((Is it okay if I start with the RPing? I won't continue for a bit. Going to wait until more people join and the main plot progresses some more.
Stuff should be assumed to be private unless I directly involve other player characters.))
Smyrna - December 30, 1935
Sitting at a table outside a cafe, Theodora sipped her morning coffee and read the local newspaper. The front page talked about ongoing insurgencies in Syria-Palestine. That area had been annoyingly reckless since the Time of Troubles. She had gotten tired of all of the paperwork she did about that place. Her son Belisarius was on his way back from a deployment there. He had missed Christmas with her, Alexios, and Heraclius, but he had made time to join them for New Year’s. They would meet up in Smyrna, join Alexios and Heraclius in Athens, and then head to Constantinople to meet Irene. It’s been so long since the whole family’s been together.
That got her thinking of the people she had come to known over her life, and where they all had ended up. Alexios, her husband of many years, was currently bedridden with an illness. Heraclius, her other son, was attending to him with his team. Irene was in Constantinople. Her brother, Niketas, was off somewhere in Tibet—he had said he wanted to atone for the sins he committed in the Sack of Constantinople. General Ioannes Dalassenos had been promoted to Megas Doux and was currently somewhere in the Adriatic. Last she heard, Lieutenant General John-Loukas Picardie was being considered for the newly created position of Megas Domestikos ton Aeras—the head of the newly created Imperial Legion Air Corps. And lastly, General Theodoros Laskaris was in Africa.
Then there was the Senate. Favero was still around, but nowadays he had an almost singleminded focus on destroying the Italian rebels. Understandable, but it doesn’t help when he blurts out “Italia delenda est” every single session. Kyrene and Nestorius were in Aotearoa. I miss them a lot. The others she used to know were either retired or dead. She had looked over the roster of the current Senate and recognized only a handful of the names. Most of the senators this year were younger newcomers, like Irene. Even the Ecumenical Patriarch himself, barely a man of 35, had a seat. Wonder how he became His Holiness at that age. She didn’t know how to feel about all of these recent additions. Of course, new blood was necessary for the Empire’s continued evolution and survival, but the old guard could provide some wisdom and balance out the more zealous youth. Lord knows there’s a lot of radicals these days. What's the world coming to? At least Irene wasn’t one of them.
Belisarius was running late. Theodora checked her watch. Strange. He’s usually extremely punctual. One time he even arrived half an hour early. Maybe he was already here? Perhaps he got bored and went off somewhere.
A light breeze blew through her hair, and she heard the flapping of wings, like a bird had landed nearby. But she knew exactly what that was. The chair opposite her was now occupied by a man in a suit. He looked like any other man, except for the fact that he had appeared out of nowhere. “He won’t show.”
“Wilhelm.” Theodora had a detailed file on him back in her office with everything she knew about him. And by everything I mean almost enough to fill one page. “What brings you here?”
“I was in the area. Belisarius’ unit was mobilized again earlier this morning.”
Theodora raised an eyebrow. “Mobilized? Why wasn’t I told?”
“There was a sudden rash of attacks in Syria,” Wilhelm said, “Rebels seized an important fortress outside Antioch. Belisarius’ unit was deployed out of Smyrna to reinforce local security forces. It all happened too fast.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Thought it was something you’d like to know. And I don’t really want you to waste your time.”
“Anything else you’d like to tell me?”
Wilhelm shrugged. “I don’t have much else.”
“What about the Cult?” Theodora had been hunting down the remaining Cult cells for the last several years, but her trail had dried up lately. “Got anything I could use?”
“I’m just as lost as you are,” Wilhelm said, “Ignatieff’s hidden himself well.”
“Who is this Ignatieff anyways? We’ve been dealing with him for decades, and yet he hasn’t aged at all.”
Wilhelm opened his mouth to respond. At that moment, someone shouted, “Minister Doukas!” Wilhelm’s eyes widened.
“I’m sorry, I should get going,” he said, “I’ll tell you about it later.”
And with that, he was gone. A courier ran up to her and saluted. “Ma’am, I’ve got urgent news for you.” He handed three slips of paper to her.
What is it this time? The first was a letter bearing the imperial seal. It was an official summons to the emperor’s address to the Senate tomorrow. That was to be expected—she’d be in the capital by the end of the day. The next two, however, were telegrams she hadn’t expected.
