our loyalty! Together, we shall bring stability to our empire!"
One by one, the commanders stacked their hands atop his. And finally, the young emperor himself rose from his seat, placing his hand on top of the stack. Then, in unison, their voices thundered through the chamber.
"Together! As One!"
"We shall bring victory to the empire!"
"For the Glory of Rome!"
"Una simul, ad victoriam! Gloria Romano Imperio!"
Another grand parade was held in Constantinople. The streets were filled with the rhythmic sound of marching boots as the legions passed in formation before the Hagia Sophia, receiving the blessings of the Ecumenical Patriarch.
From there, they advanced toward the Great Palace, where Emperor Leo stood upon the balcony, saluting them with solemn pride. Their march continued into the Hippodrome, where they received the farewells and thanksgiving of the citizens of Constantinople—cheers, prayers, and tears of gratitude echoing through the ancient stone.
Then came the parting of the legions.
One half, under the command of Emperor Leo and Giovanni Junior, turned westward, marching through the Mese and passing beneath the towering Golden Gate, heading toward the Northern Front to meet the Serbian and Bosnian threat.
The other half, under Helios, veered southward, making their way toward the Harbor of Julian, where ships awaited to ferry them across the Marmara. Their destination: the Anatolian fortresses, to prepare for war against the Zaganos Sultan.
As the soldiers marched into the horizon, the empire held its breath.
War had come to Rome once more.
The Sultan in the East and the Bosnian and Serbian nobles in the North were no longer what they once were. Over the years, they had forged armies far superior to those of the past—more disciplined, better equipped, and more experienced in warfare.
But the Romans had evolved as well.
Their military had transformed into a formidable war machine, honed through decades of victories and relentless innovation. Their armories now housed weapons and strategies beyond the wildest imaginations of their enemies. The coming war would not just be a contest of might but a test of who had truly adapted, who had truly grown—a clash that would determine the fate of an empire.
And, for the first time, it would not be the veterans of Rome leading the charge, unlike in the past.
It was time to test the younger generation—their resilience, their strategies, their leadership, their virtues, and their confidence.
Before leaving Constantinople, Helios left Giovanni and Emperor Leo with a parting note, written in his firm yet weathered hand.
