Bab 5: The Overturning of History, the Beginning of the Rising Phoenix
[Hagia Sophia, Constantinople, Byzantine Empire]
As the sun rose over the majestic city of Constantinople, a new day began, heralding the start of John VIII Palaiologos' journey as the Caesar and Co-Emperor of the Byzantine Empire.
The coronation, which had taken place the day prior the celebration of Christmas' Day, had sent shockwaves throughout the empire.
Whispers and murmurs echoed through the streets as the masses questioned the reason behind such an unprecedented decision.
"Why has Emperor Manuel II chosen to bestow authority upon the young despot so early?" they wondered, perplexed by the unexpected turn of events.
It was true that it wasn't entirely unheard of for an emperor to coronate their successor before death, but Manuel II was still in the prime of his life, showing no signs of illness or frailty.
Even after all the troubles he went for the last decade - the Siege of Constantinople and the aftermath, his authority remained unquestioned.
The bells of the grand Hagia Sophia chimed, marking the historic occasion that had taken place within its hallowed walls.
John's future changed the moment he accepted the coronation. He couldn't afford to falter now.
He had sensed this moment was coming, the melancholy in his father's eyes betraying more than words could.
After being together with the Emperor for so long, he somewhat understood his nature. Manuel II is a firm man whose belief and resilient equals none.
His willingness to risk it all to protect the dignity of the Roman Empire and its honorable citizens from being defiled was somewhat respectable albeit foolish. A gentleman, a gentleman indeed.
Morning light streamed through stained glass, painting the marble floor in colors. The air was thick with incense, the choir's chants echoing softly beneath the flickering candles.
The crowning ceremony had been a grand affair, presided over by the Patriarch of Constantinople, Iosef I, within the resplendent architecture of Hagia Sophia.
The cathedral was filled with congregants and delegates who had come from far and wide to witness this momentous occasion.
The hallowed space seemed to reverberate with history, as if the ghosts of past emperors looked on in approval.
As the crowd gathers, the atmosphere is a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
The citizens of Constantinople, draped in their finest garments, come to witness the dawn of a new era.
The tension is palpable as the citizens of the Empire holds their breath, as they witness this historic moment.
In the center of the cathedral stands a magnificent golden dais, adorned with symbols of the Roman Empire's storied past.
This elevated platform serves as the focal point of the scene, drawing all eyes towards it. The imperial regalia, resplendent and gleaming, await their rightful heir.
The tone carries a sense of timelessness, as if the spirits of past emperors were present, looking on with approval and expectations for their will-be-successor.
The weight of this moment bears down over all the participants, as they understood the significance that the event would bring for the everlasting legacy of the Empire.
Amidst this opulence and magnificence, there was a sense of melancholy that cut through the grandeur; the abyss that torn their ethereal grand cathedral, and the ghost of the past that lingers and never move on, grudges that smitten deep into the core of the past.
John VIII ascended the dais, his youthful face tense but resolute. He glanced at his father, searching for approval.
Emperor Manuel II, his back as straight as the pillars that adorned the place, shines with a demeanor of regal authority that befits the old emperors before him.
As the two future and present emperor gaze collide, a powerful connection felt between them—a silent understanding that transcended words.
In that shared moment, unspoken emotions swirled— one of love for a son who had grown into a capable and wise young man, and pride for the legacy that would now be passed through him.
After what seems to be long and eternal moment of deep contemplation and flashes of hopeful uncertainties, the momentous ceremony had finally reached its climax.
The golden-laid grass crown that once adorned Julius Caesar's dome was gently lowered onto John's signifying the emergence of a new caesar.
With the corona graminea now rested upon his head, the regalia he had adorned is now completed at last.
John VIII stood from his knee and look as huge as the oak tree.
Contrary to his visible young age, there was unmistakable air of maturity and royalty about him that left the onlookers awestruck.
Gone was the countenance of a boy; in its place was the visage of a ruler—a man born to lead.
As the choir's song soar higher as if reaching the heavens itself, the hall turns ethereal, evoking a celestial presence, as if the Divine Himself approved this coronation.
