The Morea, a Palaeologid AAR

Snugglie: All in due time, friend. The injustices done to Nikodemos will be, at least in part, repaid one day. And yes, I have brought back the dreams. I also liked the touch they added to the story. As the story progresses, they will come to play more and more pivotal roles in driving events forward. But I won't tell you how, that would ruin the surprise!

AlexanderPrimus: I hope to have the next update up soon. I have some family coming to visit for the next 6 days, so I don't know how much writing I can get done during that time, but I'll get right back to work when they've left.


And to all readAARs: don't forget to vote in the AARland Choice AwAARds!

____________________________________________________________________________________________________



“I’m so excited!” said Sophia with a giggle. The lass stood at the bow of the ship and felt the breeze blow her blonde hair about her face. She had all the usual characteristics of Palaeologid blood, including brilliant blonde hair and striking facial features. She definitely appeared more Greek than the rest of her family. Her house had come to be known as the Imeretian Palaeologi as they ruled Imeretia in the name of the king. They were descended from Bartholomaios Palaeologus, the youngest son of King Georgios I’s youngest son, Ermenegildo.

“It’s not that impressive,” replied her brother. “It’s only the Peloponnesus. There are several places in the Kingdom that are far more beautiful, and far more free from corruption and heresy.”

“Oh, Tinos!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Must you always be so political?”

“I am Konstantinos Orestes Palaeologus, eldest son of Prince Romanus Palaeologus of Imeretia,” Tinos replied coldly. “Sister, by birth I am heir to our father’s estate, the second most powerful principality in the Kingdom, second only to Butrinto. I must always be political. Father taught me that.”

Like the rest of his family, Tinos harbored a grudge against the Royal Palaeologi. When King Athanasios had died, Ermenegildo’s widow, the Lady Zoe Batatzes, had tried to get her son, Bartholomaios to become the King, as Athanasios first marriage had produced no male heirs. But the crown fell to the late King’s eldest son through his second marriage, and so an infant was crowned as King Georgios II, and that claim was defended by St. Alexios Dekanos. Bartholomaios had grudgingly accepted Georgios as his King, but since that day, his bloodline had despised both the Royal Palaeologi and the Dekani. To this very day, the Imeretian Palaeologi held on to their dream of one day becoming Kings of the Morea. The odds of this occurring were looking better than ever, too. King Georgios III was old and feeble, and his heir was a mere boy. Tinos hoped to meet this boy, who sadly shared his name. He hoped to meet him in the tournament and disgrace him before all the nobles of the land. If he could have glimpsed the future, his opinions of his Royal cousins might have been different. But alas, he knew nothing of what was to come, and so he despised them.

Sophia could see her brother’s hatred and never understood it. So what if her family never got to be royalty? The Imeretian Palaeologi were still one of the most powerful families in the Morea, in land, influence, and military. Imeretia commanded a diverse army comprised of Greek nobles, Georgian militia, and the famed Alan Regiment, which had been crucial to several of the Morea’s early victories. In fact, with the exception of the Knight Guard and the Aspidai, no Morean military unit had won as much fame, prestige, or reputation for ferocity, as the Alan Regiment. What’s more, the land was, to her mind, paradise. Her homeland had beautiful mountains, breath-taking coastlines, and everything else one could ever want. She was perfectly contented with what her family had in Imeretia. But her father and her brothers lusted for power more than she did, and were not content with what they already had.

As their boat neared the shore, Sophia grew jittery with anticipation. Her mood was soon killed, however, when she saw Tinos frowning more than ever at their approach. With a scoff of frustration she turned from the railing and heading below decks to finish the journey away from her brother.


“I still think it’s a bad idea,” said Imbert, his frustration evident.

Konstantinos looked around the room, scanning the faces of the men present. Imbert was there, as were Protodeacon Andronikos’ two eldest sons, twins in fact, Alexandros and Alexios. He could not have known the significance of these three men. In his eyes, Imbert was his guard, mentor, and practically a father to him. Alexandros and Alexios were nothing more than bodyguards. He was completely unaware of the most important fact, a fact each of the three men had in common: they were Dragons. Each one belonged to the Order of St. Alexios, which was so secret that not even the Royal Family knew of its existence.

