Muhammad II had been feeling depressed ever since he finally laid siege to Constantinople today.
Muhammad II's objective was actually very clear: to use a strong display and an aura of certain victory to compel Constantine XI and Manuel to make concessions.
Especially the latter; after the devastating defeat in East Thrace, he should, by all accounts, have already left Constantinople to gather his forces.
But now, he actually dared to stay in Constantinople and wear him down, which was completely unexpected by the Sultan.
According to his original plan, after he had crushed the forces led by these two Roman monarchs, who had personally led their armies, and occupied a large area of territory that had originally belonged to the Ottoman prior to the war, the other side should have relented.
But now, neither of them showed the slightest willingness to back down, especially that Manuel.
He didn't know what kind of potion he had given the citizens of Constantinople; they had clearly been contemplating retreat, but then they unexpectedly rallied again and mobilized the city's citizens and defenders to stubbornly resist his grand army from behind the city walls.
Manuel was not the monarch of the Roman Empire, nor even an imperial citizen, but merely a Roman.
Why would the citizens and army of Constantinople be willing to die for him?
However, the Sultan, finding himself in a difficult position, could not simply declare a complete victory and return to his capital with his grand army to consolidate the occupied territories.
After the forced abdication last Christmas, the Ottoman high command now seemed determined to fight the Bosphorus Despotate to the death.
But the Sultan knew very well that the current Ottoman army was simply incapable of taking Constantinople.
A siege of Constantinople would inevitably consume immense national power of the Ottoman Empire, and even most of the Ottoman's mobilizable troops would have to be deployed, thus leaving defenses vulnerable.
Having experienced the great defeat at Varna and the outbreak of the holy fire disease, and still needing to divide his forces to guard against Karaman, Aydin, and the main Bosphorus forces in Asia Minor, the current Murad had neither the ability nor the courage to raise another hundred thousand troops just to besiege the easily defensible Constantinople.
Thinking of this, he somewhat regretted informing the Sultanate's High Porte about the holy fire disease plague in the country being related to the Bosphorus last year; otherwise, after the Battle of Varna, they would not have harbored such intense hatred for the Bosphorus that they would vow never to give up.
"Sultan, what should we do now?" While the Sultan was lost in thought about these matters in the central army camp, his Grand Vizier Halil Pasha cautiously inquired about his plans for the current situation.
The Grand Vizier's words immediately brought the Sultan back to his senses.
After a moment's thought, the Sultan issued the most appropriate order for his side: "Continue to besiege this city, but focus on cutting off its communication with the inside and outside; do not rashly commit the main force to the assault.
At the same time, send orders to the twenty thousand troops already dispatched to Anatolia and our navy to quickly eliminate the remaining Roman forces in Kocaeli and reoccup important towns like Izmit."
As he spoke, the old Sultan became increasingly gritting his teeth, "And, continue the blockade; not even a single pigeon must be allowed to pass west of the Sea of Marmara!"
"Yes, Sultan!"
Meanwhile, on the battlements of the Theodosian Walls, Manuel felt even more nervous watching the opposing side send only a few groups of conscripted militias to launch probing attacks on Constantinople.
Not resorting to a fierce assault like Muhammad II did in 1453 in official history, this instead indicated that Murad II's mind was still very clear and he wouldn't act impulsively by launching a nearly suicidal frontal attack.
However, even so, Manuel did not display any inappropriate fear or anxiety at this moment.
Instead, after recalling something, a subtle cold smile appeared at the corner of the Caesar's mouth.
His willingness to reside permanently in Constantinople, a place where he theoretically lacked a foundation, was due not only to his passion and keen intellect but also to other resources he relied upon—
This reliance was the contingency plan he could employ after re-establishing communication with the Bosphorus homeland not long ago.
The day before yesterday—
After being encouraged by his wife to stay in Constantinople and face the Ottoman blades, he then talked to her about some very casual topics.
When asked how he felt, Manuel sat on the bed, leaned close to his wife, and smiled, both helplessly and resolutely.
"I think I've understood a lot," his tone, though still bitter, now held more of the confidence and determination of his youth.
"Life is as fleeting as a mayfly; if one doesn't passionately pursue something, then nothing will be left." At this moment, he seemed to recall his most spirited youth, and the smile on his face became increasingly nostalgic.
"So, we must seize the opportunity, even if we know it will ultimately fail.
