Making Rome Great Again or how I was born as Constantine IX, Emperor of the Romans ch 22 (Historical Fiction SI)

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The day began with the fluttering of banners. Messengers had been dispatched to all corners of Bulgaria, summoning forces to assemble, while officers scrambled to organize their men. Chief among them was Damian Dalassenos. As the premier Strategos who had previously marched west under Gregory Taronites, he had earned the soldiers' trust. They were eager to move, restless after spending a year in Bulgaria with little action aside from quelling the occasional failed uprising by Bulgarian boyars. A bored soldier was a soldier left to rot.

Gregory Taronites stood as the doors to his office opened, revealing the man who had effectively usurped his position, his Varangian following him from behind. The Varangian stood in the corner, quiet as the sentry he was. Taronites' expression was thin, his unspoken feelings carefully masked. To his credit, Constantine the Younger did not appear victorious or smug. Instead, he offered an apologetic look, which, in Taronites' eyes, was somehow worse.

"Strategos," Constantine greeted him.

"Domestikos," Taronites replied.

Silence fell between the two men as they regarded one another. Taronites had had time to reflect on his demotion. The sting of it was undeniable. To be elevated to the position of Domestikos ton Scholon was one of the highest honors, a mark of supreme trust from the Emperor to lead his armies. To be demoted, however, was to lose that trust, to have one's competence quietly called into question. It did not matter that Taronites had been instrumental in pacifying Bulgaria or that he had witnessed the death of Tsar Samuel. The message was clear.

Still, Taronites resolved not to let bitterness fester. Harboring resentment against Constantine, a Purple-born destined to ascend the Purple, would be a terrible mistake. Future prospects for himself and his son depended on remaining in the good graces of the Imperial court. His son's recent appointment as Tourmarches of the forces in Pannonia was both an honor and a reminder of their dependence on Constantinople. Moreover, his own elevation to nōbelissimos, a court title reserved for those who served with distinction, softened the blow. It was the highest honor a man outside the Imperial family could receive.

"I have left detailed ledgers and reports regarding our forces, Caesar," Taronites said, gesturing toward the books on the table. "The staff are also prepared to assist you."

Taronites was determined not to leave behind a disorganized army. He would not give credence to rumors that he had been ineffective.

"Use them as you see fit," he concluded.

"I shall," Constantine replied, his gaze shifting to the table. "But not without some help. If you are willing, I would ask you to stay and serve in the army as a commander."

Taronites blinked. The offer surprised him. Did the Caesar not realize the risk of keeping him close, with forces still loyal to him? A less scrupulous man might seize such an opportunity to undermine or betray.

"You would trust me with this?" Taronites asked, his tone cautious.

"My rise to this position is an indication that the Empire's Western policy has shifted," Constantine said. "It is time to flex our strength in that direction. My uncle believes a Caesar is better suited to that task. Your removal was not a reflection of incompetence. You served well in bringing Bulgaria and Moesia to heel."

Constantine paused, his tone steady but sincere. "By keeping you as a commander, it shows that you are still trusted by the Emperor and by me. It will quiet any doubts or gossip that might arise from this transition. You remain valuable to the Empire, Strategos. Otherwise, I would not extend this offer."

Taronites hesitated, his mind racing through the implications. He searched Constantine's face for any sign of guile but found none. Slowly, he nodded, masking his conflicted feelings with a measured expression.

"If that is your will, Caesar," he said, his tone steady but cautious.

As he had considered, a less honorable man might exploit the chance to stage a rebellion but Taronites knew such an act would lead to ruin for himself and his family. Utterly short sighted and wild. Taronites did not survive this long by making emotional decisions. Furthermore, refusing the offer might cast further doubt on his loyalty and competence, solidifying the perception of his demotion as a failure. At the same time, accepting the role would allow him to maintain influence and demonstrate his continued value to the Empire. It offered a path to safeguard his reputation, preserve his family's standing, and perhaps regain favor in the long term. Weighing all this, he decided that agreeing was the wiser course.

​Far better earning victories to his name than to rot in some Theme. 

"It is," Caesar declared. "My house does not forget loyal service. You proved your dedication when you raised your arms against the usurper Bardas Phokas. My uncle and I would be poorer if we ignored those responsible for our rise."

At these words, Gregory dipped his head. "You honor me, Caesar," he murmured.

"Lift your head, Strategos," Caesar commanded. "We have a campaign to conduct."

"Very well," Gregory replied, raising his gaze. "Where does Caesar wish to begin?"

"Our strikes west," Constantine said, a slow smile forming. "Let us wait for Dalassenos to arrive, and then we will begin."