The majesty of the occasion was not lost on those present, sense of divine blessing is in the air, and it seems that even the cathedral's walls stilled itself.
"Even God favors His Majesty,"
the patriarch proclaimed; even he could not help but acknowledge the gravity of the Divine will.
There was a collective belief that John VIII's coronation was not merely a political event but a celestial affirmation of his destiny to rule.
The responsibilities that John's carries on his shoulders were now immense.
As the co-emperor, he was tasked with assisting his father in the governance of the empire and paved the way to succeed him when time arises.
The challenges that lay ahead maybe formidable, but the young caesar knew that it would not be a walk in the park.
Once a wasted youth, now a future emperor tasked with saving a crumbling empire.
He sincerely sought guidance from his father, who remained a steadfast source of inspiration throughout his ever growing life.
In time the two would worked tirelessly together to strengthen the empire's future; forge alliances, and safeguard the interests of the people.
In the midst of these demanding duties, John VIII remained acutely aware of the historical significance of his coronation.
The yoke of the past emperors' legacies grew heavier on him, but he embraced it with steely resolve.
Each day brought new lessons, and John absorbed them like a sponge, eager to learn and grow as a leader.
--------------------------------------
As the sun rose over the majestic city of Constantinople, John VIII Palaiologos felt a surge of purpose and determination course through his veins.
For eleven years, he had worked tirelessly behind the scenes, crafting meticulous plans to revitalize the crumbling empire. Now, the time had come to bring those plans to life.
He had kept his ambitious schemes hidden, even from Pavlos, his wise old tutor, who could never have imagined the depth of his young pupil's machinations. These secrets had been both a burden and a source of pride for John.
At just five years old, he had begun devising innovative solutions with the potential to reshape the Byzantine Empire's fate. Yet he knew that revealing such audacious ideas at such a young age would have been met with skepticism rather than trust. So, he waited for the right moment to unveil his grand vision.
With his coronation completed, John saw the perfect opportunity to demonstrate his capabilities. This historic occasion would set the stage for him to step into his role as the savior of the declining empire.
His first challenge today was to meet with his father, the emperor, and present his plans. Like a salaryman preparing for his first presentation to his boss, John's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. This was the beginning of his journey—a journey to restore the glory of the bygone Roman Empire.
As he approached the chamber where the emperor resided, John held his breath, steeling himself and praying to whatever divinity might be listening. Despite the strong bond between father and son, John had no idea whether the emperor would take his ideas seriously or dismiss them as naïve and inexperienced.
Nevertheless, he understood the weight of the expectations that came with his new title, and it was time to face them with courage.
When John entered the room, he found Emperor Manuel II deeply engrossed in maps and scrolls detailing the empire's current state. The sight stirred a mix of emotions within John, and the agitation he had felt earlier began to dissipate, replaced by a strange new feeling he couldn't quite identify.
"Father," John began cautiously, a hint of eagerness in his voice, "I come seeking your guidance. I wish to serve the empire and its people to the best of my abilities."
Manuel II, previously absorbed in his work, now noticed his son standing before him. He gestured for John to take a seat, a warm smile playing on his lips.
"You've come."
Manuel II saw a familiar yet distinct fire in John's brown eyes. It reminded him of his own resolve when he had first become co-emperor, yet it carried its own unique intensity.
"Look at you; you have already proven yourself to be a capable and wise co-emperor, my son," Manuel replied with genuine admiration. "This is your first day—let us share our thoughts. It may not be easy at first, but it will be a valuable experience for you."
Bolstered by his father's encouragement, John felt a rush of confidence. With renewed determination, he broached the subject that had been on his mind.
"Father, I believe it is time for me to have a trustworthy advisor at my side. I need someone who genuinely serves the empire's best interests and will assist me in making the right decisions."
Manuel listened and nodded in understanding.
"You're right; a wise advisor is essential." Manuel's eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Pavlos, your old tutor, has been pestering me for the job."
John hesitated, memories of his student days flooding back.
Pavlos? He hadn't expected that.
