EMPIRE REWRITTEN [Isekai ? Alt-History ? Strategy]

Chapter 35: Dreams and Duties

Constantine's lips pressed into a thin line as he turned back to the table, his gaze falling on the map of the Morea. "You believe I am acting impulsively," he said, more a statement than a question.

"I believe you are letting your heart guide you where your head should rule," George said gently. "Maria has no noble blood, no ties to strengthen your position. And the court sees her sitting at your table, wearing gowns finer than those of many noblewomen, as if she is already your equal." He paused, his tone softening further. "It is not about what she means to you, Constantine. It is about what she represents to them."

For a long moment, Constantine said nothing. Then he spoke, his voice measured. "I do not dismiss your counsel, George. I know the court's gaze is ever-watchful, and I know what they expect. A union with a powerful house could bring allies to our side." He looked up, his eyes sharp. "But do not mistake understanding for acceptance. I will not wed for politics alone, nor will I cast Maria aside like a pawn in a game of alliances."

George inclined his head slightly. "And I would not suggest you do so. But tread carefully, Constantine. If you are to keep her close, do so discreetly. Let her be your refuge, not your undoing."

"And if I were to take another wife?" Constantine asked, his tone contemplative.

George hesitated, sensing the shift in Constantine's mood. "If you choose wisely," he said carefully, "it could strengthen your position without diminishing Maria's role in your life. It would not be unprecedented."

Constantine nodded, his gaze distant as his thoughts churned. "You are dismissed, George," he said finally.

The door closed softly behind his advisor, and Constantine leaned heavily against the table, his hands braced on its surface. He stared at the maps before him, the lines of his territories blurring as his mind drifted to Maria—her touch, her laughter.

He knew George was right. A marriage alliance could be a decisive move. But the thought of diminishing Maria in the eyes of the court, of reducing her to a shadow in his life, felt like a betrayal.

The morning sun poured through the high, arched windows of the council chamber in Clermont Castle, filling the room with golden light and soft shadows. Constantine sat at the head of the long wooden table, his expression calm but touched with a rare warmth. The mood was bright.

Though the siege of Mystras had ended in frustration, Constantine had successfully held his ground against the Ottomans. This victory solidified his control over most of the Morea, directly or through loyal allies—a level of unity the region had not seen in decades. It offered a glimmer of hope for the empire's future.

Constantine leaned back slightly in his chair, surveying the faces of his council. Theophilus Dragas, the overseer of the Morea Company, was the first to speak, his tone steady but carrying a note of pride.

"Despot, I am pleased to report that the additional printing presses have exceeded expectations. Latin and Greek Bibles are being produced in record numbers alongside Plato's Dialogues and Latin and Greek Psalters. Demand continues to grow, but we can safely say that our production now can meet any demand."

Murmurs of approval rippled through the room. Constantine inclined his head. "Excellent work, Theophilus."

Before Theophilus could sit back, Petros, the council's pragmatic financier, leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "I must add, my Despot, that this success is mirrored in our treasury. Thanks to the booming trade and the publishing company, we are on track to exceed the thirty thousand gold ducats in profits goal by the end of this month already."