The doors opened moments later, and Damian Dalassenos entered. His eyes lit up as he saw Constantine. "Congratulations on your promotion, Caesar!" he said with a clap, but his attention quickly shifted to Taronites, still present in the office.

"You're still here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It is poor form for the dynasty to forget those who served it loyally," Constantine said, referring to Taronites' earlier commitments during the time of the usurpers. "As such, he will remain as a field commander."

"I see," Damian grunted, his expression thoughtful as he processed the implications. Retaining Taronites as a field commander sent a deliberate message to the army and the court. It was a public declaration that Taronites, despite his demotion, was not disgraced. This decision would silence rumors of incompetence and reinforce the idea that loyalty to the Emperor and the dynasty was rewarded, even if circumstances changed. However, Damian also recognized the risks. Taronites, though loyal for now, still commanded respect among the troops. His presence in the army could create a divided chain of loyalty, with some soldiers looking to him rather than Caesar. This could lead to friction in the ranks or even potential power struggles if Constantine's leadership faltered during the campaign. At the same time, Damian understood the political brilliance of the move. By keeping Taronites close, Constantine not only retained a skilled commander but also neutralized him as a potential rival. Isolated from his own independent power base and placed under Constantine's watchful eye, Taronites would have little opportunity to conspire or rebel.

Damian's mind turned to his own position and he could not deny a flash of annoyance. He had supported Taronites removal for it would allow him to gain further glory for himself and his own dynasty. It removed an established family from the Emperor's circle and he could supplant it with his own. But Caesar saw through that and deliberately kept the Taronites from letting him gain too much influence. 

"An interesting choice," Damian finally said, his voice measured. "It is clear Caesar values unity as much as victory."

"Unity will bring us forward," Caesar declared. "While our enemies are weakened, we can move as one mind. It will be valuable in our march west." 

"Well said," Taronites nodded. Damian resisted the urge to frown. 

"Now, Taronites, how many men do we have in the field?" Caesar asked.

"We currently have a total of twelve thousand men," Taronites reported. "However, with the expedition to Pannonia taking one thousand two hundred from us, we are reduced to ten thousand eight hundred."

"It is also important to note that the quality of our forces has shifted," Damian Dalassenos added. "The Emperor has depleted the western garrisons and replaced them with under-strength units to reinforce his own campaigns."

"That is true," Taronites admitted, his tone reluctant. "While we still retain a capable cavalry force, our infantry has suffered a noticeable decline."

"How badly?" Constantine asked, narrowing his eyes.

For the first time, Damian and Taronites exchanged a knowing glance before the former answered. "We still have a core of skoutatoi, but much of our infantry now consists of militia and under-strength formations," Damian said.

Constantine's face tightened as he processed the implications. In truth, the finer details had escaped him for he had thrown his energies in bringing innovation to the province. 

"How did our infantry degrade so much in quality?" Constantine asked sharply. "Why haven't the Bulgarians risen up, seeing how weak our line infantry has become? And why were my cavalry spared this fate?" 

"We began with a strong army, Caesar," Taronites explained. "The defeat of Ivan Vladislav early on solidified our dominance. Over the years, however, our best infantry were siphoned off to reinforce the eastern campaigns. But the Bulgarians are too worn down by years of fighting to exploit our weaknesses. I've also concealed our vulnerabilities by stationing weaker men in forts and concentrating our stronger forces around the cities."

"And my cavalry?" Constantine pressed. His cavalry would have been valuable east. 

"The Emperor," Taronites cleared his throat, "thought it unwise to strip you of such mobility. Your constant movements around Bulgaria created the illusion of overwhelming Roman strength, effectively masking our deficiencies."

"So my travels made me look like a demarch surrounded by his enforcers, ready to break kneecaps?" Constantine asked dryly.

"A harsh assessment," Taronites replied, "but accurate."

Constantine clicked his tongue in thought. "I see. And the under-strength forces, have they been retrained during their garrison duty?"

"Of course," Taronites said with a scoff. "They were sent west to recover before being rotated back to the east."

"But they will no longer head east," Damian interjected. "They'll be used here to bring the west firmly under control."

Taronites turned his gaze to Constantine. "What is the Domestikos' assessment?" he asked, his tone careful but expectant, his eyes fixed on Caesar.

"We can still work with this," Constantine said thoughtfully. "Our core cavalry and infantry remain far superior in quality to our enemies. But a prolonged campaign will be dangerous for us."

Both Damian and Gregory nodded in agreement. "We don't have the luxury of waiting for our units to recover their strength," Constantine said. "We'll have to make do with what we have and head west." He hesitated before adding, "There's also the possibility of recruiting Bulgarian units to serve."