Pavlos had always been a patient and dedicated teacher, and John felt guilty for the countless times he had tested the old man's patience with his youthful antics.
"I don't want to burden him, Father," John replied with a tinge of embarrassment, his brow furrowing with concern. "I've given him enough trouble during my time as his student. I would rather allow him to enjoy his days in peace."
Laughter filled the room, booming and infectious, catching John by surprise.
"Oh, my dear John, it's not that I don't appreciate your sincerity," Manuel said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "But the old bugger has been pestering me non-stop to become your advisor... It's been exhausting, really."
John's eyes widened in surprise.
"He offered himself?"
Manuel nodded, a glimmer of amusement still in his eyes.
"Indeed. He sees great potential in you and sincerely wishes to help you in your endeavors—whatever they may be."
Sighing at the knowledge of Pavlos's enthusiasm, John relented.
"Very well then," he finally agreed. "If he is that willing to suffer under me again, I shall gladly welcome him as my advisor."
"That's the spirit, my son," Manuel said, patting John's shoulder affectionately. "You will find that Pavlos's counsel will be invaluable. He knows the empire inside and out, and his experience will serve you well."
With that, one matter was settled.
Next, they turned to the more complex issues John had been meticulously preparing for in the days leading up to his coronation. He presented a detailed blueprint for the empire's restoration, handing it to the emperor to gauge his reaction.
John's heart raced as he awaited the emperor's judgment. The blueprint outlined what John believed to be the most effective solutions for the empire's current challenges.
The reforms were focused on three key areas: administration, the economy, and the military. One of the most crucial areas was administration.
The years spent studying the intricacies of ruling an empire under Pavlos's guidance had borne fruit. John was able to draw on that knowledge, along with insights from his previous life, to draft a system aimed at rectifying the inefficiencies plaguing the empire.
The Byzantine Empire had evolved its courts many times, adapting to the needs of different eras. Yet weaknesses and inefficiencies persisted, one of the most glaring being the lack of checks and balances between offices.
The current system was poorly defined, plagued by neglect and a lack of innovation, leaving the empire without proper administration beyond its capital. Now, the court was filled with ambitious aristocrats, gullible and corrupt bureaucrats, and a despairing emperor.
Previously, the empire had a functional thematic system, but that was abandoned as the empire declined further, replaced by the Despotates.
Following the empire's rapid decline, which saw massive lands lost to the Latin Crusaders and the Ottomans, the Byzantine Empire essentially ceased to function as a "proper" empire.
The Despotates, ruled by local despots, were semi-independent regions like Morea and Thessaloniki, governed by John's brothers, Theodore II and Andronikos, respectively. Despite being under the empire's nominal control, these Despotates had their own governance and military, operating largely independently from Constantinople.
Historically, the title of Despot was bestowed by the Emperor of the Romans to rulers who swore fealty to him. However, there were times when the title was given to foreign rulers as a form of recognition rather than loyalty to the emperor.
Such was the case with the Despotates of Epirus and Serbia. The former was not officially bestowed, while the latter was granted ceremonially during a power struggle between Serbian princes Stefan and Vuk Lazarevic.
John's vision was to overhaul the fragmented administration and restore centralized autocracy.
He did not seek authoritarianism or totalitarianism but rather a more inclusive form of autocracy, where every branch of the bureaucracy functioned as a cohesive unit rather than as individual entities.
His first priority was to curb the factional struggles within the court before attempting to recentralize the Despotates by reasserting imperial authority over the regions ruled by despots.
That being said, Despotates were a necessary instrument for now, given that the empire was not capable of enforcing its policies nationwide due to the disconnection between regions and the capital.
This meant that John's first step in reforming the administration was not to overhaul the entire system but to reassert authority within the imperial court.
As the emperor read through the first reform proposed in John's blueprint, a heavy silence settled over the room. John, outwardly composed, felt his heart race with each passing second, unable to gauge his father's thoughts.
Finally, Manuel II spoke, his voice measured. "Your ambition and vision are truly remarkable, John," he began, offering a glimmer of praise. But the following words were far from encouraging. "But this idea of reforming the imperial court… it would be a challenge, even for me," he continued, his tone tinged with weary realism.
