Sparta

Vitus's previous words to Agnes had come to pass.

After a week of preparation, the two faced a ceremony even more cumbersome and long-winded; although the Eastern Roman Empire was in decline, it still upheld ancient traditions to manifest the supreme imperial power to the populace.

In early August, Vitus and Agnes boarded a ship to return to Florence.

He sought out his old partner Piero, using the latter's connections to recruit two thousand mercenaries. Including salaries and various expenses, the monthly cost amounted to four thousand Florin.

Additionally, his direct Tuna Mercenary Group was expanded to five hundred men, divided into one infantry company, one heavy artillery company (six siege cannons), and one field artillery company (twelve three-pounder cannons).

"My savings at the Di Maggio Bank have forty-six thousand Florin left; it should last for ten months."

Before departing, Manuel gave Vitus a clear answer: Constantinople could not pay military wages, nor would it send reinforcements. The only thing it could do was provide grain, hoping that Vitus and Theodore Palaiologos (the second prince, Despot of the Morea) would cooperate to resist the Duke of Achaea.

From childhood, Vitus had not been close to his second elder brother. This was understandable; while he stayed in the deep palace reading and nursing his health, his other brothers were together riding horses, shooting arrows, and studying military strategy. Over time, this led to a distant relationship between Vitus and his brothers.

"Asking me to cooperate with my second brother—the question is, will he even help me?"

Vitus sighed as he walked to the artillery workshop south of the city, asking the supervisor when his ordered batch of goods would be finished. The result was disappointing; he had placed an order for one thousand gun barrels, but the other party had only completed fifty.

The supervisor led him to a warehouse, pointed at a pile of discarded iron pipes in the corner, and lamented:

"It is not that our craftsmanship is poor, but your requirements are too high. The barrels you need are both thin and long; the product qualification rate has never been able to go up. The order needs to be extended until the end of next year."

Next year?

Vitus glared fiercely at the man, but in the end, he said nothing.

Even without the Matchlock, he still had enough confidence to recover Achaea. If he could not even do this, how could he face the vast and powerful Ottoman Empire in the future?

In October 1424, Vitus led twenty-five hundred soldiers by ship to arrive at Passavas—a seaport at the southeastern tip of the Peloponnese. The perimeter of the port possessed a circle of low stone walls, and the flag of the Eastern Roman Empire fluttered atop the towers.

Vitus arranged for the army to land in an orderly fashion. The port facilities were crude, so the soldiers had to build treadwheel cranes themselves to hoist the heavy siege cannons onto the shore.

The next afternoon, a team of riders arrived at Passavas, dusty and tired. Leading them was Theodore Palaiologos. For many years, he had been the most cheerful existence among all the brothers.

The eldest imperial prince, John, had to shoulder the fate of the entire country, and the heavy burden of affairs left him physically and mentally exhausted. The third prince, Andronikos, had been assigned to a lonely coastal city (Thessaloniki) and eventually had no choice but to sell the city to Venice. Now, he was disheartened, pouring all his energy into prayer and repentance.

The remaining brothers, Vitus, Constantine, and others, had no fiefs and were long constrained within the court. Only Theodore had the best luck, serving as the actual ruler of the Morea, governing over two hundred thousand people, and having married the niece of the Pope. He was now twenty-eight, yet his appearance was as youthful as nineteen-year-old Constantine.

"Vitus, you arrived very quickly. I thought you would spend the winter in Italy."

Theodore swung off his horse and took the initiative to give his younger brother a hug. After a few pleasantries, he shifted the topic to those Italian mercenaries: "Is this the army of your wealthy father-in-law?"

"No, these are soldiers I hired with my own money; it has nothing to do with the Di Maggio family."

Theodore was slightly surprised. It seemed the rumors about his fourth brother were true; this guy was doing quite well in Italy, having enough money to recruit over two thousand professional mercenaries.

"We haven't seen each other for years. Let's not talk about official business for now; come to my place and have a good time for a few days."

Under his elder brother's insistent invitation, Vitus followed him toward the inland city of Mistra—the capital of the Morea region. The mountain road along the way was rugged, and occasionally one could see the ruins of some abandoned ancient acropolises.

Crossing the mountain range, ahead lay a narrow plain running north to south. The Eurotas River flowed from north to south, nourishing this precious valley plain ("Sparta" originally meant "arable plain").

Mistra was situated on the west side of the valley, built against the mountain. The summit held a magnificent and luxurious palace, while the mountainside and the base were covered in layers of red-tiled roofs. It looked spectacular and could be called the most prosperous city on the Peloponnese peninsula.

However, Vitus was not in a hurry to enter the city; he requested to visit the ancient city of Sparta, located more than ten miles away.

"What is there to see in those broken stones? Do you want to search for treasure in the ruins?" Theodore suspected his brother's brain was not working right. After trying to persuade him for a few minutes, he simply left first: "Don't delay too long; remember to come into the city for dinner."

Descending along the winding mountain road, the air gradually became warmer and heavier. The view was filled with large tracts of flat farmland, with rolling mountains in the distance.

The city of Sparta had already fallen into ruin. Whether it was the architecture of the Spartans or the arches, arenas, and temples built later during the Roman period, all had been reduced to collapsed stones.

In the vast ruins, Vitus found a small village with only twenty households. He took out a Florin gold coin: "Who knows where the palace of King Menelaus and Queen Helen is?"

No one responded. The villagers' expressions were uneasy, suspecting that this group of cavalrymen were tax collectors sent by the Despot.

Vitus still did not give up: "King Leonidas, do you know where the relics related to him are?"

The villagers remained silent. Day after day, they farmed and herded sheep, occasionally going to the church to pray. The heavy labor occupied all their energy, and they had no time to learn about the legends of the ancient Spartans, even though these ruins were right beside them.

Vitus helplessly dismissed the villagers and wandered alone through the empty, ancient ruins. Wild grass grew in abundance, cold winds whistled, and occasionally he looked up to see the majestic and spectacular Mistra on the distant mountain ridge.

Clearly, the city of Sparta, which symbolized the classical era, had already perished, reduced to a grave of the "past." Mistra represented the "present," gathering a large number of scholars and books, but it was a pity that in a few decades, the Ottoman army would sweep in, and Mistra would not be able to escape the fate of destruction either.

"All glory shall eventually return to dust."

Vitus picked up a piece of rubble and put it into the pocket beside his saddle, arriving at the foot of the mountain of Mistra to the west, where large tracts of olive trees and grapevines were planted. Following the zigzag slope upward, he entered the outer city, where dense monasteries and residential houses lined both sides of the road.