Seeing that the Chrysasphes twins shared in Imbert’s opinion, the Prince sighed. But he would not give in. He took a deep breath and said, “You’re right. Trying to lead a double life here would be hard. I cannot attend the banquet as myself and then compete under your name, Imbert.”

Imbert nodded, “So you’re going to call this fiasco off?”

A smile crept across the Prince’s face, “No. I’m going to attend solely as you, Imbert.”

With that, the Post-Captain shot up from his seat, “You cannot be serious, my Prince! Before we left Sardinia you sent word that you would attend… as yourself! They will be expecting Crown Prince Konstantinos to be there!”

Still smiling, the Prince rose from his seat, rested his hands upon the table, and said, “I am Imbert Nikolaidos, captain of the Prince’s Bodyguard. Prince Konstantinos has taken ill, and was unable to make the journey. He has asked me to attend and compete in his name. Here is his signet ring, as proof of my mission.”

With that, Konstantinos placed his signet ring on the table. The three men just stared at it, and then at him. After a moment, Alexios spoke up, “Do you really think they’ll fall for it?”

Konstantinos straightened up, “Ofcourse they will! Nobody outside of Sardinia has ever met me. It’s not like they’ll know what I look like. Not even my grandfather will recognize me! He never once came to Sardinia! As long as you three remain silent about this, nobody will be the wiser.”

“But if, somehow, your identity were to be revealed,” the real Imbert chimed in, “there’ll be hell to pay. For the three of us, at least. And I’m certain your grandfather won’t be too happy with you, either.”

The Prince just shrugged and said, “Risk is part of the game. Now this plan won’t work without your help. I need all three of you. So are you in, my friends? Or will you deny me this one chance to see my future warriors at their best?”

Alexandros rose, looked his Prince in the eyes, and said, “You mean, ‘at their worst’, my Prince.” Then, with a smile, he shook Konstantinos’ hand. Alexios quickly followed his lead.

Imbert then rose, sighed, and said, “You do realize what we’re doing for you?”

Konstantinos nodded, “I do. And I wouldn’t ask it of you unless I felt it were of the utmost importance. And this is of the utmost importance.”

With another sigh, the Post-Captain of the Dragons agreed, “I’m going to regret this.”

The Crown Prince embraced his protector and friend and said, “I shall not forget what you have done for me this day.”

AlexanderPrimus: Thanks for the support! I am very glad that I was able to get another one up, short as it was. I plan on the following updates to be longer and more in depth. They will introduce some crucial plot twists and will help develop the characters for this coming generation.

RGB: Indeed it has. But how shall it end?

stnylan: As am I, my friend. As am I.

canonized: Indeed, a month and a half is a long time. I wish I had more time to write. But I am glad that you enjoyed the update so much! And the struggles do indeed continue. And though it may still be a ways off, the story is now building towards the greatest struggle yet...

This January, be in awe as the young Prince Konstantinos battles incognito in his grandfather’s tournament, cheer as he seeks to win the heart of a fair maiden, and gasp as unexpected tragedy strikes!

Friends shall be parted, new bonds formed, old enemies will fall, and a new and even more dangerous foe will arise! Don’t miss a single update as this exciting tale continues!

January, 2010




My apologies to all my readAARs for going so long without an update. This semester has been utterly crazy! 20.5 credits have kept me very busy. Added to that social life and other commitments, I’ve had very little time for writing anything other than papers for classes. But over the course of Christmas break, I plan to spend a good portion of my free time writing updates for both of my main AARs (sorry to fans of my Welsh AAR, that will have to wait until Spring Break). I should have a good amount of updates written to help me provide more regular updates next semester. Hopefully, 2010 will see much more regularity in my updating than this year has. I certainly won’t have as many credits sapping my time, resources, and energy. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year, and Happy Whatever-Else-You-May-Be-Celebrating! I will see you all in January!

Is there still any interest in this continuing? I have a part-way written update that I can have done and up very soon if people still want to read this. If not, well, there's no sense in beating a dead horse. So readAARs, what shall I do? Keep at it, or let this one rest in peace?

