Rome AARisen - a Byzantine AAR

April 7th, 1176

Basil III, Emperor of the Romans, looked far better today than he had in the past. When he’d first returned from Spain, he’d been pale, full of fever and delusions in addition to his myriad of battle injuries. It’d taken the best churigeons in the world and the hourly prayers of Sophie and the children to see him through. To this day, Basil’s left arm hung limply at his side – he could move it, but he’d never have the full range of motion he once had.

Yet it seemed his energy had not been diminished, to the slight chagrin of some of the members of the Imperial Council. The meeting had dragged on for three hours, with petitions from both the Prince of Pereschen, one Bolgar Komnenos, and the Prince of Kiev to be formally admitted as themes into the Roman Empire. The Bolgar Komnenos case had been especially interesting – the young man was the great-grandson of the first Komnenos Kaisar, Manuel of Sinope. His family had fled to obscurity in the wildlands between the Empire, Hungary and the lands of the Galicians, rising steadily in prominence until they became Princes once again. His name alone meant he was of a princely title in the eyes of the Council.

That had been followed by an exhaustive summary of the strengths of the various major dynasties amongst the dynatoi, along with the relative strengths and weaknesses of their positions. Sophie had wanted this briefing to be included in every Council meeting – already this frequency had allowed the Emperor to respond quickly to a sudden dispute between the Bryennids of Chairason and Basil’s distant cousin Manuel Komnenos, son of Matthias, heir to Romanos and Prince of Edessa and Coloneia.


And now, as Sophie herself fought the drowsiness of a lazy afternoon, the Council had finally arrived at the budget. She looked across the table and caught ancient Patriarch Ignatios looking at her through hooded eyes. Demetrios Nearos and Demetrios Koutsos both looked as if the financial reports covering imperial silk trade, manufactory monopolies and the like were more boring than one of Ignatios’ sermons.

“…have never been better,” Bernard von Baden, now Logothetes of the Treasury in his own right, said with more than a little satisfaction. “Each year, we take in some 50,000 silver solidii, even those years when Your Majesty was on campaign.”

“Small armies take only a small amount out of the treasury,” Basil smiled, then looked at Sophie. “There was logic behind my madness,” he smiled. Sophie smiled back, but made sure her smile was rather cold. Basil was genial about risking his life so easily, but Sophie had not let a day go by since his battered form returned from Spain without reminding him he was an Emperor, and far more rode on his life than the outcome of a single battle or campaign.

“Indeed,” was all she let out, and she watched him look away, a little crestfallen. Reminder made.

“As a result,” Bernard cleared his throat, then continued, “we are expecting this year that the reconstruction of the Great Palace will be completed, as well as renovations to the Hagia Sophia and Michael’s Gate.”

“And what of the provinces?” Demetrios Koutsos asked. As Kaisar he was still present at these meetings, though it was well known that on David’s 16th birthday his father intended to formally make the young boy his heir. Basil planned to keep Koutsos on the Council anyways – the Prince of Kappadokia, for all his worry and high-strung nature, provided valuable counterpoints to common logic.

“The Eastern frontier defenses have been rebuilt,” Bernard said with pride, “and Your Majesty’s finances have allowed us to additionally restockpile many provisions on all the frontiers. Truly, the decision to allow increased silk trade through the Turkish lands have proven immensely profitable.”

“The increased funds mean that, as of a month ago, Your Majesty can, on paper, muster some 600,000 troops,” Demetrios Nearos finally stirred from his boredom. “Our armies stand as strong as they did during the reign of Justinian, if not stronger. Keep in mind, however…”

“…it will take many many months to muster all those troops,” Basil finished Nearos’ thoughts. Sophie nodded as well – armies that vast required immense planning and supplies before they were deployed, not to mention pay.

“Good… let’s turn our attention to Spain then,” Sophie said, looking over at her husband. The Emperor nodded.

“We’re in the last stages of planning,” Sophie said. “With Kosaca’s conquest of the last Toledan stronghold, we now hold most of Spain within within our control – all that remains independent of Romanion are the Duchy of Toledo, still loyal to Heinrich, the lands of the Sultan of Morocco, and minor statelets along the northern coast.”

