1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Kingdom of Portugal: Lisbon and Sintra Palace.

In the garden, King Afonso V of Portugal was enjoying afternoon tea with his family.

His wife, Isabel of Coimbra, sat beside him, her brows furrowed and her expression faintly sad.

Afonso V sipped his wine, occasionally glancing at his beloved wife.

Many things had happened in the Kingdom of Portugal this year, some exciting and some troubling.

The good news was that trade profits and colonial revenues from West Africa were steadily increasing, with a steady flow of gold into the royal coffers.

The troubling news was that the conflict between King Afonso V and the former regent, Prince Pedro, had intensified.

Ultimately, this was a power struggle between the traditional land-owning nobility and the emerging merchant and commercial nobility classes.

From a broader perspective, the balance of power was gradually shifting in Alfonso V's favor, as he represented the land-owning nobility.

However, Prince Pedro was unwilling to accept defeat. At the instigation of his advisors, he was preparing for civil war.

The person most deeply affected by this conflict was Alfonso's new wife, Isabel of Coimbra.

Regardless of who won the war between her husband and father, it was torture for her.

"Isabella, have some sugarcane cookies. They're a specialty from the Madeira Islands."

Alfonso picked up a small biscuit covered in a thick layer of icing from a silver plate.

It was no secret that European royalty had a sweet tooth.

Sugar cane was introduced to Europe by the Arabs long ago, but it did not adapt well to the climate and was never cultivated on a large scale.

Before sugar beets were widely cultivated, Europe's sugar supply mainly came from imports of Arabian sugar, with a small amount produced locally from honey.

In 1418, Prince Henry's fleet discovered the Madeira Islands, which had a pleasant climate suitable for growing sugar cane.

Prince Henry brought black slaves here and established plantations and a sugar cane processing industry, which generated huge profits for Portugal.

The sugar biscuits that Alfonso V held came from Madeira.

"No, thank you."

Isabel shook her head and waved her hand in refusal.

Alfonso V looked at her thin face and sighed.

As king, he had no choice but to stand up for himself.

"Brother!"

A petite figure ran in and threw herself into his arms.

Joana Aviz, the posthumous daughter of the late King Duarte I of Portugal, was Alfonso's favorite sister.

She lay on his shoulder, her big eyes staring at the sugar cake in his hand.

He smiled, patted her head and handed her the cake.

Joana cheered and ran away.

It was only then that Afonso noticed the young girl following Joana.

She had snow-white skin, round eyes that sparkled with intelligence, and a small nose and mouth that hinted at her quiet temperament.

Her long hair was smooth and naturally curly, exuding a unique charm.

This serenity was not that of a country girl, but rather a graceful elegance exuding nobility and poise — a calmness born of having witnessed chaos and noise.

She was Leonor Avis, the eldest daughter of the late King Duarte and Alfonso's sister.

"Leonor, you're here..."

Alfonso grinned.

Compared to his pure love for Joana, Alfonso had always felt differently about Leonor.

Respect? Fear? Alfonso couldn't tell.

His older sister was like Minerva, the goddess of wisdom in mythology, who could always see through things and get to the root of the problem.

Sometimes, his little tricks could even fool the worldly Regent Pedro, but Leonor would always see through them in an instant.

She wouldn't expose him directly, but would gently admonish him in an unexpected way. "Alfonso, don't do that again."

At times like this, Alfonso always felt defeated.

However, whenever he was discouraged in his political struggle against Prince Pedro, his sister stood by his side, wiping away his tears and offering encouragement and advice.

It's a good thing she's not a man.

Alfonso always comforts himself this way.

"I'm going to see Isabella,"

Leonor said.

Her voice was soft and delicate, like a gentle breeze brushing past his ears.

She approached Isabella and invited her to read the latest poems written by the troubadour.

At first, Isabella was reluctant to speak, so Leonor read the poems aloud while Isabella listened.

Gradually, she was drawn into the stories in the poems and found herself singing along.

Alfonso watched his wife gradually brighten up and felt relieved.

