Legends Never Die: Grand Game (ch. 52) (Patreon)

I had been seeing Constantinople in my dreams, and it made the journey to the city downright antagonizing. We set sail from Athens, our ships nearly sinking from the plunder taken. Across the three attacks, we had gained thousands of gallons of wine and oil. We collected silks, tapestries, pottery, and more. The prisoners were sent with us, and not a single one had stopped begging for mercy for their defeat.

We had been unable to land within the docks but were allowed through the gates. A man I did not know stood there wearing silk, gold, and precious gems. For the briefest of moments, I thought the Emperor stood before us. I only managed to avoid making a fool of myself when I noticed that he didn't wear a crown, nor were there guards beyond a handful to keep the peace. We were a mercenary band, after all. "Greetings, friends of the Empire. Constantinople receives you as does Emperor Constantine the Sixth.”

Wait, what? “... Has something befallen Emperor Leo?” I asked, needing to know but uncertain what could come off as rude. Thankfully, the man had expected the question.

“God has called Emperor Leo to heaven but one day past. Rejoice in knowing that the news of your securing Greece in his name was some of the last news he heard, and he praised your name,” the man said, and that was a little heartening to hear, but at the same time, I was uncertain if his son would feel such gratitude. I also noticed that he didn’t mention what Emperor Leo had died of.

“I am certain that Jesus has accepted his immortal soul into Heaven. And my condolences to Emperor Constantine for the loss of his father,” I said, doing my best to sound official, but I could tell that it didn’t fit me. The man seemed faintly surprised by the words, and that told me that he had heard that I was a pagan, as his people called me. “Might I know your name, who greets me at the greatest city in the world?” I requested and that earned me a pleased, if smug, smile.

He inclined his head to me, “Forgive me for the delay in the introduction. I am Primicerius Atticus, Lord Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed,” he introduced himself, his gaze lingering on the scar on my neck. “In the name of Emperor Constantine, I ask that you turn your prisoners over to the guard captain. They shall be housed in the Noumera prison until Emperor Constantine decides to hear their pleas.” He made the request and I nodded.

“They are yours,” I agreed, making a gesture, having expected that much, and the nobles were marched forward. Many of them had to be picked up and dragged. I wasn’t entirely sure what a prison was, but it seemed like a dreadful place considering how many of them seemed so frightened. Though, that could be due to their sentencing. “They are from Athens, Sparta, and Patras -- the cities themselves were relatively unharmed when we took them,” I added, thinking it was worth mentioning, but Atticus seemed to care little.

“It shall relieve the Emperor to hear,” Atticus replied, sounding glad to hear it, but his tone didn’t seem any more glad than he had sounded before hearing the news. “Please, follow me. Our men shall allow you into the harbor. Quarters have been prepared for you and your men in the mercenary district of the city free of charge. As for yourself, it would be my greatest honor to escort you through the city as Emperor Constantine shall be taking oaths of fealty for some time.”

My eagerness must have showed because Atticus smiled lightly when I turned to Thorkell, my Expanded Vision seeing the action. Thorkell just chuckled and waved me off. “I’ll take care of things here while you go get a lay of the land. If there are any problems… well, I suppose you’ll hear about it.” He said, and with that, it was decided. Michalis would remain with my troops, serving as a translator seeing as I was the only one amongst them that spoke Greek. While they would put the ships to the harbor, Astrid, Jill, Hoffer, and Alfric joined me on my venture into the city.

And, as soon as we entered Constantinople in earnest, I wished to weep at the beauty of it. The roads were made of flat and even stone, with a constant flow of people traveling up and down them. They parted for us, thanks to the guards that singled us out, and I saw a number of questioning looks sent our way, but they mostly seemed uninterested in us. The buildings were made of stone with orangish clay roofing, each two floors high and pressed together as part of a single whole.

It felt like I had stepped into an entirely different world. The lands and cities of Francia had been stunning, but they were nothing like this. I saw familiar touches, but they completely paled in comparison to what I witnessed now. And, in turn, it made the clumsy construction of my own people feel like fumbling children. I was so mesmerized by what I was seeing that I nearly missed Atticus speaking. “There will be a number of celebrations to mark the end of Emperor Leo’s life and to welcome Emperor Constantine. You are welcome to partake, of course.”

Was this the opportunity that the gods presented to me? Had they known that Emperor Leo would die? Oil and wine. I was less sure about the oil, even if you did apparently eat with it, but wine would be necessary in a celebration. On the streets I could see it being consumed, people offering toasts to the late Emperor and welcoming the new one. I couldn’t tell if they were genuinely happy or if they were simply glad for a reason to get drunk.