Glad to hear there is still interest! I promise there won't be such gaps between updates now. In the recent past I have been very busy. But I have a somewhat lighter schedule now that will allow me to make some more progress on my AARs. Expect an update once every other weekend. I'll only have time to work on one update per week, usually, so I am going to alternate between updating this one and Regnum Iudaeorum. Last weekend was RI's turn, so this weekend I shall finish the update for the Morea and get it to you. If I can do so today, I shall. But it may have to wait until Sunday (or, just this once, since this is a big weekend for me, I may be as late as Monday). I can't promise a specific day of each weekend, but I can tell you that the story will continue every other weekend.

So very late, I do apologize! I had assumed that with fewer credits I would have less homework, and thus more free time. But it seems that, especially with two translation classes, I am busier than ever. The update is here at long last. Once more, I apologize, dear readAARs!
____________________________________________________________________________________________________


Konstantinos stood in awe as he disembarked from the ship and beheld the mighty city of Korinthos for the first time. He had always thought Cagliari was a huge city, but now he knew it was but a small town in comparison. The walls of the city were tall and powerful, and a little ways in the distance, the mighty Castle Korinthos stood ominously, letting any would be attackers know that they would not take the city easily.

Before they could enter the city, however, the Prince and his companions were stopped by a guard and escorted to a clerk sitting at a small table. The clerk looked the four men over and asked, “State your business in Korinthos.”

Konstantinos walked up to the table and said, “My name is Imbert Nikolaidos. With me are Alexandros and Alexios Chrysasphes, and Kassandros, my attendant.” He indicated to the real Imbert as he said this last name, and the Post-Captain nodded silently, doing his best to act in the role he had just been given, but also slightly irritated at how cavalier the Prince had been about this whole escapade from the get go.

“That’s wonderful,” replied the clerk in a sarcastic tone, “but that still doesn’t answer why you are here.”

The Prince gave his head a light smack, as if to say, “How could I have forgotten?” Then, with a smile, he said, “I am the Captain of Crown Prince Konstantinos’ body guard. The Crown Prince has fallen ill and is unable to attend the King’s Tourney and Feasts. He asked me to come in his stead, to represent him both in the arena, and before the King. The Chrysasphid brothers have come to compete as well. Kassandros is here to tend to us, at the Prince’s request. Here, I have the Prince’s signet ring as proof that we come on his command.” With that, the Prince placed his signet ring upon the table and nodded.

The clerk picked up the ring and eyed it over very carefully. Then he said, “This ring is genuine. I believe your story, Captain Nikolaidos. You may enter. And sir, when you return to Sardinia, please tell the Prince that the whole of Korinthos shall be praying to God for his health.”

Konstantinos nodded and said, “I shall tell him.”

Once inside the city, Konstantinos turned to Imbert and said, “I’m sorry about all that back there, Imbert. But it was necessary, you understand?”

With a sigh, Imbert replied, “I understand, sire.”

As they walked through the city streets, Konstantinos was in utter awe at the glory that emanated from the city of Korinthos. There were more merchants selling more wares than he had ever seen in his life. The buzz of the market place was nearly deafening. There were churches galore, from smaller chapels to the mighty Church of St. Alexios. He saw many priests in the streets, and monks as well, chanting and praying to God for the forgiveness of the Morean people. Troubadours sang at every corner, most of them rather poorly. This city was unlike anything he could ever have imagined. It was an experience like no other.

The Prince became so absorbed in the sight that Imbert felt it necessary to say, “Sire, we really should make our way to the lists to register, and from there to the castle to find our quarters.”

The lad was shaken from his musings by the Post-Captain’s voice and quickly said, “What? Oh, right. Yes! Yes, we should. Which way?”

The real Imbert motioned for the others to follow him and he led them through the streets towards the lists. As they walked, Konstantinos wondered at the many sights he passed. The architecture was beautiful, a mixture of the old Greek culture but with an Italian flavour which appealed to the Prince and made him feel a little more at home. He already missed Cagliari, but he knew it would not be his home for much longer. It was only a matter of years at best before old King Georgios died, and then Konstantinos would be the King, and this would be his new home. He figured he’d best get used to the idea now.