“Hmmm… so plans are proceeding well then?” Basil asked. The Emperor took a keen interest, as the future of Spain was a joint brainchild of himself and Sophie. It was apparent that the rest of Spain could not resist a concerted attack from the new French behemoth – and Romanion’s interest lay in a Greek Spain, both to counterbalance Drogo’s new power, as well as in honor of the blood of the thousands of Romanoi who had died conquering the country.

The first region to experiment with this new arrangement would be the areas of newly conquered Spain furthest from Drogo’s threat – the far western regions, near the Atlantic coast. These would be grouped into the “Kingdom” of Lusitania, with its ruler holding the Latin title of rex, and the Greek title of exarch. Said ruler would be appointed and confirmed by Konstantinopolis, to act on Romanoi behalf in the region. The later stages of the plan, conceived by Sophie herself, imagined an over exarch, or hyperexarch with viceroyalty powers over the other exarchs on the Emperor’s behalf.


So, according to this agreed upon plan, Spain would be divided into minor kingdoms, each answerable to one Imperial hyperexarch based out of Cordoba. The semi-autonomous status would hopefully allow the Spanish provinces the flexibility they needed to respond to events without relying on distant Konstantinopolis, while their fractured nature would prevent any one area from becoming too strong and attempting to break away. The hyperexarch himself would be granted power in Cordoba sufficient to compel the smaller units to respond in the case of a common threat – such as a French invasion. While it was unlikely Spain could hold out on its own indefinitely, it could slow down a French attack long enough for the rest of the Empire to marshal its immense might and strike a counterblow the French could never recover from. Finally, such a system would be more comprehensible to Romanion’s likely natural allies in the region – Spain’s Catholic Christians, but hopefully would remain Roman enough to slowly Hellenize the region.

However, Lusitania must first prove herself a viable system, independent of the Romanoi theme system. As such, she needed a young, vigorous exarch, gifted and skilled enough to bring the disparate groups within Lusitania’s borders together, yet loyal enough to the Roman crown to not attempt to pursue a radically independent course. The natural choice, in the minds of the Imperial government, had been Enguerrand Komnenos.

Not only was Enguerrand wholly loyal to his brother, young, and admittedly brilliant, by being of Imperial blood he would also command the respect of any (likely Greek) military, diplomatic, or governmental staff Lusitania would require.

In light of his future important position (and to test if his, as well as Sophie’s, assessments of the young man were accurate), Basil had begun to invite his younger brother to Imperial Council meetings, as well as granting him dignities of office and titles as a prelude to his new position. Enguerrand had proven as insightful, loyal, and brilliant as expected, further reinforcing the impending decision of the Emperor and Empress on the matter.


“There is one aspect that still needs your approval,” Enguerrand said, before nodding to Sophie.

“We want to change your imperial title to stress Autokrator, not Basilieus,” Sophie said.

“Autokrator?” Basil raised an eyebrow.

“’One who rules himself,’” Sophie clarified. “It is technically a part of your imperial title already – Basilieus kai Autokrator ton Romanion – yet we wish to emphasize Autokrator over Basilieus from now on. In one word, it certifies your position, as supreme ruler next to no one save God himself. It is a far more accurate descriptor of your place in this world than Basilieus alone ever was.”

“Why, what is wrong with Basilieus?” Basil asked. “Hasn’t that been the standard Imperial cognomen for quite some time now? Isn’t it imperial enough that we granted that Frank Charles the right to use it?”

Sophie nodded. “Yes, indeed, but in Greek, the title means merely ‘king.’ In theory, any despot in ancient Greece who was a monarch could use the title basilieus. Autokrator is unique, and thus fit for someone in a unique place such as yourself.”

“Also,” Rodrigo piped up, “Autokrator gives us leverage. It is a title unique to you, allowing us the diplomatic leverage with others of bestowing upon them Basilieus, without making them an equal of your position. Such could be useful in persuading groups like the Rus to do our bidding at a future date, or persuading the future Spanish lords to remain loyal to us.”