"That's risky," Damian quickly interjected. "If the boyars discover how understrength we are-"

"They won't," Constantine interrupted sharply, placing his hand on the table. "We position the Bulgarian contingent at the front, with our core forces directly behind them. The weaker units will hold the rear. This way, all anyone sees is our best. As for the Illyrians...they've suffered greatly at the hands of the Bulgarians during Samuel's reign. By putting the Bulgarians at the front-"

Damian caught on immediately. "The Illyrians will be reminded of the ones who terrorized them for years. They'll fear the Bulgarians and see us as the force keeping them in check."

"And the Bulgarians?" Taronites asked, his tone skeptical.

"By giving them a prominent position, we offer them a chance to prove their worth," Constantine explained. "They'll know that their performance reflects directly on their people as a whole. If they falter, they'll bring shame to all of Bulgaria."

Damian nodded, though his expression remained wary. "And if they see this as an opportunity to betray us?"

"They won't," Constantine said confidently. "We've been generous to them since we reconquered Bulgaria. I've introduced reforms that have improved their lives. They know rebellion will only undo that progress. They'll understand that their best course is to fight well."

"And if they don't?" Taronites pressed.

"Then they'll face the consequences," Constantine replied coolly, letting the unspoken threat hang in the air. The strategy was bold and undeniably creative. The Bulgarians, standing at the front, would be forced to prove their loyalty under the watchful gaze of the Roman core. The weaker units in the rear would be shielded from scrutiny, their deficiencies hidden. The Illyrians would see their nightmares leashed only by them, and would do well to submit lest the Bulgarians be unleashed. 

There was still risk however. The Bulgarians had been subdued, yes, but their boyars were still proud, still ambitious. They could take the opportunity to go rogue. "Whoever might command the Bulgarians must be absolutely loyal lest they go wild." He assessed. 

​Taronites was correct. Such a man would have to be capable enough to command them but also bind them. "I will leave them in the command of Dalassenos," he declared. 

"I shall?" Damian asked, his tone cautious.

Constantine nodded. "They will be the vanguard. I need someone aggressive enough to strike the enemy if necessary, but also someone the Bulgarians will think twice about betraying. Your cutting down of Ivan Vladislav left an impression, my lord."

On one hand, it was a gratifying acknowledgment of his abilities. But on the other, if the Bulgarians proved treacherous, Damian would be the first to face them. He couldn't decide if this was a reward or a punishment. Perhaps it was retribution for his earlier conspiring against the Domestikos? No, it surely wasn't. A true punishment would have been exile or the gouging of his eyes. This was neither.

Perhaps it was simply an opportunity to prove himself further. Taronites had already earned enough glory in prior campaigns. Now, it seemed, it was Damian's turn to demonstrate his worth.

"And the understrength units?" Taronites asked, though he already knew the answer. It would be hi-

"Me," Constantine declared, cutting him off.

The shock was visible on both Damian's and Taronites' faces.

"What? Why?" Damian asked, blinking in surprise.

"For one, they are the weakest segment of our army. They need someone to hold them together and prevent a wholesale rout. Tell me, my lords, do you remember Cannae?" Constantine asked, a sharp glint in his eye.

Any Roman worth his salt knew the story of Cannae.

"Of course," Damian replied. "Hannibal and his much smaller force defeated a larger Roman army."

"And where did Hannibal position himself?" Constantine pressed.

"At the center, where his line was weakest," Taronites answered, catching on. "He did so to keep them from breaking and running."

"Exactly," Constantine said. "This is as much about deceiving our own men as it is the enemy. My presence will bind them. I will place my life in their hands, and it will force them to fight harder. Why would they run when Caesar himself stands with them?"

A grin spread across Constantine's face, sharp and confident. Damian and Taronites exchanged uneasy glances. Damian's brows furrowed as he leaned forward, his voice low but urgent. "Caesar, this is a bold plan, but it's also reckless. Placing yourself with our weakest troops is risky. You should command the core. You will be protected." 

"I agree!" Taronites raised his voice. "Caesar must not command weak troops. In the battlefield where things can go wrong, you will need men to rely on! I beg of you, let me take it!." 

Constantine raised a hand. "My lords, I understand your concern. But the weakest men in our army need their spirits lifted. By standing with them, I will show I am risking my life and putting it entirely on their hands. They will have to fight harder or they risk losing me. Each man here has their own places. I intend to bring out the best in all of us. Am I understood?" 

"Caesar..." Damian trailed off. Taronites swallowed as well as both men felt the pressure on them. By putting his life in the hands of the weakest soldiers, Constantine was indirectly making them do their best. If these men faltered, the heir to the Queen of Cities could be captured or worse, killed. The burden of success or failure rested squarely on their shoulders. Damian clenched his jaw, realizing that failure wasn't an option.