If the celebrations held out like this, then it would be no time at all before the city drank itself dry. Making the wine and oil more valuable. Interesting. The gods were being kind with this opportunity, and I was glad that I had managed to take Greece so quickly to take advantage of it.

“This place… are we still in Midgard?” Hoffer questioned in Norse, gaping at what I could only call a tall spire. It was made of solid stone with an inscription written on it -- I lamented that I couldn’t read it as it was in Greek. I only spoke the language, as Michalis had no text for me to learn from. I resolved myself to learn as quickly as possible.

“I don’t think so. Their winters are warm, and this place…” Astrid replied and I echoed what she felt. It was almost overwhelming and, soon enough, I realized that we had seen absolutely nothing yet.

The forum of Arcadius -- pillars that turned into arches, each engraved with detailed portraits equal to anything that I had seen in Francia. Surpassing it, honestly. Statues of bronze were burnished, standing proudly at the base of each arch. Astrid shied away from them, frightened by the possibility that they were once people. Atticus, to his credit, was quick to explain their nature, seeming unsurprised by the reaction.

The buildings only grew more grand, each one leaving me feeling smaller and smaller. I almost laughed when we came across a second set of walls within the city itself. All the while, Atticus regaled us with the history and the names of the buildings and the statues and the monuments. It was almost too much to understand. To my shame, most of what he was saying slid off of my back like water off a duck, so foreign that I had nothing to compare it to.

“This is the Imperial University of Constantinople -- ah, forgive me. A university is a great place of learning, where those of noble blood are permitted to learn from masters of knowledge -- poetry, arithmetic, astrology, music, law, philosophy…” He trailed off when my gaze snapped to him from the bronze statue of a man holding a scroll in his hands and uttering whatever it might say.

“A place of learning?” I asked, and he seemed caught flat-footed by my sudden interest. I had no idea what arithmetic, astrology, or philosophy even were. And I wasn't sure how you could study poetry or music. The only one on the list that made sense was law, as law speakers needed to understand the laws before giving a verdict. Still, my interest was great. “Would I be permitted to learn here? To attend this university?” I asked, and I couldn’t keep the hunger out of my voice.

I had to learn. This was why I came to this city, and it was greater than anything I could have ever hoped to imagine. I needed to learn how this city was built. Why it was so great. If I could learn a fraction of what these Romans had to teach, then I could very well call myself the greatest king my people would ever know.

Atticus delayed in answering me for a half second, “Anything is possible, Lord Seigfried.” He hedged an answer, and it did not satisfy me. I did not care how much it would cost. I needed to learn from this place and these masters. My gaze lingered on the grand building of tall arches liberally decorated with art and engravings. It pained me to leave, knowing the answers I sought were likely beyond those doors. However, any complaints that I had were gone when we arrived at our next destination.

The Hippodrome. A long building that could fit a small forest within its walls that dwarfed even the wall that defended the city. “This is where we hold our games -- chariot races are still popular, but there are on occasion other games held within,” Atticus explained, allowing us to walk the length. Rows upon rows of stone seats in a long U shape. At the center of the Hippodrome were monuments in a long row, making a sand track. Colorful banners hung from the walls, and those seats were filled with people.

An army. An army of men, women, and children, all cheering as men stood on wood platforms being pulled by horses. The sound of their cheering matched any warcry I had ever heard.

I truly thought, in that moment, that there could be no building greater. When I saw the Hagia Sophia, I wanted to weep all the more. Tears genuinely burned at my eyes as I beheld the building of a domed rooftop, so grand that two of the Greek buildings could stand on top of each other and still not reach the ceiling. And when I stepped inside… The word beautiful…it existed to describe such things, of that I was certain. For no other word could hope to describe the Hagia Sophia.

And, in truth, I was unsure that even it sufficed.

…

Our quarters weren’t particularly lavish in comparison to some of the things we had seen within the city, but in comparison to what we were used to… The quarters felt fit for a king. The bed was too soft for my liking, but based on how Astrid was trying to be swallowed up by the feather bed, it was certainly to hers. Atticus offered a bow to us, “I shall take my leave, Lord Siegfried. If you need anything, you need only send a messenger. When the Emperor calls upon you, I shall retrieve you and bring you to the imperial palace.”

“My thanks,” I replied, feeling almost numb before the man bowed and walked away. I looked around the stone room -- a hand passing over an engraved desk of dark wood. It was as if the Romans would not rest until everything that they touched became beautiful. The silver candlesticks, the feather bed, and the statement that they could comfortably house two thousand unexpected guests without missing a beat was a powerful one. I couldn’t leave more than two hundred men in Norway out of fear of placing too much strain on the food reserves.