At one point the Prince saw a pair of men in thick black tunics with hoods pulled over their heads. The look they had about them frightened the Prince, and he asked his friend, “Imbert, those men over there, who are they?”

Imbert quickly whispered, “Do not make eye contact with them. They are of the Anoetoi, heretic fools who hate all governance, class, social structure, and order. They believe in a ‘Great Leveling’ which will one day encompass the earth. They are especially enemies of your own family. And there are those who suspect that these heretics are the real power behind the Council. Avoid them if at all you can. They are very dangerous.” Imbert wanted to give the Prince a fuller warning, but at present he could not. To tell about the secret order of the Anoetoi, the Krypteia, would require him to reveal the secret of the Dragons of Korinthos. But if the Royal Family knew about the Dragons, the risk was that they would want to use this elite force as an extension of their military, to supplement the Aspidai and the Knight-Guard. This could not be allowed. The Dragons must have one focus and one focus only: the destruction of those who opposed the Palaeologi, and they could allow no one to interfere, not even the Palaeologi themselves. Added to this, anyone who knew about the Dragons was in grave danger from the Krypteia. The Palaeologi were targets enough without being directly associated with the hated enemies of the Krypteia.

They continued towards the lists in silence from that moment on.


Ulysses winced again at the pain in his forehead. But then he reminded himself that such was the price of his gift. The-One-Whom-He-Served had granted him the gift of a greatly prolonged life. Ulysses had not aged a day since he became the leader of the Krypteia all those years ago. But it came at a price. His soul felt forever stretched, and empty, as though he were nothing but an empty shell. This emptiness led to constant outbursts of pain, whether in his temples, or his chest, or his stomach, or his legs, or his arms. Essentially, every part of his body was subject to this pain at one time or another. But if it meant he could lead his brethren to the Great Leveling, it was well worth it.

His companion saw him wince and asked, “Are you okay, brother?”

Ulysses shrugged it off and said, “It is of no consequence, Anaximandros. Just a passing headache. I shall be…”

Anaximandros noticed his companion’s voice trail off. He put a hand on Ulysses’ shoulder and said, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Ulysses came to and pushed the arm away, saying, “I told you I’m fine! Now look, there. Who is that?”

The other heretic was unsure of where his friend was looking and asked, “Whom do you mean?”

“There! The knight with the Palaeologid crest on his shield. See, he has three companions with him. Don’t make eye contact you fool!”

“I do not know who that is, Ulysses,” replied Anaximandros.

“We must follow them and learn of his identity,” said Ulysses with a sudden calm.

“What is so special about him?”

The master of the Krypteia looked his comrade in the eyes, and Anaximandros was terrified by the void which he saw in them. With a cool, eerie tone, Ulysses said, “The-One-Whom-We-Serve urges me onward. The Great Leveling shall soon be upon us…”


Once at the lists, Konstantinos, Alexandros, and Alexios registered for the competition. They were informed that the tournament would begin in three days time, on Friday, July 18th. As the company was about to retire from the area and make their way to the castle, they noticed a disturbance not far off. Two knights were bickering, and drawing quite a crowd at that. Konstantinos insisted on checking it out and his companions had no choice but to follow him.

One knight was darker in his complexion, while the other was large and burly. The darker knight said to his counterpart, “I have no quarrel with you, sir knight. Please, leave me be. Perhaps we shall meet in the lists, but for now, I simply wish to make my way to the castle.”

“Don’t you ‘sir knight’ me, Pecheneg cur! Do you not know who I am? I am Alain di Aversa, cousin to the Count of Benevento! I am the greatest sword in the land!” shouted the other with utter contempt.

The Pecheneg replied, “I do not doubt your martial skill, Sir Alain. I only wish to know what quarrel you have with me.”

Alain rolled his eyes as if the answer should have been obvious, “This is a tournament for the civilized! You should have stayed in Moldau with the rest of your barbarous filth! Your kind has no place in proper, Christian lands.”

“So your quarrel is with my race?” asked the Pecheneg. “You think us uncultured and unchristian barbarians? Sir Alain, I am Alexes of Peresechen, son of Prince David of Moldau, descendant of Aba of Peresechen! My family have been fervent supporters of the Palaeologi since the days of King Athanasios! We have led our people down the path of Christianization and civilization! Many of my race can speak Greek as well as our native tongue, and the vast majority of my people are also Morean Orthodox Christians! What about us do you find offensive?”