"Our authority as emperors is not what it once was. The prestige of this throne is as shallow as a puddle of mud in a swamp."
Manuel II's assessment of the proposed reforms was blunt, leaving John's earlier enthusiasm quickly fading. The hopeful light in his eyes dimmed, like a candle extinguished by a gust of wind.
Although he had anticipated a lukewarm response, hearing his father's harsh reality struck harder than he expected. John couldn't deny the truth: his ambitious administrative reform was like trying to pierce a shield with a brittle stick, its sharpness futile against reality.
"Though..." Manuel II paused, scrutinizing John as if he were an exotic creature. Leaning back in his chair, he stroked his beard thoughtfully before continuing, "I must admit, the idea is brilliant. The challenge lies in the execution... Our current administration, fragmented as it is, serves a purpose—to keep the bureaucrats in check. Each watches the others' steps."
John's listless expression brightened, his ears perking up to catch every word his father was about to say.
"Though difficult, it's not entirely unachievable," the Emperor continued. "Autocracy... It's been a long time since I've heard the term used seriously. We are called Autocrats, yes, but we aren't truly so... You understand why."
The Emperor then pointed to a key section of John's proposed reform.
"This part," he said, "is what I find most compelling."
Manuel II read aloud, and John listened intently.
"There are three pillars of governance: judiciary, legislation, and executive—separate yet interconnected, each balancing the other. This structure discourages power imbalances, ensuring accountability and preserving institutional integrity. The judiciary upholds law and order. The legislature crafts and amends laws to meet the needs of the times. The executive enforces and represents both, enabling them to work in harmony without overstepping boundaries."
It was a distilled version of modern political theories from John's previous life as a college undergraduate. He hadn't chosen his courses with any particular ambition in mind; one of them happened to be Political Science. It wasn't that he aspired to be a politician—he'd picked the class on a whim for extra credit. Faced with a choice between Social Studies and Political Science, the latter seemed slightly more appealing.
Although politics wasn't exactly thrilling for someone like him, he found it surprisingly engaging. His home country had been deeply involved in politics, with news coverage dominated by political debates rather than entertainment or sports, especially during election season.
To be honest, he didn't fully grasp the complexities of politics. To him, modern politics seemed akin to a playground where schoolchildren competed, making promises they couldn't possibly keep once they grew up.
That was until he reincarnated as the current John. Now that he was reborn as the next emperor, he had to use the knowledge he gained from studying the subject and combine it with what he learned from Pavlos and Manuel II growing up.
His decision to focus on the 'separation of powers' despite advocating for autocracy was deliberate. He intended to evolve it later, once the empire stabilized. It was a key point deliberately placed at the lowest order of his administrative reform for a reason: it diminished the power of the Emperor, reducing him to a mere figurehead.
He had thought that Manuel II might overlook this subtlety after deeming the administrative reform impractical, but he was instead surprised by his father's attentiveness.
Why focus specifically on the separation of powers? It wasn't even a new idea; philosophers from antiquity, such as Aristotle and Polybius, had mentioned it. Polybius, in particular, noted that the Roman Republic—before it became an empire—had a form of this principle within its government, with the Senate, Consuls, and Assemblies sharing power.
However, the Republic's system wasn't exactly a true separation of powers. The Senate held the most power, while the other entities were subordinate. According to Polybius, the only government that truly practiced separation of powers was the one set up by Lycurgus in Sparta, which reformed Spartan society into its legendary form.
What exactly was the separation of powers? Was it merely dividing power between positions, or was it something more distinct? This question has been a central debate among scholars, with many variations and interpretations depending on the type of government in place.
However, there was a catch: the theory of Separation of Powers is not a cure-all solution. It has its flaws. Separation of Powers doesn't guarantee the end of tyranny. If any of the branches are left unchecked, it can create an imbalance, leading to power abuse.
The three branches are not immune to this risk. If one fails in its supervisory role, another could overstep its bounds, creating a power vacuum that destabilizes the entire government.
