1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Dilin waited for his son all night long.

The next day, his mother and sister couldn't sit still any longer and went out to look for him, but by noon there was still no news.

Dilin didn't leave the house. He sat on the doorstep, drinking wine expressionlessly.

His mother began to complain, and his sister began to cry.

Dilin endured it silently, staring at the door.

At the door, the street was bustling with people rushing to the arena.

"Have you heard? Today is the last day. The top ten will be selected and the final challenge will take place today."

"That son of a dog Turk is still in first place?"

"Yes..."

"Are there no warriors left in the empire?"

"Why don't you go?"

Dilin listened to this, his face expressionless.

"Uncle Dilin! Garwin... he went to the arena!"

Bitri appeared at the door, running out of breath.

Without caring about anything else, Dilin rushed out of the courtyard like a madman.

...

The arena was packed with people, and banners were flying everywhere.

The crowd cheered and encouraged their favorite contestants.

In the seats, small vendors were already selling food and water, and gamblers were gathered around the bookies, shouting.

"I'm betting on Yerhan! 50 groschen!"

"Me too!"

A tall, young figure pushed his way through the crowd and walked up to the bookie.

"I'm betting on myself, Garwin from the Najad family, 5 ducats."

Garwin threw all his savings on the ground, the coins clinking loudly.

He smiled at the astonished crowd.

By the time Dilin ran to the arena, the elimination rounds were over.

The Turk Yerhan proudly surveyed the arena, loudly taunting the audience around him.

Suddenly, a young figure jumped off the platform.

"Dad, that's my brother! We found him!"

His sister followed behind, shouting with joy at finding her brother again.

Dilin's heart suddenly tightened.

...

Garwin jumped off the platform and walked towards the referee who was registering participants.

Along the way, the crowd in the stands pointed at him and whispered.

"That's the big guy from the drunkard's house. I live across the street from him!"

"What's wrong with him? He's not really a fool, is he?"

"Shut up! At least he's braver than you cowards!"

"Exactly! At least he's willing to stand up for the glory of Rome!"

"Hmph! He's just courting death. What else could he be but a fool?"

"You..."

Garwin ignored the irrelevant comments and walked towards his destination under the sympathetic or gloating glances of the crowd.

"Just follow your heart."

He remembered the priest Marvey's admonition.

What was his true heart?

He looked up at the sky and remembered when he was a child, fighting to the death with Latin children to defend the honor of Rome.

He remembered listening to the old priest's stories and applauding Rome's victory.

He remembered how his hands trembled, and his heart pounded when he heard that he was from a family of holy knights.

He smiled.

"Yerhan from Ramazan! My name is Garwin, from the Najad family, and I challenge you!"

...

"Get out of the way! I am his father! I cannot let my child take such a risk!"

Dilin desperately pushed against the iron fence, while the guards beside him tried to stop him.

"Sir! He's already on the field! You can't go in now!"

On the field, Garwin was already dressed in his armour and holding the sword he had forged himself.

In a challenge match, both sides could choose their own weapons.

Yerhan waited early in the center of the arena.

"I thought Greeks were all cowards."

"Rome never lacks warriors."

"Kid, if you kneel down and beg for mercy now, I'll spare your life."

"You've made me very angry. Even if you kneel down and beg for mercy, I won't spare you."

Ssshh!

Yerhan suddenly thrust his sword forward, aiming straight for Garwin's right shoulder.

Garwin dodged to the left, but the sword still grazed his right shoulder, taking a small piece of flesh.

A gasp went up from the crowd.

"Not bad!"

Yerhan stabbed again, and Garwin blocked with his shield.

Yerhan twisted his sword, and the blade slithered like a snake, bypassing the shield and aiming straight for Garwin's left arm.

Clang!

Garwin blocked with his sword, holding off Yerhan.

The two fought back and forth, exchanging dozens of blows.

Yerhan was ultimately superior in fighting technique. Although Garwin fought desperately, he was covered in wounds and bathed in blood.