“Additionally,” Enguerrand added, “with the chaos in the Western Empire, the simple fact the Latins use Basilieus as one of their imperial titles, equating it with imperator and augustus, sullies the title. With all due respect, brother, you’re infinitely more powerful, and have an infinitely more rightful claim to the rights of the Caesars, than any German prince.”

“Wouldn’t this offend the West, and undermine Heinrich when we need him most?” Basil questioned. “Considering all the trouble Drogo is causing, surely we would want the Emperor of the West on our side?”

“Heinrich’s power is fading fast, in the face of a nobility backed by Drogo’s coin,” Rodrigo said grimly.

“I heard his armies got drubbed at Heidelberg,” Demetrios Nearos croaked.

“It will be only a matter of time before the Arpads lose the western Imperial crown,” Rodrigo continued. “The Dukes of Swabia, Franconia and Brandenburg have joined the rebellion. Heinrich is now relying principally on troops from Hungarian lands, so few of his German nobles remain loyal.”

“And if the Arpads are clearly and forcibly deposed, it is a matter of time before the inevitable,” Sophie added. “With the last of the great English Dukes kneeing before Louis, Drogo is growing ever closer to bringing the full might of England and France upon Italy.”

“Italy?” Basil asked, his tone becoming worried. While Sophie and Rodrigo had checked, double checked and corroborated their evidence, they had not brought it to Basil’s attention. Now, when they were sure, was the first time he’d heard of this matter.

“We believe so, Majesty,” Rodrigo’s voice echoed the suddenly grim sentiment in the room. He leaned forward. “With Heinrich weak and deposed, why, Your Majesty, would Drogo likely supply the Emir of Almeria to ambush Your Majesty, or plot to allow the Sultan of Toledo to catch you unawares in the leadup to Niebla?”

Sophie watched as Basil looked down, his mind pondering the problem. A few seconds went by, before she saw him go rigid. His eyes flashed upwards, wide. He now knew as well.

“It makes perfect sense, Majesty,” Sophie said. “Amalric has been in contact with groups potentially adverse to Your Majesty. The hands of the Franks are clearly behind Menorca and Niebla. They were seeking to either kill Your Majesty, or weaken and distract Romanion to clear the way for an aggressive move on Italy to force Boniface’s hand.”

“You mean Drogo means to be Western Emperor?” Enguerrand asked quietly.

“Emperor not just in name, like the Arpads have often been, but Emperor in power as well,” Sophie nodded. “He’ll have vast personal tracts of land in France, and through his son he’ll have all the royal lands and power of England as well. Coupled with his likely allies should Heinrich fall…”

“This is why Popes should not have been allowed to place an imperial crown on whomever, willy-nilly!” Koutsos grumbled. “Drogo lunges into Italy from the north, Your Majesty is still recovering, and our ablest commanders are in Spain! What can be done?”

“I am almost well, brother,” Basil said grimly.

“You are not! You cannot carry a shield!” Koutsos snapped.

“We’ll have to raise the Italian themes, which will be hard to do with Leo in charge,” Rodrigo said boldly. The Spaniard could at times surprise even Sophie with his bluntness. “My agents indicate he’s been in constant contact with the French ambassador, and I have no doubt that snake Amalric has offered to slip a mountain of coin into your brother’s purse. How else can one explain his lavish court and record tax hauls?”

“Do you have proof of that?” Basil asked, his voice slipping slightly towards dangerous. The sons of Manuel had famously rallied around their brother when Basil had first ascended to the throne, and to the Emperor’s credit, he implicitly trusted his siblings.

“Not as yet, Basil,” Sophie interceded before any inferences or accusations were made that were baseless. “Rodrigo, however, has this information from a very potent source.”

“Which source?” Basil pressed. When Sophie’s glare met his eyes, the Emperor attempted a shrug. “My own brother is being accused by treason. I wish to know the source.”

“A double agent, Majesty,” Rodrigo finally said.

“So we trust the word of a double agent over mine own flesh and blood,” Basil shook his head slowly. “What sad days we live in!”


“Nonetheless, they are the days that face us,” Rodrigo said rather sharply. “We would not make up any information of this sort!”

