1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Mistras, the capital of the Grand Duchy of Morea.

It was early summer, with the humidity gradually decreasing and the temperature not yet fully rising—the most pleasant time of the year.

In the fields, farmers were busy harvesting wheat, aiming to plant other crops before the next autumn sowing season.

Many households cultivated grapes or olives, which were the most important cash crops on the Morea Peninsula, with wine and olive oil exported overseas.

Near the city, small textile factories began to multiply, with workers using the most primitive tools to weave wool or silk into fabric.

Of course, the exquisite, delicate silk and warm, insulating woolen cloth were not for ordinary farmers or citizens, who mostly grew flax and wove their own clothes.

After harvesting wheat, farmers would bring their labour's rewards from the past few months to the city to sell.

Mistras was the largest city in Morea, with the castle of the Palaiologos family standing on the mountain beside it.

The walls of Mistras were solid and located on a hill, and successive Grand Dukes of Morea repeatedly repaired the walls, making it their last stronghold.

After Constantine was crowned Grand Duke of Morea, he worked hard to govern the country, encouraged agriculture and sericulture, and relocated a large number of refugees from the war-torn region of Albania to cultivate the abandoned land.

With the southward migration of refugees from the Attica region, the area around Mystras became increasingly prosperous.

Inside the city, next to a newly renovated building, Andronikos Palaiologos looked at the Greek inscriptions carved on the door with a sense of accomplishment.

The Royal Knight Academy.

"Your Highness, the academy building, the affiliated orphanage for war orphans, and the sanatorium have all been completed. We also plan to build a hospital in the future."

"The first batch of war orphans and wounded soldiers have already moved in. The first batch of students are mainly the children of our army. Some young men who volunteered themselves have passed my assessment and can also join."

Isaac nodded.

"Are there any difficulties?"

"The main difficulty is the lack of instructors. The empire used to have a training system, but over the past few decades, the empire has continued to decline, and the military has become overly reliant on mercenaries and conscripted farmers, so..."

This issue was also a headache for Isaac.

The current royal instructors were mostly show-offs, deeply influenced by Western European aristocrats, who loved tricks and techniques but were fundamentally useless on the battlefield.

There were very few instructors like Mikhail who had been on the battlefield and had sufficient experience.

"Your Highness, when we were children, there were still many excellent instructors in the royal family, some of whom were former instructors of the Ironclad Holy Knights and the Varangian Guard,"

"But later, as the empire gradually declined, they either grew old, lost faith in the empire, or sought other paths."

"By the time you came along, there were none left."

Isaac sighed.

The situation in the Eastern Roman Empire was dire, with the strategic situation precarious and no progress in diplomacy. The educational and administrative institutions were still intact, but they were of little use.

As for secondary military training? Sorry, the emperor could hardly even pay the soldiers' salaries.

After some deliberation, Isaac spoke.

"Here are three options. You can decide which one to take."

"First, hire Western instructors to train knights and commanders."

"Don't get your hopes up too high. They won't give you their best knowledge for free."

"Second, the emperor allows me to print books, including Leo VI's Tactics, Vespasian's On Military Affairs, Emperor Maurice's Strategy, and other military works, which you can use as reading materials for the students."

"However, don't blindly believe in books. Try to develop military theories that suit our needs as much as possible."

"Third, find former royal instructors and veterans of elite armies and hire them as teachers."

The empire once had elite troops.

The most famous were the world-renowned Ironclad Holy Knights and the loyal and valiant Varangian Guard.

The Ironclad Holy Knights were something only powerful dynasties could afford, and after the end of the Komnenian Dynasty, they ceased to exist as an organised force.

Later, Michael VIII gathered the veterans together. Although he could not equip them with expensive heavy armour and warhorses, he hired them as instructors to prevent the loss of their skills and wait for the empire to regain its strength.

Later, the empire was ravaged by civil wars, and these men disappeared without a trace.

Now, the emperor still had a small Varangian Guard, but they had long since become a ceremonial guard.

"Also, we captured dozens of soldiers from the Golden Throne in a naval battle, and I forced them to convert to Orthodox Christianity,"

"Those war orphans can be trained first, but the culture teachers must be trustworthy Greek Orthodox Christians."

"Yes!"

...

"Garwin! Have you heard? His Highness Isaac's Royal Knight Academy is starting to recruit students from all over Mistras. Anyone who is physically strong can join. Do you want to try?"

Garwin Nejad walked back to the city with a large basket of dry firewood on his back.

The speaker was one of his few friends, Bitri, who was a year older than him.

Although younger, Garwin was much taller than the thin Bitri and was well-built.

Just like his father.

Garwin shook his head.

Due to family reasons, he was somewhat introverted.

His father was a small blacksmith with mediocre skills, barely able to make ends meet. He also loved to drink, and every time he got drunk, he would mutter to himself.

Garwin had always thought his father was just an ordinary drunkard, until he followed him to chop wood for the first time and encountered bandits who stopped them on the road.