"Thank the gods your mother told me to ask you to let me come after sex," Astrid said, making me blink in surprise. So she had tricked me? "This place is incredible. All of it."

It was. "There will be time for bed later. I want to check on the others," I said, stepping out of the room. There was a set of stairs that took us to the ground. Jill and Morrigan had taken the room that was beneath us, and I saw Jill speaking to Michalis, both of their expressions guarded. Thorkell stood behind Jill and cast me a meaningful look when he saw our approach.

"Something that I should know about?" I interjected, looking between them.

"Michalis has a proposition. As you have not received permission from the Emperor, he desires for you to give him your cargo lawfully so he can sell it, and the profits shall be returned to you. With a modest convenience fee, of course," Jill said, her tone… it reminded me of my Mother, oddly enough. The tone that she used when she thought we were acting like fools and no amount of pleading could turn her no into a yes.

"May God welcome Emperor Leo into his arms, but it is a great opportunity," Michalis elaborated, making no arguments as he spoke in Greek. A language he knew Jill didn't speak. "There is no telling how long it shall take for you to receive your permission. I am of Greek descent and I am Catholic -- I also have my trading rights and connections." I blinked and True Vision layered over my sight but I saw that Michalis was still gray.

Even if he wasn't trying to cheat me, my answer was obvious. "No." It wasn't about money. It was useful, sure, but I could always raid to find more money. I needed to sell the goods myself to gain any experience from their sale.

Michalis' lips thinned, telling me that he was displeased by the refusal but he wasn't surprised by it. "Would you consider my request again in a few days? When you see how long it takes for the bureaucracy to move?" He asked, and he sounded certain that my answer would change then. And if I cared about money, it might. I still had a week and a half for the trade opportunity to be considered over, and if the gods foresaw Emperor Leo's death, then I would believe them on the timeframe.

"Perhaps," I allowed, wary of giving him a definitive no. We did still need his connections, after all.

Michalis bowed his head and walked off, heading to the docks that we were a stone's throw away from. So great was this city that it had several docks, some exclusively used for fishing and others exclusively for trade. Jill watched him go with a steely eyed gaze that I wasn't used to seeing on her. "That one will be trouble."

"You don't trust him?" I asked her, and Jill shook her head after a moment of thought.

"I think his loyalty only extends to himself," Jill said before the hard look in her eyes faded. "Now," she began, looping her arm around mine, "I wish to see the markets. Would you come with us, Astrid?" She asked, earning a lopsided grin from Astrid.

"Course! I want to see as much of the city as we can before we end up in the palace," Astrid agreed.

Little did she know, as it would turn out, we would have plenty of time to explore the city before we received a summons from the palace. A full week passed in the blink of an eye, but at the same time, there was silence. Slowly, we watched the price of wine, oil, and other trade goods rise, but we could not sell. I was almost tempted to give into Michalis and his requests that became almost daily after the first two days of waiting. The men settled in, enjoying the festivities. I ended up beginning to teach Jill and Astrid Greek, yet Morrigan still stubbornly avoided me.

We were left lingering on the edges of notice. I almost started to think that we had been forgotten before Atticus appeared on our doorstep with a written summons. I, along with three companions, were invited to attend court to petition Emperor Constantine. I dressed myself in my finest clothing -- the same clothing that I wore for my wedding, even if they were a little tighter than I recalled. Astrid would join me, as she was my wife. Jill decided to stay behind of her own choice, leaving Thorkell, and Olek to accompany me.

The imperial palace was squished between the Hagia Sophia and the Hippodrome -- one would think that being placed between such buildings that any other would seem inadequate in comparison. One would be wrong, because the imperial palace was their equal in every way. It was seated on a sloped hill, seemingly hiding in the shadow of the Hippodrome, until you approached it. The walls were made of marble, the arches were engraved and inlaid with gold and silver. The grounds around it were cultivated with flowers of every color. I swallowed a lump in my throat when we passed through the large double doors.

The decorations on the walls were so lavish and rich that I would be looking at the treasury of a lesser kingdom. Atticus led us through the halls that held a general clamor, other richly dressed men and women paying us little notice. The tapestries on the walls were vivid with detail -- it must have taken years to weave them. Urns and potteries stood on pedestals, along with other artifacts. The most incredible thing of all, however, was the carpet. A finely woven carpet that was placed on the floor to be walked on. The wealth was maddening.

"Please this way- oh," Atticus said, making a gesture with a hand, only to catch the edge of a pot that was marked with jewels and dyes. My heart went into my throat when it tipped over and smashed to the floor. I went deadly still, half prepared to flee to avoid blame for the destruction of such a treasure. "Ah. How regrettable. No matter though -- you, clean this mess up and find another urn to replace it," Atticus instructed and I looked on, bewildered by what I was seeing.

That urn could have purchased an army, I thought. If someone had given me that urn in Norway or Denmark, then I would have taken it as payment for my army. And it was worthless to them. It was trash. It was just another pot. Why-

They did it on purpose, I realized when I caught the servant smiling out of the corner of my expanded vision. Atticus purposely knocked over the pot. Why? What could possess him to do such a thing? What-... The answer was rather obvious when I stopped to think about it.

They were doing it for my exact reaction. They wanted to overwhelm me with the grandeur. And even knowing what they were doing, I couldn't say it wasn't working. It was just insane to me. Pure madness. Even if they could replace it, they still intentionally broke a priceless vase for the sake of making an impression. What were these Romans?!

“You shall be the final petitioner of the evening,” Atticus informed me. “This is an honor. The final petitioner is always the one best remembered,” he made sure I knew before he pushed open a set of doors. And there…

The throneroom. It was a long hall that I entered at the side of -- I’m guessing the large doors were for more important guests to enter through as they were directly across from the throne. Dark purple banners hung from the ceiling, hooking down to the walls where we stood, before falling down the wall. Mosaics were painted on the walls, but I couldn’t decipher their meaning. The air carried the scent of perfumes, and then, seated upon the throne…

Was a little boy. I would put him at nine at the oldest. He seemed younger, I thought, wearing on his head a crown so heavy with gold and jewels that his neck could barely hold it up. His dark eyes were glazed over with boredom, a gold scepter laying in his lap while the throne he sat one was almost grotesque with the number of sapphires, rubies, emeralds, amethyst, and other gems that I couldn’t even recognize beyond their value since they were seen fit to be part of the throne. His clothing was made of silk so lavishly embroidered that it made my clothes feel like rags in comparison.

Behind him, standing, was a woman. She was awake and alert, her eyes sharp -- she seemed to be in her mid-twenties if I had to guess. It was a little difficult to tell. She wore a crown made of gold with a white headdress that covered her hair, which seemed to be black. Her clothing was every bit as rich as Emperor Constantine's was, and I was willing to bet that she was his mother. Empress Irene.

Her gaze flickered to me, her expression blank as a hand lightly rested upon the throne that half hid her as she stood behind it. “Now that my son has taken your oaths of fealty, it bares a reminder for the most terrible price of treason,” Irene began, her voice carrying easily. “Prisoners taken from Greece who dared to rebel against the crown -- one who was so brazen to attempt to claim the imperial crown itself!” She announced, and the throneroom became filled with whispers…

Yet, I don’t think a single person was surprised.

Empress Irene raised a hand and a familiar face was brought out. Gorgo. He looked worse for wear and haggard. More than that -- he had been tortured. His fingernails were missing, and I saw parts of his flesh had blistered from heat. He collapsed before the throne, a grunt escaping him when he hit the floor. “C-Cousin,” he managed to rasp out, looking up at Constantine. The young boy looked on dully, barely paying attention. “Cousin, please-”

“The guilty shall not speak,” Empress Irene interjected, his tone sharp. “You have been found guilty of the most vile of treasons -- conspiring to claim the throne that belongs to my son. To this charge, you have pleaded guilty, and it is only due to the noble blood that flows through your veins that you shall be spared.” Gorgo sagged with relief at that and I saw the barest hints of a smile tug at the edges of Irene’s lips. “You are sentenced to disfigurement -- you shall be unmanned and blinded.”

Gorgo shot up in alarm, “No! No, no no, no- You can’t- You CAN’T-” he was silenced with a strong punch to the jaw before he was dragged out of the throneroom, through the doors. I watched as he passed by me, a pit forming in my stomach when I realized what happened.

Empress Irene just reminded everyone the price of treason… but could it really be called treason if the lands didn’t belong to you? When they paid you no tithe or homage? She called it treason because it suited her interest -- it would deter any other from thinking idle thoughts of trying to claim the crown when it was being worn by a boy. I certainly wouldn't if it meant being blinded. Or worse, having my… What a terrible and cruel punishment. It would have been kinder to kill him.

“Now,” Empress Irene continued, “let us greet the one that has brought this most terrible traitor to us. He, who has reclaimed the lands of Greece in the name of the Roman Empire. Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed, your Emperor bids you to step forward.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, seeing all the eyes turn to me.

This…

Perhaps it was a mistake to come here after all.