"How many ships do you think the Emperor has left?"
"Even if he scrapes everything together, it won't reach sixty. Not unless he brings Venice in…"
"And do you think the Venetians would involve themselves in something like this?"
Admiral Kontostephanos tapped the desk as he muttered.
"For Constantinople, which they were fighting only a few years ago? I don't think so."
"You are correct, Excellency. But the Emperor will not leave this place alone forever. He will try to reclaim it somehow."
"Perhaps."
The admiral rose and walked to the window.
Dozens of ships at anchor filled his view.
The fleet he had built and commanded.
Not anyone else's.
His.
"Strengthen the defenses. Increase the number of patrol ships. If we hold out long enough…"
He muttered,
"The Emperor will have no choice but to forgive us. If all trade routes through here are blocked, he'll eventually raise both hands."
He snorted.
"Do you think that brat would personally come all the way here?"
"The fleet will follow you to the end, Excellency."
"The fleet, yes. What of the residents?"
"They are protesting the increased taxes. They say they will stage demonstrations if their representatives are not heard…"
"Send sailors and suppress them as needed. Make an example—hang a few. With supplies short, we have no time to listen to their complaints."
"Understood."
"It was a mistake trusting that fool Andronikos. If he hadn't overreached…!"
The admiral hurled the ink bottle.
Glass shattered across the floor.
He breathed heavily.
"By now I would have entered the capital and cut down the Latins. If only I had dealt with that idiot sooner…"
"…."
"Without my permission, not a single ship leaves Cyprus. Not one. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Excellency. Every harbor is under our control. There is no need for concern."
The adjutant spoke again.
"Ah, a Venetian merchant has requested an audience."
"A Venetian merchant?"
"Yes. He claims to have information regarding Constantinople."
"Bring him."
Soon a pot-bellied man entered.
Lavish silk, a ridiculous hat.
The typical dress of a Venetian merchant.
Admiral Kontostephanos stared at him.
"I hear you wished to see me. Your name?"
"I am Marco of Venice, Excellency—the great and noble Admiral Kontostephanos."
"Spare me the flattery. I hear you have information."
"Yes. Our company remained in Constantinople until a few days ago. I thought Your Excellency might be interested in the situation there…"
"So you've come to sell information. Go on."
"Perhaps we should first discuss a suitable price—"
"Cunning, as expected of a Venetian."
He snorted.
"You will be rewarded according to the value of your information. It will also be cross-checked with other sources."
His tone turned cold.
"Until then, neither you nor your company may leave Cyprus."
"Of course."
"Then speak. What is the situation in Constantinople?"
Marco slowly opened his mouth.
His eyebrow twitched.
"First, let me tell you this. The Roman Emperor is now…"
Two days later. Deep night.
Aig looked at the boat with anxious eyes.
A small leather boat.
Even the slightest wave made it sway from side to side.
It could capsize at any moment.
"Why must we go in a boat like this?"
"If we used another vessel, we would've been discovered by now. Nothing disappears in the night sea like black bear hide."
"That may be true…"
Aig muttered.
As the sailor said, the black leather was almost invisible in the dark.
Only he and a sailor from Greenland were aboard.
It felt as though they were floating in darkness itself.
The two spoke quietly.
"In the old pagan faith my ancestors followed, there was a giant wolf named Fenrir. He was tricked by the god of war, Tyr, and bound tightly with a rope…"
The old sailor stroked his beard.
"They say that on the final day, Ragnarök, he will break free and swallow the sun and the moon. Then the world will grow dark like this."
"Like Armageddon."
Aig imagined the enormous wolf.
A beast swallowing the sun and moon, bringing darkness.
"If anyone heard me listening to stories like this, I'd probably be scolded…"
He murmured.
He imagined distant lands.
What would the winds there feel like?
The sailor's voice pulled him back.
"This should be the place. We just wait now?"
"Yes. Most likely."
Aig carefully took out the cylinder.
The "Angel's Eye," as Prince Baldwin called it.
Its use was simple.
Place one end to the eye and adjust the distance between the tubes until the image sharpened.
Aig adjusted it skillfully.
But in the darkness, nothing was visible.
"If something happened to Marco…"
At that moment, the sailor raised his finger.
A small light flickered where he pointed.
"There's something flashing there!"
"Hold this steady!"
Aig shouted as he pulled out a stylus.
The sailor awkwardly held the telescope in place before Aig's eye.
In the darkness, the sound of the stylus scratching echoed softly.
"You foolish Dane! Who are you to give orders like that?"
"You should maintain your dignity! If you bear an imperial noble title, then act like one—"
The two men shouted, pointing fingers at each other.
Sailors and soldiers gathered around.
"Dignity? You were the one who—"
"What are you two doing?!"
I shouted.
They stopped.
Hugh and Ruaak.
Both red-faced, glaring at each other.
I sighed.
They were laughing together yesterday.
"This rude Dane is telling us to stay out of the landing!"
"I never told you to stay out. I merely suggested that since the Order has greater numbers, it would be better if we handled the landing."
"Ruaak, I recall we already discussed the matter of command."
"Of course, Prince. I was merely proposing the ratio of landing forces…"
Ruaak sighed.
"I suggested it to Sir Hugh. He immediately lost his temper, as though I were stealing his position."
"You Greek dog—!"