Five bandits armed with swords and knives were defeated by his father's axe in less than ten minutes.

He still remembered his father's furious eyes, bulging muscles, and the axe flying up and down.

To him, killing seemed like a craft, not a job he had to do.

Garwin, who was standing nearby, was completely terrified.

After returning home, little Garwin pestered his father to teach him martial arts, but his father refused and beat him severely.

Not only that, his father intensified his blacksmith training and forbade him from playing knight games with other children.

From then on, Garwin thought he was destined to be a blacksmith for the rest of his life.

Until one day, on his way home after buying charcoal, Garwin encountered several Latin children from Constantinople.

They were loudly discussing the emperor's incompetence in Greek, repeatedly imitating the emperor's humiliation when he borrowed money from their fathers.

"Greek scum, how dare you call yourselves Romans!"

they laughed.

Filled with rage, Garwin dropped his shoulder pole and charged at them.

The result was that Garwin, who had no fighting experience, was beaten by the Latin children who had received knightly training, leaving him cowering in the corner, trembling all over.

That night, his father found him, carried him home, and applied medicine to his wounds.

A week later, Garwin, who could now walk, was taken by his father to a lake outside the city.

He was holding a long sword.

"From today on, you will learn swordplay from me."

"My swordplay is mediocre, and it's not very useful on the battlefield, but it's enough for you to learn for self-defence."

His father drew his sword. The dark red blade seemed to have been through countless years, the patterns on the sword were worn away, half of the guard was missing, and the hilt was black, as if it had been stained with blood.

Garwin was immediately fascinated by this sword.

He nodded quickly.

"There are a few conditions."

"I agree to all of them, I swear by the name of God!"

Garwin said immediately.

First, become a blacksmith and live a peaceful life.

Second, never attack first; do not retaliate unless your life is in danger.

Third, if your mother and sister are harmed, you must protect them at all costs.

These were his father's three conditions.

From then on, Garwin ran to the lake with his father every morning at dawn to begin sword training.

He trained for five years.

Until this year, his father said it was enough and stopped teaching him.

Later, he learned that his father had not taught him Western sword techniques that emphasized skill, but real military sword techniques.

His father was a mystery to him. Garwin didn't know why a blacksmith knew so much martial arts, nor did he know why he had such a long sword.

He had secretly played with the sword several times, but each time his father had beaten him so badly he couldn't get out of bed.

His father would never let him attend the knight academy.

Garwin shook his head and forced the thoughts out of his mind.

"Ah, what a waste of a body like yours. If I were as strong as you, I would definitely give it a try."

Bitri smiled regretfully.

On the way home, many children threw stones at him, knowing that this big fool would not fight back.

"Son of a drunkard, big fool! Son of a drunkard, big fool!"

They shouted, jumping and shouting, with snot running down their noses.

Bitri was angry, but Garwin pulled him back.

"Let's go to the church!"

Garwin suggested.

"To listen to that old monk tell stories again? I don't know why you like it so much..."

The two walked into a small church. An old priest had finished his day's work and was sitting on a stool, telling stories to the children around him.

"Emperor Alexius rebuilt the Ironclad Knights, and his son, 'The Breaker' John, led them to break through one pagan fortress after another, restoring the borders of Rome..."

"When those heavy cavalries charged, even the toughest enemies would kneel and surrender..."

"When the heavy cavalry charged in droves, the earth would tremble, and the wind would blow the flags of the Holy Knights, with purple double-headed eagles flying above them."

"Later, Emperor Manuel improved the Holy Knights' combat tactics, making spear charges their main attack method, which made them even more powerful."

"With such a powerful army, why do the Latins still dare to bully us?"

"Exactly! Let the heavy cavalry capture the Ottoman Sultan and make him perform a Turkic dance for us!"

The ignorant children shouted in unison.

The old priest fell silent for a moment, then waved his hand.

"Children, go home. Don't keep your parents waiting."

Garwin patted Bitri on the shoulder, and the two parted ways, each returning to their homes.

As he reached the door, Garwin dumped the dry wood onto the wood pile.

Two men's voices came from inside the house.

"Dilin, they came to see me and asked me to become an instructor at the Royal Knight Academy and serve the empire once again."

This was Uncle Skaven, his father's only old friend, who lived outside the city as a hunter and often brought Garwin and the others some fresh game.

Just as he was about to push the door open, Garwin heard the words 'knight academy' and paused. He pressed his ear against the door and listened in.

"Go ahead, congratulations."

Dilin Nejad said stiffly.

"They'll find you soon. You were number one on the list back then..."

His father suddenly stood up, bumping into the chair and startling Skaven.

"Captain, what are you doing..."

Dilin walked to the door, pushed it open, and pulled his eavesdropping son into the room.

"Go back to your room."

"Yes..."

Garwin walked slowly, hoping to hear more.

In the living room, Dilin was already asking everyone to leave.

"Go!"

"Captain, I know you're heartbroken over what happened to Borch, but..."

