Pelasgia
Established Nation
Propontis M.P., Pelasgia
Andreas Papavasileiou was happy. His jovial smile, his wide-eyed gaze at the world around, his quick pace and upright posture, everything about his person attested to that fact. Indeed, why in the world would Andreas not be happy? The skinny, pale lad of fifteen had had veal for dinner on Sunday. Back down south of the White Mountains, in the impoverished regions that formed the deep inland of Pelasgia, red meat was a luxury, to be consumed only a few times a month. His native town of Vrysoules, home to some twenty thousand souls on the northern foothills of the Akritika Mountains on the country's southern border had only seen cows introduced to it some twenty years prior. The massive beasts had been imported to southern Pelasgia from Vrijpoort at a considerable expense as part of an agricultural development programme, and Vrysoules, being far from such major urban centres as Petralona or Ioannopolis, had been one of the last places to receive them.
Like most lads in the Themes of Bucellaria and the Metaxadon, Andreas had grown up thinking of the high cost of red meat as just another fact of life. "Beef is for rich city people and the butcher's son," his mother, Kyriaki, had always told him. "We make do with fish, white meat, and the occasional pork." Of course, most days, they just ate beans or some kind of grain or vegetable-based food—but, again, that was just a fact of life. Even the school textbooks, which exalted the Meridian Diet as the healthiest in Europe, attested to Pelasgians' rare consumption of red meat. Yellow cheese was an even bigger rarity, along with cow milk; dairy was, by and large, the product of goats and sheep, not the precious beasts hauled to Pelasgia from the green pastures of Gallo-Germania.
Then, one day, Andreas received notice that he had been admitted to the Great School of the Nation in Propontis. It had been two years ago, just as Andreas was set to start middle school, or gymnasium as the Pelasgians referred to it. From then on, he had been granted the privilege of red meat every week of his life, sometimes even more than once a week! Whenever he returned to Vrysoules for the holidays, he was by far the tallest in his town, and clearly the best fed too—and he noticed just how older the people seemed than their same-age peers in Propontis, no doubt due to the harsher life of a region that lived off farming, mining and small industry, for the most part.
Even years later, Andreas still enjoyed red meat as if it were a delicacy, along with all that splendid yellow cheese these people from the capital seemed to consume at insane quantities. Gone was tasteless mizythra or salty feta—kaseri and graviera were the name of the game! Cow milk was the one thing the young lad could never get used to; goat milk still won that contest, being tastier and (allegedly) healthier. Not that Andreas or his farmer father had to pay for any of that—the Imperial Chancellery and the Patriarchal Chancellery (the twin Sakellareiai as they were called in Pelasgia) covered all his expenses, right down to the brand-new leather shoes and pristinely ironed uniform that he wore to school every day. Of his books, food and lodging, not even a question was posed—how could the brightest children in the Nation, its future elite, study if those basic needs were not covered? And so, at a mere twelve years, Andreas had come to call home a dormitory whose build and size would have appeared rather luxurious to even many middle-class Propontines, let alone the working poor of the inland south. As for the view... Why, the red-brick castle that housed Europe's oldest boarding school stood perched on the hillside of Propontis' Cathedral District, a stone's toss from the area's namesake Patriarchal Cathedral and with a full view of the old city down to the golden waters of the Propontine Straits. This was some prime real estate.
Having soaked in the view as he exited his dormitory, Andreas clutched the straps of his schoolbag and raced down the stairs to get to the morning assembly before class, zooming through the gate to the main hall and- Bang!
The fourteen year old boy fell to the floor, collapsing atop the body of another student about the same height as him but of a much thinner build. His head not bruised only by a miracle (but his pride immensely so), the native of Bucellaria Theme raised his fist at whatever felon had caused him such embarrassment inside the school's most central area! Yet, as he prepared to raise his voice and go into an angry tirade, Andreas opened his eyes and took a long, good look at the person opposite him: a skinny, pale (even for a Propontine) girl, with pale blue eyes and reddish brown hair. She was almost as tall as Andreas, but by her face (and her uniform) he could tell that she was two years his junior, having only just been admitted to the Great School.
