The Empire Strikes Back - Part 4

[Damian0358]

With the session finished, Franco departed back for the floor on the hotel where those of the Thaddai estate had been placed until accommodations could be sorted for them. Thankfully, one of the hotel staff had waited for him there, informing him that a vacant lot in the city had been found to house them for now. After getting the address, Franco tipped the staffer, and departed for the new place.

Arriving by public transportation, from the outside he could see why the lot was vacant in the first place. It was, to put it bluntly, a residential warehouse, one that seemed to had been past its glory days. He could already see at the front folks moving things about, as they worked to figure out how they'll organize the working quarters, the sleeping quarters, and other necessities. One of the folks at the front, Konstas, noticed him arriving and waved him in.

"How's everyone feeling?" Franco asked.

"Very few of us managed to get good rest, but at least it was rest. We're settling in right now, and we've already set up your office," Konstas revealed.

"I see. Families also good?"

"Yeah, if nothing else everyone being together has served to be a comfort of sort. I don't know how I would've been if my wife and kid hadn't come..."

"And you won't need to consider," Franco put his hand on Konstas' shoulder, giving him a smile. Konstas returned it in kind, before seeming to remember something.

"We've got a phone line set up too, so you could be able to call in Komnenion."

"I'll do so after I get my report finished," Franco nodded, before patting Konstas on the back and heading inside.

He needed a few minutes to relax before he could start writing his report in earnest, recounting the past two days...

---

Botros Damji sighed. His team at the Imperial Representative HQ in Komnenion wasn't exactly feeling the best. Everyone had gotten seriously stressed with the news they had received from Kyrene, and had been taking voluntary overtime just waiting for a call from the Imperial mainland. Yanduza Belmonte, in her stress, would jump up from her chair as she saw what all of them were waiting for.

"We're receiving a call from Trebizond!" she yelled out.

Brief cheering occurred before Botros shushed everyone down: "...take the call."

After a bit of noise, a voice could finally be heard, a very familiar one: "H-hello?? Komnenion, can you hear me?"

"Franco!"

"Botros!"

The two men exclaimed happily, genuinely glad to hear the other.

"Are you all alright?!" Botros asked quickly.

"Thankfully, we are. Everyone from the estate, and I mean everyone, even including some of our families, have been accounted for."

"Oh, thank goodness," Botros replied, slumping into his chair from the relief.

"Sorry we've taken so long to contact you all. I've had to attend an emergency senatorial session here, and everyone else has just been busy settling in."

"Take your time, as much as you need! Knowing you guys are safe is enough for us."

"Y-yeah. I did take the liberty of writing up a report on our side, which I can dictate. Is the typewriter on your end ready?"

Botros looked over to where the typewriter normally was, having heard typing already, and saw that Wimmiden Ouwalili had already taken initiative.

"At the ready! Go ahead, Franco."

The next half hour would see the room be filled with sorrow and frustration, as Franco reported everything that had happened.

---

Kyrene strutted through the hallways of the Imperial Representative HQ, intent on seeing the report they had received earlier. It'll be a useful aid in building their official statement once it becomes clear what had happened in the Imperial mainland to all, as the radios so far have only mentioned there being conflict in Constantinople.

Soon enough, she ran into Kojo Onobanjo, who seemed surprised to see her.

"Ma'am, good to see you. Is Nestorius alright?" he asked her, given that in situations like this it would be Nestorius strutting these halls.

"He hasn't taken the news all too well himself, so I'm here instead."

"Alright then. Hopefully he can persevere past this," Kojo responded in a saddened tone, "Follow me."

Kojo and Kyrene made their way to the larger office space led by Botros, where everyone appeared to be drinking coffee. Everyone instinctively got up from their seats in respect, before Kyrene motioned them to sit and rest.

"The report's over on the table there," Botros pointed, before returning to his coffee.

"I've taken a look through it myself. You might want to steel yourself, what is written is alarming," Kojo explained, as Kyrene took hold of the report and sat down for a read-through.

Increasing blackshirt tensions within Constantinople, including the threatening of Irene Doukas, and an attempted barge-in from the blackshirts into the Thaddai estate. The deaths of the guardsmen Cosmas and Cyril as a result of armed fire from the blackshirts before the arrival of the Athenian Lancers. Attempted fire from blackshirts as they escaped upon an airship...

All these details and more stressed Kyrene, being reminded of what everyone suffered through back during the Sack. If nothing else, everyone got out safely, even if mentally exhausted at this point. Being made aware of the emergency senatorial session and what it entailed also revealed to her that it was truly going to be civil war. She sighed, knowing how Nestorius will react.

Soon enough, she had finished reading the report. She tucked it under her arm, stood up and addressed all present.

"Everyone, please, take the rest of the day off and get well rested. It's going to get hectic here soon enough," Kyrene stated, before turning to Kojo, "I'll be heading out then, and figure out how to share this info with Nestor. He might outright refuse to read it at first, and I wouldn't want to force it upon him until he was comfortable with it."

"Heading straight home, or?"

"Home. Call my staff and let them know about the report too. Tell them to prepare for a radio broadcast in case we have to make a statement for the people."

"Alright, ma'am. May God be with you," Kojo said goodbye, as everyone joined in. Kyrene departed soon after.

This was only the beginning.

 

[zenphoenix]

Trebizond January 2nd

Justinian awoke to the sound of an ambulance siren from the street below. At first he had no clue where he was or what had really happened.

"Was it a dream, a nightmare?" he pondered as his vision cleared to a Red and Yellow Eagle on the far side of the room.

Then the pain.

It felt like a lightning bolt made of fire shot through his entire body, originating at his leg.

"No... no it was a waking nightmare." he sputtered as he started to sweat.

Justinian shifted himself to the corner of the bed and grabbed grabbed the bed post, hoping to use it to stand up.

Halfway through he must've put some weight on his leg. "CHRIST" he cried out collapsing back on the bed.

The door to the room bust open. "Sir? Sir!" a bellhop said frantically. The boy darted around the room, Justinian could here his shoes thumping on the carpet.

"Ah! Finally! Why the hell would Barbas not leave it next to the bed?" he heard him whisper to himself.

Justinian felt the boy sit next to him on the bed, handing something into Justinian's hand.

"Your cane, sir." After a few more deep breaths, Justinian lifted his head and eventually himself off the bed.

"Please be careful, sir." the boy continued, "You've made it to Trebizond."

"Trebi-" Justinian muttered. "What do you know about me?"

"N-n-nothing sir!" responded the boy raising his arms. "T-that is what the man who checked you in told me to say when you awoke! I promise!"

Justinian could see the boy's knees quivering. He took a deep breath. "You are telling the truth, boy."

The bellhops shoulders immediately sank down with relief. "I-I was also instructed to give you this message sir." he said holding out a folded letter.

Justinian took it and sat down on at the dining table in the hotel suite. He tore open the top and then glanced back at the bellhop.

The boy still in a tizzy from the interaction, immediately jumped. "AH! S-s-s Of course! I uh, I will... I will have your breakfast brought up immediately a-and leave you to your business, sir!"

And with a graceful bow that betrayed the boy's nerves he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Justinian looked back at the letter. The envelope itself was pristine. "Imperator Hotels" the address read. "Must've ended up in one in Trebizond" Justinian mumbled to himself.

The actual letter was on dirty and oily paper. Justinian carefully unfolded it, making sure none of it would rip.

"Hola,

You don't know me and that's probably for the best. I was the pilot that got you here to Trebizond. After we took off you fell asleep pretty quick. Marcos told me on the radio you had a long day. I'm not one to pry, so I let it be. About an hour away from Trebizond we hit some major and sudden turbulence. It did a number on my bird, but worse, it reopened your leg. Not worse for you however, you know how long it's going to take me to clean out the pool you left in the back. I jest, I jest. Point is, you were out cold and I didn't even notice you bleeding until my foot slipped on something wet under my seat. I landed and got you into a doctor very fast. Turns out the words 'The Purple Group' can open quite a lot of doors, especially with you colonials. Anyway, I had a doctor seal up your leg for good this time, it's going to leave a nasty scar. I radio'd Marcos what happened and he said he would pass it on to your people.

Have a good life,

A faceless Spaniard."

The writer wasn't wrong. Justinian couldn't remember anything about the plane ride. All he could do is be silently grateful to this guardian angel.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Justinian folded the letter into the envelope and beckoned in the visitor. It was the same bellhop as before, this time with a cart of various covered foods and a small bucket of ice with a champagne bottle sticking out. Silently, the boy began to place the various dishes before Justinian, finishing with a glass of champagne. Justinian was salivating as soon as he saw the cart, he didn't even remember eating at all yesterday.

When the boy finished he cleared his throat. "We have received a telegram from a Leonidas Varangios, addressed to your room sir."

Justinian didn't even respond, and just decided to dig in to his food.

The bellhop placed it at the edge of the banquet and excused himself as elegantly as he had came in.

After he downed his first glass of champagne, he reached over and ripped open the other letter.

DEAR BROTHER
STOP
THAT SURE WAS FAST
STOP
I HAVE ARRANGED YOU AN IN FOR YOUR QUEST
STOP
YOU ARE TO MEET DOUKAS THEODORA TOMORROW 1400 HOURS
STOP
WEAR SOMETHING NICE AND TRY NOT TO GET SHOT AGAIN
STOP

Justinian had to reread the message a second time. "THE DOUKAS?!"

Trebizond - January 2, 1936

It was just after lunch. Theodora had woken up early in the morning, as usual, to handle paperwork. It was her first day working from the temporary MSI headquarters here. Her office was formerly a storage room, like most of the offices in the building. Paperwork covered her desk on a level she hadn't seen in years. Her head ached, and her eyes wanted to go to sleep. Only coffee kept her going, and barely at that. She pushed through the lethargy. There was no time to waste. The Empire was entering its darkest hours, and she had to be at her 100%.

Today, she was handling budget allocation. Alvértos had approved the budget she requested. Now she had to spend the money. As she had informed the Senate, the MSI had to rebuild itself after the debacle yesterday. A large number of her personnel had sided with Konstantinos, and the rest were scattered across the Empire. She needed to consolidate whoever remained...and deal with any Konstantinos sympathizers who hadn't left yet. The new job openings would have to be filled. She'd have to start a recruitment drive across Anatolia, with better screening procedures to prevent infiltration by Konstantinos' men.

In fact, she would be interviewing a prospective recruit at 2, someone named Justinian Varangios. She had skimmed over his profile and sent people to check his background more thoroughly. They hadn't reported back yet, but from what she could gather, he was part of the Purple Group, a Terra Australis-based conglomerate with influence over most of the colony's major businesses and corporations. Just another alliance of businessmen, probably seeking to expand into the metropole. Times of crisis were always seen as a business opportunity by these men. But perhaps they could be useful for her goals. Corporations and their private operatives could gain access to parts of Konstantinos' administration in ways the MSI couldn't. And money was a good motivating force for some people. It would open up more opportunities for the MSI. Justinian's personal record was also decent. She didn't care for his noble background—that was irrelevant to her need for a loyal and competent MSI operative. His KRA affiliation was a bonus, but that was also unnecessary. What she cared about was his track record as a colonial ranger and his successful suppression of bandits in Terra Australis. Such skills could be applied to intelligence gathering, law enforcement, and, if necessary, partisan suppression. Of course, she would have to hear it from him in person before she decided what to do.

Irene knocked on the door. "Auntie, the receptionist says Mr. Varangios is here."

Oh, he was here earlier than she expected. Then she looked at the clock and noticed it was 1:55. Time really flew by today.

"Thanks, Irene," Theodora said, "Send him in."

Irene backed out. Theodora tidied up the paperwork on her desk and downed another cup of coffee, summoning the energy she needed to carry on the interview and look presentable. Now let's see what this man's all about.

 

[Beaverman1]

Exerpts from "From a Purple Gang to a Purple Group: The History of The Purple Group - Iordanis Rubakou"

"The average historian would postulate that the start of The Purple Group (TPG) started in the late 1910's and early 1920's. That however would be incorrect. TPG's history would actually be rooted in the Cabal rule of the late 1890's until early 1910's. You will notice that I use many rough estimate dates, instead of definitive 'starts' and 'stops'. This is because the influence of not only the Cabal but also the TPG is still hard to measure. Individuals and organizations that were not affiliated with either later found to be in cahoots as well as vice-versa. This information is still being researched and debated to this day."

"- as stated in previous chapters, the public story of the fall of the Aboriginal Cabal has been well documented. What I have researched and will present to you was the shifting of authority from the Cabal to the TPG."

"According to most sources, TPG started with roots in underground crime during the Cabal administration. While the group certainly do owe part of their founding to the underground smuggling rings and cartels that sprung up during the rule of the Cabal, there is another aspect. During the initial rollout of the Cabal's segregationist polices, there were a few elite of European and Asiatic descent within Sydney that were viewed as 'too large and ingrained' for the cabal to uproot cleanly and effectively. The Cabal decided that the best course of action was to slowly work these elites into the administration and let their own political machine start to dissassemble them. The hope was that the elites would be disgraced in the eyes of the oppressed populace and de-clawed from causing the Cabal any issues. However, many of the elites of the Euro-Asians were not convinced of the Cabal's intial olive branch, if not suspiscous of it. The elites eventually decided to meet in secret with each other and a few representatives of the original TPG, to come to a united conculsion about the cabal. The conclusion that they, no matter how profitable, were the enemy. And that these elites, would need the help of not only the Empire, but other nations to overthrough them. This, on some unknown date, in some unknown place, was the start of TPG."

"Those of you paying attention will note how I said 'no matter how profitable' during the last chapter. Yes, elites of TPG certainly profitted from the great relaxation of taxes and workers rights during the reign of the Cabal. Some scholars say that this was a necessary evil to not be immediately disposed of during the intial revolution of the Cabal. Other's will say that their assistance only helped the Cabal extract more profits at the cost of human life. While the motive is still debated, what is clear is that TPG immediately established contact and an information source to the nearby Legions of the Empire. It is assumed that former Colonial Govenor Kvensson was crucial to that establishment and maybe even the liberation of Terra Australis in general."

"after the overthrow of the Cabal and reestablishment of Imperial rule, the Legion was asked to do their least favorite part of their job. Establish civilian rule. Fortunetly for the General, TPG was ready and willing to take the reins. By this point, the group resembled mostly financial elites. Many of those with some pedigree of royalty had their family tree's snuffed out by the Cabal's 'Company Men'. What remained of the group was a relatively well represented group of the various ethnicities of Terra Australis. This is cmmonly believed to be one of the key reasons Terra Australis recovered relatively quickly after a rule of segregation. TPG was often known to promote meritocracy, elevating both colonist and native to positions of prominance. This careful game managed to avoid some of the more ugly aspects of racial reproachment. TPG would also start to rewrite the narrative of the Cabal and the colony's history. While there are many aspects under debate, what is commonly aggreed upon is the notion that 'Romans were repressed and abused by the ignorant whims of nationalism', this use of 'Roman' to describe citizens of all color was fondly receieved by most. This new narrative as well as the relatively quick and effective industrial restructuring done by TPG led to the new basis of the Terra Australis we know today."

 

[Beaverman1]

Trebizond - January 2, 1936

It was just after lunch. Theodora had woken up early in the morning, as usual, to handle paperwork. It was her first day working from the temporary MSI headquarters here. Her office was formerly a storage room, like most of the offices in the building. Paperwork covered her desk on a level she hadn't seen in years. Her head ached, and her eyes wanted to go to sleep. Only coffee kept her going, and barely at that. She pushed through the lethargy. There was no time to waste. The Empire was entering its darkest hours, and she had to be at her 100%.

Today, she was handling budget allocation. Alvértos had approved the budget she requested. Now she had to spend the money. As she had informed the Senate, the MSI had to rebuild itself after the debacle yesterday. A large number of her personnel had sided with Konstantinos, and the rest were scattered across the Empire. She needed to consolidate whoever remained...and deal with any Konstantinos sympathizers who hadn't left yet. The new job openings would have to be filled. She'd have to start a recruitment drive across Anatolia, with better screening procedures to prevent infiltration by Konstantinos' men.

In fact, she would be interviewing a prospective recruit at 2, someone named Justinian Varangios. She had skimmed over his profile and sent people to check his background more thoroughly. They hadn't reported back yet, but from what she could gather, he was part of the Purple Group, a Terra Australis-based conglomerate with influence over most of the colony's major businesses and corporations. Just another alliance of businessmen, probably seeking to expand into the metropole. Times of crisis were always seen as a business opportunity by these men. But perhaps they could be useful for her goals. Corporations and their private operatives could gain access to parts of Konstantinos' administration in ways the MSI couldn't. And money was a good motivating force for some people. It would open up more opportunities for the MSI. Justinian's personal record was also decent. She didn't care for his noble background—that was irrelevant to her need for a loyal and competent MSI operative. His KRA affiliation was a bonus, but that was also unnecessary. What she cared about was his track record as a colonial ranger and his successful suppression of bandits in Terra Australis. Such skills could be applied to intelligence gathering, law enforcement, and, if necessary, partisan suppression. Of course, she would have to hear it from him in person before she decided what to do.

Irene knocked on the door. "Auntie, the receptionist says Mr. Varangios is here."

Oh, he was here earlier than she expected. Then she looked at the clock and noticed it was 1:55. Time really flew by today.

"Thanks, Irene," Theodora said, "Send him in."

Irene backed out. Theodora tidied up the paperwork on her desk and downed another cup of coffee, summoning the energy she needed to carry on the interview and look presentable. Now let's see what this man's all about.

The loud thumps of a walking cane filled the makeshift headquarters as Justinian entered the room. He tried his best to give a warm smile to, "Irene" the lady who was holding the door open for him.

"Aunty...?" Justinian thought to himself.

After Irene closed the door behind her, Justinian did his best to bow before the Doukas. She had an eyebrow raised, clearly fixed on his cane and leg.

"Ah..." Justinian started "The leg... a nice souvenir from the capital yesterday and a grim reminder of the state of the Empire."

Justinian chuckled "May I take a seat?" Theodora gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

"My name is Justinian Varangios. I served for 10 years in the Auxiliarily Ranger Corp of the Terra Australis Promotii, achieving the rank of Colonel, the youngest to ever do so. I also served on and off as a special advisor to TA Oreworks."

"My first combat experience was at the age of 15, when the Legions stormed the beaches of Sydney. I was with my family's body guard unit when we were ambushed by the Cabal's company men. We were to be escorted to a safe zone marked by Imperial intellgience. I grabbed a pistol from a dead escort and killed 6 men in 6 shots." Justinian said plainly. As if he was reading the manual to a newly purchased clock.

"I spent the first 4 years of my ranger career hunting down the rest of th Cabal. During that time I gained experience in all manner of espionage activites. But I'm sure my file can attest more to the numerous raids and operations. My one weakness would be in military capacity. My grandfather was the minister of the navy, but I never felt the call of rigid structure of the military."

"If I may be so bold, I would like to work with you in the ministry proper. Not as a field agent."

Theodora once again raised her eyebrow.

"At least until my leg is healed, if not indefinetly. I believe I can assist the Empire with not only my experince but also my understanding of the colonies."

Theodora waited for him to continue.

"My sources told me that Alvértos has already held a senate here in Trebizond. And as he should, if he claims to be a friend of them. But, what I found interesting was that none of those involved were connected to the vast stretches of territory that the Empire holds dominion over. "

Justinian chuckled

"Even Senator Donatello Favero, a man who's home does not even pay tribute to the Emperor!"

Theodora did not laugh, and Justinian took notice. He then adjusted himself and cleared his throat.

"So much of the world watches the storm clouds that gather on the Aegean. Many of the dominons and colonies do not care which Prince wins, only that the Metripole will buy their resources. If anything they will throw their weight behind the Emperor, if not, who controls Constantinople. SImply telling you that, I have afforded you more months of colonial neutrality if you choose to act upon it."

Theodora continued to let Justinian talk.

"I believe we both know that the geopolitical scape is changing again, that warfare has changed, that life has changed. We are constantly bombared with new technologies and inventions that make killing of a man more effiencent than ever. This will be a time of great change, a time that will plunge the Empire to its demise. Or a time that will resurrect the Empire, like a great, bold and fiery pheonix."

Justinian leaned back in his chair. "Do you have any questions for me, your grace?"

 

[zenphoenix]

The loud thumps of a walking cane filled the makeshift headquarters as Justinian entered the room. He tried his best to give a warm smile to, "Irene" the lady who was holding the door open for him.

Irene wasn’t expecting Justinian to show up with a cane, and she found herself having to hold the door open slightly longer than normal. She wasn’t angry, but she was definitely a little annoyed. As the man passed by, he gave a courteous smile to her. Irene smiled back, as to be polite.
---

After Irene closed the door behind her, Justinian did his best to bow before the Doukas. She had an eyebrow raised, clearly fixed on his cane and leg.

"Ah..." Justinian started "The leg... a nice souvenir from the capital yesterday and a grim reminder of the state of the Empire."

The first thing Theodora noticed when Justinian entered the office and saluted—in a slightly stiff manner—was his cane and leg. He had a slight limp. The slight wince crossing his face every so often told her the injury was recent. But the fact that he could walk with a cane, instead of being confined to a wheelchair or bedridden, meant it was not a severe one. Nor was it minor if he needed a cane.

Then Justinian clarified, saying he was injured yesterday in the capital. That explained a lot. Perhaps he was roughed up by blackshirts or Konstantinos’ troops or even shot. She decided against pressing for details. They weren’t relevant.

Justinian chuckled "May I take a seat?" Theodora gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

But of course. It would be kind of awkward if the man with a cane and leg injury stood the whole time. She gestured to the chair in front of her desk, and Justinian seated himself.

"My name is Justinian Varangios. I served for 10 years in the Auxiliarily Ranger Corp of the Terra Australis Promotii, achieving the rank of Colonel, the youngest to ever do so. I also served on and off as a special advisor to TA Oreworks."

Everything checked out with her file. He was honest, so far. An impeccable service record, too. A colonel at his age? A plus.

"My first combat experience was at the age of 15, when the Legions stormed the beaches of Sydney. I was with my families body guard unit when we were ambushed by the Cabal's company men. We were to be escorted to a safe zone marked by Imperial intellgience. I grabbed a pistol from a dead escort and killed 6 men in 6 shots." Justinian said plainly. As if he was reading the manual to a newly purchased clock.

Field experience too, and since the age of 15. While Theodora appreciated his dedication, she was unnerved by him being 15 during that military operation. There were probably more boys his age fighting alongside him. And there would be no shortage of teenagers joining up once the shooting started in a couple weeks. She couldn’t help but think of Belisarius, who had run off to the legions as soon as he could pass as an adult. Belisarius, whose body was now in a dozen charred pieces. If she could decree laws like the Emperor, the first thing she would do was to raise the minimum recruitment and conscription age.

"I spent the first 4 years of my ranger career hunting down the rest of th Cabal. During that time I gained experience in all manner of espionage activites. My one weakness would be in military capacity. My grandfather was the minister of the navy, but I never felt the call of rigid structure of the military. But I'm sure my file can attest more to the numerous raids and operations."

That much was certain from his file. She would have thought Justinian would follow his grandfather into the navy or join another branch, given his prior record. Apparently not. His file did attest to the numerous operations he participated in. All which would give him the experience she was looking for.

"If I may be so bold, I would like to work with you in the ministry proper. Not as a field agent."

Theodora once again raised her eyebrow.

"At least until my leg is healed, if not indefinetly. I believe I can assist the Empire with not only my experince but also my understanding of the colonies."

Theodora waited for him to continue.

At that, Theodora raised her eyebrow. This man wants to be a bureaucrat? Doing paperwork? His experience would be better suited for field work, in her opinion. Justinian had little record of bureaucratic work, outside of the special advisor job. Of course, while his leg was still injured, he wouldn’t be doing any field work. But after it healed? No, what the Empire needed was field agents ready to gather intel and deal with enemy targets in the shadows, not more bureaucrats to haggle over numbers on paper. She decided to wait until Justinian had finished before bringing it up.

"My sources told me that Alvértos has already held a senate here in Trebizond. And as he should, if he claims to be a friend of them. But, what I found interesting was that none of those involved were connected to the vast stretches of territory that the Empire holds dominion over. "

Sources? Our little improvised Senate was blatantly obvious to everybody watching. You really don’t need sources to tell you that. What Justinian said was true, though. A lot of them had lost their homes or the territories they were governing over the last couple decades. Even she herself had technically lost Athens. She shuddered to think of what Konstantinos would do to her house. Fortunately, she had already evacuated her staff and everything of value to the main branch’s estates in Paphlagonia. Konstantinos would find only the structure itself and some old furniture.

Justinian chuckled

"Even Senator Donatello Favero, a man who's home does not even pay tribute to the Emperor!"

Theodora did not laugh, and Justinian took notice. He then adjusted himself and cleared his throat.

Theodora did not laugh. Donatello was perhaps one of the worst off of them all. His lands were controlled by separatists. He had nowhere to go but Trebizond, to say nothing of his family. Even if they did defeat Konstantinos, Donatello would still not have a home. They’d have to destroy the separatists to do that. She cycled through various strategies of doing so, ranging from negotiation with moderate factions to subterfuge involving imperial loyalists to outright invasion.

"So much of the world watches the storm clouds that gather on the Aegean. Many of the dominons and colonies do not care which Prince wins, only that the Metripole will buy their resources. If anything they will throw their weight behind the Emperor, if not, who controls Constantinople. SImply telling you that, I have afforded you more months of colonial neutrality if you choose to act upon it."

That was pretty clear. So far, Konstantinos’ power play had only directly affected the metropole. Granted, it had only been a day, but from the examples in the Middle East, Theodora believed most of the other provinces would rather sit things out and wait for one of the princes to come out on top. Which made it all the more important to strike first and decisively. Take back the capital, neutralize Konstantinos, and put an end to this before lines could be established and allegiances set. Then the rest of the Empire would fall in line, hopefully. After that, they could deal with the separatists.

"I believe we both know that the geopolitical scape is changing again, that warfare has changed, that life has changed. We are constantly bombared with new technologies and inventions that make killing of a man more effiencent than ever. This will be a time of great change, a time that will plunge the Empire to its demise. Or a time that will resurrect the Empire, like a great, bold and firey pheonix."

Those new technologies and innovations could really make her job a lot easier…if they had the budget for them.

Justinian leaned back in his chair. "Do you have any questions for me, your grace?"

Justinian signaled that he was done talking. So now it was Theodora’s turn to take the lead.

“Tell me, Mr. Varangios,” she said, “Or can I call you Colonel? You have an exceptional service record with the Auxiliary Ranger Corps. All those raids and operations and combat experience. The perfect qualities for an MSI field operative, at least what I’m looking for. So would you mind explaining why you would prefer a desk job in MSI headquarters, even after your leg is healed?”

She had another question, regarding his ties to the Purple Group, but she would ask that later. She had a feeling his answer to this question might tie into that one.

 

[Beaverman1]

Justinian signaled that he was done talking. So now it was Theodora’s turn to take the lead.

“Tell me, Mr. Varangios,” she said, “Or can I call you Colonel? You have an exceptional service record with the Auxiliary Ranger Corps. All those raids and operations and combat experience. The perfect qualities for an MSI field operative, at least what I’m looking for. So would you mind explaining why you would prefer a desk job in MSI headquarters, even after your leg is healed?”

She had another question, regarding his ties to the Purple Group, but she would ask that later. She had a feeling his answer to this question might tie into that one.

Justinian took a moment to compose an answer.

"I suppose my time as an officer had endeared me to life of nice logging and champagne dinners, rather than the thrills and danger of field work. I understand that we are in a crisis, and I will dutifully fulfill any task given to me."

Justinian took another pause to word his next thoughts better.

"During my time as an advisor to TA Oreworks, I met many people who are very content to be left out of history. People who should have their stories told in textbooks throughout the Empire, but chose not to. I, will of course, honor their request and leave them anonymous. But, I do not share that belief. I want to be known to the world, I wish to do great things, to keep the flames of Caesar and Constantine alight! Through these dark, dark times and beyond."

Justinian paused once more, reining himself in.

"I'm aware of the usual fate of field agents. Men who do great things and are never known for it outside of a few people, who realistically, don't even know his real name. Men who die alone in a torture chamber, hoping that the poison they ingest will kill them quickly. I am not scared of these things your grace. I just desire more. I desire to be amongst Cato the Elder and Cicero. Men that are still discussed 2 millenniums later."

Justinian felt the ornate grooves on his cane for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.

"But first and foremost, I am willing to give myself to the Empire. If you truly believe it is best, then I will return to the field as soon as I am able. I merely want to express my desires for the future."

Justinian moved his hand from his cane to his leg and rubbed his wound. Forcing his instant grimace to a smile.

"Afterall, I believe we might be more similar than either of us would care to admit." Justinian said with a chuckle. "There's a reason I didn't strike my political affiliation from my papers."

 

[zenphoenix]

Justinian took a moment to compose an answer.

"I suppose my time as an officer had endeared me to life of nice logging and champagne dinners, rather than the thrills and danger of field work. I understand that we are in a crisis, and I will dutifully fulfill any task given to me."

Justinian took another pause to word his next thoughts better.

"During my time as an advisor to TA Oreworks, I met many people who are very content to be left out of history. People who should have their stories told in textbooks throughout the Empire, but chose not to. I, will of course, honor their request and leave them anonymous. But, I do not share that belief. I want to be known to the world, I wish to do great things, to keep the flames of Caesar and Constantine alight! Through these dark, dark times and beyond."

Justinian paused once more, reining himself in.

"I'm aware of the usual fate of field agents. Men who do great things and are never known for it outside of a few people, who realistically, don't even know his real name. Men who die alone in a torture chamber, hoping that the poison they ingest will kill them quickly. I am not scared of these things your grace. I just desire more. I desire to be amongst Cato the Elder and Cicero. Men that are still discussed 2 millenniums later."

Justinian felt the ornate grooves on his cane for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.

"But first and foremost, I am willing to give myself to the Empire. If you truly believe it is best, then I will return to the field as soon as I am able. I merely want to express my desires for the future."

Justinian moved his hand from his cane to his leg and rubbed his wound. Forcing his instant grimace to a smile.

"Afterall, I believe we might be more similar than either of us would care to admit." Justinian said with a chuckle. "There's a reason I didn't strike my political affiliation from my papers."

If Justinian thought he could sway her with a simple political affiliation, he thought wrong. “I do appreciate your membership in the KRA. And your record does line up with the values we espouse. But that is not why I’m interviewing you today. At the MSI, we must put aside conflicting political allegiances in favor of service to the Empire. Our job here is protecting the Empire and its citizens from threats, both foreign and domestic. We work in the shadows to make sure the light of Rome shines on into the future.”

This man wanted to be known, Theodora gathered. He wanted to be a hero. Someone whose name would be remembered by millions for centuries to come. But in a crisis like this, they could not worry about things as simple as prestige or legacy. They had pressing matters at hand. Survival and victory came first. “And since we work in the shadows, we cannot concern ourselves with legacy at the moment. I applaud your ambition, I really do.” But at the same time, her mind had a feeling of apprehension. Unchecked ambition brought down many great men and women before when they invariably bit off more than they could chew or became the villains in the greater scheme of things. “But I would advise that you set your sights lower in the immediate future. We are at war. The entire world knows it. Our priority right now is to neutralize Konstantinos. If we fail, we will all die at his hands. I personally never believed in the phrase ‘history is written by the winners’, but in this hypothetical, Konstantinos certainly would set a narrative. Any legacy building we’d do would be pointless. So what we want to do first is defeat him. Then we can work on building our legacies. On restoring the Empire to what it should be. Only then and there will our legacies be forged.”

It came time to get to the point. “I personally believe your talents are perfect for work as a field agent. You’re a straight shot. A veteran in several campaigns. Works well in a team and alone. I know you’ll do great in the field. I understand your injury will need time to heal, which means you’d be better suited for a desk job in the meantime. But I must ask: what do you seek by working at a desk? And do not repeat your previous answer about legacy. I would like quantifiable specifics, like what you would want to do and why you would are the best candidate for that work. After all, the MSI must have the best of the best working for it, especially in these dark times.”

Perhaps she could address her other concern here. “We are in dark times, Mr. Varangios. Tense times. The future of the world is like a pencil balanced on your finger, easily tipped in one direction or the other. One wrong move, and we could give up the most powerful nation in the world to a mad prince who is unqualified to lead it. We must be assured we are all on the same page.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands to project strength. “We cannot have dual loyalties or secondary allegiances. As I said before, at the MSI, we are solely loyal to the Empire, not to anything else. Can you swear this, upon God and Emperor?”

 

[Beaverman1]

If Justinian thought he could sway her with a simple political affiliation, he thought wrong. “I do appreciate your membership in the KRA. And your record does line up with the values we espouse. But that is not why I’m interviewing you today. At the MSI, we must put aside conflicting political allegiances in favor of service to the Empire. Our job here is protecting the Empire and its citizens from threats, both foreign and domestic. We work in the shadows to make sure the light of Rome shines on into the future.”

This man wanted to be known, Theodora gathered. He wanted to be a hero. Someone whose name would be remembered by millions for centuries to come. But in a crisis like this, they could not worry about things as simple as prestige or legacy. They had pressing matters at hand. Survival and victory came first. “And since we work in the shadows, we cannot concern ourselves with legacy at the moment. I applaud your ambition, I really do.” But at the same time, her mind had a feeling of apprehension. Unchecked ambition brought down many great men and women before when they invariably bit off more than they could chew or became the villains in the greater scheme of things. “But I would advise that you set your sights lower in the immediate future. We are at war. The entire world knows it. Our priority right now is to neutralize Konstantinos. If we fail, we will all die at his hands. I personally never believed in the phrase ‘history is written by the winners’, but in this hypothetical, Konstantinos certainly would set a narrative. Any legacy building we’d do would be pointless. So what we want to do first is defeat him. Then we can work on building our legacies. On restoring the Empire to what it should be. Only then and there will our legacies be forged.”

It came time to get to the point. “I personally believe your talents are perfect for work as a field agent. You’re a straight shot. A veteran in several campaigns. Works well in a team and alone. I know you’ll do great in the field. I understand your injury will need time to heal, which means you’d be better suited for a desk job in the meantime. But I must ask: what do you seek by working at a desk? And do not repeat your previous answer about legacy. I would like quantifiable specifics, like what you would want to do and why you would are the best candidate for that work. After all, the MSI must have the best of the best working for it, especially in these dark times.”

Perhaps she could address her other concern here. “We are in dark times, Mr. Varangios. Tense times. The future of the world is like a pencil balanced on your finger, easily tipped in one direction or the other. One wrong move, and we could give up the most powerful nation in the world to a mad prince who is unqualified to lead it. We must be assured we are all on the same page.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands to project strength. “We cannot have dual loyalties or secondary allegiances. As I said before, at the MSI, we are solely loyal to the Empire, not to anything else. Can you swear this, upon God and Emperor?”

Justinian pondered what else he could say. He reminded himself that this woman had a herculean task placed at her feet. She would not care for his grand schemes, at least not while Constantinople laid in enemy hands. He briefly thought if he had offended her with the mentioning of the KRA, that was the last thing he intended.

Yes, that was it. She just wants to know if he can do the job and do it well. No theatrics, no emotion, just like Phoinix. Any grand aspirations would be later.

With short exhale, Justinian saluted Theodora .

"By God and Emperor, I swear my sole loyalty to the Empire. Wherever it is needed."

 

[zenphoenix]

Justinian pondered what else he could say. He reminded himself that this woman had a herculean task placed at her feet. She would not care for his grand schemes, at least not while Constantinople laid in enemy hands. He briefly thought if he had offended her with the mentioning of the KRA, that was the last thing he intended.

Yes, that was it. She just wants to know if he can do the job and do it well. No theatrics, no emotion, just like Phoinix. Any grand aspirations would be later.

With short exhale, Justinian saluted Theodora .

"By God and Emperor, I swear my sole loyalty to the Empire. Wherever it is needed."

Theodora nodded. "Good. Now answer my other question: what do you seek by working at a desk? Not in terms of glory, but actual work."

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

Every church and public gathering place has been shuttered. The Blue Temple, despite being fully repaired a few weeks before, stands silent and empty. The squares are patrolled by black shirts, either in police uniform or not.

There are a lot of people missing. Some go in the night, dragged out of their beds by soldiers, blackshirts or the Reformed police. Some are taken down in broad daylight. Such was the fate of the old Police Commander, who was arrested at his desk, alongside several dozen other officers, and dragged to parts unknown. They were all replaced by men previously holed up in the Senate building.

The city remains tense, but quieter now. The consequences of acting out were highlighted by the treatment of the striking dockworkers and communists. Their hole and buildings were stormed and set ablaze by blackshirts, their members arrested or shot on the streets. Their leaders have been imprisoned and it seems most are already dead.

People walk with their eyes down now. Fear patrols these streets alongside the fascists. The senate building is fully open and functioning, and absolutely teeming with soldiers and fascists from all over Greece and Thrace. A lot of the city is.

Alexander paused in his writing. He tore up a sermon he would probably never give and burnt it in the grate. Concern had given way to worry, and then fury.

The Crown Prince was conducting a reign of terror on the Holy City. His thugs were everywhere. And he had little time for distractions such as ensuring his apparently deathly ill father, the Emperor of Rome no less, had his priest and confessor at his bed.

He knew why, they both did. The Patriarch couldn't leave the city. Not only was he one of the few stabilising elements left around, but Alexander was a walking liability to the new regime.

He wasn't exactly under house arrest, but neither he nor the Άγιος Guard had stepped far outside the Mound for some time. Their cathedral, surrounding barracks, houses, holy sites, vestiges, the church school, and private Dock were secured by the wall and the Άγιος Guard...but a siege-like feeling engulfed this place of peace.

Sometime soon, no doubt, they would come for them, and there would be blood again spilt on the floor of the Hagia Sophia.

'These are dismal days,' he wrote in his private chronicle.

The phonelines had not been cut. They were certainly tapped though, the hollow crackle sound of a listening post faintly audible whenever he raised the receiver.

