EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

The late afternoon sun bathed the citadel of Mystras in a golden hue, but inside the stone walls of Despot Theodore's council chamber, a chill pervaded the air. Paintings depicting Orthodox saints adorned the walls, their solemn gazes casting a judgmental eye over the gathered men.

At the head of a long oak table sat Despot Theodore, his fingers steepled under his chin, eyes narrowed in contemplation. Around him stood his closest confidants: Alexios, his shrewd advisor; Father Damianos and Father Grigorios, fervent anti-unionist priests; and Lord Demetrios, a loyal nobleman.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and a weary messenger entered, bowing deeply.
"My honored Despot, the men you sent to Glarentza have returned," he said, voice subdued. "They insist their tidings cannot wait."

"Bring them before me," Theodore commanded, his voice measured but tinged with impatient undercurrents.

Two men stepped forward, their cloaks travel-worn and faces shadowed by fatigue. The first, Andreas, inclined his head respectfully.
"Despot Theodore," he began, "we come laden with serious tidings."

"Speak, and waste no time," Theodore said curtly, his words clipped.

Andreas exchanged a glance with his companion before beginning. "Despot Constantine's endeavors have outstripped our initial fears. Not only does he continue to print Latin Bibles without restraint, but he also prepares to release a Greek version. And he has established a grand store in Glarentza, openly selling these books. The populace isn't merely curious—they seem downright eager."

Father Damianos leaned forward, his tone hovering between indignation and awe. "He brazenly peddles Latin texts in a public shop? Even the audacity of it is a travesty."

"Yes, Father," Andreas confirmed. "I've never seen such brazenness. The building is large, busy, and arranges these Bibles for display as though they were common trinkets. Latin traders swarm the place, almost as if it's a shrine to heresy."

Father Grigorios shook his head. "Such impudence is staggering. He has twisted mere commerce into a weapon against the truth."

"The populace welcomes this?" Theodore's voice edged with incredulity, his eyes narrowing as he searched Andreas's face for any hint of exaggeration.

"They flock to it, my Despot," Andreas said, tone grave. "For many, the clink of coins drowns out the chime of church bells. Prosperity has a knack for soothing any pangs of conscience."

Theodore's jaw tightened. "Gold's been an orator more compelling than any sermon," he muttered, more to himself than to those gathered. "Constantine seems to know it well, brandishing coin like a blade."

Father Damianos frowned deeply. "So the heresy is not only rising—it's running rampant."

"There's more," Andreas continued, his tone growing graver. "Constantine is amassing a professional army. He's recruiting disciplined troops, training them relentlessly, and equipping them with long pikes. He's also commissioning multiple cannons—far more than we first presumed. While we were in Glarentza, we heard their thunderous tests echoing across the harbor."

A palpable tension gripped the room. Theodore's eyes darkened. "An army with cannons?" he repeated, voice taut with suspicion. "What does my brother imagine he'll achieve with such ferocity?"

Andreas exchanged a wary glance with his companion, Marcus. "He professes it's purely for safeguarding the Hexamilion Wall against the Ottomans. Yet with how swiftly his preparations are growing, some suspect larger goals."

Alexios leaned forward. "So, he is profiting handsomely from this printing venture, isn't he?"

"Yes," Andreas confirmed. "Those Latin translations are bringing in significant revenue. He's leveraging that gold to fund his military expansions."