"What..." Andreas hummed. "What... What are you doing, just standing there? Shouldn't you pay attention?!"
"I'm sorry..." the girl answered. "I was looking at the paintings."
"Paintings?" Andreas asked honestly. He looked up, above the clock at the edge of the great hall, and noticed the two portraits: one of the Ecumenical Patriarch in his simple black robes and the other of the newly enthroned Emperor in his ornate admiral's uniform with golden epaulettes. "Have you never seen a painting of the Emperor before?"
The girl blushed. "I- Well, never a real one! Only photos or prints!"
Andreas blinked. Wherever she went to school before must be even poorer than Vrysoules... he thought to himself. He played the girl's words again in his mind and noted that, though her grammar and syntax were perfect, they were a bit too formal for everyday speech... Her accent, too, seemed weird. She scanned the girl from head to toe once more, before voicing his conclusion. "You're not Pelasgian, are you?"
The girl blushed even more. "I- I will be one day!"
Andreas could not help but laugh. "Yeah, and I'll be Prime Minister one day too." He softened the grip on his fist, which he had been holding up this whole time, and smiled faintly. "My name's Andreas. What's your name? And where are you from, anyway?"
"My name's Viktoria!" the girl hissed, before remembering her manners. "Pleased to meet you. I'm from Kipest, though my family live in Aspropol now."
"Pleased to meet you too, Viktoria," came the reply from the older boy. "We have to get to the assembly for morning prayer. You can stare at paintings later. They have them in every classroom."
"I..." Viktoria tried to answer but her voice failed her. "I'm not Orthodox, I can't pray with you. Not yet, anyway."
Andreas shrugged. "Then come for the announcements! You just have to stand there, you know. The Ecumenical Patriarch will be there, along with Sebastos* Basil Vatatzes and his wife, the Despoina** Alexia Kourou."
*A noble title equivalent to "Augustus", reserved for living siblings of a reigning Emperor
**Lady
A bewildered Viktoria stared at Andreas with wide eyes. "A Despot?! Why?"
A deep sigh sounded from Andreas' side. "Why, to announce the new scholarships to celebrate their baby, of course! A few very good students from both the boys and girls' section of the School will even get to go on exchange abroad for a few weeks. The Sebastos himself will give the prize!"
Rather than the excitement most other kids would have at news such as these, Viktoria's face seemed saddened. "You don't want to meet the Sebastos or the Despoina?" Andreas demanded with both honesty and a tad of indignation. "He's the handsomest man in the Empire, and she's the fairest lady all around! Or so everyone else says."
"I don't qualify," Viktoria explained. "I'm Catholic, remember?"
Andreas frowned. She really doesn't know how things work here, he figured. For some weird reason, he saw a bit of himself in her. I gotta help her, he reasoned. None of these pampered capital pricks will otherwise—they didn't help me, and I'm Pelasgian! "That doesn't matter!" Andreas barked at her. "You can still get a scholarship from the Sebastos' sister, Sebaste Anna, the one who's married to some Catholic from @Radilo. Of course, the Sebastos will be the one giving the prize, but you could thank her once you get to Radilo. If you get there that is—you need to apply and get accepted."
Viktoria's gaze hardened—she had her goal in mind, and she finally had the means to achieve it. She would get that scholarship no matter what.
"Hey!" Andreas shouted after her. "Where are you going?"
"To the assembly," Viktoria answered.
"It's the other way! Morning assembly is in the main courtyard!" He run up to her and took her by the arm. "Just follow me, I'll show you!"
"I don't need your help!" a blushing Viktoria answered. "I can find my own way!"