“Who is this agent, how did you get the information?” the Emperor pressed onwards.

“Basil, that is inconsequential!” Sophie cut him off, “I’ve reviewed the evidence alongside Rodrigo, and I have to concur with him. The source has provided us with hard evidence to corroborate this!” She sighed. “I know you love Leo, I know he is your brother, but Basil – trust us. Trust me.” She spread her hands in a peaceable gesture. “We aren’t asking for you to order anything… untoward…”

“Let me put your brother under close surveillance,” Rodrigo bluntly clarified. “That’s all.”

“For prudence’s sake, let us assume the worst, and then plan from there,” Patriarch Ignatios advised grimly. For a man of God, the ancient clergyman had a surprising amount of advice on worldly matters. Most of it came from surviving the intrigues of Emperor Nikolaios as well as Emperor Manuel, and the civil war over thirty years before. “Nothing bad could come from watching your brother, Majesty, and confirming either his innocence or…” the old man’s voice trailed off.

Sophie looked back at her husband, who looked around the table for a moment, before he nodded unhappily.

“Fine then. Put him under surveillance, and for now let us assume if Drogo moves Leo will not supply his thematakoi,” Basil said, refusing to speak aloud Leo might be up to worse. “What then?”

“So we’d need troops from elsewhere,” Nearos mumbled. “The Sicilian themes are already serving in Spain, along with part of the Imperial Guard. The Croatian tagmata are close, but number only about 15,000 total. I could call up the Konstantinopolis tagmata, but it’d take weeks to get them sorted and prepared. Do we have that kind of time?”

“When will the blow land?” the Patriarch croaked.

Sophie and Rodrigo both sighed.

“We don’t know, but I would venture that we have some time,” Sophie said quietly. “Undoubtedly Drogo knows Basil has returned to Konstantinopolis, and considering the King of the Franks went out of his way twice to kill you, husband, it means he thinks you are a terribly grave threat. Undoubtedly whatever plans he had in the near future for Italy are on hold, as he develops another plan to keep Romanion preoccupied. He could do this by any number of means,” Sophie continued, “the Cumans still occupy a reduced section of our northern border. Peresylavl, the Rus, even the Danes are possible, as are the Moroccans.”

“So we could be facing a whole constellation of threats?” Enguerrand said worriedly. “And you’re discounting the Turk! Basil, I know you have an… understanding… of sorts with the Sultan, but I highly doubt even a man as powerful as Sulieman could keep the lions of his court in line if we were to face all of those threats at once!”

“Sulieman won’t attack us,” Basil said firmly.

“How do you know that?” Rodrigo asked. Sophie had learned not to question Basil’s trust of the Turkish Sultan, something Rodrigo had never accepted. For all the Spanish blood in his veins, Rodrigo acted like most ever Greek she’d encountered – implicitly, and viciously, distrusted the Turks.

“I just do,” Basil glared.


Sophie’s mind was awhirr. Names and plans went through her mind, as Basil artfully deflected and defended his trust in the Turkish Sultan, arguing that Sulieman’s coffers were growing rich from peace and trade just as Romanion’s were. Peace would keep the coffers growing – both Empires, it seemed, had more serious threats than each other. Finally, Sophie came to a plan – the first part she knew Basil would agree with. The second…

“The first step is a diplomatic offensive amongst the cities of northern Italy,” Sophie said clearly. “We need to make sure that the practically independent city states such as Milan, Genoa, and Verona know that Romanion will safeguard their independence should the French move and Heinrich not be able to defend Italy. By doing this, we’d gain eyes, ears, and perhaps even a few soldiers to bolster stopping a move by the Frank.”

Basil nodded.

“There is another step,” Sophie finally said. She didn’t want to broach this subject – she knew what Basil’s reaction would be to the mere suggestion. But for all the evil and darkness attributed to Manuel Komnenos, Sophie realized he had, strangely, hit upon one accurate, even humane point. It was far better to kill one man by poison, than tens of thousands to solve a dispute ‘honorably’ in the field.