They would have to work together for the success of the army or Caesar dies. 

Damian finally broke the silence, his voice low but tense. "Caesar, you are placing great risk upon yourself." 

"Then we must win or we die," Constantine declared. "Make ready your preperations, my lords. We march to the Serbs, first, before we continue to Illyria." And with that, he left to recruit the Bulgarians for this task, leaving both Damian and Gregory alone together with his Varangian following from behind. Damian paced around the room, his nerves frayed whilst Gregory stared at the map on the table and the books detailing the accounts of the army. 

"Walk fast enough and you might leave your print on the floor," Gregory commented. 

"This is madness," Damian muttered. "Absolute madness. If the Bulgarians even suspect weakness, they'll turn on us. Meanwhile, Caesar stands in the center, gambling his life on the weaker men. He's risking everything."

"You think this is madness," Gregory replied, his mind churning with Caesar's words. "But it's not. It's a statement. Caesar is forcing us to step up, Dalassenos." He gestured toward the map. "He's not just testing the soldiers. He's testing us. If we fail, he falls. If he falls..."

"The West collapses and we must answer to the Emperor, if we live that long," Damian muttered. As much as both men feared failure, the feared the Emperor some more. The punishment that would await them should they be found lacking... 

​"Then we cannot leave things to chance," Gregory declared. "We must work together, you and I, to ensure that does not pass." 

​"Agreed," Damian grunted. 

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The villa was just as beautiful as Constantine remembered. He reclined on the couch, the gentle bubbling of Lake Ohrid filling his ears. The veranda, with its picturesque view of the shimmering water, offered a sense of peace. Should he wish, a bowl of fruit and fritters sat within arm's reach. He had sent for Miroslava, summoning her to his home. As he waited, he reached for a handful of fritters, savoring their warmth.

Miroslav stood silently, watching the heir of Mikkelgard eat honey fritters messily.

"Are you sure about this?" Miroslav voice broke the silence.

"Hm?" Constantine responded, mid-bite. "Yes, I am. We need extra men anyway and the Bulgarians can provide."

"Putting yourself with the weaker men, I meant." he clarified, his tone skeptical.

"Well…yes," Constantine nodded, setting the fritters aside. "If I put either Damian or Gregory in command of them, it would be a dishonor. Damian would resent seeing Taronites retain such quality troops, and Taronites needs to appear as though he's still trusted by us. By placing myself with the weaker soldiers, I can prevent both men from plotting against each other and force them to set aside their self-interest for the sake of keeping me alive."

"Or else the Emperor will punish them for letting his heir get hurt," Miroslav added dryly.

"Exactly!" Constantine's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Not bad scheming, wouldn't you agree?"

Miroslav merely grunted, unimpressed. "I assume you also have a further plan for these understrength men?"

Constantine leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "More than just scaring my generals, yes. Those men will be the weakest link in our army, so I'll have to keep a close eye on them and ensure they don't mess things up. But there's a bit of strategy here. The details escape me, but I recall a moment from Caesar's campaigns. He had a legion of soldiers who were not particularly renowned, and they struggled to step up in battle. So, out of all his legions, Caesar began to single them out, praising them relentlessly and sending them to the front lines.

Miroslav listened, letting Constantine explain himself. 

"At first, they were unremarkable compared to his more prestigious legions, but his experienced men soon felt compelled to prove themselves worthy, while the chosen legion became determined to defend their newfound fame. It turned mediocrity into excellence."

"You are forcing the weaker men to step up," Miroslav surmised. 

"Quite," Constantine nodded. "I also have a development plan in mind for the men that will serve under me. I cannot do that with units at full strength. But to those that are new or under-strength, I can train a whole new unit." 

Miroslav had expected intrigue from the Purple-born. But a whole new way of fighting? He could not help but be intrigued. He masked his interest with indifference however. "And how will they be armed and trained?" 

Constantine's eyes glittered. "You'll see." 

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A/N: Essentially, Constantine is going to use the weakest men and turn them into a test for pike-cavalry combination and rage-bait both his officers to work together or else. Anyway and ironically, the Skoutatoi are armed not too differently to their Hellene forefathers in the Greek side of the family. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1EzU-kNhIk and will illustrate that https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIj1Ce8Dxzw

Pike warfare had a strange sort of aura of being obsolete to being utilized once more until something forces it to change. In this context, Constantine thinks about increasing the size of the pike and doing away with the shield. If it works, it will work. The changes are not just for the infantry but also for the cavalry as well. He envisions having an army of pike strong men with lancer cavalry to be a hammer. The Cataphract is suitable for such a thing but having lancers in the sense of French Gendarmare would be useful in that vision.