EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

Chapter 22: Storms on the Horizon

Theodore's gaze settled on the priest, a flicker of annoyance and curiosity playing across his stern features. "Speak," he allowed.

Grigorios glanced around the dimly lit chamber, the shadows casting long, ominous shapes on the walls. "There is... one more path we might consider, a swift end to Constantine's threat. A more direct solution."

All eyes turned to Grigorios. Theodore's gaze sharpened. "Your meaning is clear—you speak of extinguishing my own brother."

Father Grigorios bowed his head slightly. "It grieves me, but yes. If Constantine were removed, his ambitious projects would likely stall. And in that vacuum, the people might awaken to their peril."

A murmur rippled through the room. Father Damianos shifted uncomfortably. "Yet that path is bristling with mortal and eternal dangers. We must weigh the damnation upon our souls."

Theodore held up a hand to silence him. "I'm no fool to the gravity of murder. But we stand at a fork in the road—inaction may reap even greater ruin."

Alexios leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Should we follow such a route, it demands an assassin's hand guided by absolute cunning. Any hint of failure would be... catastrophic."

He glanced toward the heavy doors, ensuring they remained sealed against prying ears. His words lingered in the stifled air, each syllable dropping like a stone.

Lord Demetrios added, "And with Glarentza bristling with watchful guards, it's no easy feat."

Theodore pressed his temples. "I am not entirely convinced we must go that far—yet. But we must be prepared to consider all strategies. Alexios, begin discreet inquiries. Learn where we might slip through the cracks of Constantine's defenses or find a disaffected ally in his midst."

Alexios nodded gravely. "It shall be done, my Despot."

A heavy hush descended once again as Theodore sank back into his chair, weighing the burden of dark possibilities against the threat mounting beyond Mystras's walls.

Reflections in Glarentza

The soft breeze from the hills of Elis drifted through the open windows of Constantine's private study in Clermont Castle, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and olive groves.

Outside, the rugged landscape of the Morea stretched out beneath the fading sunlight. In the distance, the mountains rose like silent sentinels, guarding the land that Constantine now sought to unify under his vision of a stronger empire.

His eyes shifted toward the lands stretching between Clermont Castle and Glarentza, where the foundations of his plans were slowly but steadily taking shape. Not far from the castle, he could make out the construction of the new barracks, their wooden walls rising to house the professional soldiers he was gathering. Closer still, the arsenal was being expanded, prepared to produce more cannons and weapons that would defend his realm. Further down the road, toward Glarentza, stood the printing press warehouse—like a silent beacon of progress—where hundreds of Latin Bibles had already been produced and where soon, the Greek Bibles would roll off the presses, tools of both knowledge and power.

The sight filled Constantine with a deep sense of satisfaction. His vision for the empire was becoming reality brick by brick. It wasn't just the barracks or the weapons that gave him confidence—it was the slow, steady rise of something far more significant. These were the cornerstones of a new order, one built on knowledge and strength.

Inside the room, maps adorned the walls alongside sketches of innovative machinery and notes on military formations.

Reflecting on Plethon's recent visit, Constantine felt invigorated. The philosopher's ideas about revitalizing society through ancient Hellenic wisdom had ignited a spark within him. It's like witnessing the dawn of the Renaissance firsthand, he thought with a mix of awe and excitement. Plethon's encouragement validated not only his aspirations to transform the empire but also his secret hope to alter the course of history itself.