To address this, one of the solution lies in establishing a legal framework—a constitution.
A constitution isn't tied to any individual or branch; rather, it's an independent legal foundation that sets the rules of governance. It's typically designed to be unamendable without proper justification, as outlined within its own provisions.
While a constitution is effective, it can also be overly restrictive. If it enshrines outdated principles, changing them can become nearly impossible. Furthermore, it might be used to justify actions that are ethically questionable, particularly when those principles are held in high regard.
"I like this idea of separating powers among three branches," Manuel II commented.
"If the court operated this way, civil wars could be avoided, and petty disputes would be easier to resolve. But..."
He paused, looking directly into John's eyes with a serious expression.
"Emperors would lose their privilege, becoming practically powerless in making decisions on their own. What do you think of that, as a future emperor?"
Faced with this dilemma, John replied calmly, "There will come a time when an emperor is no longer needed; what's needed is a true leader of the people."
At John's words, the emperor's eyes widened—whether in astonishment or admiration, it was hard to say. But John pressed on without waiting for a response.
"We may have inherited this position out of a desire for power, but power alone is meaningless without the people. An emperor without subjects isn't a ruler; he's merely a madman consumed by his lust for power, nothing more."
An emperor for the people.
"Inspiring words, my son," Manuel II replied, his voice tinged with pride. John's words had naturally filled him with paternal pride, and he couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had brought them here.
It felt like only yesterday that John stood atop the dais during his co-emperorship coronation, his figure radiant, shining brighter than anyone Manuel II had ever seen in such a moment. Had his own coronation ever been so resplendent?
In that moment, Manuel II knew he had made the right choice.
Looking back, he had always recognized something special in John, even as a child. His intelligence was unparalleled, and he had a maturity far beyond his years.
Sometimes, Manuel II wondered if such a remarkable child could truly be his.
"Monstrous!" That was how Pavlos, John's tutor, had often described him, a word repeated almost every time he reported back to the emperor on the progress of the young co-emperor.
"If your reforms are as compelling as you claim," Manuel II began, steering the conversation back to John's blueprint rather than responding directly to his son's earlier words, "then I will consider them, especially the administrative ones. But you must understand—I am but a powerless emperor at the moment."
"You've struck on the right idea, but... it's too extreme. Implementing such changes could provoke the ire of these arrogant aristocrats."
Manuel II's words were not without merit. The current state of the imperial court was far from favorable. Aristocrats, government officials, and even the patricians had grown increasingly disdainful of the royal family. Their dissatisfaction with the emperor's perceived incompetence in managing the empire's dire circumstances—stagnant since the last defensive war against the Ottomans—was palpable.
'Ah, the beam in their own eyes...' John mused, a flicker of amusement lacing his thoughts as he silently mocked their hypocrisy.
"I've taken note, Father. I will consider it carefully," John replied with composure, though beneath his calm exterior, he was brimming with excitement.
"Now, what are your thoughts on the economy and the military?" John asked, eager to shift to the next crucial points of his plan and gauge his father's perspective.
"Oh, those matters?" The emperor responded with a hint of nonchalance.
"I'll have to defer to your future advisor and our Domestikos for that. I'm not particularly well-versed in issues beyond the administration of the realm."
John was left momentarily speechless, taken aback by the unexpected response.
"Might as well go and meet them now. Our time here is over. I need to review your administrative reforms more closely," Manuel II said, rising from the sofa and moving toward his work desk, his tone dismissive.
"Oo-ooh... okay," John replied absentmindedly, standing up as well, his eyes fixed on the emperor in confusion.
'What the hell...' John thought, bewildered. The only topics they had covered were Pavlos and the administrative reforms, and now it was over? He wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or perplexed.
He had hoped to hear his father's thoughts on the other matters, but the emperor's casual dismissal felt unworthy of a man who still held the title of emperor.
In the end, John left the emperor to his own devices and went to find Pavlos. Demetrius, who had been standing outside, was puzzled to see the co-emperor exiting the room with the look of a dog that had lost its bone.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone