The Chaplain from the East

12th April 1204

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The court was empty, the last vestiges of power left a vacuum that could no longer be filled. Only the Basileus remained, leaden hand drinking from a leaden cup. His eyes looked upon the ashen skies of Constantinople from the high balcony, now giving a panoramic view to destruction. Much of the city had fell to the Crusaders and Venetians, the Orthodox temples looted, the carts of finery carried onto Venetian merchant galleys. The Jewel of the East now permanently tarnished.

Dukes, Counts and the rest of the common nobility hurried to flee the city and submit their own rival claims. It was now just the Basileus and the steadfast Court Chaplain in the unfortunately uncrowded Court.

He had implored the young man to leave, to avoid the looming Sword of Damocles, but he remained to take the ruler’s simple confessions and conduct a simple mass from the last remnants of grain not burnt, with the last cross not affixed to the hands of a heretic. Time wore on and on, slowly slipping away.

Hues of orange on the horizon indicated the day was finished. Finally as fiery dawn turned to oppressive dusk, the Chaplain was bidden farewell at last. Red cloak clasped around him, faith pinned to his chest, he slipped into the night remembering the Basileus’ words:

“You must fly at once, the Orthodox faith shall only suffer further disgrace. Act honestly because we shall be judged on this moment, lest we ourselves fall into sin.

The Venetian blockade will be firm all night, but then the first looters shall return back to Italy, the curtain lifting for just one single moment. From there an opportunity arises, to chart a course for the Byzantine’s fledging colonies in the hinterlands.

I bid you go forth anonymous to the frontier and spread Orthodoxy amongst the fledgling nations, far from the grasps of Europe and the Merchant Republics. Calm yourself, for you must be strong but most of all you must be ready for First Light and the break of a new Orthodox dawn.”