"Yeah, I can see that," Andreas retorted, and he pulled her toward the other hallway. "You almost walked into the Rector's office! No women are allowed there."
Propontis M.P., PelasgiaAndreas Papavasileiou was happy. His jovial smile, his wide-eyed gaze at the world around, his quick pace and upright posture, everything about his person attested to that fact. Indeed, why in the world would Andreas not be happy? The skinny, pale lad of fifteen had had veal for dinner on Sunday. Back down south of the White Mountains, in the impoverished regions that formed the deep inland of Pelasgia, red meat was a luxury, to be consumed only a few times a month. His native town of Vrysoules, home to some twenty thousand souls on the northern foothills of the Akritika Mountains on the country's southern border had only seen cows introduced to it some twenty years prior. The massive beasts had been imported to southern Pelasgia from Vrijpoort at a considerable expense as part of an agricultural development programme, and Vrysoules, being far from such major urban centres as Petralona or Ioannopolis, had been one of the last places to receive them.
Like most lads in the Themes of Bucellaria and the Metaxadon, Andreas had grown up thinking of the high cost of red meat as just another fact of life. "Beef is for rich city people and the butcher's son," his mother, Kyriaki, had always told him. "We make do with fish, white meat, and the occasional pork." Of course, most days, they just ate beans or some kind of grain or vegetable-based food—but, again, that was just a fact of life. Even the school textbooks, which exalted the Meridian Diet as the healthiest in Europe, attested to Pelasgians' rare consumption of red meat. Yellow cheese was an even bigger rarity, along with cow milk; dairy was, by and large, the product of goats and sheep, not the precious beasts hauled to Pelasgia from the green pastures of Gallo-Germania.
Then, one day, Andreas received notice that he had been admitted to the Great School of the Nation in Propontis. It had been two years ago, just as Andreas was set to start middle school, or gymnasium as the Pelasgians referred to it. From then on, he had been granted the privilege of red meat every week of his life, sometimes even more than once a week! Whenever he returned to Vrysoules for the holidays, he was by far the tallest in his town, and clearly the best fed too—and he noticed just how older the people seemed than their same-age peers in Propontis, no doubt due to the harsher life of a region that lived off farming, mining and small industry, for the most part.
Even years later, Andreas still enjoyed red meat as if it were a delicacy, along with all that splendid yellow cheese these people from the capital seemed to consume at insane quantities. Gone was tasteless mizythra or salty feta—kaseri and graviera were the name of the game! Cow milk was the one thing the young lad could never get used to; goat milk still won that contest, being tastier and (allegedly) healthier. Not that Andreas or his farmer father had to pay for any of that—the Imperial Chancellery and the Patriarchal Chancellery (the twin Sakellareiai as they were called in Pelasgia) covered all his expenses, right down to the brand-new leather shoes and pristinely ironed uniform that he wore to school every day. Of his books, food and lodging, not even a question was posed—how could the brightest children in the Nation, its future elite, study if those basic needs were not covered? And so, at a mere twelve years, Andreas had come to call home a dormitory whose build and size would have appeared rather luxurious to even many middle-class Propontines, let alone the working poor of the inland south. As for the view... Why, the red-brick castle that housed Europe's oldest boarding school stood perched on the hillside of Propontis' Cathedral District, a stone's toss from the area's namesake Patriarchal Cathedral and with a full view of the old city down to the golden waters of the Propontine Straits. This was some prime real estate.
Having soaked in the view as he exited his dormitory, Andreas clutched the straps of his schoolbag and raced down the stairs to get to the morning assembly before class, zooming through the gate to the main hall and- Bang!
The fourteen year old boy fell to the floor, collapsing atop the body of another student about the same height as him but of a much thinner build. His head not bruised only by a miracle (but his pride immensely so), the native of Bucellaria Theme raised his fist at whatever felon had caused him such embarrassment inside the school's most central area! Yet, as he prepared to raise his voice and go into an angry tirade, Andreas opened his eyes and took a long, good look at the person opposite him: a skinny, pale (even for a Propontine) girl, with pale blue eyes and reddish brown hair. She was almost as tall as Andreas, but by her face (and her uniform) he could tell that she was two years his junior, having only just been admitted to the Great School.