Moreover, the die is cast; all we can do is press forward!"
"The weak self died in that civil war more than ten years ago; now I am—"
"A weaker self," Barbara teased, interrupting him and making the atmosphere more humorous.
"Oh, Barbara, we're an old married couple, please don't ruin the mood..." Interrupted, he simply lay on the bed and grumbled.
"Alright, alright," seeing her husband like this, Barbara also slumped onto the bed, "But Manuel, the most urgent thing is to come up with a plan, right?"
"Your way of changing the subject is as clumsy as ever."
"I learned it from you," her beautiful eyes darted playfully, and then she saw her husband leaning closer...
Afterward, Manuel quietly carried his wife, who had fallen asleep from his ministrations, to bed.
After giving instructions to the maids, he tidied his appearance and clothing, and left Blachernae Palace.
It was time to take the initiative into his own hands.
That night, the Caesar summoned his private secretary and Commander of the Guard, Badars, to a secret room in the city hall—
"Have you made contact with the Latins and are you ready to send people to Bey Halil in Aydin and Suleiman in Karaman?" At that time, the Caesar was in plain clothes, wearing a black cloak that was easy to conceal at night, and stood with his back to his trusted childhood friend, looking pensive.
"Reporting to Your Majesty, the members of the secret department sent from the city to contact the two Beys are ready, just waiting for the fleets of the Venetians and the Genoese of Galata," the Commander of the Guard knelt on one knee before the Caesar, informing him of the current situation.
"Excellent," Manuel turned and sat on a hazel wood folding chair behind him, clasping his hands and resting his chin, his expression extremely serious.
"Send them out; we must re-establish contact with Anatolia, the sooner the better."
For the remainder of that afternoon, he specifically visited the Venetian community within the city and the Genoese leased area of Galata.
Using the conditions he offered and his eloquent tongue, he swayed both sides to his favor.
One way they would help him was by allowing Bosphorus people to hitch a ride on their fast fleets, to restore the temporarily blocked communication.
Yesterday—
Before visiting Lucas Notaras, a message from across the Sea of Marmara reached Manuel, with a speed that somewhat caught him off guard.
After reading the first half of the urgent report from the East Coast, he held his breath: because of the sudden Ottoman attack, all of Bithynia, except Nicomedia and Chalcedon, had fallen, and even the navy, caught unprepared, had been forced to retreat and cower in the port of Amastris in Paphlagonia, unable to come out for the time being.
"I knew this would happen," he muttered with a bitter smile, then forced himself to continue reading:
However, the reason why the Ottoman navy was able to defeat the Bosphorus navy had also been ascertained: it turned out that Murad II had hired a large number of Turk pirates who originally operated in the Aegean Sea to temporarily serve the Sultanate.
But fortunately, the Bosphorus navy, whose main ships were undamaged in the previous attack, had recovered, and Admiral Falero, the Despotate's naval admiral, was also ready again, now leading a fleet with Diablo Andrea, splitting into two routes and sailing towards the Golden Horn.
His main land army of ten thousand men, left in Asia Minor and the Tauris Peninsula, had also followed his orders and was marching westward under the temporary command of his old father, Prince Alexius.
Moreover, under the protection of the natural barriers of the Caucasus Mountains and the Pontic Mountains, all Ottoman attacks on Bosphorus territories east of Bithynia had ended in failure.
"Good," a smile finally appeared on Manuel's face, but he quickly suppressed it and began to ponder.
A moment later, he took up a pen and briefly wrote his orders into a secret letter, which he handed to a trusted guard by his side...
After reviewing the memories in his mind, Manuel also came back to his senses and specifically moved behind the city walls, out of range of the artillery.
Because today, he was also to receive a general from Genoa, an allied reinforcement.
As he pondered, this man, surrounded by Genoese mercenaries, came before him to be received—
"I have come at the invitation of Manuel, and may the glory of the Holy Father protect Your Majesty." The Genoese general, clad in armor, performed a perfectly standard one-knee knight's salute to the Caesar.
"First..." Looking at the familiar and handsome young Latin face, Manuel, who had expected it to be their first meeting, paused, then burst into hearty laughter, walking closer to shake the man's hand.
"No, it is an honor to meet you again, and may the glory of God protect you, Giovanni Giustiniani Longo.
I, on behalf of the Bosphorus Despotate and the Romans of this city, welcome your arrival!"