“Are you mocking me?” shouted Alain in anger. He reached for his sword, ready to challenge Alexes, when Konstantinos intervened, stood between them, and said, “Brothers! Be calm!”


The disturbance had now drawn many more spectators, among them Ulysses and his companion. Ulysses smiled and said something to his companion, but Anaximandros heard none of it. Something was welling up inside of him. He didn’t know what. Then he heard a voice whisper in his mind, “Anaximandros, you have been chosen… I have a special plan for you… I shall visit you again soon, then you shall know what lies in store for you…”


“And just who are you?” blurted Alain in irritation at Konstantinos.

The young Prince replied, “I am Kon…” then he caught himself and said, “I am called Imbert Nikolaidos. I am the captain of Crown Prince Konstantinos’ body guard, and I am here to compete in the tournament on his behalf.”

“One thing you should know about Korinthos then, Imbert,” said Alain in contempt, “It is always best to mind one’s own business.” He gave the Prince a hard shove that sent him to the ground. Then, looking at Alexes, he spat on the ground and said, “We shall settle this later. You won’t make it past the first round, barbarian. I promise you that.” With that he stormed away in anger.

Alexes turned to the Prince and offered his hand to help him up, saying, “I thank you for your intercession, Sir Imbert. I do not understand why he finds my people so offensive.”

Konstantinos shrugged and said, “Some men know no better.”

Just then, the Prince saw a beautiful woman part her way through the crowds. She could not have been more than a year younger than he, and her blonde hair and striking features caught his attention. She smiled at him, curtsied, and said, “That was a noble thing you did, Sir Knight. I’m quite impressed.”

Konstantinos blushed, but before he could respond, a man in his early twenties, with much darker hair than the girl, came through the crowd and said, “Sister, enough! What in St. Alexios’ name is wrong with you?”

The girl snorted at the man and said, “Oh, ‘Tinos, I was merely praising this valiant knight for an act of Christian charity.”

Tinos grabbed her arm and began to pull her away, “Well I’ve had enough of your antics for one day. Come, we must be getting to the castle.”

“Let go, Tinos!” she cried out, “You’re hurting my arm!”

The Prince could not believe his eyes. He stepped forward, grabbed Tinos by the shoulder, and said, “Let her go!”

Tinos released her, turned and stared the Prince down, not even realizing that they were distant cousins, and said, “How dare you speak to me in that tone of voice! I don’t care if you’re some representative of the Crown Prince. Hell, I don’t care if you’re the royal arse-wipe! I am Konstantinos Orestes Palaeologus, heir to Imeretia, and fourth in line to the throne of the Morea! You will speak to me with respect!”

It was all the Prince could do not to burst out right there and put that Imeretian in his place. But from deep within he summoned up his strength and fortitude, kept his cover, and just said, “In the name of the Crown Prince, I shall humble you in the arena, where I may truly stand for him.”

Tinos spat in the Prince’s face, “Then God-willing we will meet in battle there, and you will at last learn your place!” Then, turning to his sister, “Come, sister!” With that, the two of them left.

Prince Konstantinos watched them leave, anger burning. But he knew that in the end, he would be King one day. The time would come to put the Imeretian in his place. For now, Konstantinos Orestes Palaeologus would be allowed to rest on his laurels…

canonized: Glad you enjoyed this chapter so much! I worked very hard on it. I've made you all wait so long that I figured you deserved the best I could give. The next update is already underway and coming along nicely. I'm going to refrain from predicting when it will be ready, however, as when I make predictions, they tend to be wrong...

Glad to see you are also still aboard, BT! I admit that there shall be some similarities to Ivanhoe, but I shan't tell you how far they will or will not go. Must maintain the suspense.

I plan to have the update up sometime within the week, preferably sooner rather than later.