"What..." Andreas hummed. "What... What are you doing, just standing there? Shouldn't you pay attention?!"
"I'm sorry..." the girl answered. "I was looking at the paintings."
"Paintings?" Andreas asked honestly. He looked up, above the clock at the edge of the great hall, and noticed the two portraits: one of the Ecumenical Patriarch in his simple black robes and the other of the newly enthroned Emperor in his ornate admiral's uniform with golden epaulettes. "Have you never seen a painting of the Emperor before?"
The girl blushed. "I- Well, never a real one! Only photos or prints!"
Andreas blinked. Wherever she went to school before must be even poorer than Vrysoules... he thought to himself. He played the girl's words again in his mind and noted that, though her grammar and syntax were perfect, they were a bit too formal for everyday speech... Her accent, too, seemed weird. She scanned the girl from head to toe once more, before voicing his conclusion. "You're not Pelasgian, are you?"
The girl blushed even more. "I- I will be one day!"
Andreas could not help but laugh. "Yeah, and I'll be Prime Minister one day too." He softened the grip on his fist, which he had been holding up this whole time, and smiled faintly. "My name's Andreas. What's your name? And where are you from, anyway?"
"My name's Viktoria!" the girl hissed, before remembering her manners. "Pleased to meet you. I'm from Kipest, though my family live in Aspropol now."
"Pleased to meet you too, Viktoria," came the reply from the older boy. "We have to get to the assembly for morning prayer. You can stare at paintings later. They have them in every classroom."
"I..." Viktoria tried to answer but her voice failed her. "I'm not Orthodox, I can't pray with you. Not yet, anyway."
Andreas shrugged. "Then come for the announcements! You just have to stand there, you know. The Ecumenical Patriarch will be there, along with Sebastos* Basil Vatatzes and his wife, the Despoina** Alexia Kourou."
*A noble title equivalent to "Augustus", reserved for living siblings of a reigning Emperor
**Lady
A bewildered Viktoria stared at Andreas with wide eyes. "A Despot?! Why?"
A deep sigh sounded from Andreas' side. "Why, to announce the new scholarships to celebrate their baby, of course! A few very good students from both the boys and girls' section of the School will even get to go on exchange abroad for a few weeks. The Sebastos himself will give the prize!"
Rather than the excitement most other kids would have at news such as these, Viktoria's face seemed saddened. "You don't want to meet the Sebastos or the Despoina?" Andreas demanded with both honesty and a tad of indignation. "He's the handsomest man in the Empire, and she's the fairest lady all around! Or so everyone else says."
"I don't qualify," Viktoria explained. "I'm Catholic, remember?"
Andreas frowned. She really doesn't know how things work here, he figured. For some weird reason, he saw a bit of himself in her. I gotta help her, he reasoned. None of these pampered capital pricks will otherwise—they didn't help me, and I'm Pelasgian! "That doesn't matter!" Andreas barked at her. "You can still get a scholarship from the Sebastos' sister, Sebaste Anna, the one who's married to some Catholic from @Radilo. Of course, the Sebastos will be the one giving the prize, but you could thank her once you get to Radilo. If you get there that is—you need to apply and get accepted."
Viktoria's gaze hardened—she had her goal in mind, and she finally had the means to achieve it. She would get that scholarship no matter what.
"Hey!" Andreas shouted after her. "Where are you going?"
"To the assembly," Viktoria answered.
"It's the other way! Morning assembly is in the main courtyard!" He run up to her and took her by the arm. "Just follow me, I'll show you!"
"I don't need your help!" a blushing Viktoria answered. "I can find my own way!"
