After choosing to trust his Chief Minister, the imperial council drew to a close. As most people departed, leaving only a few of Caesar's close guards attending him, Manuel habitually sipped a mouthful of fresh, precious tea before leaving the City Hall, and received several secret reports on the internal affairs of the Ottoman Sultanate from Badars, his Commander of the Guard and confidential secretary.
Just as Manuel thought these Turks would continue to swallow the bitter pill, as the previous secret reports had indicated, several anomalies in these reports startled him so much that he spat out the tea he had just drunk.
"Caesar…" Seeing his respected monarch behave in such a way, his Commander of the Guard was instantly astonished and at a loss for words.
Before Badars could react, his Caesar had already urgently issued a command, "Many troops within the Ottoman Sultanate are moving towards Macedonia, Thrace, and south of the Pontic Mountains, which border us! What kind of joke is this!? Go and confirm if the contents of the secret report are true!?" Manuel spoke with his eyes almost red, "If not, then it's fine, just a mistake by the intelligence department; if it's true—
"Then it will be the most serious crisis we have ever faced."
Hearing Caesar's words, Badars was instantly drenched in cold sweat. He immediately straightened his back and responded, "Yes, Caesar!"
After his Commander of the Guard hurriedly left to confirm the contents of his subordinates' secret report, Caesar sat down heavily on a chair, his face extremely pale, and murmured softly:
"According to the historical facts of the old timeline, Murad II is not someone who would easily tear up a peace treaty, and this defeat was not something the Ottoman Sultanate couldn't swallow. So why would the Ottomans choose to cause trouble now?
"No, it's not incomprehensible. They lost more at Varna than the Ottoman Sultanate's high-ranking officials expected, and I captured the core areas of the Turkmen. Plus, the Sultan knows the source of the holy fire disease…
"I think I can understand why the Ottoman Sultanate is in this situation."
Feeling immensely anxious, Manuel urgently rose from his chair and paced back and forth, "But even so, the collapsing agriculture within the Ottoman Sultanate cannot support them in launching a full-scale war. Is it just to drag the Romans down with them? Or are they confident they can end a new war within a few months?
"No matter what, if the Ottomans insist on going to war, then they are truly insane!"
However, Manuel had personally overcome various unexpected challenges and was experienced. After calming down slightly, he immediately and secretly ordered his generals to move their armies to the fortresses and passes under Bosporus's control. "No matter what, these strategic locations must be held," were his exact words when issuing this series of secret orders.
Around three days later, in the morning—
In the palace of Edirne, the capital of the Ottoman Sultanate, Murad II sat on his throne, surveying his courtiers, his face still displaying the majesty of a monarch.
But the old Sultan's heart was not as confident as he appeared in the palace at that moment. Ever since the peace treaty with the Christians was signed, he had clearly felt the undercurrents of unrest within the country caused by the defeat. At that time, sensing trouble, he chose to suppress them in secret.
He never imagined that these factions, unable to restrain themselves on Christmas Day, would choose to directly strike, brutally killing their Devshirme-born colleagues and storming the palace. Just as the Sultan thought he would once again return to Brusa to retire, as he had last time, or face disaster, these rebellious Turkmen high-ranking officials knelt before him and made an unexpected but understandable request—
To declare war on the Romans again.
After a moment of surprise, the Sultan understood them. How could he not be worried about the Romans' resurgence? Therefore, Murad II ultimately heeded the will of the Turkmen faction and, in this royal palace, chose a path he had never envisioned—
"Let's go, Allah will protect us." The time had come. Murad II rose from his throne and, amidst the acclamations of his subjects, walked towards the military camp outside the city.
On January 1, 1445, Murad II assembled an army of thirty thousand, brazenly tore up the peace treaty with the Romans, and led the Ottoman Sultanate to declare war on the Roman Empire without warning, as their New Year's gift to the Romans.
Neither Constantine XI nor Manuel was prepared for such an act by the Ottoman Sultanate. The former had almost not anticipated Murad's breach of the treaty and was utterly routed by the eight thousand troops led by Turahan Bey, retreating in disarray to the Corinth Isthmus within a mere five days; while the latter had noticed the Ottoman Sultanate's troop movements, he had not expected their actions to be so swift. After one imperial campaign ended in defeat, the entire East Thrace fell to the Ottoman Sultanate within just three days. Furthermore, because the Ottoman Sultanate hired a large number of Turk pirates, the Bosporus navy was unable to come to their monarch's rescue in time, and Caesar, who had sent a large number of troops back to Asia Minor, could only hold out in Constantinople with a legion of peasant soldiers and the Filaka Legion, beginning to consider his escape routes.
