It was dusk, and the streets were crowded with people. Leo was walking along the streets with great interest, admiring his long-lost hometown.
Back at Theodosius Square, the night show at the Grand Theater was about to begin. Some well-dressed citizens lined up to buy tickets. The queue extended from the main entrance to the bottom of the steps.
"What a long line."
Suddenly, Leo's body staggered, and the guards around him quickly supported him.
If you look carefully, you will see a drunkard Rus in his forties or fifties sitting in the shadow against the wall. He is holding a tin wine pot in his right hand and he seems to be sleeping.
"Forget it, leave him alone."
Leo didn't want to be acquainted with this guy, so he walked quickly to the carriage parked in front, hoping to catch the palace dinner.
After some time, the drunkard still stayed there drinking.
As night fell, the lamplighter came over with a ladder to replenish the lamp oil and light Streetlights. He looked at the drunk man with disgust and carried the ladder to the next Streetlights.
The suddenly brightened field of vision made the drunkard very uncomfortable. He stood up holding on to the wall and stared blankly at the law firm across the square, "Are they off work?"
"Nonsense, now the lights in the law firm have been extinguished, the staff have gone home, and only drunkards like you are still wandering on the streets! Ratmir, you are actually drunk in public Constantinople, this is no joke."
Hearing the shouting on the left, the drunk man turned around and saw a brigadier general wearing a Army uniform with Gold Olive Leaves embroidered on his shoulders standing under Streetlights. It was his old company commander Boranov.
Nowadays, Sicily Island's war situation is at a stalemate, and new actions are about to be taken on the mainland. Central Administration has transferred a group of officers back from the front line to prepare for the formation of temporary troops, and Boranov is one of them.
He took the drunkard's tin jug, drank the remaining strong wine in one gulp, and chatted with the drunkard who had retired for many years.
After hearing Boranov's experience, the drunkard sighed, "You have really become a general. Alas, I am unlucky. Last year, I provided a batch of Merino sheep wool to Textile Mill of Constantinople. As a result, the other party refused to pay and wrote letters complaining about problems with the wool. I can only come here by boat to collect the debt. I don't know the result yet."
The new code follows the contents of the "Justinian Civil Law Encyclopedia", "Basilika" and other laws, and stipulates:
The jurisdiction of commercial disputes follows the principle that "the plaintiff should go to the defendant's domicile to sue."
Drunk Ratmir's Ranch is in Northern Black Sea Coast, and the partner is near Constantinople. Therefore, he can only go to Constantinople to initiate a lawsuit.
At this stage, the empire's business is booming, and the law firm has a large backlog of business needs. He doesn't know how long he will have to wait.
Boranov patted the opposite shoulder, "I don't understand business, so I can't give you advice. However, your Ranch has thousands of sheep and is qualified to join Wool Guild. Didn't the guild provide assistance?"
"I am a member of Tauris Wool Guild, and the guild of Eastern Thrace has no obligation to assist me. Wool Guild of Constantinople is open to the entire empire, but only accepts big businessmen. I have been there for help, and the clerk handed me a business card and asked me to find a lawyer, and then ignored me."
The two chatted for a long time, and Boranov told the drunk man a temporary address, "I'm temporarily staying at Caravanserai District these days. Come and have a drink with me when you have time."
A gust of hot wind blew by, Boranov wiped his sweat and strode towards the theater dozens of steps away.
In fact, Boranov is not interested in drama. He would rather chat with a drunk man outside and then find a roadside stall to eat some barbecue.
But there is no other way. Army Department's second master (deputy minister) is having a birthday treat tonight. Since he agreed to come, he must show up, otherwise he will easily offend others.
Soon, Boranov arrived at the third floor stand. The entire area was booked, and two-thirds of the seats were occupied by guests.
Boranov greeted the minister, sat in a corner with a poor view, and chatted with an acquaintance next to him.
The acquaintance rubbed his sore eyes. "You are more than forty minutes late, and you just missed the first act. There is food and drink at the bar in the back, so you can take what you want."
Boranov happened to be a little hungry, so he walked to the bar, picked up a tong and an empty plate, and stared at the food in front of him in a daze.
"What is this?"
He has been fighting abroad all year round and is used to the rough diet of the army, so he is not used to the food here.
After being silent for half a minute, he added some fried fish and lamb chops to the plate, and returned to his seat with a glass of beer.
As a rule, a drama is divided into five acts, lasting 2 to 4 hours. At the end of each act, there is a break for the audience to chat and
Go to the toilet.
Boranov lowered his head to eat the golden and crispy fried mackerel and listened to everyone discussing various trivial matters.
Recently, the theater made a change and removed the curtains from all the boxes. In the final analysis, it is still the unfounded rumor: the emperor watched plays in secret boxes and often stayed up all night.
I heard that the theater owner plans to sell his shares to end this frightening experience.
"These citizens are so boring."
Boranov finished the food on the plate and returned his attention to the stage. The curtain slowly opened and the second act was about to begin.