"A moment ago I was a Dane. Now I'm a Greek dog. You should choose one."
Ruaak said evenly.
"Where I come from, such insults are answered with a duel—"
"You think I'd be afraid? I may have leprosy, but I can still deal with a giant like you—"
"That is enough. This is an order."
I sighed.
Mediating quarrels between men in their forties and fifties.
What a position I'm in.
"This is no time to fight over trivial matters."
I took out a sheet of paper.
A map marking Cyprus and the surrounding waters.
"This is information Marco sent last night."
I began explaining.
The information Marco sent was detailed.
The admiral's current location, fleet size and condition, patrol routes.
Everything I had requested.
Morse code and telescope.
The synergy worked exactly as expected.
"That timid fellow managed to gather all this."
Hugh said.
"I thought he'd flee the moment he reached the island."
"Anyone would, if becoming Doge were at stake."
"Doge? What do you mean?"
"There are such matters."
I laughed instead of answering.
"But the most important information is something else."
I continued.
The most important intelligence Marco had delivered—
The fleet under Kontostephanos was preparing to set sail.
"He doesn't know the exact target."
"They're preparing for departure? Where—?"
Ruaak muttered.
"It won't be Constantinople. The admiral is not foolish enough to think he can breach those walls with ships alone."
"He already failed when he joined Andronikos."
I nodded.
I looked out the window.
We were currently at Seleucia.
A southern Anatolian port city, north of Cyprus.
"They could strike here. If they attack first, they can exploit their numerical advantage."
"That is possible, but unlikely."
Ruaak shook his head.
"Most of the imperial navy's sailors are recruited from Cyprus and these port cities. Seleucia is the hometown of many."
"Ordering men to attack their own homes would be difficult."
"Exactly. Unless we strike first."
"Then…"
Where?
Why launch a risky campaign now?
Then I recalled another piece of information Marco had sent.
"The admiral raised taxes severalfold after seizing Cyprus. Funds must be tight."
I continued.
"Maintaining a fleet of a hundred ships all at once is no small burden."
Even in the game, naval forces cost more than land forces.
Sailors, carpenters, laborers, repair materials.
Without central imperial support, sustaining a hundred ships would be difficult.
"What is the fastest and easiest way to secure funds and supplies?"
"Pillage the surrounding region."
Ruaakanswered calmly.
"Exactly. If we assume they are preparing to raid for funds…"
I pointed to the right side of the map.
The County of Tripoli, ruled by Raymond.
It had to be there.
"They won't go south to challenge Saladin in Egypt. They'll choose a softer target."
"Tripoli… yes, that makes sense."
Hugh muttered.
"If they set sail, how about we strike the empty harbor?"
"It won't be completely empty."
Ruaak cut in.
"If they target Tripoli, they won't deploy the entire fleet. Fifty ships would suffice."
"The imperial navy also has Greek fire."
I nodded.
Raymond's naval strength was perhaps twenty or thirty warships at most.
They would not stand against Greek fire.
"Then we must advance our timetable."
I said.
Originally, we intended to wait patiently for an opening and infiltrate to remove the admiral.
But if we were to prevent a raid, we had to move quickly.
"We must first warn Count Raymond. If our fleet joins, we can oppose them."
"A Roman fleet stopping a Roman fleet from pillaging."
Rouak gave a faint smile.
"The Lord reveals destiny in mysterious ways."
"Even if they don't deploy the entire fleet, their defenses will weaken."
I said.
"In that gap, an elite force enters Cyprus and captures the admiral."
"What if the admiral joins the attacking fleet?"
"No need to worry. Marco says the admiral has assigned command of this expedition to a subordinate."
"Marco uncovered even that?"
Hugh let out a dry laugh.
I smiled and nodded.
Choosing Marco was worth it.
Merchants of maritime cities excel at information.
Just as warriors fight well, merchants trade information as naturally as breathing.
"Then we must quickly decide the landing force. One hundred fifty men, with a field commander—"
"I will lead them. I'm going as well."
…
Both men fell silent.
Yes, I expected that reaction.
"There is no need for you to participate in this operation. You must not."
Ruaak said.
"If you are captured, the admiral gains leverage against the Empire. A very great leverage."
"He's right, Prince."
Hugh added.
"We and the other knights will seize him. You remain here in safety."
"I would prefer that as well…"
I shook my head.
My instinct.
With it, the chance of success would be greater.
To avoid unforeseen dangers, I had to go myself.
"I am going."
"Once we land, safe return is not guaranteed. Even if we fail—"
"I have already decided."
I said.
Perhaps sensing my resolve, both sighed.
Hugh pointed at the map.
"If we infiltrate while the enemy fleet is at sea, we must land during the day, not night."
He added,
"That increases the chance of detection. Even if patrol numbers decrease…"
"We will need a diversion. Fortunately, I have one."
I smiled.
Feign east, strike west.
No strategy more basic than that.
"First, the Greek fire we brought—"
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Q: Wouldn't sending detailed information in Morse code take an enormous amount of time? And to transmit signals visible by telescope at night, wouldn't brighter lighting be required?
A: In darkness, a candle flame can be seen at roughly 2.5 km with the naked eye. Even a primitive telescope would double that range. In modern warfare, even a cigarette ember can reveal position. Additionally, prearranged abbreviations allow much faster transmission of complex information.