"The most formidable fortress always begins crumbling down from within its walls."
- Anonymous
Constantine climbed up from bed the next morning at around six with a pair of panda eyes suffering from insomnia.
It is a natural instinct for a monarch, especially the emperor of the Romans whose court never lacks the element of intrigue and coups lurking in every bit of air people breathe, to always be fully aware of any minor political movements inside the city, he definitely does not want any popular uprising to erupt in the city and the next day he finds a cutlass mounted on his neck forcing him to abdicate, after everything is done throwing him into a random monastery in Peloponnese as a priest spending the rest of his life in loneliness and poverty.
The mess on the table and floor caused by the emperor's rampaging hands are still there. The maidens and servants are too scared to come inside to clear it fearing the emperor might still be ranting his fury.
Constantine tidied himself, donned his cloth and walked out of the room like nothing has happened, nodding and smiling to the guards and maidens with that same gentleman behaviour like before. Constantine, who has mastered the skills of diplomacy and sovereignty, always believes that if he treats the smaller figures around in his palace serving him with kindness, patience and a gentleman's behaviour, the less they might join schemes against him and sometimes even repaying him with some surprise outcomes.
"Your majesty." A servant came reporting kneeling down and kissing the emperor's boots. "The Ottoman legate is already waiting for you."
The emperor nodded, smiled at the servant thanking him and ordered him. "Bring in the Keeper of the imperial wardrobe to me after the legate of the Ottomans have left."
"Yes, your majesty."
The emperor took his time to have his breakfast first leaving the Ottoman legate waiting for him in the ballroom. The breakfast served to the emperor is a simple dish of a sweet pie called Sfakianopita and mizithra cheese. Different from some of his predecessors and the nobles in his government, Constantine is known for his trait of being temperate always keeping his menu simple just like any daily life meals of the citizens in his city. He does not believe that adopting a luxurious habit of having lavish meals with exquisite wines will make him more prestigious or powerful, instead he believes those habits can give him diseases as a form of punishment by God.
After finishing the quick breakfast, Constantine restfully walked to the quiet room of the palace, where it has became his usual place to do his Synekdemos, or daily prayers to God. As a firm zealous Orthodox Christian, he tries to make it a fixed schedule for him despite all those work and issues stacking onto his shoulders making him out of breathe. Sometimes he even feels that this quiet room is the only place in the entire palace, no, the entire city, that he feels his heart is being purified by the grace of Christ.
Constantine stayed there for another half an hour, by this time the sun has fully rose above the horizons marking a new day for the populace in the city. Constantine cosily slumped himself into a couch in the dressing room, where a servant came reading out all the new affairs and intel that the eyes of the emperor received inside and outside of the city, while two other maidens bowed and came forward tidying the emperor's moustache, helping him wear his cloth and robes.
Just as everything is about to get finished, George Sphrantzes opened the door and walked inside the room.
"George!" The emperor grinned at his friend asking the servant to give him a seat.
"It is fine, I will remain standing." George said reluctantly. "I am sorry to disturb your precious peace time in the morning, but it is extremely rude to keep a legate from a foreign power waiting for two hours outside the gates standing with neither food nor drinks, especially when it's the legate of the Ottomans…"
"Not especially the legate of the Ottomans, my George." The emperor corrected his friend waving his index finger. "Even the Ottomans."
"Yes, your majesty, even the Ottomans." George Sphrantzes feels like both laughing at the emperor's words and crying in urgency.
"Before the legate, I have something else to ask you." The emperor clapped with his hands, the servant and the two maidens immediately bowed and went out of the room walking backwards following the emperor's signal, shutting the door behind them, leaving only the emperor and George Sphrantzes inside the room.
"George…" The emperor's hands fidgets as he looks at the door. "I need your advice on something…"
"Lord De'Ricci?" George Sphrantzes understands the emperor.
"Yes… You know what has happened last night also?"
"Of course." George Sphrantzes taunted at himself. "These fellows paraded right in front of my house for at least an hour leaving my front yard and streets in mess, some unknown clown even smashed the porcelain that came from Seres used by Therma for flower handicraft Floristry."
"I will send you some more of them from the palace, don't worry."
"Thank you, your majesty."
"I thought over night about your advice the other day, should we…" Antonius mimicked a knife with his hands chopping down. "Or… Do we spare him?"
"Your majesty, if you are asking me yesterday, I would suggest you to kill this Lord De'Ricci."
"I no longer care about the yesterday, what about today?" Constantine asked impatiently.
"We have no choice but to spare him, because judging by his popularity and support inside the city amongst the citizens and the army, if we kill him, it would just be another excuse for those people to start another coup, and do not remember, your majesty, Lord Giustiniani still holds the command of the army now…"
Constantine is feeling that headache at the side of his head again. "What do you propose me to do then? Continue to leave him in the city like this?"
"No, but we can get him out of the city."
"How?"
"Remember that Isles of Prince you've promised to… don't know how many people?"