It would require a significant investment of time and money – both nothing approaching mobilizing the tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, a full scale war would require. It’d require her husband to give her and the imperial intelligence a carte blanche, the go ahead to strike Drogo, his supporters, and military anywhere, any time, with any means necessary.

“Drogo Capet and his cousin Amalric pose a clear and present danger to the survival of Romanion and this royal family,” Sophie said slowly. “In the face of such a threat, and of such an opponent of such grave danger, and for the sake of the tens of thousands who would die if we took the field against the King of France, I must propose that myself, as well as Rodrigo, be allowed to use any and all means, up to and including assassination, to end this threat!”

“Assassination?” Sophie heard her husband say quietly. She paused for a moment, before deciding to continue – she’d broached the subject, it was time to delve into its depths.

“Yes, assassination,” Sophie swalloed and said. “In the interests of church and state are one in this matter – by his actions, Drogo indicates he cares little for the laws of God, let alone the laws of men. At times, we must not sit by – we must act, and allow God to thereby bless our endeavors!”

“You mean…” Basil sighed, leaning back, “to tell me you propose that we kill King Drogo by poison or some other devious means?” He had a slight smirk on his lips – Sophie knew that meant incredulousness, and that an explosion was on the way. She braced herself.

“That is exactly my sentiment, Basil,” she said. “This one man is intent on ruling Christendom, and killing whoever gets in his way. It is far better to use a dose of hemlock on him, than to uselessly expend tens of thousands of lives facing him and his threat in the field!”

Sophie looked around the table, and saw heads nodding. Even Patriarch Ignatios, who she expected to vehemently denounce any such ‘state murder,’ looked down in silence. Yet when she looked up at Basil, she saw his nostrils flare slightly, his face red.

“No,” was all the Emperor said.

“No?! But why?” Rodrigo instantly demanded.

“Kings do not go about killing other kings,” Basil said sharply. Sophie saw that tinge of brightness in Basil’s eyes that spoke of his rage. The Emperor rarely lost his temper, but the Empress could see the mere suggestion of assassination was enough to make it happen here, and now.

“You aren’t a king, Basil!” Rodrigo appealed in vain. “You’re an Emperor! With an empire whose security comes before any pain, suffering, or scruples you might have!”

“When I want to take lessons on how to rule from any of you, I will ask,” Basil said tartly, his face turning bright red. There was a huff of air, and he looked down at the table, drumming his fingers. “Next business.”

“If even Amalric is eliminated…” Rodrigo pressed his luck.

“No!” Basil looked up and shot out of his seat, slamming his fist on the table, making it rock. “No! No dammit! Rodrigo, you damned fool, how many times do I have to say it? No!” Basil loomed over the table for several seconds, like some horrible dark shadow, before slowly easing back into his seat. “Next business,” he sighed. “I want to have a joust, in the Hippodrome,” he said, forcibly moving things past the distasteful topic at hand.

“A what?” Sophie saw Enguerrand’s eyebrows raise.

“A joust,” Basil repeated himself, “Latin style – make sure the French ambassador is there. And I will compete.”

It was Sophie’s turn to sputter. She’d almost lost Basil twice – once at Jerusalem, once at Niebla. And that was not counting the close thing that was Menorca. Why, why of all things would he want to risk himself in personal combat? Honor, or some other foolishness?

“Why?” was all she was able to spit out through the angry haze that clouded her mind.

“Because the people need to see they are still led by a warrior Emperor…” Basil said simply, before turning to the red-faced, sputtering Koutsos. “And it will send a message to Drogo that he cannot miss – that the Roman Emperor remains ready to take the field against him…”


“Bah!” Rodrigo spat an hour later, as the Council finally broke just before supper. He was alone remaining in the room with the Empress.

Sophie looked at her friend – she felt his frustration.

“Reforming the Eastern themes, Spain, and a joust? Those are the priorities today?” Rodrigo moaned. “We have a ferocious hound baying at our gates!” Rodrigo fumed, “Why won’t Basil let our own dogs go and beat the cur back at his own game? Instead, he fritters about a damned joust!”