On the day East Thrace fell, leaving only Constantinople, within the Blachernae Palace, Barbara, the princess of Bosporus Caesar and the Palaiologos imperial family, upon learning of the Turks' sudden declaration of war and the current situation in East Thrace, anxiously sought her husband. Instead, she bumped into Manuel in the bedchamber, who was urgently directing servants to pack luggage.
"Manuel, you?" Seeing her husband in such a hurried state, Barbara's face was instantly filled with confusion and bewilderment.
Seeing the doubt in his wife's eyes, the flustered Manuel sighed. After telling the servants not to stop what they were doing, he walked over and took her hand, "Barbara, quickly pack up and prepare to take Theodore back to Trabzon or Mangup."
"Huh?"
"By the Holy Mother, I'm not joking." Looking at his wife's shocked expression, Manuel said with a bitter smile, "Almost all of my forces were recently redeployed by me back to Asia Minor and Tauris. Now, besides two legions, I have almost nothing by my side. Although Constantinople recognizes the existence of my faction, this is not my true base. So, the most urgent task is to return to Anatolia or Chersonese as soon as possible. Don't worry, besides the guard, no one else knows about this yet…"
"But, Manuel," at this moment, Barbara interrupted him, even uncharacteristically calling him by his full name, "this city needs you."
"No, it doesn't need me," Manuel seemed somewhat anxious due to his impatience, "Constantinople has the sturdy Theodosian Walls; she will not fall due to an ill-prepared siege. How could a foreign group with insufficient national strength, relying on undeveloped artillery, capture this Mother of All Cities?" Caesar, remembering his historical knowledge from his previous life, firmly believed that at this moment, he should be in his home base in the Pontus region, rather than in Constantinople, which was protected by the Theodosian Walls and difficult to conquer.
But just as he was about to turn back and continue packing, Barbara grabbed his hands, "It's not like that! You have defeated the Turks once, bringing several provinces that had left the empire for a long time back into its embrace, alleviating much of the pain and frustration in the hearts of many Romans.
"It was you who showed them, with facts, that the Roman nation is not destined to perish. You now bear many expectations that you haven't even felt. If even you flee, how will they view you? And this city…"
"I'm not as important as you think, Barbara!" Because of his anxiety, Manuel's veins were bulging on his face. "The Empire has its Basileus, and even if he is currently stranded outside, I am not the true guardian of this city. And I am not undefeated; in 1435, and just a few days ago, I lost to the Ottoman Sultan more than once."
"But in 1435 and last year, you were ultimately victorious. And the Turks' own country is already in decline; their declaration of war now is just overdrawing their strength."
"But now I don't know if I still have the national strength to support me until the Ottoman Sultanate can't hold on any longer," Manuel finally, in a fit of agitated emotion, shook off her hand and turned his back to his wife, "Am I supposed to gamble? Gamble that this city will stand with me until reinforcements from Asia Minor arrive?"
"Your anxiety has clouded your judgment. You are not without support in this city now. After the great victory at Varna, countless Romans regard you as their savior, believing you can save this crumbling empire.
"But if you leave, wouldn't everything you've done over the years be almost in vain? And just as you yourself said, Manuel, this city has enough confidence to resist the Turk invasion…"
"However, Barbara," suddenly, Manuel, who had turned around, abruptly interrupted her, "No matter what choice I make, will you still stay with me?"
Asked this by her husband, Barbara replied without hesitation, "Of course, just as I promised more than ten years ago."
"I see," Manuel turned his head. The bulging veins on his face had mostly subsided, and his smile was both relieved and helpless. "This is good too.
"Let's just do our duty as a Roman. If this city will support me as you say, then we've gambled so many years, let's gamble one more time.
"Speaking of which, the conversation between Emperor Justinian and Empress Theodora back then seems a bit similar to now? That maxim goes like this—"
"My Little husband, you must have heard that maxim," Although her mind hadn't quite caught up with her husband's, Barbara was already on the verge of blurting out the maxim, "What Empress Theodora said back then was—"
Then, the couple, who had been married for over ten years, spoke the maxim in unison:
"ἐμὲ γάρ τις καὶ παλαιὸς ἀρέσκει λόγος, 'ὡς καλὸν ἐντάφιον ἡ βασιλεία ἐστί.' (As for me, I approve of the ancient saying: 'Royalty is a good shroud.')"