"Yeah, I can see that," Andreas retorted, and he pulled her toward the other hallway. "You almost walked into the Rector's office! No women are allowed there."
The clouds over Propontis slowly cleared, offering an opening for the sun to shine down and into the great internal courtyard at the front of the Great Palace. In the courtyard itself the slow cadence of military drums persisted like the hum of crickets on a summer's night, as the otherwise silent marble and tile space stood still. A whole regiment of the Emperor's Life Guards, including both Pelasgian Guards in their dark blue winter coats and Varangian Mercenary Guards from @Skånskelag in their characteristic all-grey livery lined the square. On the caps, uniforms and banners of the Emperor's men appeared his monogram: a great, golden capital alpha, crowned and surrounded by a laurel wreath, along with the letter zeta (which functioned as the traditional Pelasgian numeral for seven—ordinal numbers being one of the few remaining uses of such numerals).
Surrounded by all these guards with their colourful standards and their shining bayonets, arranged in neat columns like a living fence, were a group of six visitors to the palace. To the left, dressed in the ceremonial blue uniform of the Imperial Pelasgian Army, was General (and soon to be Marshal) Leontios Sideris, whose heroics in the southern half of Himyar had earned him the monicker of the Hero of Central Himyar, and had made his characteristic handlebar mustache famous the whole continent over. General Sideris was flanked by two of his aides, who had served alongside him in as part of the Pelasgian Peacekeeping Force. The other half of the delegation consisted of three men dressed in simple civilian formalwear. By their physique and their standing at attention for failure of being directed to be at ease, one could clearly deduce this latter trio to be military men; and yet, they wore no uniform—for they were not men of the Imperial Pelasgian Armed Forces, or of any other military. No, two of these men were Epaminondas Lazarides and Stylianos Papadias, the field commanders of the forces of General Security S.A. and Aegis Defence Solutions, which were among Europe's largest and most feared private military corporations. The third man was Eleftherios Savakis, a tall and dark-skinned veteran of the Imperial Special Forces who acted as the head of the International Auxiliary in Central Himyar—the shell company that grouped together all the international mercenaries employed by the Pelasgian Krypteia in Central Himyar.
To say that the State military and the mercenaries thought little of one another would have been a monstrous understatement. For men like General Sideris, the mercenaries were naught but whores and stray dogs, willing to sell their soul and kill for whoever threw them a dime or a bone. For men like Lazarides and Papadias, the official state soldiers were the tools of pencil-neck bureaucrats, far too constrained by red tape and the corruption of the bloated government to do what needed to be done. And yet, the two men stood together comfortably, almost amicably—they had served far too many months in the hellish bush of Central Himyar on the payroll and orders of the same master to hate each other. Even the rag-tag soldiers of fortune represented by Savakis had managed to earn some sympathy and respect by their Pelasgian colleagues, for these denizens brought in from every corner of the world had shown remarkably courage in the face of a fierce and often merciless foe. This newfound, battle-forged camaraderie could be attested to by the one thing that was common to all six men's uniforms: the Great Star of the Order of the Grey Crane, bestowed upon all of them by Central Himyari President Kinuani himself.
Soon, another decoration would be added to them men's chests. As the doors of the primary complex of the Great Palace opened, the cadence of the soldier's drums picked up, being followed by the brass brand's singing of the
"Akoúsate, akoúsate!" cried a herald following the Basileus, using a phrase akin to the old Engell-Frankish oyez, oyez. "Our most pious and majestic Sovereign has decreed as follows: We, Alexios VII Vatatzes, Basileus and Autokrator of the Pelasgians .... " The herald read out the long decree, written in complicated and frankly arcane ancient Pelasgian for a few minutes more, until, finally, he fell silent. Once that formality had been observed, with all those in attendance standing in attention, Emperor Alexios walked over to the six men before him to shake their hands and decorate them.