Not that he had given them anything to go on. He had gone about normal church business, compelled calm in the Pentarchy, released a round paper to the entire church that the Church as ever would remain peaceful, kind and true to the will of God.

He had by more subtle means contacted the abbot in Trebizond. The rebellion growing in strength there seemed to hold Anatolia in sway, and would no doubt be ready to either invade Greece or the city itself within the next few months. It was a race, a race to see who would sail across the Aegean Sea first.

And as if the last several thousand years had not happened, it seems as though once again two rival armies faced each other across that sea and were determined to fight over one heavily fortified city.

 

[Beaverman1]

Theodora nodded. "Good. Now answer my other question: what do you seek by working at a desk? Not in terms of glory, but actual work."

Justinian paused for a moment.

“I simply want to know how to do your job.” He said flatly. “I want to learn and do everything I haven’t done. I want to learn the ins and outs of everything I haven’t done. Administrative, budgetary, everything.”
Theodora didn’t change her expression. That either didn’t answer her question or, worse case, the wrong answer.

Then the it hit Justinian. It hit him like a baton to the nose. What she wanted to really know.
“Of course” Justinian whispered under his breath.

“The Purple Group. That’s what you are truly concerned about.”

Theodora didn’t budge. But Justinian could feel the tension in the room change.

“I am The Purple Group in the Metropole. Any other representative of theirs has fled to avoid the current disaster. I am not the most involved person of theirs, I think of it more as a familiar obligation rather than an true loyalty. Currently they seek to help your side in the civil war. Outside of that, we will simply have to see what they want or decide.”

Justinian looked around the room, then back to Theodora.

“I know that The Purple Group is proud of their Roman heritage. The fact that I’m here speaking to you instead of Konstantinos’ court shows that they are putting whatever support they care to muster behind our faction.”

Theodora leaning back in her chair, seemly content with the fact they were on the subject she wanted to discuss.

“If you seek to get into the mind of The Purple Group through me, I am not the man for that job. You can see more as a representative or advisor of them.” said Justinian.

“As I said, I swear my sole loyalty to The Empire and the Emperor.”

 

[zenphoenix]

Justinian paused for a moment.

“I simply want to know how to do your job.” He said flatly. “I want to learn and do everything I haven’t done. I want to learn the ins and outs of everything I haven’t done. Administrative, budgetary, everything.”
Theodora didn’t change her expression. That either didn’t answer her question or, worse case, the wrong answer.

Then the it hit Justinian. It hit him like a baton to the nose. What she wanted to really know.
“Of course” Justinian whispered under his breath.

“The Purple Group. That’s what you are truly concerned about.”

Theodora didn’t budge. But Justinian could feel the tension in the room change.

“I am The Purple Group in the Metropole. Any other representative of theirs has fled to avoid the current disaster. I am not the most involved person of theirs, I think of it more as a familiar obligation rather than an true loyalty. Currently they seek to help your side in the civil war. Outside of that, we will simply have to see what they want or decide.”

Justinian looked around the room, then back to Theodora.

“I know that The Purple Group is proud of their Roman heritage. The fact that I’m here speaking to you instead of Konstantinos’ court shows that they are putting whatever support they care to muster behind our faction.”

Theodora leaning back in her chair, seemly content with the fact they were on the subject she wanted to discuss.

“If you seek to get into the mind of The Purple Group through me, I am not the man for that job. You can see more as a representative or advisor of them.” said Justinian.

“As I said, I swear my sole loyalty to The Empire and the Emperor.”

Finally, Theodora thought. He caught on. Good, I could use someone with an astute eye.

The Purple Group...she never particularly liked new money. Those up and coming businessmen who believed profits from their factories and mines could buy them a seat with the dynatoi. Money was not a shortcut to His Majesty and the Senate. If it were up to her, it would be merit which decided who got to serve the Emperor in whatever capacity they were best at. But the world was how it was, currently, and she couldn't change that yet. So she would have to handle The Purple Group with caution. As they said, the enemy of her enemy was her friend. If they were willing to support them in the coming conflict, she wouldn't complain, but nor would she ignore them. She would have to keep a close eye on them. Justinian seemed trustworthy enough and not too involved in the group's activities, so it was unlikely he would be an inside man for them at the MSI, but it wasn't impossible. Especially since he stated he would like to learn everything she did. She would have to figure out a contingency later.

For now, Theodora merely nodded, maintaining her stoic expression. "Your loyalty is appreciated. Thank you for reaffirming that. I believe you've addressed all of my concerns for now. I think I have enough information to make a decision. For your first task, I would like you to organize an MSI operation to contact His Holiness the Ecumenical Patriarch and gain intel on the situation in the capital. Use whatever means are at your disposal, though I recommend minimizing bloodshed and maintaining cover whenever possible. Do you believe this is within your capabilities?"

 

[Beaverman1]

Finally, Theodora thought. He caught on. Good, I could use someone with an astute eye.

The Purple Group...she never particularly liked new money. Those up and coming businessmen who believed profits from their factories and mines could buy them a seat with the dynatoi. Money was not a shortcut to His Majesty and the Senate. If it were up to her, it would be merit which decided who got to serve the Emperor in whatever capacity they were best at. But the world was how it was, currently, and she couldn't change that yet. So she would have to handle The Purple Group with caution. As they said, the enemy of her enemy was her friend. If they were willing to support them in the coming conflict, she wouldn't complain, but nor would she ignore them. She would have to keep a close eye on them. Justinian seemed trustworthy enough and not too involved in the group's activities, so it was unlikely he would be an inside man for them at the MSI, but it wasn't impossible. Especially since he stated he would like to learn everything she did. She would have to figure out a contingency later.

For now, Theodora merely nodded, maintaining her stoic expression. "Your loyalty is appreciated. Thank you for reaffirming that. I believe you've addressed all of my concerns for now. I think I have enough information to make a decision. For your first task, I would like you to organize an MSI operation to contact His Holiness the Ecumenical Patriarch and gain intel on the situation in the capital. Use whatever means are at your disposal, though I recommend minimizing bloodshed and maintaining cover whenever possible. Do you believe this is within your capabilities?"

"Of course. I will report back to you for final approval any operations." Justinian said with a groan as he brought himself to his feet.

He debated trying to say something meaningful as he left, but decided against it. He simply smiled and saluted before seeing his way out of the office. He wished farewell to Irene as he continued his hobbling to the main hall of the hotel.

"Back in the saddle"

 

[zenphoenix]

"Of course. I will report back to you for final approval any operations." Justinian said with a groan as he brought himself to his feet.

He debated trying to say something meaningful as he left, but decided against it. He simply smiled and saluted before seeing his way out of the office. He wished farewell to Irene as he continued his hobbling to the main hall of the hotel.

"Back in the saddle"

"Of course," Theodora said, "Get it done, and you will make a name for yourself here at the MSI. I expect great things from you, Mr. Varangios. Dismissed."

Justinian smiled and saluted, then left the office without another word. Theodora leaned back against her chair and sipped her coffee. Let's see what he can do in a real operation.

 

[Idhrendur]

"One last thing before we wrap up today," Theodora said, "We still need to come up with a name for the airship. But if nobody has any suggestions, I'll just tell General Picardie to figure it out himself."

Nobody said a word. Theodora waited about a minute, but nobody budged. When it became clear nobody had any ideas, she resumed speaking.

"Alright, I'll just let General Picardie come up with something. Good work, everybody. Let's get on with saving this nation, once again."


Trebizond Airport - an hour after the end of the session

John-Loukas was incredulous. "Those senators did what?!"

"Look, I tried," Theodora said, "But nobody had any good ideas."

"They didn't try hard enough!"

"John-Loukas, we have other more pressing matters to discuss beyond naming an airship." Theodora crossed her arms. "So please reset your expectations, because we're busy trying to hold the Empire together."

John-Loukas sighed. "Alright, alright, fine. I guess it's up to us two in the end, huh?"

"More like just you," Theodora said, "I've got nothing."

"But surely you can help me brainstorm!"

"Look, I just came here to tell you the news. I have to get back to the MSI as soon as I can. Need to start allocating funds from the new budget."

"But you can spare a minute to think of a name!"

"General, I really don't have the time to spend on something as trivial as this," Theodora said, "And can't you figure it out yourself?"

"Well...about that..." John-Loukas hesitated. "I'm stuck too."

Theodora facepalmed. "Of course you are. That's why you kicked the can to the goddamn Senate."

"Sir, if I may..." Basil walked over and saluted. "Commander Basil Kolovos, First Officer of the still unnamed airship, ma'am."

"Nice to meet you, Commander Kolovos." Theodora shook his hand. "You had something you wanted to add?"

"Perhaps we should pick a name symbolic of our plight," Basil said, "How about Scipio? After Scipio Africanus. He survived the disastrous Battle of Cannae, took command of the survivors, and began fighting back as soon as he could."

"Not a bad choice," John-Loukas said, "What do you think, Theodora?"

Theodora thought for a moment. The symbolism is on point. Classical antiquity is something all of us in the Empire largely appreciate. Drawing from it will no doubt prevent Konstantinos from laying claim to the whole thing. Let's do it.

She nodded. "That's a great name. Henceforth, this airship will be known as the Scipio."

((Private))

Private Journal of Donatello Favero
January 2, 1936

As I put the ink to this page, I realize that I do not even know why I have chosen to start this journal. Perhaps it is to record these momentous events that are surely about to occur for posterity? Maybe it's to help collect the thoughts of a man struggling with his own sanity in a world that seems intent on driving him mad? Or it could be simply because I have nothing better to do, trapped in this city, exiled from my home, waiting for the world to crumble around me. Most likely it is a combination of all three. Regardless, here I am and here are my thoughts.

The last few days have been trying. To have everything you have known and your life turned upside down for a second time would test even the best of men. I feel as thought I have aged a decade in less than a week. I can sense similar weariness in the other senators, although some are better at hiding it than others. Some hide it by throwing themselves into their work, dedicating every spare moment to returning the Empire and their lives to some form of normalcy. Others indulge in liquor or women, sometimes both, to forgot the trauma. The rest, like me, are in a constant state of melancholy as we contemplate everything that has brought us here.

I have found myself wondering how much my words and actions have brought us to this point. For the past two decades, I have been the foremost voice for restoration of the Empire at the point of a bayonet. The rebel states needed to be reclaimed, by force if necessary, to restore the glory and prosperity we had lost. How many over the years heard my words and took it to heart? How many of those same men are now clad in black and marching in the name of their esteemed leader? Did the men who tried to arrest me once see my words printed in a newspaper and nod their heads in agreement? Perhaps my words even had an impact on the Crown Prince. Would he have pursued such a path if he had not known of such vocal supporters of the violent march to restoration? Perhaps, but I suspect this darkness has always been in his heart.

I feel as though I have brought this on myself. I wished for a quick and violent restoration of the Empire, and now that I see how it will be realized, I shirk away in disgust. Perhaps it is because this aggression is misplaced. The rebel states have always been the enemy, not our own people. Konstantinos seems intent on purging all opposition within before he seeks glory in battle against the rebel states. It is a dangerous path, and as we can see by the mix of senators gathered in Trebizond, one that has alienated people from many walks of life. It is no small thing that at the last senate session I called for the death of the Crown Prince. I now see where the path I had started on would have led by looking at Konstantinos and it fills me with dread.

All this pain and suffering that is to come, the final breath of a dying empire, has made me realize what is important in life: my family. Too long I have sought to return home with no success, when I should have appreciated what I had with me all along. My estates outside Venice would be nothing without my wife and daughter. And yet as I now see this, they could not be farther from me. My wife is presumably on a ship to Valencia, assuming she made it out of Constantinople before the docks were overrun. As for my daughter, she should have been in Valencia, but my in-laws mentioned she had left a month ago to travel home. I know that I have placed such a heavy burden on her these last few years and she has resisted attempts to guide her. I would not be surprised if she took the opportunity to be free from me and her mother and travel abroad. Yet the timing could not be worse. I pray that she is safe and sound, wherever she is.

The senate will soon meet again. Our first meeting ended in meaningless prattle about symbols for new ministries and the name of some airship. Who cares what a ship is called when we are in a civil war! We have far more important matters to discuss than the mundane minutia of this new government. Our sole focus should be on winning this war. Konstantinos must be captured or killed, and Constantinople reclaimed. The Emperor must be freed, assuming he is not already dead. I pray that is not the case, but I fear that Konstantinos would not be above speeding his way to the throne with a well-placed knife. We must act and act fast if we want any hope of success. Let us hope that the other senators are more action-orientated at our next meeting.

- Donatello Favero

Trebizond January 2nd

Justinian awoke to the sound of an ambulance siren from the street below. At first he had no clue where he was or what had really happened.

"Was it a dream, a nightmare?" he pondered as his vision cleared to a Red and Yellow Eagle on the far side of the room.

Then the pain.

