The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 1 The Long Journey

The first day of the year 6689 of creation, September 1, 1180 in the Julian calendar, Constantinople, Golden Horn.

It was late summer, and thick, sticky heat was rising from the marble slabs of the dock and the dark wooden planks of every ship, mixed with the salty sea breeze, oriental spices, and the pungent smell of livestock dung.

Thousands of dockworkers, sailors, and slaves, shirtless and sweating, chanted as they loaded and unloaded cargo, turning the entire Golden Horn into a giant, buzzing beehive.

If one is exhausted, looking up, one can see that the huge imperial galleys, the round-hulled Italian cargo ships, the triangular sailing ships from Egypt, and various vessels carrying pilgrims almost completely cover the water, creating large areas of shade that are slightly cool and make it a good place to rest.

The summer storms in the Mediterranean have passed, and the winter gales have yet to arrive. The seas are calm, making it an ideal time for merchants to set sail.

Alexius stood on the dock, surrounded by his guards, gazing into the distance.

"Is this your first time visiting Golden Horn Bay, Your Highness?"

Alexius turned around and saw a short, stout man with squinty eyes, wearing ill-fitting lamellar armor, and the helmet on his head couldn't even hide the fat overflowing from his face.

"I don't seem to know you, soldier."

The man quickly forced a fawning smile: "Of course you don't recognize me. I've been ordered by His Majesty to replace the former head of the guard, Roy, in charge of protecting you on this trip. My name is Leo, Your Highness."

"What's wrong with Roy? He's served me since I was born and has never made a mistake." Alexius frowned. He loathed the obsequious and pretentious man in front of him and couldn't understand why his father had transferred Roy away and replaced him with this unreliable fellow.

The man named Leo said in a low voice, "Such is the situation, Your Highness. Roy is a Norman, and he is not the right person, either for safety reasons or for the purpose of this trip."

"It's just a pilgrimage to Patras; the Normans are Christians too, so why can't we go?"

"I am merely conveying the message, Your Highness."

Alexius remained silent, weary and numb from the turmoil of politics.

He was born in the Purple Chamber, but did not spend his childhood in the deep palace. His guard Roy helped him isolate himself from almost all trivial matters and troubles. He spent a short but wonderful childhood with his guardian and teacher, Governor Joannis of Mercia, and his playmates at the estate. After his teacher passed away, the gentle haven of childhood shattered, and in its place came the heir to the Roman Empire, who was to be and could only be transformed into a completely political being, even though he was not competent.

Leo's squinty eyes swept over Alexius, and as the rumors said, he was still a naive child.

"Your Highness, it's getting late, and the port is getting hotter. Let's board the ship as soon as possible and go to the cabin to cool off."

"Not yet, I still have to wait for someone." Alexius looked expectantly at the crowd below the city gate.

At this moment, on a bustling street inside the walls of Constantinople, a carriage without any family crest was slowly making its way.

The passersby on the road were all amazed. The coachman was not a poorly dressed, muscular laborer, nor a well-dressed, elderly nobleman's servant, but the Latin priest named "Jacob" who often appeared to preach at the Hagia Sophia Cathedral.

At this moment, Yage was covered in sweat, the sleeves of his monk's robe rolled up to his upper arms, and he kept muttering into the carriage behind him, "Leon, I told you we had to get up early to take the boat today, why are you still sleeping like a log..."

Inside the carriage, a boy named Leon, half-asleep, vaguely heard Accord's mutterings. He murmured, "It's all because you insisted on dragging me to rehearse last night. Do you know how tiring it is to act out this leprosy drama...?"

Lyon wore a heavy, dark wool cloak that wrapped him up completely, and a leather mask rested on the cushion, only revealing slits for his eyes. He was restless from the heat, his mind filled with images of his comfortable university dorm room, playing games in air conditioning…

That's right, he wasn't a neurotic person wearing thick clothes in the sweltering heat, nor was it some kind of performance art. Rather, he was a person from the future who transmigrated into the body of an infant in Constantinople whose identity couldn't be revealed and who could only pretend to be a leper. He was raised by the priest whom he called his uncle.

After an unknown amount of time, the carriage slowly came to a stop, the door opened, and Uncle Accord's smug face reappeared in front of Lyon.

"Hey, hey, hey, how much longer are you going to sleep? Alexius is already waiting for you!"

Lyon suddenly awoke, took the hand of Accord to help him up, and stepped out into the bright Mediterranean sunshine in early September.

Supported by Accord, Lyon slowly made his way through the crowd. His steps, deliberately performed, appeared somewhat slow and even slightly stiff, as if he were enduring some kind of discomfort. When a sea breeze blew by, he suddenly swayed slightly and almost imperceptibly, as if he were frail and weak.

On the nearby dock, Alexius had imagined countless times what an exciting and joyful moment it would be to reunite with Lyon, a moment when he would not be the son of Basilius Manuel, but the student of his teacher Joannis and Lyon's brother.

However, when the moment actually arrived, he was speechless. Across from him, Leon also stopped and looked at him expectantly.

Alexius snapped out of his daze and almost instinctively shifted his toes forward half an inch, tilted his shoulders slightly forward, and relaxed the muscles in his arms, preparing to lift them up in an embracing posture.

A pure, unguarded light shone in his eyes—the heartfelt joy of finally catching a glimpse of the only true and flawless thing under the heavy weight of countless court politics and dogmas. His lips parted slightly, and that familiar name almost slipped out.

However, a wave of rational thought washed over him, and he finally remembered the true cause of his sorrow. His dear friend was cursed by a disease called leprosy, an incurable illness. His life, along with their shared memories, was like a candle flickering in the wind, inevitably fading away. Moreover, he was the crown prince, the Caesar of the empire; he could not behave in public, much less embrace a… “patient.” The eyes of the empire were fixed on him through the eyes of every servant around him.

Thus, that half-inch forward movement was transformed into an extremely reserved nod, conforming to royal etiquette, and a seemingly casual greeting: "Long time no see, Lyon."

A barely perceptible hint of relief flashed in Lyon's eyes—it seemed this guy had finally matured a bit.

His eyes were calm. He extended his gloved hands, nodded slightly, and said softly, "Long time no see, my brother." He met Alexius's gaze. "I understand everything. The sea is rough; we should set sail."

Alexius abruptly turned away, no longer looking at the figure that stirred his thoughts. He almost gritted his teeth as he gave Leo, who was approaching, a firm and decisive command:

"Everyone's here, what are we waiting for? Let's set sail!"