Konstantinos’ awe of Korinthos only grew as he entered the castle. Its walls were thick, its towers massive. The citadel looked like a giant beast waiting to devour its foes. Hundreds of guards patrolled the ramparts, and the banners of the Palaeologi waved brilliantly in the breeze, displaying the Morean Cross and the Sword of Georgios I. Imbert noticed his Prince’s jaw drop at the sight and said, “This is one of the most powerful castles in the Morea, in all the world! It is the equal of Petra Castle in Euboia and nearby Nafplion, and the French and Germans both have a few of almost equal stature. Only three locations in all the world are more protected: Rome, Constantinople, and your grandfather’s fortress of Alexeia which protects the province of Abkhazia. Alexeia was built into a mountain side, and is said to be the most impregnable fortress ever built by Man.”

As they reached the portcullis, two guards from the Pezaspidai stopped them. Each wore a suit of chainmail, covered by a light blue tunic with the Morean Cross emblazoned upon the torso. In their right hands were spears, eight feet in length, while their left hands held the massive shields for which the Aspidai were named. Great helms adorned their heads, hiding their faces and adding a metallic ring to their words when they spoke. The senior of the two looked the party over and said, “State your business.”

Konstantinos had never seen one of the Aspidai in person before, and the sight was truly intimidating. But he reminded himself that he was the Crown Prince, and soon these would be his personal guards. He summoned up his will and said, “I am Imbert Nikolaidos, and these are my companions. We come in the name of Crown Prince Konstantinos, to compete in the tournament. I am his personal representative, both in the tournament and at the banquets which the King shall hold.” He produced for the guards the same signet ring which had earned him entrance into the city. The guard looked it over and said, “Welcome, Sir Imbert.” And with that he allowed the party to enter.

Once inside the castle, the Prince realized that this was almost its own city. There were houses, bakeries, workshops, granaries, even a chapel. This was a fortress designed not merely to withstand a minor siege, but to defend the last legs of the Kingdom should it ever come to that. He did not doubt that this city could withstand a siege of several years.

When they reached the keep, a similar exchange to the one at the portcullis took place. This time, they were given a squire who took them through the winding corridors and passage ways of the keep to the room which the four of them would share, while another squire took their mounts to the royal stables. Once in the room, the squire left them and they began to unpack what few belongings they had brought. Both Alexios and the Prince gaped at the sheer luxury of the room, and the former said to his master, “Sire, if this is what the guest quarters are like, can you imagine what the royal chamber must be!”

Konstantinos, who was used to the more Spartan castle at Cagliari nodded in assent and replied, “I think I could get used to this.”

The real Imbert tapped his master’s shoulder to get his attention and said, “My lord, if you will excuse me, I have some errands I need to run. I have a few old friends in the city, I wish to see them.”

“Ofcourse, ofcourse,” came the reply. The Prince was still in utter awe at the resplendent luxury of the room. The beds were ornate, covered in red sheets. There was a massive, embroidered carpet from the east that covered most of the floor. Palaeologid banners hung on the walls, and near the door there was a painting of King Georgios I. Konstantinos walked over to it and stared at it intently, gazing into the face of his ancestor. He wondered what the good old King would have said if he could have seen the mighty empire which his little kingdom had become.

His musings were interrupted by the excited cry of Alexios from another room in their quarters, “We have a private lavatory! This really is paradise!”

Alexandros called out to his brother, “You can swoon over the amenities later. For now we should try to get an idea of what the competition will be like.”

Alexios sighed, “Oh alright.” Then, to the Prince he said, “Are you coming with us, sir?”

“No,” came the distracted reply, for the Prince was still lost in the picture of his ancestor.

“We shan’t be long, sire,” said Alexandros. And with that, the two Chrysasphid brothers left the room, while their master gazed intently into the eyes of the founder of his dynasty and of the kingdom…


Anaximandros lay down on a bed in the Crypt. Though it was only afternoon, and most of the members of the Krypteia were plotting and scheming in other parts of the Crypt, he felt weary, and his eyes had grown heavy. He closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep. His mind, his soul, wandered into a strange dreamland, and he could not have known that his life would be forever changed by what was about to happen…

As he looked around, he could see nothing. Nothing at all. All around him was utter darkness, as though it were midnight, with a new moon, and not a single star shining through the clouds. Yet even that did no justice to this darkness. Even if he brought his hand so close to his eyes that it touched his face, he could not see it. Indeed, were it not for the fact that he could feel his hand against his face, he might have wondered if he even still had a body.