It felt like a lightning bolt made of fire shot through his entire body, originating at his leg.

"No... no it was a waking nightmare." he sputtered as he started to sweat.

Justinian shifted himself to the corner of the bed and grabbed grabbed the bed post, hoping to use it to stand up.

Halfway through he must've put some weight on his leg. "CHRIST" he cried out collapsing back on the bed.

The door to the room bust open. "Sir? Sir!" a bellhop said frantically. The boy darted around the room, Justinian could here his shoes thumping on the carpet.

"Ah! Finally! Why the hell would Barbas not leave it next to the bed?" he heard him whisper to himself.

Justinian felt the boy sit next to him on the bed, handing something into Justinian's hand.

"Your cane, sir." After a few more deep breaths, Justinian lifted his head and eventually himself off the bed.

"Please be careful, sir." the boy continued, "You've made it to Trebizond."

"Trebi-" Justinian muttered. "What do you know about me?"

"N-n-nothing sir!" responded the boy raising his arms. "T-that is what the man who checked you in told me to say when you awoke! I promise!"

Justinian could see the boy's knees quivering. He took a deep breath. "You are telling the truth, boy."

The bellhops shoulders immediately sank down with relief. "I-I was also instructed to give you this message sir." he said holding out a folded letter.

Justinian took it and sat down on at the dining table in the hotel suite. He tore open the top and then glanced back at the bellhop.

The boy still in a tizzy from the interaction, immediately jumped. "AH! S-s-s Of course! I uh, I will... I will have your breakfast brought up immediately a-and leave you to your business, sir!"

And with a graceful bow that betrayed the boy's nerves he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Justinian looked back at the letter. The envelope itself was pristine. "Imperator Hotels" the address read. "Must've ended up in one in Trebizond" Justinian mumbled to himself.

The actual letter was on dirty and oily paper. Justinian carefully unfolded it, making sure none of it would rip.

"Hola,

You don't know me and that's probably for the best. I was the pilot that got you here to Trebizond. After we took off you fell asleep pretty quick. Marcos told me on the radio you had a long day. I'm not one to pry, so I let it be. About an hour away from Trebizond we hit some major and sudden turbulence. It did a number on my bird, but worse, it reopened your leg. Not worse for you however, you know how long it's going to take me to clean out the pool you left in the back. I jest, I jest. Point is, you were out cold and I didn't even notice you bleeding until my foot slipped on something wet under my seat. I landed and got you into a doctor very fast. Turns out the words 'The Purple Group' can open quite a lot of doors, especially with you colonials. Anyway, I had a doctor seal up your leg for good this time, it's going to leave a nasty scar. I radio'd Marcos what happened and he said he would pass it on to your people.

Have a good life,

A faceless Spaniard."

The writer wasn't wrong. Justinian couldn't remember anything about the plane ride. All he could do is be silently grateful to this guardian angel.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Justinian folded the letter into the envelope and beckoned in the visitor. It was the same bellhop as before, this time with a cart of various covered foods and a small bucket of ice with a champagne bottle sticking out. Silently, the boy began to place the various dishes before Justinian, finishing with a glass of champagne. Justinian was salivating as soon as he saw the cart, he didn't even remember eating at all yesterday.

When the boy finished he cleared his throat. "We have received a telegram from a Leonidas Varangios, addressed to your room sir."

Justinian didn't even respond, and just decided to dig in to his food.

The bellhop placed it at the edge of the banquet and excused himself as elegantly as he had came in.

After he downed his first glass of champagne, he reached over and ripped open the other letter.

DEAR BROTHER
STOP
THAT SURE WAS FAST
STOP
I HAVE ARRANGED YOU AN IN FOR YOUR QUEST
STOP
YOU ARE TO MEET DOUKAS THEODORA TOMORROW 1400 HOURS
STOP
WEAR SOMETHING NICE AND TRY NOT TO GET SHOT AGAIN
STOP

Justinian had to reread the message a second time. "THE DOUKAS?!"

With the session finished, Franco departed back for the floor on the hotel where those of the Thaddai estate had been placed until accommodations could be sorted for them. Thankfully, one of the hotel staff had waited for him there, informing him that a vacant lot in the city had been found to house them for now. After getting the address, Franco tipped the staffer, and departed for the new place.

Arriving by public transportation, from the outside he could see why the lot was vacant in the first place. It was, to put it bluntly, a residential warehouse, one that seemed to had been past its glory days. He could already see at the front folks moving things about, as they worked to figure out how they'll organize the working quarters, the sleeping quarters, and other necessities. One of the folks at the front, Konstas, noticed him arriving and waved him in.

"How's everyone feeling?" Franco asked.

"Very few of us managed to get good rest, but at least it was rest. We're settling in right now, and we've already set up your office," Konstas revealed.

"I see. Families also good?"

"Yeah, if nothing else everyone being together has served to be a comfort of sort. I don't know how I would've been if my wife and kid hadn't come..."

"And you won't need to consider," Franco put his hand on Konstas' shoulder, giving him a smile. Konstas returned it in kind, before seeming to remember something.

"We've got a phone line set up too, so you could be able to call in Komnenion."

"I'll do so after I get my report finished," Franco nodded, before patting Konstas on the back and heading inside.

He needed a few minutes to relax before he could start writing his report in earnest, recounting the past two days...

---

Botros Damji sighed. His team at the Imperial Representative HQ in Komnenion wasn't exactly feeling the best. Everyone had gotten seriously stressed with the news they had received from Kyrene, and had been taking voluntary overtime just waiting for a call from the Imperial mainland. Yanduza Belmonte, in her stress, would jump up from her chair as she saw what all of them were waiting for.

"We're receiving a call from Trebizond!" she yelled out.

Brief cheering occurred before Botros shushed everyone down: "...take the call."

After a bit of noise, a voice could finally be heard, a very familiar one: "H-hello?? Komnenion, can you hear me?"

"Franco!"

"Botros!"

The two men exclaimed happily, genuinely glad to hear the other.

"Are you all alright?!" Botros asked quickly.

"Thankfully, we are. Everyone from the estate, and I mean everyone, even including some of our families, have been accounted for."

"Oh, thank goodness," Botros replied, slumping into his chair from the relief.

"Sorry we've taken so long to contact you all. I've had to attend an emergency senatorial session here, and everyone else has just been busy settling in."

"Take your time, as much as you need! Knowing you guys are safe is enough for us."

"Y-yeah. I did take the liberty of writing up a report on our side, which I can dictate. Is the typewriter on your end ready?"

Botros looked over to where the typewriter normally was, having heard typing already, and saw that Wimmiden Ouwalili had already taken initiative.

"At the ready! Go ahead, Franco."

The next half hour would see the room be filled with sorrow and frustration, as Franco reported everything that had happened.

---

Kyrene strutted through the hallways of the Imperial Representative HQ, intent on seeing the report they had received earlier. It'll be a useful aid in building their official statement once it becomes clear what had happened in the Imperial mainland to all, as the radios so far have only mentioned there being conflict in Constantinople.

Soon enough, she ran into Kojo Onobanjo, who seemed surprised to see her.

"Ma'am, good to see you. Is Nestorius alright?" he asked her, given that in situations like this it would be Nestorius strutting these halls.

"He hasn't taken the news all too well himself, so I'm here instead."

"Alright then. Hopefully he can persevere past this," Kojo responded in a saddened tone, "Follow me."

Kojo and Kyrene made their way to the larger office space led by Botros, where everyone appeared to be drinking coffee. Everyone instinctively got up from their seats in respect, before Kyrene motioned them to sit and rest.

"The report's over on the table there," Botros pointed, before returning to his coffee.

"I've taken a look through it myself. You might want to steel yourself, what is written is alarming," Kojo explained, as Kyrene took hold of the report and sat down for a read-through.

Increasing blackshirt tensions within Constantinople, including the threatening of Irene Doukas, and an attempted barge-in from the blackshirts into the Thaddai estate. The deaths of the guardsmen Cosmas and Cyril as a result of armed fire from the blackshirts before the arrival of the Athenian Lancers. Attempted fire from blackshirts as they escaped upon an airship...

All these details and more stressed Kyrene, being reminded of what everyone suffered through back during the Sack. If nothing else, everyone got out safely, even if mentally exhausted at this point. Being made aware of the emergency senatorial session and what it entailed also revealed to her that it was truly going to be civil war. She sighed, knowing how Nestorius will react.

Soon enough, she had finished reading the report. She tucked it under her arm, stood up and addressed all present.

"Everyone, please, take the rest of the day off and get well rested. It's going to get hectic here soon enough," Kyrene stated, before turning to Kojo, "I'll be heading out then, and figure out how to share this info with Nestor. He might outright refuse to read it at first, and I wouldn't want to force it upon him until he was comfortable with it."

"Heading straight home, or?"

"Home. Call my staff and let them know about the report too. Tell them to prepare for a radio broadcast in case we have to make a statement for the people."

"Alright, ma'am. May God be with you," Kojo said goodbye, as everyone joined in. Kyrene departed soon after.

This was only the beginning.

Trebizond - January 2, 1936

It was just after lunch. Theodora had woken up early in the morning, as usual, to handle paperwork. It was her first day working from the temporary MSI headquarters here. Her office was formerly a storage room, like most of the offices in the building. Paperwork covered her desk on a level she hadn't seen in years. Her head ached, and her eyes wanted to go to sleep. Only coffee kept her going, and barely at that. She pushed through the lethargy. There was no time to waste. The Empire was entering its darkest hours, and she had to be at her 100%.

Today, she was handling budget allocation. Alvértos had approved the budget she requested. Now she had to spend the money. As she had informed the Senate, the MSI had to rebuild itself after the debacle yesterday. A large number of her personnel had sided with Konstantinos, and the rest were scattered across the Empire. She needed to consolidate whoever remained...and deal with any Konstantinos sympathizers who hadn't left yet. The new job openings would have to be filled. She'd have to start a recruitment drive across Anatolia, with better screening procedures to prevent infiltration by Konstantinos' men.

In fact, she would be interviewing a prospective recruit at 2, someone named Justinian Varangios. She had skimmed over his profile and sent people to check his background more thoroughly. They hadn't reported back yet, but from what she could gather, he was part of the Purple Group, a Terra Australis-based conglomerate with influence over most of the colony's major businesses and corporations. Just another alliance of businessmen, probably seeking to expand into the metropole. Times of crisis were always seen as a business opportunity by these men. But perhaps they could be useful for her goals. Corporations and their private operatives could gain access to parts of Konstantinos' administration in ways the MSI couldn't. And money was a good motivating force for some people. It would open up more opportunities for the MSI. Justinian's personal record was also decent. She didn't care for his noble background—that was irrelevant to her need for a loyal and competent MSI operative. His KRA affiliation was a bonus, but that was also unnecessary. What she cared about was his track record as a colonial ranger and his successful suppression of bandits in Terra Australis. Such skills could be applied to intelligence gathering, law enforcement, and, if necessary, partisan suppression. Of course, she would have to hear it from him in person before she decided what to do.

Irene knocked on the door. "Auntie, the receptionist says Mr. Varangios is here."

Oh, he was here earlier than she expected. Then she looked at the clock and noticed it was 1:55. Time really flew by today.

"Thanks, Irene," Theodora said, "Send him in."

Irene backed out. Theodora tidied up the paperwork on her desk and downed another cup of coffee, summoning the energy she needed to carry on the interview and look presentable. Now let's see what this man's all about.

Exerpts from "From a Purple Gang to a Purple Group: The History of The Purple Group - Iordanis Rubakou"

"The average historian would postulate that the start of The Purple Group (TPG) started in the late 1910's and early 1920's. That however would be incorrect. TPG's history would actually be rooted in the Cabal rule of the late 1890's until early 1910's. You will notice that I use many rough estimate dates, instead of definitive 'starts' and 'stops'. This is because the influence of not only the Cabal but also the TPG is still hard to measure. Individuals and organizations that were not affiliated with either later found to be in cahoots as well as vice-versa. This information is still being researched and debated to this day."

"- as stated in previous chapters, the public story of the fall of the Aboriginal Cabal has been well documented. What I have researched and will present to you was the shifting of authority from the Cabal to the TPG."

"According to most sources, TPG started with roots in underground crime during the Cabal administration. While the group certainly do owe part of their founding to the underground smuggling rings and cartels that sprung up during the rule of the Cabal, there is another aspect. During the initial rollout of the Cabal's segregationist polices, there were a few elite of European and Asiatic descent within Sydney that were viewed as 'too large and ingrained' for the cabal to uproot cleanly and effectively. The Cabal decided that the best course of action was to slowly work these elites into the administration and let their own political machine start to dissassemble them. The hope was that the elites would be disgraced in the eyes of the oppressed populace and de-clawed from causing the Cabal any issues. However, many of the elites of the Euro-Asians were not convinced of the Cabal's intial olive branch, if not suspiscous of it. The elites eventually decided to meet in secret with each other and a few representatives of the original TPG, to come to a united conculsion about the cabal. The conclusion that they, no matter how profitable, were the enemy. And that these elites, would need the help of not only the Empire, but other nations to overthrough them. This, on some unknown date, in some unknown place, was the start of TPG."