This play is not as vulgar and obscene as Boranov thought, and the overall style is serious. It tells the story of a citizen family of Constantinople, and their experiences from 1204 to 1265.
The first act is the fall of Constantinople in 1204 and the exile of family members. The protagonist of the second act is the younger sister, witnessing the war between the Latin Empire and Bulgaria from her perspective.
Unknowingly, Boranov was fascinated by what he saw. Although his ancestors were still logging in the vast forest of Ryazan in the thirteenth century, it did not prevent him from projecting his feelings on this Constantinople family.
This play spans sixty years and has more content than other plays. The performance lasts until eleven o'clock in the evening.
Near the end, a girl from the third generation of the family was walking in the ruins. The sky was gloomy. She sang a ballad alone, her voice was tearful, mixed with the howling of the cold wind from time to time. Boranov felt that she would never forget this melody in her life.
The singing stopped suddenly, the curtains on both sides closed slowly, and the actors returned to the center of the stage to express their thanks. Boranov was still immersed in the final scene.
"Their show is worth the price of admission."
July 2nd, early morning.
Boranov went to the cafeteria to have breakfast. He was listless and drank two large cups of coffee in a row.
During the meeting at the Army Department during the day, a colleague asked curiously, "What did you do last night?"
Boranov complained, "There is a Sicily noble family living next door. They drank and sang in the early hours of the morning, and then started quarreling, throwing cups and breaking glass. I was woken up five times in one night. I might as well rest in the military camp."
Today's topic involves the training methods and organization of Dragoons. A Dragon Cavalry Brigade combatant is more than 2,000 years old. Including service personnel, the total is more than 3,000 people. However, in fact, there are rarely Dragoons of the entire brigade fighting in clusters. They are usually broken up into battalion or company levels to perform reconnaissance or harassment missions.
The smaller the scale of the battle, the higher the requirements for individual soldiers' abilities. The army's idea is to raise the requirements and adjust training methods so that Dragoons has better immediate combat capabilities.
Army Department believes that Dragoons was originally a cheap substitute for regular cavalry, and they should be used in everything they do.
If the combat effectiveness of Dragoons is to be improved, military pay, horses, and equipment expenses must be increased. What is the difference between Dragoons and regular cavalry?
On July 3, the theme of the meeting was engineers.
On the Fourth of July, the meeting involved logistics.
Today's meeting was short. At four o'clock in the afternoon, Boranov signed out of the register at the door of the conference room, ending the day's work.
It was still early and the canteen had not opened yet. Boranov returned to his residence to change into a set of civilian clothes and took a public carriage to the Southwest District.
Take a horse-drawn carriage from Caravanserai District to the south, a short three kilometers, and the street scene along the way is constantly changing.
At first it was a wealthy neighborhood with Streetlights and a quiet environment, then it was a noisy ordinary neighborhood, and finally it was a slum along the coast.
The houses in the slums are simple and simple, and most of the streets are occupied by vendors and crowded with people. Many craftsmen work in the shops along the streets, and the environment is noisier and messier than other urban areas.
However, due to the City Hall's mandatory regulations, private houses do not occupy street space, and sewers are frequently dredged. The overall environment is better than the foreign cities Boranov has seen.
The public carriage stopped at an intersection. Boranov chose a street leading to the southwest and asked about the hotel where Ratmir was staying.
After walking three hundred steps, a building with a mixed structure of wood and stone appeared in front of it. The first and second floors were made of stone, and the third floor was built of wooden boards. The signboard read: Wild Olive Inn.
There is a small wooden board with Saint Julian painted on it hanging under the porch. He is the patron saint of travelers. Even if someone is illiterate, he can know that this building is a hotel through this wooden board.
Entering the main entrance, the view suddenly darkened. There were several tables and chairs in the room, and four drinkers gathered together to play a dice game.
Boranov asked the counter for the location of "Room 21", and the bartender replied impatiently, "On the second floor, you can find it yourself."
He stepped on the creaky wooden ladder to the second floor, and his view became wider. In front of him was a narrow square courtyard, where two tenants leaned on the railing and chatted about a certain unlucky drowning person.
"19, 20, 21, here we are."
Boranov slapped the door panel hard. After a long time, the door opened a crack, and a scantily clad woman complained softly, "It's not time yet, why are you in a hurry? We won't open until six in the evening."
What?
Boranov thought he was in the wrong place, "This is Wild Olive Inn, room 21? This is the address my friend Ratmir gave me. What is he doing?"
Knowing that the other party was not a customer, the woman's tone became cold, "Your friend died three days ago. He fell into the sea drunk, and his body washed up on the shore in the early morning. It happened that the fishmonger next door recognized him, otherwise the shop owner wouldn't have known he was dead."
I moved in yesterday. No one else dared to rent, so the owner gave me a 20% discount."
Three days ago, on the night when Boranov was talking to Ratmir!
Bang!
A heavy punch hit the door frame next to it, and dust fell rustlingly. The woman was so frightened by the other party's murderous intent that she fell to the ground and replied tremblingly, "You, what are you going to do? I paid "Fish Stall", don't make trouble."