From this darkness a voice called out to him, sending shivers down his very spine, “Anaximandros…”

He recognized the voice as the one which had spoken to him earlier that day. He called out to it, “I am here. Speak, for your servant shall hear.”

“Whom do you serve?”

Anaximandros swallowed the lump in his throat and replied, “I serve Him-Whom-You-Serve.”

“Do you give yourself entirely to Him-Whom-We-Serve? Now and forevermore?”

With a stutter, the frightened man said, “I do.”

“Then know this… I am Him-Whom-You-Serve. I am displeased with the Krypteia, and they must be cleansed. I have chosen you to do this task.”

Another lump formed in Anaximandros’ throat and he had to swallow it, too, “Cleansed?”

“They must be purged. Destroyed. The way shall be paved for my true servants, who shall bring about my designs.”

“Your… your true servants?”

“The Black Shadows… they serve my servants… the House of Dukas. I shall raise up a Dukas unlike his predecessors, and he shall destroy the Morea and the Palaeologi. When they have fallen, the world shall be his, and when it is his, it shall be mine.”

“But what of the Great Leveling? Did you not promise us an end to all rule, all lordship? Are not all men to become brothers?”

“Fool!” shouted the voice, “I spoke to you people what your feeble ears needed to hear! But your sect has grown so in love with their Leveling that they have lost sight of my greater plan. Thus you shall be my tool to destroy them, to pave a way for the Shadows to enter the Morea.”

“These are my brothers, how can I destroy them?”

“You shall receive a reward worthy of your efforts… Fear not what to do, I shall make all known to you in due time. Now… my slave… awaken!”

Anaximandros sprang up from his bed, screaming. He then leaned over the side and vomited fiercely. He did not yet understand the exchange which had just occurred, but soon enough he would…


Imbert walked briskly through the old underground hallway that all Dragons knew so well. He saw the statues of the Kings of old, from Georgios I through Petros. When he reached the appropriate place in the catacombs, he went over to the wall, made sure no civilians were nearby, and tapped the combination into the bricks. A portion of the brick wall slid away, allowing him entrance. Once he was through, the wall resealed itself.

After traveling through a long, dark corridor he entered into the Sacred Halls, the secret fortress of the Knights of St. Alexios. There, a young sergeant met him and said, “Master Imbert, Grandmaster Stephanos has been waiting for you. His condition is critical, please hurry. This way.”

Imbert hurried along behind the sergeant through several winding passageways. At last they reached the Grandmaster’s bedchamber. Imbert was shocked to see Stephanos in such poor health. The strong man he had known, revered, admired was no more. Now the Grandmaster lay in bed, with barely the energy to cough up blood.

With a slight movement of his hand, Stephanos summoned Imbert to his side, and with another such gesture he sent all those in attendance out of the room, including his physician. Imbert knelt down right beside the Grandmaster’s head and said softly, “I am here, my lord.”

With a groan the Grandmaster replied, “Post-Captain Imbert. It is good that you came. I have not long before the Lord calls me to my heavenly home. What I tell you is of the utmost importance. Swear by St. Alexios that you will do all that I here command you.”

Imbert nodded, “I swear it. By St. Alexios I do.”

“I have received vision,” replied Stephanos, “a vision from St. Alexios himself. He has warned me that something terrible will soon happen. A terrible tragedy will strike the royal family within days.”

Imbert rose up with all haste and said, “I must go to them at once! We must protect both the Crown Prince and the King!”

“No,” said Stephanos, “That is not your task. I am sending you away, Imbert. Your services as the personal guard to Crown Prince Konstantinos are no longer necessary.”

“No longer necessary? With all due respect, my lord, what could be more necessary?”


With much strain the Grandmaster answered, “Do you remember the first time we met, Post-Captain?”

“I do,” replied Imbert with a nod. “I was a mere initiate then. You gave me the task of bringing the orphaned heir to Lykia, Manuel Angelos, to the Dragons.”

“And do you remember why that was so important?”

Imbert nodded, “You said that that child held in his hands the fate of the Morea, possibly the entire world.”