First and foremost was General Leontios Sideris, that tall, skinny and admittedly pale man—the striking image of an Old Pelasgian—with deep seated, pensive and almost predatory eyes, which contrasted with his otherwise serious but gentle face. His unmoving, stern visage formed a genuine smile as he shook the hand of the Emperor whom he had served for some twenty years now—and as he received the Grand Cross of the Military and Imperial Order of Saint Tiberius the Great, along with the title and batton of the Marshal of Pelasgia. Gripping the majestic velvet and gold-coated symbol of his newfound authority, the Empire's now most senior military officer respectfully bowed. "With Our thanks for your service in southern Himyar," came the laconic reply from the Emperor.
The newly enthroned Pelasgian leader then went on to decorate the other men, each with a lesser class of the same order: the Grand Commander's cross for each of officers accompanying Marshal Sideris, the Commander's cross for Messrs. Lazarides and Papadias, and the Gold Cross for Mr. Savakis. This reflected the official hierarchy of the six men in the operation—and it was a great honour, far greater than any of them could have dreamed of when they had departed their native country two years prior in pursuit of what seemed at the time to be a near-suicidal feat.
As he turned to walk back into the Palace, the Emperor invited the newly decorated men to follow him: a banquet had been prepared in their honour, and he would lead them to it personally. The newly created Marshal of Pelasgia, Leontios Sideris, took advantage of his status to walk at the Emperor's side, as was allowed to all Great Officers of the Empire.
"I hear that Your Imperial Majesty will be heading to the Holy City of Hierosolyma soon," the Marshal said, during their hashed smalltalk.
"Your hear well, Marshal," Alexios replied. "I believe that your old classmate from the academy, Antistategos* Mardochaios Costis, will be the one to show me around. He is Our military's most senior Jewish officer, if memory serves."
*Lieutenant General
"Indeed, Your Majesty, that is so. He is the Commander of the Eastern Military District, and one of the best officers I have had the fortune of knowing. His son, Ioseph, served with me in Central Himyar, and I believe he is now a Colonel in Tephanon. I have never met a more loyal subordinate."
"I am pleased to hear you say that," the Emperor noted. "The loyalty of our officers must be beyond reproach, and it must be seen to be so, by any who would seek to divide the Empire."
Surrounded by all these guards with their colourful standards and their shining bayonets, arranged in neat columns like a living fence, were a group of six visitors to the palace. To the left, dressed in the ceremonial blue uniform of the Imperial Pelasgian Army, was General (and soon to be Marshal) Leontios Sideris, whose heroics in the southern half of Himyar had earned him the monicker of the Hero of Central Himyar, and had made his characteristic handlebar mustache famous the whole continent over. General Sideris was flanked by two of his aides, who had served alongside him in as part of the Pelasgian Peacekeeping Force. The other half of the delegation consisted of three men dressed in simple civilian formalwear. By their physique and their standing at attention for failure of being directed to be at ease, one could clearly deduce this latter trio to be military men; and yet, they wore no uniform—for they were not men of the Imperial Pelasgian Armed Forces, or of any other military. No, two of these men were Epaminondas Lazarides and Stylianos Papadias, the field commanders of the forces of General Security S.A. and Aegis Defence Solutions, which were among Europe's largest and most feared private military corporations. The third man was Eleftherios Savakis, a tall and dark-skinned veteran of the Imperial Special Forces who acted as the head of the International Auxiliary in Central Himyar—the shell company that grouped together all the international mercenaries employed by the Pelasgian Krypteia in Central Himyar.