Sophie sighed and looked towards the door to the chambers, the footfalls of Basil’s military walk still echoing in the marble corridors. “He wants a joust because it will be a chance to show the people their warrior Emperor is still a warrior – the support of the mob is always useful… even if I think he could gain said support in other ways. As for taking care of Drogo,” she sighed, “he is a good man, Rodrigo, that is why. A warrior, and a gentle soul – too honorable for what fate throws his way.”

“We need a scheming fox, not a gentle deer!” Rodrigo huffed, crossing his arms. He let out of an annoyed huff. “Honor my ass!”

“I know,” Sophie sighed, looking towards the door. “I know.”

“What are we to do if Amalric feels free to keep plotting beneath our nose?” Rodrigo asked sharply. “If we keep letting him gallivant about freely, the monarchy will look weak, powerless, to our own internal enemies!” The Spaniard uttered a curse involve the Savior’s body parts. “Basil’s spent way too much time muttering about ‘goodness’ and ‘piety!’”

“And talking about the things he hears from Hagios Demetrios,” Sophie said worriedly. Ever since her husband’s injury at Niebla, the ‘saint’ had returned, speaking to him in his sleep. Sophie wasn’t so sure it was a saint speaking. “I know,” Sophie said again, casting one last glance at the door, before looking Rodrigo directly in the eye. Despite the fact no one else was in the room, her voice instinctively dropped to a whisper. What she was about to tell him – it was tantamount to treason.

“That is why you will make sure Amalric Capet, and Drogo Capet, do not menance Romanion any longer.”

“What?”

Sophie repeated herself slowly, distinctly, word for word.

Rodrigo’s eyes went wide. “Under whose authority?” Rodrigo whispered. “Basil clearly spoke, and said no!”

“Under my authority,” Sophie said quietly. “And I’m releasing to you the Hand of the Emperor. I want Amalric, and, if possible, Drogo, dead within the year. Is that understood?”

Rodrigo nodded, before casting a worried look at Sophie. “Are you sure about this? You’re going directly against an Imperial edict – Basil loves you to no end, but he loves the Empire more. If…”

“I’ve never been surer in my life,” she cut Basil off. “This must be kept the utmost secret – I have no doubt I can trust you and your agents to ensure the safety of the Emperor’s Hand in this endeavor.”

Rodrigo stiffened slightly, before sighing. “Of course, Sophie.”

And for this week's interim... Enewald, ask and ye shall recieve!

This is the first part in four where I'm going to go through the Empire, theme by theme, as it stands in 1176. For everyone's information, the next update is about a quarter of the way done... look for it to be finished perhaps this weekend.


As the Empire stands, in 1176 there are 56 separate themes, not including lands directly under Imperial control, or comes that for one reason or another, answer to the Emperor. Now, I haven't included Imperial lands in Spain, as they aren't organized yet. For the Empire Proper:






As covering this whole thing in one fell swoop would be an enormous and intimidating task, I've split it up into four parts. For now, let us look at the African and Italian provinces of the Komnenid Empire...






1. Constantine
Ruler – Prince Ives de Toulouse
Capital – Constantine

The theme of Constantine is one of the three newest in Romanion. Comprising a stretch of green North African coast and a swath of barren inland wasteland, Constantine marks the westernmost outpost of the theme system as of July 1176. Spain lies beyond this, yet Spain is still under almost wholly military jurisdiction. Constantine came into the Imperial fold due a variety of factors. The original Duchy of Constantine had been a state carved out of the former Zirid Empire by the knights who had responded to the call of the Second Crusade on Tunis, and led by Duke Rainuld of Toulouse, the realm achieved a measure of prosperity. For a period the Duchy was a titular vassal of the King of France, before becoming an independent state, then a vassal of the Pope, then back to full independence. The Duchy came into the Roman fold through her close proximity and immense trade ties to Roman Tunis-Carthage, as well as the personal debt of Rainuld’s son, Ives. The elevation to the rank of Prince within the most powerful realm in Christendom, no doubt, provided some encouragement as well.