"Those of you paying attention will note how I said 'no matter how profitable' during the last chapter. Yes, elites of TPG certainly profitted from the great relaxation of taxes and workers rights during the reign of the Cabal. Some scholars say that this was a necessary evil to not be immediately disposed of during the intial revolution of the Cabal. Other's will say that their assistance only helped the Cabal extract more profits at the cost of human life. While the motive is still debated, what is clear is that TPG immediately established contact and an information source to the nearby Legions of the Empire. It is assumed that former Colonial Govenor Kvensson was crucial to that establishment and maybe even the liberation of Terra Australis in general."

"after the overthrow of the Cabal and reestablishment of Imperial rule, the Legion was asked to do their least favorite part of their job. Establish civilian rule. Fortunetly for the General, TPG was ready and willing to take the reins. By this point, the group resembled mostly financial elites. Many of those with some pedigree of royalty had their family tree's snuffed out by the Cabal's 'Company Men'. What remained of the group was a relatively well represented group of the various ethnicities of Terra Australis. This is cmmonly believed to be one of the key reasons Terra Australis recovered relatively quickly after a rule of segregation. TPG was often known to promote meritocracy, elevating both colonist and native to positions of prominance. This careful game managed to avoid some of the more ugly aspects of racial reproachment. TPG would also start to rewrite the narrative of the Cabal and the colony's history. While there are many aspects under debate, what is commonly aggreed upon is the notion that 'Romans were repressed and abused by the ignorant whims of nationalism', this use of 'Roman' to describe citizens of all color was fondly receieved by most. This new narrative as well as the relatively quick and effective industrial restructuring done by TPG led to the new basis of the Terra Australis we know today."

The loud thumps of a walking cane filled the makeshift headquarters as Justinian entered the room. He tried his best to give a warm smile to, "Irene" the lady who was holding the door open for him.

"Aunty...?" Justinian thought to himself.

After Irene closed the door behind her, Justinian did his best to bow before the Doukas. She had an eyebrow raised, clearly fixed on his cane and leg.

"Ah..." Justinian started "The leg... a nice souvenir from the capital yesterday and a grim reminder of the state of the Empire."

Justinian chuckled "May I take a seat?" Theodora gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

"My name is Justinian Varangios. I served for 10 years in the Auxiliarily Ranger Corp of the Terra Australis Promotii, achieving the rank of Colonel, the youngest to ever do so. I also served on and off as a special advisor to TA Oreworks."

"My first combat experience was at the age of 15, when the Legions stormed the beaches of Sydney. I was with my family's body guard unit when we were ambushed by the Cabal's company men. We were to be escorted to a safe zone marked by Imperial intellgience. I grabbed a pistol from a dead escort and killed 6 men in 6 shots." Justinian said plainly. As if he was reading the manual to a newly purchased clock.

"I spent the first 4 years of my ranger career hunting down the rest of th Cabal. During that time I gained experience in all manner of espionage activites. But I'm sure my file can attest more to the numerous raids and operations. My one weakness would be in military capacity. My grandfather was the minister of the navy, but I never felt the call of rigid structure of the military."

"If I may be so bold, I would like to work with you in the ministry proper. Not as a field agent."

Theodora once again raised her eyebrow.

"At least until my leg is healed, if not indefinetly. I believe I can assist the Empire with not only my experince but also my understanding of the colonies."

Theodora waited for him to continue.

"My sources told me that Alvértos has already held a senate here in Trebizond. And as he should, if he claims to be a friend of them. But, what I found interesting was that none of those involved were connected to the vast stretches of territory that the Empire holds dominion over. "

Justinian chuckled

"Even Senator Donatello Favero, a man who's home does not even pay tribute to the Emperor!"

Theodora did not laugh, and Justinian took notice. He then adjusted himself and cleared his throat.

"So much of the world watches the storm clouds that gather on the Aegean. Many of the dominons and colonies do not care which Prince wins, only that the Metripole will buy their resources. If anything they will throw their weight behind the Emperor, if not, who controls Constantinople. SImply telling you that, I have afforded you more months of colonial neutrality if you choose to act upon it."

Theodora continued to let Justinian talk.

"I believe we both know that the geopolitical scape is changing again, that warfare has changed, that life has changed. We are constantly bombared with new technologies and inventions that make killing of a man more effiencent than ever. This will be a time of great change, a time that will plunge the Empire to its demise. Or a time that will resurrect the Empire, like a great, bold and fiery pheonix."

Justinian leaned back in his chair. "Do you have any questions for me, your grace?"

Irene wasn’t expecting Justinian to show up with a cane, and she found herself having to hold the door open slightly longer than normal. She wasn’t angry, but she was definitely a little annoyed. As the man passed by, he gave a courteous smile to her. Irene smiled back, as to be polite.
---

The first thing Theodora noticed when Justinian entered the office and saluted—in a slightly stiff manner—was his cane and leg. He had a slight limp. The slight wince crossing his face every so often told her the injury was recent. But the fact that he could walk with a cane, instead of being confined to a wheelchair or bedridden, meant it was not a severe one. Nor was it minor if he needed a cane.

Then Justinian clarified, saying he was injured yesterday in the capital. That explained a lot. Perhaps he was roughed up by blackshirts or Konstantinos’ troops or even shot. She decided against pressing for details. They weren’t relevant.

But of course. It would be kind of awkward if the man with a cane and leg injury stood the whole time. She gestured to the chair in front of her desk, and Justinian seated himself.

Everything checked out with her file. He was honest, so far. An impeccable service record, too. A colonel at his age? A plus.

Field experience too, and since the age of 15. While Theodora appreciated his dedication, she was unnerved by him being 15 during that military operation. There were probably more boys his age fighting alongside him. And there would be no shortage of teenagers joining up once the shooting started in a couple weeks. She couldn’t help but think of Belisarius, who had run off to the legions as soon as he could pass as an adult. Belisarius, whose body was now in a dozen charred pieces. If she could decree laws like the Emperor, the first thing she would do was to raise the minimum recruitment and conscription age.

That much was certain from his file. She would have thought Justinian would follow his grandfather into the navy or join another branch, given his prior record. Apparently not. His file did attest to the numerous operations he participated in. All which would give him the experience she was looking for.

At that, Theodora raised her eyebrow. This man wants to be a bureaucrat? Doing paperwork? His experience would be better suited for field work, in her opinion. Justinian had little record of bureaucratic work, outside of the special advisor job. Of course, while his leg was still injured, he wouldn’t be doing any field work. But after it healed? No, what the Empire needed was field agents ready to gather intel and deal with enemy targets in the shadows, not more bureaucrats to haggle over numbers on paper. She decided to wait until Justinian had finished before bringing it up.

Sources? Our little improvised Senate was blatantly obvious to everybody watching. You really don’t need sources to tell you that. What Justinian said was true, though. A lot of them had lost their homes or the territories they were governing over the last couple decades. Even she herself had technically lost Athens. She shuddered to think of what Konstantinos would do to her house. Fortunately, she had already evacuated her staff and everything of value to the main branch’s estates in Paphlagonia. Konstantinos would find only the structure itself and some old furniture.

Theodora did not laugh. Donatello was perhaps one of the worst off of them all. His lands were controlled by separatists. He had nowhere to go but Trebizond, to say nothing of his family. Even if they did defeat Konstantinos, Donatello would still not have a home. They’d have to destroy the separatists to do that. She cycled through various strategies of doing so, ranging from negotiation with moderate factions to subterfuge involving imperial loyalists to outright invasion.

That was pretty clear. So far, Konstantinos’ power play had only directly affected the metropole. Granted, it had only been a day, but from the examples in the Middle East, Theodora believed most of the other provinces would rather sit things out and wait for one of the princes to come out on top. Which made it all the more important to strike first and decisively. Take back the capital, neutralize Konstantinos, and put an end to this before lines could be established and allegiances set. Then the rest of the Empire would fall in line, hopefully. After that, they could deal with the separatists.

Those new technologies and innovations could really make her job a lot easier…if they had the budget for them.

Justinian signaled that he was done talking. So now it was Theodora’s turn to take the lead.

“Tell me, Mr. Varangios,” she said, “Or can I call you Colonel? You have an exceptional service record with the Auxiliary Ranger Corps. All those raids and operations and combat experience. The perfect qualities for an MSI field operative, at least what I’m looking for. So would you mind explaining why you would prefer a desk job in MSI headquarters, even after your leg is healed?”

She had another question, regarding his ties to the Purple Group, but she would ask that later. She had a feeling his answer to this question might tie into that one.

Justinian took a moment to compose an answer.

"I suppose my time as an officer had endeared me to life of nice logging and champagne dinners, rather than the thrills and danger of field work. I understand that we are in a crisis, and I will dutifully fulfill any task given to me."

Justinian took another pause to word his next thoughts better.

"During my time as an advisor to TA Oreworks, I met many people who are very content to be left out of history. People who should have their stories told in textbooks throughout the Empire, but chose not to. I, will of course, honor their request and leave them anonymous. But, I do not share that belief. I want to be known to the world, I wish to do great things, to keep the flames of Caesar and Constantine alight! Through these dark, dark times and beyond."

Justinian paused once more, reining himself in.

"I'm aware of the usual fate of field agents. Men who do great things and are never known for it outside of a few people, who realistically, don't even know his real name. Men who die alone in a torture chamber, hoping that the poison they ingest will kill them quickly. I am not scared of these things your grace. I just desire more. I desire to be amongst Cato the Elder and Cicero. Men that are still discussed 2 millenniums later."

Justinian felt the ornate grooves on his cane for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.

"But first and foremost, I am willing to give myself to the Empire. If you truly believe it is best, then I will return to the field as soon as I am able. I merely want to express my desires for the future."

Justinian moved his hand from his cane to his leg and rubbed his wound. Forcing his instant grimace to a smile.

"Afterall, I believe we might be more similar than either of us would care to admit." Justinian said with a chuckle. "There's a reason I didn't strike my political affiliation from my papers."

If Justinian thought he could sway her with a simple political affiliation, he thought wrong. “I do appreciate your membership in the KRA. And your record does line up with the values we espouse. But that is not why I’m interviewing you today. At the MSI, we must put aside conflicting political allegiances in favor of service to the Empire. Our job here is protecting the Empire and its citizens from threats, both foreign and domestic. We work in the shadows to make sure the light of Rome shines on into the future.”

This man wanted to be known, Theodora gathered. He wanted to be a hero. Someone whose name would be remembered by millions for centuries to come. But in a crisis like this, they could not worry about things as simple as prestige or legacy. They had pressing matters at hand. Survival and victory came first. “And since we work in the shadows, we cannot concern ourselves with legacy at the moment. I applaud your ambition, I really do.” But at the same time, her mind had a feeling of apprehension. Unchecked ambition brought down many great men and women before when they invariably bit off more than they could chew or became the villains in the greater scheme of things. “But I would advise that you set your sights lower in the immediate future. We are at war. The entire world knows it. Our priority right now is to neutralize Konstantinos. If we fail, we will all die at his hands. I personally never believed in the phrase ‘history is written by the winners’, but in this hypothetical, Konstantinos certainly would set a narrative. Any legacy building we’d do would be pointless. So what we want to do first is defeat him. Then we can work on building our legacies. On restoring the Empire to what it should be. Only then and there will our legacies be forged.”

It came time to get to the point. “I personally believe your talents are perfect for work as a field agent. You’re a straight shot. A veteran in several campaigns. Works well in a team and alone. I know you’ll do great in the field. I understand your injury will need time to heal, which means you’d be better suited for a desk job in the meantime. But I must ask: what do you seek by working at a desk? And do not repeat your previous answer about legacy. I would like quantifiable specifics, like what you would want to do and why you would are the best candidate for that work. After all, the MSI must have the best of the best working for it, especially in these dark times.”

Perhaps she could address her other concern here. “We are in dark times, Mr. Varangios. Tense times. The future of the world is like a pencil balanced on your finger, easily tipped in one direction or the other. One wrong move, and we could give up the most powerful nation in the world to a mad prince who is unqualified to lead it. We must be assured we are all on the same page.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands to project strength. “We cannot have dual loyalties or secondary allegiances. As I said before, at the MSI, we are solely loyal to the Empire, not to anything else. Can you swear this, upon God and Emperor?”

Justinian pondered what else he could say. He reminded himself that this woman had a herculean task placed at her feet. She would not care for his grand schemes, at least not while Constantinople laid in enemy hands. He briefly thought if he had offended her with the mentioning of the KRA, that was the last thing he intended.