Boranov's eyes scanned the room. There was a bed, a table and chairs, a basket of clothes under the table, and several pieces of clothing hanging to dry by the window.
"He died, where are the items left behind?"
Woman: "Of course the deceased's belongings are stored at Police Station. What does it have to do with me?"
At the beginning of the construction of Constantinople, it followed the zoning of Rome and was also divided into Fourteen Districts to emphasize its legitimacy and legitimacy as the "new Rome".
Each district is an independent administrative unit, and its most important function is to distribute free bread.
In the seventh century AD, Eastern Roman Empire lost the grain-producing area Egypt. With the abolition of the grain rationing system, this set of divisions existed in name only.
More than twenty years ago, during the reign of John VIII, the establishment of Fourteen Districts was restored and the boundaries of each region were adjusted to make them more reasonable.
Now, Blachernae Palace, administrative Central Administration, and post offices in the northwest are still the fourteenth district.
The southwest of the city where Wild Olive is located belongs to the 12th District. It covers the largest area, so a separate Police Station was established. Unlike several districts in the east, one Police Station maintains public security.
The hot wind blew by, and Boranov ran wildly through the streets shrouded in the sunset. Occasionally, he bumped into someone, causing them to curse loudly.
After passing an intersection, ahead is Police Station of Twelfth District.
Entering the main entrance, he took out the senior officer's bronze medal and identity certificate, and identified himself to the person behind the counter: Military Tribune of the Attica Legion, brigadier general, Mount Hermon Garrison District hereditary garrison, veteran...
The staff verified the identity hesitantly, "Sir, what can I do for you?"
Knowing that the other party requested to see Ratmir's body and relics, the staff was in trouble.
The deceased was killed three days ago. The weather was hot and the body was not suitable for long-term storage. It has been buried in a public cemetery on the east side of the strait.
Boranov asked, "He served in Fourth Auxiliary Brigade, participated in Battle of Sakarya, and retired as a non-commissioned officer. After his death, he was buried with those homeless people? Not even a decent tombstone?"
The staff found an excuse to evade. "His registered identity at the hotel is Tauris, a wool merchant. We don't know his status as a retired soldier, so we did not apply to the Army Department for identity verification."
"No, he carries that medal with him, or the medal is in the room. You should be able to recognize it."
Boranov Instinctively felt something was wrong.
At his insistence, a young detective took him to the evidence room in the backyard of Police Station and pointed to a box on a wooden shelf.
"Ratmir's relics are all here. We will send them back to his home in the future."
Boranov Tear off the seal and open the lid of the wooden box.
The box contained two sets of changes of clothes, a hardcover copy of Manga's "Adventures of Shieldmaiden Lagertha", two sets of children's toys and other sundries. Ratmir's most cherished medal was not found.
Moreover, Ratmir's travel expenses disappeared without a trace, and the contracts and transaction documents he mentioned were also missing.
"Is this all the relics?"
Detective: "That's all we found in the room."
Boranov felt something was wrong and ran back to the second floor of Wild Olive Inn.
This time, he saw the woman in Room 21 leaning against the wall, talking to a short and thin man holding a dagger with both hands.
Boranov stood at the top of the stairs and eavesdropped, and the woman's voice came intermittently. "That person seems to be Ratmir's friend. He is very strong. I don't think he will let this matter go easily."
The man's voice was hoarse, with a strong Anatolia eastern accent. "I understand, I will have a good chat with him later."
At the same time, on the street outside Wild Olive, Twelfth District and Police Inspector were trotting along under the leadership of the detective.
For a long time, Police Inspector held on to the vendor's cart and gasped for air, complaining to the young agent in front of him. "Huh, why didn't you tell me that Brigadier Attica Legion is here."
"You are in a meeting, I can't possibly barge in and interrupt your meeting, right?"
Bang!
The shutters on the second floor of the hotel were broken, and a short and thin figure fell onto a vegetable stall on the street. Then he rolled to the ground, and cabbage, carrots, onions and other vegetables were scattered all over the floor.
The man was holding his injured calf, his face was pale, and he was cursing wildly with a thick foreign accent.
"Damn bastard, do you know who you have offended?" Fish Stall"I won't let you go!"
The nearby vendors were frightened, and then they gathered around out of curiosity and pointed at this guy.
Seeing this scene, combined with the previous events, the detective guessed that Ratmir's death was most likely a murder.
The detective ran to the second floor and saw the woman huddled in the corner shivering, so he shouted loudly and asked, "Where is the brigadier general? He is the big Rus guy with light red hair and a square face."
"It seems that he went to "Fish Stall" to cause trouble with that group of people."
It's over, the detective cried in his heart, this will definitely be published in "Constantinople Citizen Newspaper", and it may even be published in "Golden Horn News".
He ran to the seaside as fast as he could, hoping that the brigadier general would not get too hot-headed and break into the seaside shacks where countless immigrants were hiding.