The expressions of the crowd in the stands changed from schadenfreude to astonishment, then to emotion, and finally to a shared hatred of the enemy.

This was the first Roman warrior who dared to challenge the barbarian Turks and hold out for so long.

"Big guy, hold on!" a girl shouted.

"Garwin, keep going!" Bitri prayed.

"Brother, fight! Defeat the pagan devil!" his sister shouted.

Dilin watched this scene and closed his eyes in pain.

Yerhan raised his shield and collided with Garwin, who was exhausted and fell to the ground.

He immediately got up and managed to block Yerhan's sword.

Bang!

The iron sword that Garwin had forged himself finally couldn't withstand such tremendous force and broke in two, leaving Garwin with only half of it in his hand.

A cry of surprise came from the stands.

"Surrender, Kafir, you are a warrior, I will spare your life."

Yerhan lifted Garwin off the ground and threw him forcefully onto the broken sword fragments.

"The sword is broken; there's no point in continuing the fight."

Yerhan laughed coldly.

"Garwin! Get up!"

A voice shouted from the stands.

Soon, more and more people began to pray for their hero.

Yerhan looked around and looked down on the crowd in the stands with contempt.

"They don't dare to fight themselves. They are afraid of me. When you come to die, they will cheer you on."

"What a weak nation, what a lowly country."

In the royal box, Andronica whispered to Isaac.

"Your Highness, it has been confirmed that he is the son of Dilin. Should we suspend the match? We can say that the heretic's sword was illegal."

Isaac looked up at Andronica.

Does he have any dignity left?

"Let's wait and see."

Isaac thought of the calluses on the boy's hands and felt strangely confident.

"All our efforts will probably be wasted. Dilin will never forgive us."

Andronica complained.

"I really don't understand why he came here to die."

...

"With your skills, you could easily become a court instructor and live a life of luxury. Why come here to die?"

Yerhan looked at Garwin, who was still struggling, and laughed mockingly.

"For Rome."

"What?"

Yerhan leaned in closer, as if he had heard something extremely funny.

"For Rome!"

Garwin shouted.

He threw the broken pieces of his short sword at Yerhan, who was approaching him.

Yerhan instinctively raised his hand to block the flying fragments.

Garwin bent down and kicked Yerhan's foot, then kicked his sword away.

"I said, for Rome, do you understand? Damn barbarian!"

Garwin pounced on Yerhan and punched him repeatedly in the face, letting his enemy's blood splash on him.

When his enemy was completely motionless, he staggered to his feet and waved the broken sword in his hand.

In the stands, Isaac was the first to stand up and applaud, while Constantine was even more excited, his eyes shining.

"For Rome!"

The entire arena erupted, cheering and running towards their hero.

At the edge of the crowd, Dilin stood there, watching his son defeat his powerful enemy and enjoy his fame.

"Son, let's go home."

He pulled his daughter.

"Dad, what's wrong with your eyes?"

"I got sand in them."

...

That night, Garwin treated his wounds and quietly returned home.

He didn't know how to face his father.

When he opened the door, Dilin was sitting there, hugging his sword, which startled Garwin.

"Father..."

"Have you eaten?"

Garwin nodded.

"Are your wounds treated?"

Garwin nodded.

"Father, Prince Isaac invited me to join the Royal Knight Academy. I'm reporting for duty tomorrow..."

Dilin drew his long sword.

"Father..."

"You need a good sword."

Dilin handed him the sword.

Garwin did not take it.

"Father, Prince Isaac gave me one..."

Garwin drew his sword, which was engraved with the Palaiologos family crest.

"It's you who needs a good sword."

Dilin glanced at his son.

"Go to sleep."

The next day, Garwin got up early without waking anyone.

Outside, a thick fog had settled, but Garwin made his way to the gates of the Royal Knight Academy by feel.

Turning a corner, he was about to report for duty when he collided with a towering figure.

"Sorry, I'm new here... Who are you...?"

Dilin stood there, holding Alexius's long sword.

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