The Grandmaster motioned for Imbert to draw near, and he did so. Then Stephanos said, “Post-Captain, events are being set in motion as we speak, events which cannot be undone. These events will lead to the rise of a great and terrible evil, a demon with the face of an angel. He will rise out of a holy city and bring myriads to his cause, and they will come to worship him as a god. He will seek to destroy all who oppose him, including the church. But his first target will be the one thing standing in his way, the one thing which can prevent his domination of the world: the Palaeologid Dynasty and their defenders. While the heirs of Georgios the Pious live, the Order of St. Alexios shall endure. And while the Dynasty and the Order stand together, his victory will never be complete, for they will always oppose him. The boy, Manuel Angelos, has been chosen by God to carry out the task of preserving both Dynasty and Order in the face of this evil. You must train him, Imbert. You must take him far from here, far from the evils which are stirring in Greece. Take him to Abkhazia, to Alexeia fortress. We have a chapter there, the Master there will know who you are and shall receive you. There you are to train the boy until he is ready to enter the service of the Dynasty, at which time you shall bring him back to Korinthos. Swear to me that you will take him away.”

Imbert kissed the ring on the right hand of the old Grandmaster and said, “I swear, my lord. But grant me this one request; may I know whether the Crown Prince is in immediate danger?”

“You care much for the lad,” said Stephanos. “But you were merely his caretaker. Manuel shall be like a son to you. But I will relent; you may remain until the King’s tournament is over. Then you will know the Crown Prince’s fate. But once you find that which you seek, you must leave immediately, regardless of the situation in Korinthos. Swear it.”

“I swear it.”

A smile crept onto the old Grandmaster’s face, “Then I may die in peace. Lord, I am ready.” He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, slowly exhaled, and then never again drew breath. Imbert bowed his head in sorrow: the first and greatest Grandmaster of the Knights of St. Alexios, the founder of the Dragons, was dead.


The Chrysasphid brothers returned to the room to find the Prince still gazing at the portrait of Georgios I. Alexandros thought perhaps they should let the Prince be until he was ready to talk, but Alexios blurted out, “This is bound to be an exciting tournament, my Prince! The lists are full of the Morea’s best warriors!”

Konstantinos was jolted from his musings by his comrade’s words and said, “What? Oh, right. Tell me, what have you found?”

Alexandros nodded and said, “You will remember the three men we met earlier today, Alexes of Peresechen, Alain di Aversa, and Konstantinos Orestes from Imeretia. They are among the more prominent names on the list. Prince Mikhael of Apulia will be there as well, and the sons of Matthaios the Bastard.”

“Ioannes and Bardas?” asked the Prince. “I’ve heard much of their valour. I look forward to seeing them in the lists.”

Alexios chimed in, “Demetrios Dekanos will be there, too.”

“Which one?” came the reply.

Alexandros chuckled, “Both. Demetrios Count of Euboia and his cousin, Demetrios Prince of Kalabria.”

“Is there anyone else of note?”

“Well, they are all of note, my Prince,” said Alexandros. “But you will hear the full list when the tournament begins. However, you should know that there are a fair number of Normans in the tournament. In addition to Alain, there are three more members of the House di Aversa: Count Arcill of Benevento and his brothers Richard and Guy the Bastard. Count Alexios de Hauteville of Messina will be there, as will Count Bertoldo di Salerno and his son Goffredo. Last, there is Armand di Calabria.”

Konstantinos nodded, “They are all impressive warriors. Most are the sons of men who went on Crusade with my grandfather.”

“Indeed,” replied Alexandros, “And most are much older than you, in their twenties or thirties. Count Alexios de Hauteville is the oldest competitor at forty-five. The only man in the lists even close to your age is Goffredo di Salerno, and he’s nineteen. That still puts him four years older than you.”

The Prince shrugged, “Age doesn’t count for everything. I look at least twenty, and you know I’m more than a match for most men in combat. Besides, I’ll be sixteen in a few months anyways.”

His friend shook his head and said, “It is not your swordsmanship that concerns me, my Prince. Remember that this competition is a combined joust-sword tourney. Those lances strike with awful force, and I do not want to see you crushed by them.”

“I will be fine,” Konstantinos said to reassure his friend. “I promise.”