“THEODORA ANNA DOUKAS,
REGRETFUL TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON
BELISARIUS JUSTINIAN DOUKAS
WAS KILLED IN ACTION FIGHTING
AGAINST ENEMIES OF THE EMPIRE
IN SYRIA-PALESTINE STOP
HE DIED DEFENDING HIS EMPEROR AND EMPIRE STOP
HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY MICHAEL VII, BASILEUS TON RHOMAION,
AND HIS FAMILY SEND THEIR CONDOLENCES FOR YOUR IMMENSE LOSS STOP”
Attached was the photo of burning wreckage that was once a transport plane. As soon as Theodora read the words, she caught her breath and gasped. Her eyes refused to process what she had seen. Her hands froze, and the telegram fell out of her hands. “No…no…it can’t be…”
The courier bowed his head. “If it’s any consolation, ma’am…”
“Can you please give me a moment?”
The courier nodded and left. Theodora nervously picked up the second telegram.
“MOTHER
REGRETFULLY INFORM YOU HAVE DONE ALL WE CAN STOP
I COULDN'T SAVE HIM STOP
I AM SO SORRY STOP
HERACLIUS STOP”
She tried to hold back her tears, but she couldn't. The telegram fell out of her hands and fluttered to the ground. She couldn’t believe what she had just read. It had to have been a lie. Or a mistake. Or something. They couldn’t have both died so soon after each other. It was improbable, impossible.
“NO!” Theodora pounded the table, spilling the coffee onto her newspaper. “GODDAMNIT! WHY, GOD?! WHY?!” She slumped into her chair and sobbed some more. Why did you have to leave me, Alexios? Why did you go so soon, Belisarius? Don’t leave me like this! Like how Father left me!
Nobody came to her side. Heraclius wasn’t there. Belisarius wasn’t. Alexios wasn’t. Father wasn’t. His Majesty wasn’t. God wasn’t. In that moment, she was completely alone.
Constantinople
It was a normal day in the Queen of Cities. A light fog had rolled in from the Bosphorus. Cars rolled along the busy Mese Street, the main thoroughfare of the capital. Pedestrians—most wearing nice business suits and dresses—milled along the sidewalks and headed across Augustaeon Square, passing the statues of emperors and heroes. The sounds of wheels rolling against cobblestone and engines humming filled the air; occasionally, there would be the sound of horse hooves clacking against the pavement. Irene Doukas looked wistfully out the window, taking in the sights and sounds of the big city. The capital was bustling, and all looked at peace. For a second, it looked as if the Sack had never happened to begin with. But the more Irene looked, the more she saw the telltale signs from those dark days. Bullet holes in walls, some not even plastered over. A patch of lighter-colored concrete on the street where a bomb crater had been filled in. Scorch marks and faded crossed-out rebel symbols in some alleys. Occasional marches of blackshirted goosestepping men bellowing slogans like “Death to rebel scum!” and “One God, one Church, one Empire!” She tried her best not to recall memories of her childhood. Despite that, brief recollections still bubbled to the surface. The smell of ash and blood on the ground. Fires crackling nearby. Pillars of smoke rising high into the sky. The copper taste of fear in her mouth. A woman’s hand reaching down from above.
Irene shook the thoughts out of her head. Calm down, Irene. We’re no longer there. You’re safe. And you’ll make sure it never happens again.
Someone knocked on the door. “Who is it?”
“Imperial Mail Service. I’ve got a priority telegram for you from Smyrna.”
An envelope fell through the mail flap. Irene picked it up off the floor, noticing the seal of the Doukai family. Not the imperial seal, but the one for her own family. She quickly opened it.
“I CANNOT ATTEND THE SESSION STOP
THINGS HAPPENED TODAY I MUST HANDLE STOP
YOU WILL HAVE TO SIT IN FOR ME STOP
I HAVE ALREADY INFORMED THE SENATE STOP
DO NOT WORRY STOP
I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT STOP
FROM MOTHER”
Mother…still not used to calling Auntie Theodora that. Irene’s birth mother had died in the Sack. And her father was always going to be Niketas, not Uncle Alexios, even though the former had been missing for most of her life since that day. So Theodora was unable to make tomorrow’s address. Something had happened to her? A part of her wanted to drop everything and head down to Smyrna to see if she could help, but the rest of her told her not to go. Auntie Theodora could handle it. And she was needed here tomorrow. Who would sit in for her if she wasn’t in the Senate during the address?
I’ve got a job to do here, and I have to do it. She looked at her desk, where she had put a notebook and important documents. Irene admitted she was a little nervous about tomorrow. She had always observed previous sessions, not actively participated in them. Was she up for the task? She had worked towards this moment for years, but now that it was here, she was afraid she might not live up to her aunt’s expectations. Relax, Irene. Auntie Theodora believes in you. She said as much. She wouldn’t be sending you to the Senate if she didn’t think you could do it. And besides, it’ll be just like the last session. Nothing’s going to be any different, other than you’ll be in Auntie Theodora’s seat. How hard could it be?
December 31
Irene stormed out of the chamber, fists clenched and teeth gritted.
“Goddamn frakking idiots,” she whispered under her breath, “How hard could it be, Irene? Nothing’s going to be different, Irene. It’ll just be like the last frakking session, Irene. All a load of skata. Worst. First. Session. Ever.”
It had started off well enough. The senators had taken their seats after the playing of the national anthem. Then Prince Konstantinos showed up to give the address in place of his father. Irene had seen his photo in the papers before, but she had never met him in person. He was tall and imposing but a little frail and lanky—his uniform looked slightly too big. His face was suave and charming, but Irene found nothing attractive there, and that only worsened when he started speaking. For about an hour, he rambled on about lost imperial glory and military campaigns around the world. He played up all of the victories the Empire had made. As for defeats, he always spun them in such a way that he could claim they were secretly victories and that was the plan all along, while shifting any remaining blame onto the commanders in the field or the enemy. She swore she heard him even criticizing the Emperor himself. Although she and her aunt both believed criticism of authority was necessary for the improvement and betterment of society, and Theodora had fought to reform the censorship and lese majeste laws, it was still shocking to hear the Prince of Thrace criticize his own father in such harsh terms. The criticism itself was on His Majesty for not pursuing more punitive terms. As if that would have decisively ended the rebel insurgencies. The jingoism and militarism reminded Irene of the blackshirts constantly marching on the streets, and she didn’t like it.
Was that what Auntie Theodora had told her to expect? Irene felt annoyed and a little cheated. Theodora had gotten all of the mundane addresses and sessions, where the Emperor had just spoken about things going on around the world and then left the senators to come up with their own conclusions and suggestions. Had Theodora ever dealt with Konstantinos before? What did it mean that Konstantinos spoke today? Was his speech a sign of things to come? If he could speak like that of his own father and sovereign, what would he do to the senators? The rebels? No, even the people? Irene had kept quiet, waiting for the other senators to respond so she could see what they thought and, more importantly, how Konstantinos would react.
A certain senator spoke first, having rushed to stand up and grab a microphone before anyone else could. Irene didn’t know much about this man, but by the end of the session, she wished things could have stayed that way. The senator, apparently one of the more radical one wanted the Empire to betray its Indian ally, conquer the country, and turn it into a corporate fief solely to extract profit for the homeland. Seconds after he sat down and yielded the floor, the entire chamber exploded in rage, as almost everyone, from fascists to communists to centrists to the KRA, condemned such an act of betrayal and outright cruelty. Some of the more incensed senators looked like they were about to fight, even, before Varangians were sent in to restrain them. Irene had remained calm, waiting for the whole thing to blow over. Most senators had come to India’s defense. Others instead called for the same thing to be done to the rebels. A few took things all the way to calling for a Russian genocide. Favero had called for everyone to focus on defeating the breakaway rebels in the west, like Italy, to project strength. Konstantinos had looked like he was completely embarrassed. The original senator had the most smug expression on his face, as if he wanted this to happen. The stenographer had stopped writing things down. Irene had talked a bit with Franco Lazaretos, the proxy for the absent Senator Thaddas, a colleague and ally of her aunt, who was as equally confused and nervous about the prince as she was. Then the prince had spoken again, screaming loudly for everyone to shut up, which they did. A chill had run down Irene’s spine as he ranted about how incompetent and stupid the senators were, briefly floated the idea of firing everybody, and then dismissed everyone for the day.
And that was where Irene found herself, walking down a hallway, cursing her rotten luck. A clock on the wall read the time as not long after they had begun. Staffers milled around, looking confused as to why the senators were walking out and Konstantinos was storming off in the opposite direction. Varangians were talking to the few reporters waiting in the public areas, trying to control the narrative. “The session went well. That is all you need to know.” Perhaps it was for the best that the people didn’t know the chaos that had just unfolded, at least right now. Maybe in the future they could be told, once things had calmed down. She hated that she was agreeing with censorship.
In any case, the day’s session had ended early, and there probably wouldn’t be a second one anytime soon if Konstantinos was anything to go by. Which meant she had the whole rest of the day to herself. She hadn’t made any plans. Irene slumped into a nearby chair and shook her head. She had no idea what to do now. Perhaps she could go home and just take a rest. Read the morning paper, then maybe get lunch. There was that newly opened restaurant in Xerolophos District. What was it called? Arcadia? She heard good things about the food there. Maybe she should try it out.
((For convenience, I've recapped the events of Konstantinos' address here, as well as remade Theodora's last POV from part 3.))