2. Kairouan
Ruler – Prince Clemente Kosaca
Capital – Thapsus

Kairouan is a scattered, comparatively poor theme carved out by Christophoros Komnenos during the conquest of Beni Halal. Despite the addition of Constantine, Kairouan is still considered a “march” theme, and as such as an enlarged military garrison as well as a military prince for its ruler. Indeed, several comes that might have normally been under the Prince’s jurisdiction instead either directly overseen by the Emperor (such as that of Tunis-Carthage) or by imperial agents. Kairouan is the home of the Afrikon Stratos of the Imperial army, a standing force of 6,000 soldiers based out of Tunis, as well as some 40,000 potential levies. The Prince of Kairouan, Clemente Kosaca, is one of the most feared generals within all of the Empire, and thus rarely rules his land in person. Instead, Kosaca has left behind a military commission to rule on his behalf. Considering the Prince’s reputation, indications point that he likely will succeed Demetrios Nearos as Megos Domestikos, likely prolonging this arrangement.

3. Leptis Magna
Ruler: Konstantinos of Khor Nubt
Capital: Leptis Magna

Leptis Magna was originally a conquest of the Megos during the Cyrenaican Wars, and thus for much of its early existence was a frontier march. Yet as Beni Helal fell, Leptis Magna took a position of greater importance as a stopping point for ships sailing along the North African coast. The ascension of Emperor Manuel brought three additional comes into Leptis Magna – that of Malta, Agrigento and Trapani, elevating the importance of the theme, and thus its Prince, in the role of trans-Mediterranean trade – Manuel thought it far better to make arrangements so that tolls, etc. for trade along the North African coast passed through one single theme, than multiple.

The House of Khor Nubt is a perfect example of Imperial political policy on the frontiers. Their forefathers were Bedouin tribesmen, in the service of the Cyrenaican Emir, who defected to Roman service. As a reward, they found positions within the civil administration, and after the original ruling house, Hetaporimites, died out, the Khor Nubt, now converted to Christianity, found themselves in perfect position to ascend to the top of the regional political pile. Konstantinos Khor Nubt has proven himself both an able and fair administrator, earning praise from far more eminent nobles in Konstantinopolis, as well as merchants across the Mediterranean.


4. Cyrenaica
Ruler: Alam Komnenos
Capital: Cyrene

Cyrenaica was once the core of the lands of the powerful Emir of Cyrenaica, a man who simultaneously defeated the once powerful Fatimid Caliphate and invaded the Balkans themselves. Almost 75 years ago, the Emir was defeated by the Megos, just before the start of the Turkish War. Once in place, the Romans rebuilt the ancient city of Cyrene to serve as a capital of the province. Whereas the city’s status as a trade hub has never risen back to what it was in the ancient days, it has become an important stopping point for Mediterranean trade between Carthage-Tunis and Alexandria. The Cyrenaican Komnenids have a distant claim to the Imperial throne, but since the days of Georgios, this ancient claim has been suspended in the face of the work of running a minor frontier province. The current Prince, Alam Komnenos, is the grandson of Georgios Komnenos, and thus a great-grandson of the Megos. He lives up to his legacy on the small scale – Alam (baptized Sergios in the Orthodox faith) has become renowned at tracking down Bedouin raiders.


5. Italy
Ruler: Leo Komnenos
Capital: Napoli

The Principality of Italy, an amalegation of principally the themes of Apulia and Salerno, is a product of Emperor Manuel’s still recent conquests. Basil III felt it would be better if Norman, Catholic southern Italy was ruled by one prince, with blood ties to the Emperor to ensure loyalty. Thus the Principality came into being, ruled by the Emperor’s brother Leo. Leo Komnenos has proven to be an able administrator, assuaging the fears of Normans, Catholics, Greeks and Orthodox alike, and molding Italy into one of the most efficient tax farms in the whole of the Empire. The theme, filled with large cities such as Naples and Taranto, has become one of the cash cows of the Basil era of the Komnenid Empire. The theme’s milita are as well equipped as much of the Imperial Guard, and Italy even possesses its own small “reserve fleet.” However, in recent days information has come to the front questioning the loyalty of the Prince… Leo has used his years in power to deeply entrench himself in local affairs. To extract him from his position would likely prove exceedingly difficult…