"Go!"

Skaven ran out of the door with his tail between his legs.

"You too!"

Garwin had no choice but to quickly go into his room.

He knew that Borch was his eldest brother, who had died when he was very young, and his father strictly forbade anyone in the family to talk about it.

With doubts in his mind, Garwin fell asleep.

The next day, Garwin went about his daily routine as usual, forging iron, chopping wood, and listening to the old priest's stories.

It was not until the third day, when Garwin returned home and had just put down the wood, that his sister came running up to him.

"Brother! Some people came looking for Father, and one of them was wearing purple clothes. It was so beautiful."

Garwin hurried to the living room.

"Hello, Captain Dilin. My name is Isaac Palaiologos, the head of the Royal Knight Academy. I would like to ask you to come out of retirement and help us teach the children of Rome how to use swords and lances to protect the people of Rome."

"Didn't Skaven and the others already go? They don't need me, do they?"

Dilin said in a rough voice.

"Back then, you were the only one who received complete training and had experience as an instructor. The others only learned the basics."

"I'm old. I can't wield a lance anymore."

"You don't need to fight yourself. Just practise the complete training programme from back then."

The door suddenly opened.

"What you're saying... is it true?"

Garwin rushed into the living room.

"Of course it's true. Your family has served in the military for generations. You could say that your father was the last Ironclad Holy Knight."

"Holy Knights are expensive. How could you afford to raise one?"

Dilin turned away.

"Of course I know, but if we start training them today, by the time we rebuild our forces, we'll have one more chance, one more hope."

"This is a legacy, it has nothing to do with social status."

Stubborn old man, I don't need you to really create Ironclad Holy Knights for me. Just create some heavy cavalry that can decide the outcome of a battle, why are you so stubborn?

Isaac knew that Ironclad Holy Knights were not simply heavily armoured knights. They were trained from childhood by instructors in swordsmanship, knife fighting, archery, lance fighting, and tactical command, excelling in every skill.

Most importantly, they were absolutely loyal.

The training methods for Ironclad Holy Knights were a major subject that encompassed the entire tactical thinking and military theory of the Eastern Roman Empire.

From Basil II to Alexius I, countless military strategists added to it.

"What a fine young man. What is your name, and how old are you?"

Isaac took Garwin's hand.

It was calloused.

"My name is Garwin, and I am twelve years old."

Garwin's face turned red.

"That's just enough to join the Knight Academy. Are you interested in becoming a soldier?"

Isaac unfastened his sword and handed it to Garwin, who hesitated to take it.

"Let him go!"

Dilin suddenly flew into a rage.

"What's the point of becoming a soldier? To die for another Palaiologos?"

Beside him, Andronica and the guards glared angrily, their hands on their swords.

Isaac motioned for them to stand down.

The atmosphere in the room was tense for a moment.

"I apologize, Your Highness."

Isaac waved his hand.

"If you have any difficulties, feel free to speak. We will help you."

Dilin suddenly smiled sadly.

He entered the room and pulled out a sword.

"Our family has served in the military for generations. My ancestors followed in the footsteps of Emperor Alexius and were the first to climb the walls of Smyrna."

"At that time, Emperor Alexius took off his sword and gave it to my ancestors, and it has been passed down to me."

Dilin drew the sword, and Isaac saw the faint double-headed eagle emblem on the blade.

"What happened then?"

"He died."

"The inner city was under siege for a long time. My ancestor, wielding Alexius' sword, charged up the walls despite the burning oil."

"When he passed the sword to his son, his bones were burned to ashes, but he still praised Alexius."

"Later, generation after generation of our descendants sacrificed their lives for Rome on the battlefield. We were not afraid, because protecting great Rome was the duty of every soldier."

"But we were afraid of dying unjustly at the hands of our own people."

"My great-grandfather participated in the two battles of Andronikos and was beheaded by a comrade he had joked with the day before."

"My grandfather participated in the two battles of John and chose the wrong side, killed in his sleep."

"My father died young, and I joined the last order of the Imperial Knights. Our elderly instructor taught us that we had nothing, yet we were full of ambition."

"The emperor cannot afford to feed us. We wear the thinnest leather armour, carry the heaviest branches, and ride lame horses, yet we charge into battle for Rome just like the knights of centuries past!"

"In the end, the emperor stopped caring about us altogether. We all scattered, but I remained, wielding Alexius's sword, and completed the final lessons with the old instructor."

"On his deathbed, he told me to carry on this hope."

"I did just that, and my son, Borch, became an imperial soldier."

"I was proud of him."

"Until one day, I heard that he had joined the rebellion."

"Your youngest uncle, Demetrius, seduced him, and he fell at the walls of Constantinople."

"You tell me, am I supposed to send my last son to fight another battle for the throne with you?"

"Who is the target this time? Your uncle? Or your father?"

By the end, old Dilin's face was covered in tears.

"Go. This place does not welcome the Palaiologos family."

Isaac sighed deeply and walked out the door.

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