Yes, that was it. She just wants to know if he can do the job and do it well. No theatrics, no emotion, just like Phoinix. Any grand aspirations would be later.

With short exhale, Justinian saluted Theodora .

"By God and Emperor, I swear my sole loyalty to the Empire. Wherever it is needed."

Theodora nodded. "Good. Now answer my other question: what do you seek by working at a desk? Not in terms of glory, but actual work."

Every church and public gathering place has been shuttered. The Blue Temple, despite being fully repaired a few weeks before, stands silent and empty. The squares are patrolled by black shirts, either in police uniform or not.

There are a lot of people missing. Some go in the night, dragged out of their beds by soldiers, blackshirts or the Reformed police. Some are taken down in broad daylight. Such was the fate of the old Police Commander, who was arrested at his desk, alongside several dozen other officers, and dragged to parts unknown. They were all replaced by men previously holed up in the Senate building.

The city remains tense, but quieter now. The consequences of acting out were highlighted by the treatment of the striking dockworkers and communists. Their hole and buildings were stormed and set ablaze by blackshirts, their members arrested or shot on the streets. Their leaders have been imprisoned and it seems most are already dead.

People walk with their eyes down now. Fear patrols these streets alongside the fascists. The senate building is fully open and functioning, and absolutely teeming with soldiers and fascists from all over Greece and Thrace. A lot of the city is.

Alexander paused in his writing. He tore up a sermon he would probably never give and burnt it in the grate. Concern had given way to worry, and then fury.

The Crown Prince was conducting a reign of terror on the Holy City. His thugs were everywhere. And he had little time for distractions such as ensuring his apparently deathly ill father, the Emperor of Rome no less, had his priest and confessor at his bed.

He knew why, they both did. The Patriarch couldn't leave the city. Not only was he one of the few stabilising elements left around, but Alexander was a walking liability to the new regime.

He wasn't exactly under house arrest, but neither he nor the Άγιος Guard had stepped far outside the Mound for some time. Their cathedral, surrounding barracks, houses, holy sites, vestiges, the church school, and private Dock were secured by the wall and the Άγιος Guard...but a siege-like feeling engulfed this place of peace.

Sometime soon, no doubt, they would come for them, and there would be blood again spilt on the floor of the Hagia Sophia.

'These are dismal days,' he wrote in his private chronicle.

The phonelines had not been cut. They were certainly tapped though, the hollow crackle sound of a listening post faintly audible whenever he raised the receiver.

Not that he had given them anything to go on. He had gone about normal church business, compelled calm in the Pentarchy, released a round paper to the entire church that the Church as ever would remain peaceful, kind and true to the will of God.

He had by more subtle means contacted the abbot in Trebizond. The rebellion growing in strength there seemed to hold Anatolia in sway, and would no doubt be ready to either invade Greece or the city itself within the next few months. It was a race, a race to see who would sail across the Aegean Sea first.

And as if the last several thousand years had not happened, it seems as though once again two rival armies faced each other across that sea and were determined to fight over one heavily fortified city.

Justinian paused for a moment.

“I simply want to know how to do your job.” He said flatly. “I want to learn and do everything I haven’t done. I want to learn the ins and outs of everything I haven’t done. Administrative, budgetary, everything.”
Theodora didn’t change her expression. That either didn’t answer her question or, worse case, the wrong answer.

Then the it hit Justinian. It hit him like a baton to the nose. What she wanted to really know.
“Of course” Justinian whispered under his breath.

“The Purple Group. That’s what you are truly concerned about.”

Theodora didn’t budge. But Justinian could feel the tension in the room change.

“I am The Purple Group in the Metropole. Any other representative of theirs has fled to avoid the current disaster. I am not the most involved person of theirs, I think of it more as a familiar obligation rather than an true loyalty. Currently they seek to help your side in the civil war. Outside of that, we will simply have to see what they want or decide.”

Justinian looked around the room, then back to Theodora.

“I know that The Purple Group is proud of their Roman heritage. The fact that I’m here speaking to you instead of Konstantinos’ court shows that they are putting whatever support they care to muster behind our faction.”

Theodora leaning back in her chair, seemly content with the fact they were on the subject she wanted to discuss.

“If you seek to get into the mind of The Purple Group through me, I am not the man for that job. You can see more as a representative or advisor of them.” said Justinian.

“As I said, I swear my sole loyalty to The Empire and the Emperor.”

Finally, Theodora thought. He caught on. Good, I could use someone with an astute eye.

The Purple Group...she never particularly liked new money. Those up and coming businessmen who believed profits from their factories and mines could buy them a seat with the dynatoi. Money was not a shortcut to His Majesty and the Senate. If it were up to her, it would be merit which decided who got to serve the Emperor in whatever capacity they were best at. But the world was how it was, currently, and she couldn't change that yet. So she would have to handle The Purple Group with caution. As they said, the enemy of her enemy was her friend. If they were willing to support them in the coming conflict, she wouldn't complain, but nor would she ignore them. She would have to keep a close eye on them. Justinian seemed trustworthy enough and not too involved in the group's activities, so it was unlikely he would be an inside man for them at the MSI, but it wasn't impossible. Especially since he stated he would like to learn everything she did. She would have to figure out a contingency later.

For now, Theodora merely nodded, maintaining her stoic expression. "Your loyalty is appreciated. Thank you for reaffirming that. I believe you've addressed all of my concerns for now. I think I have enough information to make a decision. For your first task, I would like you to organize an MSI operation to contact His Holiness the Ecumenical Patriarch and gain intel on the situation in the capital. Use whatever means are at your disposal, though I recommend minimizing bloodshed and maintaining cover whenever possible. Do you believe this is within your capabilities?"

"Of course. I will report back to you for final approval any operations." Justinian said with a groan as he brought himself to his feet.

He debated trying to say something meaningful as he left, but decided against it. He simply smiled and saluted before seeing his way out of the office. He wished farewell to Irene as he continued his hobbling to the main hall of the hotel.

"Back in the saddle"

"Of course," Theodora said, "Get it done, and you will make a name for yourself here at the MSI. I expect great things from you, Mr. Varangios. Dismissed."

Justinian smiled and saluted, then left the office without another word. Theodora leaned back against her chair and sipped her coffee. Let's see what he can do in a real operation.

 

[Idhrendur]

1 Febrauary 1936

Alvértos sat and waited before heading over to the conference room. A poor excuse for Senate chambers still, but better than a month ago. On the table beside him were three newspapers. Father had always made sure important papers ended up in the archives, though his choices were often inscrutable. Alvértos hoped that his choices would be more clear, both now and in the future. And he wondered how the past month had treated the senators and other notables who had joined him. He would find out soon.

 

[Idhrendur]

(( I'll let you all take some time to flesh out your characters' actions for January before I write up the discussion with the Senate. If you need any details on happenings to be able to do so, just ask! ))

 

[Damian0358]

News of the civil war over at the Imperial heartland quickly spread its way internationally, and as such it quickly made its way to Aotearoa. Though preparations had been made already, the official statement released on the 2nd of January would be noted as slightly rushed, as to avoid running against the 4 Day Forefeast of the Nativity of Christ and the incoming Christmastide season. Both Kyrene and Nestorius would be present.

"Today, a most shocking revelation has hit our shores. The Imperial heartland finds itself in conflict once more, not by the hands of a malicious third-party wishing upon it destruction, nor by those seeking to tear it apart and/or carve it into their own dominion, but as a result of familial infighting. Princes Alvértos and Konstantinos have rendered the heartland in two, in a struggle for dominance over whom will take the Imperial succession," Kyrene began, with Nestorius looking visibly exhausted beside her. He had barely been convinced to read the report by colleagues and family, and one could see in his eyes that he was still mentally processing everything going on.

"However, as it stands, the conflict appears to be contained to the heartland. Though we are Imperial subjects too, an example of not just Foederati excellence, but an example for all Foederati to follow," Kyrene spoke, invoking not just the 1915 Imperial policy of federation that led to the Exarchate's creation along with the other first early states, but also Aotearoa's history up to this point, "we cannot allow the spread of violence across the Empire. Just as my fellow peers among the Foederati had done, Aotearoa too will follow a policy of neutrality in this conflict. Though we in government, my own and Mesazon Papadopoulos's, may have our personal stances on the matter, we cannot allow them to influence any path other than anti-militarism. We can only hope and pray in this coming season that this conflict will see a quick end, not just for the sake of the Empire, but for all those living in the zones of conflict in the heartland."

Kyrene moved to the side, allowing her husband to take the stage and speak his part. Nestorius struggled to start for a bit, a contrast to the man most at home would recognize as their cheery, stately grandpa.

"...I cannot speak a lie to you all, the words I wish to speak on all this escape me. I had suffered through conflict in the region before. At about age 5, I witnessed an attack on the City [Constantinople], secluded and in fear of what was to come. That fear returned to me at age 61, when the City once more suffered an attack. The fear was near paralyzing, and were it not for Kyrene and her tenacity, I am sure that I would have died that day. And now, at age 83, I feel the same way once more. Sickly at the thought of what is to happen to my motherland. Terrified at what damage and trauma it may induce in those stuck in the middle. And now, standing here before you all, I feel as secluded from my home as I had at age 5. Unable to aid, unable to stop what will happen... it pains me."

Nestorius paused for a moment, as those present and those listening from the radio pondered his comments: "...the only thing that has brought me peace is knowing that some of my peers and colleagues, whether they be Senators as I am, or those 'working under me' at the Aotearoan Representative HQ, had managed to get away from the active front - with many I know personally escaping to Trebizond with Prince Alvértos. Though I too will take part in the policy of neutrality, I can only ponder as to why so many, including those representing you all here back in the heartland, would flee as well," he stated, leaving the implication obvious for all to see; he may go with neutrality, but his heart supports Alvértos.

Kyrene approached the stand, putting her arm around Nestorius as to comfort him, knowing how he's struggling. "May this incoming holiday season remind in us all to love our neighbors, and be at peace with them. Thank you all for joining us today," Nestorius finished up, with Kyrene joining in on the thank you at the end.

Those in attendance applauded the two as they made their way away from the podium, with the press quickly approaching and subsequently being rebuked by security in their attempts to ask the two for follow-up questions. The only thing they were told is that they would have to wait until after Christmastide for further elaboration.

---

The holidays had proven stressful for all involved with the Thaddai, whether it be the impromptu Aotearoan Representative HQ in Trebizond, the Thaddai estate back in Komnenion, or those working with either in the country. The HQ worked steadily to improve their efficiency and living standards, while Timon and Kyrene did their best to celebrate holiday cheer for Nestorius' sake, as to distract him from what was going on back home.

Timon bemoaned the situation, having wanted to confront his father over the fact that, from his research, ministerial and (more importantly) senatorial positions were not supposed to be functionally hereditary according to Imperial law, wanting to imply his anxiousness over getting the position from his father in a roundabout way, but he couldn't find the will in him to stress him out over that. It did not help that soon after Christmastide and Epiphany was the Thaddai family saint day, the 20th of January for John the Baptist, and how this would be one of the rare times Nestorius wouldn't return back home to visit what little family he still maintained connections to (having effectively broken off from the Septiadis family, and cut off his ties with most once he began accruing notoriety in the Senate).

Holiday celebrations in Trebizond were similarly limited, though at least the comfort from being family aided in reducing much anxiety. Franco maintained his reports as things continued to settle in, and those at the HQ began building up connections in the city, were they to ever need them, as well as find folks to hire, as they needed new blood to compensate for the fact that many of them were getting on in age by now. One prospective hire, one Halia Thisavropoulos, daughter of a mariner and partaker in the local women's street pankration scene, was noted down for potential review.

The death of the Emperor only served to increase tensions after the holidays. Kyrene would make another public statement, to express her sorrow, but also to express Nestorius' sorrow too, for he wouldn't join her this time. Nestorius seemed more stressed than ever, incentivizing more extreme measures from Kyrene, Timon and co. to relax him, with trips around the Aotearoan countryside to see the silent beauty of nature, while Franco and co. found themselves concerned how the last opportunity for a quick peace had seemed to be dashed. None would realize in just how far the Emperor's death would impact them.

 

[zenphoenix]

The rest of the month flew by in a flash. After the interview concluded, Theodora had stayed at the MSI to continue her work, while Irene left early.

Nothing much happened the rest of that day. Irene went to the newsreel theater and consulted the paperboy near her place as often as she could, but there were few developments. Notably, the Prince had followed through on his plans and called for his father to intervene in the crisis. Other than that, nothing that really concerned her. There was a new movie that looked great, but they weren't showing it in Trebizond, unfortunately.

Apparently, it was too difficult to get a copy of the film through an active warzone. Oh well. She hoped the library had some of the classic adventure or detective novels she liked.