The two women began to read the poem aloud, and their beautiful voices floated through the garden.

He was a prince from the East, He was a warrior, wielding a long sword! He was the Saracens' nightmare, He was the enemy of the slave sultan.

Under the blood-red setting sun,

He called out his name loudly:

"Isaac, the messenger of death!"

Master of Cyrenaica! The last conscience of the empire!

...

When the long poem had finished, the two women covered their heaving chests, marveling at the knight's loyalty and bravery, as well as the cruelty of war.

Alfonso rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Leonor, is this Isaac the same man who has recently gained fame as the Prince of Cyrenaica?"

"The Messenger of Death... What a strange nickname," Isabella asked.

Leonor nodded.

"That's the nickname the Saracens gave him. They say he's like the mythical bird of death, bringing cries of mourning wherever he goes."

"He's not just a prince anymore. He's been crowned co-emperor of Constantinople."

Alfonso said, his eyes looking somewhat complicated.

"A sixteen-year-old emperor... this..."

Isabella was clearly surprised.

"His position as emperor is not something to be envied, Isabella."

"He has inherited a city that can offer him little help, and an enemy that is impossible to defeat."

Leonor analyzed calmly.

"Didn't the poem say that this prince was very powerful? He must be able to defeat the enemy, right?"

Joana muttered, stuffing sugar cookies into her mouth.

"It's just a common propaganda tactic. Poets who write for money can use flowery language to embellish a person greatly, even making Nero sound like Caesar."

Isabel giggled.

Joana didn't know who Nero or Caesar were, but seeing everyone else laughing, she opened her toothless mouth and laughed heartily too.

Alfonso laughed too.

"This must be the Pope's doing. Recently, many Italians have been talking about Cyrenaica."

"Not long ago, the White Knight Hunyadi was defeated in Kosovo. He escaped alone and was captured by the Serbian Grand Prince Branković."

"What happened next? Where is the White Knight now?"

Leonor was clearly very interested in these matters.

"Under the mediation of the Holy See, Durad Branković released the White Knight, but demanded a large ransom."

"What a short-sighted man." Leonor's eyes flashed with contempt.

Alfonso V nodded in agreement.

"So, the Pope desperately needed a major victory to boost morale and save the Christian world from decline."

"Coincidentally, Isaac defeated the Sultan of Egypt and captured the Cyrenaica region, providing a lifeline to His Majesty Nicholas."

Footsteps could be heard.

"Your Majesty, you have a letter."

Alfonso took the letter from the attendant, who bowed and left.

He opened the letter, glanced at it, and smiled.

"Everyone, take a look."

Leonor took the letter.

The Latin script caught her eye; it was crooked and sloppy, not at all like the handwriting of a nobleman.

However, it was extremely powerful, exuding a confident and strong sense of authority.

"Your Majesty, King of Portugal and Algarve, my dear friend Alfonso, it has been a long time since we last saw each other, and I miss you dearly."

"In my last letter, I requested that you send naval instructors, and they have already arrived in my territory. Thank you very much for your help..."

"By the grace of God, I am about to be crowned Prince of Cyrene. The ceremony will be held in the city of Bilinchi. I hope you will be able to attend."

"Your eternal friend, Isaac Palaiologos."

...

"I hope you will send an envoy to attend the ceremony."

"Speaking of which, have you been paying attention to your hygiene lately? This is not a trivial matter."

"Your loyal friend, Isaac Palaiologos."

Isaac put down his pen and paper and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Deliver this letter to Krujë Castle!" he ordered his attendant.

This was the last invitation letter that Isaac had written himself, addressed to Skanderbeg of Albania.

The rest were written by scribes.

Isaac occasionally wrote to Skanderbeg himself, reminding him to pay attention to hygiene. He feared that Skanderbeg would contract a disease caused by poor hygiene, just as he had in the original timeline.

After all, a brave warrior dying from malaria would be embarrassing. The servant took the letter and hurried out of the door.

During this period, the entire city of Bilinchi was very busy.

Everyone was preparing for the coronation ceremony of the Prince of Cyrene.

After Constantine ascended the throne, he immediately appointed Isaac as co-emperor but ordered him to change his title from King of Cyrenaica to Prince.

Despite Isaac's strong opposition, Constantine did not grant the Moria region to his rebellious younger brother, Demetrius. Instead, he imprisoned Demetrius in a monastery on the island of Lemnos and forbade him from leaving.

Thomas, the despot of Achaea, was rewarded with a small plot of land near Corinth for his loyalty.

On this basis, father and son divided their areas of jurisdiction.

Isaac was given the titles Despot of Sult and Prince of Cyrenaica and was made responsible for all overseas territories.

Constantine administered Constantinople, Mesembria, the Morea Peninsula and the small island of Lemnos.

Isaac swore an oath in Hagia Sophia to protect the Roman people and was crowned co-emperor.

Meanwhile, Nicholas V praised Isaac's holy war and declared him King of Cyrenaica, sending a bishop to crown him.

Isaac immediately sensed the gravity of the situation.

Should he accept coronation by the Roman Catholic Church?

There were many advantages to being crowned: it would mean recognition and acceptance by Western European countries, greatly enhancing the legitimacy of his rule over Cyrenaica.

However, there were also disadvantages: his reputation among the citizens of Constantinople would be as bad as his father Constantine's.

After much deliberation and negotiation, Isaac finally opted for a compromise.

Isidore, the cardinal from Moriah, would crown him.

Cardinal Isidore was a high-ranking clergyman in the Greek Orthodox Church in Moriah and a cardinal recognized by the Roman Catholic Church — a symbol of church unity.

Most importantly, Isidore was a pure-blooded Greek with a good reputation among the people.

Isaac had gone to great lengths to preserve the glorious image he had worked so hard to establish in the Eastern Roman Empire.

If you are still not satisfied, then so be it. Let it be ruined...

...

"This is the capital of the Kingdom of Cyrenaica, Bilinchi?"

"It looks pretty good, but why is there no one here?"

Joana ran around the ship with the Portuguese coat of arms, making a lot of noise.

"Joana, we're almost there. Stop running around!"

Leonor said sternly, standing to one side.

Joana immediately hid behind Prince Enrique, looking very upset.

Prince Enrique smiled and patted her on the head.

"Leonor, don't be so strict with Joana. She's just a child."

At that time, the power struggle in Lisbon had reached fever pitch and King Afonso was unable to leave.

Prince Enrique, tired of the political struggles, volunteered to take his two nieces to the coronation ceremony.

"I never thought that, after all these years, another crown would appear."

Prince Enrique looked at the pier, which was getting closer and closer, and sighed.

"Isn't he a prince?"

Leonor asked.

"He is a prince recognized by Constantinople, and a king recognized by Rome."

"I hope you never get involved in such political struggles."

Enrique also wanted to touch Leonor's head, but she dodged him lightly.

"Uncle, I'm fourteen. I'm not a child."

"Besides, being born into a noble family means you can't avoid politics."

Enrique smiled awkwardly.

The sailboat docked at the pier and the group put on serious faces and walked ashore elegantly.

"Your Highnesses, Princess Leonor and Princess Joana, welcome."

"Your quarters have been cleaned and decorated in the Portuguese style. We hope you feel at home."

"I am Anderson, the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Cyrenaica. Please come directly to me if you have any questions."

Anderson smiled with standard diplomatic courtesy; his manners were impeccable.

"Are there any Madeira Island sugar cookies?"

Joana couldn't help but ask, her missing front tooth completely ruining her formerly quiet and lovely appearance.

"Joana!"

Leonor glared at her disobedient younger sister.

Joana stuck out her tongue.

"Your Highness, we have prepared some sweets, though they are from the Saint William Governorate. I am sure the sugarcane there is just as sweet."

"Thank you for your generosity."

Leonor pulled Joana back and bowed in gratitude.

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