To say that the State military and the mercenaries thought little of one another would have been a monstrous understatement. For men like General Sideris, the mercenaries were naught but whores and stray dogs, willing to sell their soul and kill for whoever threw them a dime or a bone. For men like Lazarides and Papadias, the official state soldiers were the tools of pencil-neck bureaucrats, far too constrained by red tape and the corruption of the bloated government to do what needed to be done. And yet, the two men stood together comfortably, almost amicably—they had served far too many months in the hellish bush of Central Himyar on the payroll and orders of the same master to hate each other. Even the rag-tag soldiers of fortune represented by Savakis had managed to earn some sympathy and respect by their Pelasgian colleagues, for these denizens brought in from every corner of the world had shown remarkably courage in the face of a fierce and often merciless foe. This newfound, battle-forged camaraderie could be attested to by the one thing that was common to all six men's uniforms: the Great Star of the Order of the Grey Crane, bestowed upon all of them by Central Himyari President Kinuani himself.
Soon, another decoration would be added to them men's chests. As the doors of the primary complex of the Great Palace opened, the cadence of the soldier's drums picked up, being followed by the brass brand's singing of the
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, along with a host of other fanfares and tunes. Emperor Alexios VII Vatatzes, dressed in his own dark blue military uniform and flanked by a whole host of military and civilian advisors and attendants emerged, his personal standard following close behind him—a Tyrian purple labarum with his monogram, which hanged from a golden staffed topped a large Chi-Rho."Akoúsate, akoúsate!" cried a herald following the Basileus, using a phrase akin to the old Engell-Frankish oyez, oyez. "Our most pious and majestic Sovereign has decreed as follows: We, Alexios VII Vatatzes, Basileus and Autokrator of the Pelasgians .... " The herald read out the long decree, written in complicated and frankly arcane ancient Pelasgian for a few minutes more, until, finally, he fell silent. Once that formality had been observed, with all those in attendance standing in attention, Emperor Alexios walked over to the six men before him to shake their hands and decorate them.
First and foremost was General Leontios Sideris, that tall, skinny and admittedly pale man—the striking image of an Old Pelasgian—with deep seated, pensive and almost predatory eyes, which contrasted with his otherwise serious but gentle face. His unmoving, stern visage formed a genuine smile as he shook the hand of the Emperor whom he had served for some twenty years now—and as he received the Grand Cross of the Military and Imperial Order of Saint Tiberius the Great, along with the title and batton of the Marshal of Pelasgia. Gripping the majestic velvet and gold-coated symbol of his newfound authority, the Empire's now most senior military officer respectfully bowed. "With Our thanks for your service in southern Himyar," came the laconic reply from the Emperor.
The newly enthroned Pelasgian leader then went on to decorate the other men, each with a lesser class of the same order: the Grand Commander's cross for each of officers accompanying Marshal Sideris, the Commander's cross for Messrs. Lazarides and Papadias, and the Gold Cross for Mr. Savakis. This reflected the official hierarchy of the six men in the operation—and it was a great honour, far greater than any of them could have dreamed of when they had departed their native country two years prior in pursuit of what seemed at the time to be a near-suicidal feat.
As he turned to walk back into the Palace, the Emperor invited the newly decorated men to follow him: a banquet had been prepared in their honour, and he would lead them to it personally. The newly created Marshal of Pelasgia, Leontios Sideris, took advantage of his status to walk at the Emperor's side, as was allowed to all Great Officers of the Empire.
"I hear that Your Imperial Majesty will be heading to the Holy City of Hierosolyma soon," the Marshal said, during their hashed smalltalk.
"Your hear well, Marshal," Alexios replied. "I believe that your old classmate from the academy, Antistategos* Mardochaios Costis, will be the one to show me around. He is Our military's most senior Jewish officer, if memory serves."
*Lieutenant General
"Indeed, Your Majesty, that is so. He is the Commander of the Eastern Military District, and one of the best officers I have had the fortune of knowing. His son, Ioseph, served with me in Central Himyar, and I believe he is now a Colonel in Tephanon. I have never met a more loyal subordinate."
"I am pleased to hear you say that," the Emperor noted. "The loyalty of our officers must be beyond reproach, and it must be seen to be so, by any who would seek to divide the Empire."
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