The Dardanelles - January 4, night

"One! Two! One! Two!" Theodoros' men whispered as they pulled on their oars with rhythmic precision. Their boats lurched forward through the dark waters of the Dardanelles. In the distance, they could see the lights of Gallipoli, the town on the other side. Their goal was not the town itself but the naval base next to it, which controlled maritime traffic heading to Constantinople. They would sneak in, capture its guns, and then signal for the rest of the force—crossing in larger motorized boats to carry their horses—to join them.

They reached the shores of Gallipoli without any issues, disembarking about half a mile south of the town proper. There was little there other than a few roads leading to outer villages, which made it the perfect landing ground. Once they had settled back onto solid ground, they grabbed their guns and approached the naval base. There were more lights here, coming from watchtowers and patrolling vehicles. Seemed Konstantinos had gotten to this base early and shored it up with new defenses. A pragmatic decision, as the Dardanelles was about two miles wide here and Gallipoli was well within range of their own artillery. He would rather not order them to fire, as that would likely destroy the guns they needed, but he banked on Konstantinos' men not knowing that.

The attack began at about 11 PM. They first took out the patrols, using knives to quietly dispatch their targets. Next, they donned the uniforms from the patrols, rolled up to the entrance, and tried to bluff their way inside. When that didn't work, they simply pulled out their guns and opened fire. The base was pretty small, and they overwhelmed it within an hour. Most of Konstantinos' men were killed, and a handful were captured. What was more important, though, was the base itself. The classified documents stored in the commander's office and the radio station would give them a good look at troop movements in the area for the next couple days. Most importantly, the naval guns were theirs. At 1 AM on January 5, the rest of the force crossed the strait. More reinforcements arrived three days later, and they immediately began shoring up the base's defenses. Theodoros knew he didn't have enough troops to go further, so he would have to focus on purely defensive operations.

The counterattack began on the 10th. By then, the orders seized from the base had long since been executed or were no longer valid, but Theodoros had expected this to happen. Konstantinos assaulted Gallipoli from the south, west, and north, relying heavily on infantry forces. There were few aircraft or armor aiding them, which meant they were either unavailable or sent elsewhere. With that in mind, Theodoros felt safe enough to order his troops to dig in and hold the line.

Over the next two weeks, Konstantinos' men struck at Gallipoli, only to be driven back each time. The trenches dug around the town and base served Theodoros well, allowing him to minimize his own casualties while maximizing his army's destructive potential. His infantry hit any enemies approaching the trenches, while the cavalry launched hit and run attacks at the back of the enemy formation, sowing chaos and disrupting supply lines. He was vastly outnumbered here, but he couldn't call for more reinforcements from Anatolia. They were already stretching the limits of what Gallipoli could support with the troops he had. This would boil down to a war of attrition. He had to outlast the enemy or at least make it so the cost of taking Gallipoli was too high for them.

He hoped that cost was much closer to the current casualty rates than he feared.

Trebizond - January 21

The news everyone feared finally arrived on the 21st. His Majesty was dead. Theodora got the news earlier than most people, one of her few contacts still in the capital reporting as much within two hours of the event. So she got to watch as the rest of the city gradually shut down and ground to a halt later that morning as the news spread. First it was the cable cars which halted service. Then the cars stopped as well. After that, the pedestrians all stopped where they were and took off their hats. For several somber minutes, the entire city stood still, the silence only broken by the playing of taps somewhere in the distance. On one of the street corners, Theodora saw a military veteran turn to a flag and salute reverently.

The Emperor was gone. He had been reigning for 26 years. Theodora remembered the circumstances surrounding the start of his reign. The assassination of Konstantinos XX together with her father, the beginning of the Time of Troubles, and her first days in the Senate. That seemed like so long ago now. She remembered how bright-eyed she was the first time she stepped into the halls of the Great Palace as a senator. She remembered meeting the other senators and getting to know them over the next two decades. All of it was under His Majesty's reign. Now that was over. She thought he would have more time. She thought he could at least have helped out with this crisis, but that couldn't happen now.

What concerned her most was how people would react to this. Would Konstantinos blame Alvértos, or vice versa? Would the people point at the Cult or the communists? Would the rebels and their other enemies use the opportunity to attack? They had to find the truth quickly, before the rumors could spread. Though she was already certain at least three rumors involving the Cult had already entered the public consciousness.

In any case, she had a lot of paperwork ahead of her. She sipped her coffee and put down her newspaper crossword.


Nicaea, Opsikion - February 1

The air strike came early in the morning. Dive bombers from Konstantinos' side crossed the Dardanelles, ignoring the siege of Gallipoli, and put themselves on a course for Nicaea, the capital of Opsikion. They were spotted by fishing boats in the straits, who reported their course to the nearest military authorities. Ioannes, in nearby Nicomedia, immediately scrambled aircraft to intercept and neutralize the incoming targets.

The two sides had solidified enough that Ioannes could act quickly now. Three weeks ago, numerous land and air raids by Konstantinos' forces had caused numerous casualties because they were still transmitting authentic ID codes, claimed to be loyal to Alvértos, or had been part of units under Trebizond's control. But now Konstantinos' men had firmly sided with him, and the same went for Alvértos'. What's more, they had devised their own impromptu identifiers.

As the enemy aircraft entered Nicaea's airspace and dove down to begin their bombing runs, the first thing people on the ground noticed was that they were emblazoned with the insignia of an eagle set against a chi-ro and a black background, not unlike the symbol spouted on the black armbands of the blackshirt goons in Constantinople. The dive bombers released their payload, and bombs fell on two vehicle manufacturing factories on the outskirts of downtown. Fortunately, the advance warning had given Ioannes enough time to evacuate the factory workers and everyone else in the immediate vicinity, but the damage was not insignificant. It would take weeks to repair everything and another month to get back to normal production levels. Still, nobody had died, and help was already on the way.

As the bombers ascended again to prepare for another run, a radio broadcast came through their receivers.

"This is the imperial airship Scipio, commanded by General John-Loukas Picardie. Abandon your bombing run and turn back, or you will be destroyed. This is your first and final warning."

The bombers refused to heed the warning and instead dove down for another run. In that instant, the skies became filled with lead as a squadron of fighter planes dove out of the clouds and strafed them. One bomber immediately began trailing smoke, its propellers sheared off and engines shattered by the bullets. Another fired back with its secondary gun, but it couldn't hit the more agile fighters. Bullets tore through its tail and caused it to go into a downward spiral. A minute later, the two downed bombers crashed into the ground outside Nicaea and exploded. The rest pulled out of their bombing runs and retreated to the west.

With the battle concluded, the Scipio's air squadron did a low altitude fly-by over Nicaea. The townspeople emerged from their bunkers to cheer on their saviors, waving Roman flags and shouting their thanks at the pilots as they flew overhead and returned to the Scipio to dock.

The townspeople saw a different insignia painted on the wings and sides of Alvértos' fighters. The old imperial eagle remained set against bright red, but another symbol had been added: SPQR.

For the Senate and people of Rome.

 

[05060403]

January 7th

From Lieutenant Nikos Stavros's journal
"The last week has been excruciatingly exhausting. The news of the civil war got to us quickly thanks to radio and the telegraph - such wonderful technologies, but the radio isn't as widespread as it could be. Officially Sicilia has declared to be a neutral party in the conflict, which I understand given who we have to face to the north. What I don't understand is the incompetence of the senior officers left in the province.
Given the extraordinary nature of the situation, they gathered for a conference in Napoli, to decide the defensive stratagem for the near future. However, it appears that no one there really knows what to do. My, and my unit's, orders keep getting changed from day to day, sometimes even a few times during the same day. 'Hold your position!', 'Pull back here' or 'Pull back there', in the end, it only introduces more chaos. If this keeps up I will have no choice but to make my own decision. And as important as orders are, I think there are more important matters, like the fate of the capital.
I've already contacted some old friends from the airforce, and if this keeps up my good friend will make sure I'm on the next cargo plane to Thrace, and one of the last ones to make the trip for the time being. Thinking about abandoning my post brings me great shame, but I can't sit idly by while the empire burns and fools squabble in Naples."


January 11th

That was it. The point of no return. Nikos has prepared his baggage, bringing only the necessities with him, and a pistol for self-defense, walking around with a rifle would be far too conspicuous. All that was left to do was to bid his men farewell, maybe try to convince a few to join him in his insane mission to fight the Anatolian rebels. At 12 o'clock sharp he gathered his men in their camp, waited for everyone to calm down, and delivered his farewell address.

"My fellow soldiers, I stand before you today, not as your commanding officer, but as a proud Roman warrior. We have all heard the news from the capital, of how our nation got torn apart by infighting. That is why - with a heavy heart - I wish to inform you all that I shall be deserting my post..."

Gasps and murmurs could be heard in the crowd, the men in disbelief at what they were hearing. Lieutenant Stavros wasn't a man to just leave his posting, did he go insane?

"...I know it's a cowardly act, some may call it treason, that by picking this path I am throwing away my honor. However when the heart of our great land bleeds, when enemies from within threaten our very way of life is it not the duty of a soldier to pick up arms and defend his fatherland? We have been entrusted with the duty to protect our nation, to ensure that future generations can live in peace and prosperity, the world is watching, and it is our duty to show that we are a force to be reckoned with, that we are the protectors of our nation and our people.
I call upon each and every one of you to join me, to stand together and defend our fatherland, to make the journey to Constantinople and fight the traitorous forces of the Second Son. However, I will not force any of you to follow my lead, each and every one of you needs to make this decision on his own. I know that this may not be an easy decision, and by deserting your post you are making a great sacrifice. But I also know each and every one of you is a great soldier, I've seen it myself.
You've all seen the chaos caused by this conflict, the fools in Naples don't know how to handle the new situation, and we keep receiving conflicting orders, changed every day. All this while the Empire bleeds from within.
So once again, I ask you to join me, we shall make our way to the capital and join the Crown Prince's forces in order to show that we are a force to be reckoned with, that we are the protectors of our nation, and our people. The future of our nation is in our hands, and it is up to us to ensure that it remains bright and prosperous."

As soon as Nikos finished, a heavy, uneasy atmosphere descended upon his men... No, they were no longer his to command. He waited a bit before moving out, and ultimately only a handful followed him. That was still more than he expected. His heart was heavy as he led his band of traitors toward the airstrip from where they'd be picked up, but there was no turning back now, not after that speech. He must move quickly, the chances that one of the soldiers who stayed behind informs the Legio command was high, and then he would be hunted as a criminal.
Only time could tell if he made the right choice.

January 15th

The journey was tough, but ultimately they made it. The flight was uncomfortable, and with the additional weight of so many men the plane certainly struggled, perhaps without the cargo it wouldn't be as strained. As much as technology advanced, there was still a long way to go.
They arrived in Thrace on the 12th, however, they were still far away from Constantinople and it took a few days of traveling to get there. Many people, those who were capable of it at least, were fleeing the city to avoid the conflict. Rag-tag military and blackshirt paramilitary formations were moving around, deploying, and redeploying as they were needed.
Finally, Nikos and the few who dared to follow him could see the city. But the closer they got, the ugly it looked, reminding him nothing of the stories he was told about the glory represented. He couldn't help but wonder how much of it had to do with the fighting and shelling inside the city walls, and how much of the splendor was propaganda. The time to ponder over that question would come later, however, as a blackshirt patrol stopped them, and an "officer" came forward, a brutish, muscular man of a large build with a scar across his eye.

"Who are you, people? In the name of His Majesty Emperor Konstantinos XXI, I order you to identify yourselves!"

Nikos sighed heavily, it was a wonder it took so long for anyone to take interest in them, and he would've preferred to meet a regular soldier, not a thug masquerading as one, but it couldn't be helped, with the ongoing crisis every man capable of bearing arms was needed. The only real shock was his claim of Konstantinos was the Emperor. No news of death have reached Nikos, none of the refugees knew anything, and something like that would've spread fast. But perhaps the blackshirt was just a bit overzealous, and who could blame him?

"I'm Lieutenant Nikos Stavros of the XXXXIV. Legio, II. Cohort, DVI. Infantry Maniple. Well, I was. The men with me are soldiers under my command. When we heard the news we decided it is our duty to join the forces of His Majesty and fight against the rebels."

The brute scratched his head, the numbers and unit names meant little to him, he had no way of knowing where that unit would've and should've been stationed. He squinted, looking Nikos up and down, suspicious of his intent.

"You don't look like one of ours, sorry, but I'll have to take you all in for some... Interrogation. Just a friendly chat to make sure you're not spies of any kind. Only a formality really."

The blackshirt leader smirked and glanced over towards his men who exploded in a hearty laugh. There was no other choice but to oblige this man. They outgunned Nikos's small squad, and fighting them would go against the reason they came here in the first place. Nikos nodded and ordered his men to gather up and form a single file and follow the blackshirts into the city. They finally arrived. Not in the way or style he wished to, but once everything was sorted out he would feel the heat of battle and the rush of adrenaline again. That is as long as these zealots don't have their way with him and his men.