In the following months, the palace library became almost a second home for Basil.
He was completely absorbed in the scent of ancient paper and ink, arriving before dawn and leaving late at night when the candlelight burned out. General Andronikos was often by his side, and the two of them, initially strict teacher and student, gradually became a pair of strategic research partners.
Vast tracts of parchment scrolls and paper books were constantly taken from the towering shelves, spread out on the massive wooden table, and then replaced after intense debate and deduction. The military maps depicting mountains and rivers on the tabletop had been repeatedly rubbed to the point of frayed edges. From Alexander's expeditions to Caesar's Gallic Wars, from Belisarius's miracles to the glory of Basil II, Rome's triumphs and defeats over thepast millennia were chewed and digested bit by bit through the repeated deductions of young and veteran warriors.
Time passes by unknowingly.
The morning's swordplay training never ceased, sweat soaking Basil's shirt again and again. His body grew like a twig, his muscles gradually becoming firmer. Although he still had the immaturity of a boy, his sword-wielding movements already had a hint of the soldier's calmness and ruthlessness.
On this day, a servant hurriedly delivered the latest file from the Imperial Intelligence Department.
This volume was covered in thick leather, unlike those that recorded indigenous movements or European court secrets. On it, only one word was branded in crimson ink: Ottoman.
Basil used a knife to cut through the sealing wax, his movements neither hurried nor slow.
He unfolded the file, and instead of a lengthy analysis, it contained a huge, finely hand-drawn map and several pages of accompanying briefing notes.
The moment the map was spread out, a dazzling green filled Basil's entire vision.
That green color tightly strangled the throat of the Black Sea, swallowed up the entire Balkan Peninsula, swept through the Levant region, and finally painted the rich Egypt and the long North African coast in its own color.
This vast territory surprisingly overlaps with Basil's memory of the eastern territory of the Roman Empire after it was divided into East and West during its heyday.
He stretched out his hand, his fingertips hovering above the green, the air seemed to grow heavy. Finally, his fingertips gently descended, resting on a name-Suleiman.
Suleiman the Magnificent "the Legislator"
The accompanying briefing pages recorded the Sultan's achievements in the most concise and coldest terms, and every word was like a heavy hammer.
Suppress the rebellion of the Governor of Damascus and consolidate internal rule.
He conquered Hungary and marched to the gates of Vienna, making the entire Christian world tremble.
Seize Baghdad from the Persians and take the wealth of Mesopotamia.
He conquered the pirate king Barbarossa Hayreddin, whose naval fleet roamed the Mediterranean and was unmatched.
Under his rule, the Ottoman Empire's national strength, territory, and military power have reached an unprecedented peak.
Basil stared at the map for a long time, without saying a word. He seemed to be able to see through the thick layer of green paint, the polished swords and guns in the guards' barracks in Istanbul; the crescent-shaped sails blotting out the Mediterranean Sea; the powerful ruler who dominated the fate of three continents, gazing down at his empire from the depths of the Topkapi Palace; the four minarets towering outside the Hagia Sophia and the abbot praying inside.
He did not feel fear, only a calmness suppressed to the extreme, the excitement of a chess player facing the ultimate opponent.
"The Ottoman Empire is really at its peak now." Basil muttered to himself, without any emotion in his voice.
More than thirty years had passed since the Siege of Vienna, which had terrified all of Europe. Eleven years had passed since the Battle of Lepanto, which had somewhat restored the dignity of Christendom. And more than a hundred and twenty years had passed since the Polish Winged Hussars launched a desperate charge at the gates of Vienna, saving civilization from peril.
It was more than two hundred years before Greek nationalism truly awakened and finally struggled for independence from the Ottoman Empire under the intervention of Western European powers.
If the Romans of Elysium wanted to return home, they would have to face the most powerful empire on the planet at the time, at the height of its power.
"But... this is what makes it interesting."
The corner of Basil's mouth curled up in an almost invisible arc.
"I want to fight the elite! Only by defeating the Ottomans fairly and with absolute strength at their peak, and recovering our homeland, can we declare to the world that Rome is back!"
"This is the great achievement that I, Basil Palaiologos, should accomplish!"
This crazy idea exploded in his mind, turning into a surging fighting spirit that made his blood begin to heat up.
He stood up suddenly and paced in front of the huge map, like an awakened beast.
"Go home, the biggest enemy is not the Ottoman army, but logistics!" His finger started from the city of Elysia in the New World, drew a long line across the Atlantic Ocean on the map, and finally stopped at the edge of Europe.
"This route is too long, exposing the empire's arteries! We can't transport troops and supplies from our homeland every time. If we do that, we'll be dragged down by the waves of the Atlantic and the lengthy supply lines before we even reach Constantinople!"
"We must find a solid base in the Old World, a springboard for advancement!"
His fingers began to wander across the map of the old world, searching for prey like a hawk, looking for the right "soft persimmon".
France? No. Although the Valois dynasty was under attack from both Spain and the Holy Roman Empire, its foundation was still there, making it a tough nut to crack.
Spain? Even less so. The Habsburgs were now the kingmakers of the Catholic world, their phalanxes the strongest infantry in Europe. And they were just to our south. Provoking this neighbor now was sheer madness.
Italy? That collection of small city-states, though seemingly divided, is actually Europe's powder keg, a trigger for a volatile whole. The Papal States, Venice, Genoa-none of them is easy to fend for. Taking action here would be tantamount to declaring war on Catholics throughout Europe.
Basil's gaze moved northward, passing through the core area of the European continent, and finally, his fingers stopped at two places.
One is the coastline of North Africa.
The other is the isolated island overseas Ireland.
"What are you thinking about, Basil?"
A steady sound of footsteps sounded behind him, and Andronica had walked in without him noticing. He looked at Basil's focused back until Basil came back to his senses.
"Are you scared by the vast Ottoman territory?" There was a hint of ridicule in Andronika's voice.
Basil turned around and handed over the file in his hand.
"Teacher, I was indeed thinking about Osman." His expression was unusually serious.
"Suleiman the Magnificent was a powerful ruler, we must acknowledge that. The good news is that he's already in his sixties and won't have much time left. The bad news is that Osman's succession law... you know, the kind that requires one to ascend the throne by stepping on the corpses of their brothers. It will only produce another monster. Our next opponent will definitely not be a mediocre person."
He paused and pointed to the vast Atlantic Ocean.
"But the bigger problem lies here. Logistics! Between us and Constantinople lies the entire Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. The expedition's supply line is our most vulnerablelifeline. So, I was just thinking that we must first find a foothold near Europe, a base that can generate its own income."
Andronicus nodded approvingly, motioning for him to continue.
"I looked at it for a long time and thought there were two options. North Africa, or Ireland."
"The advantage of North Africa is that it's infidel territory, so we have no moral burden in fighting it, and it's closer to our ultimate goal." Basil pointed at Algiers and Tunisia. "But the disadvantages are equally obvious. This is the Ottoman sphere of influence. Although separated by a desert, it's still connected by land. If the Ottomans produce a genius generallike Hannibal and lead a large army across the desert, our supply points will be at risk of being uprooted."
"So I'm leaning towards Ireland."
" Ireland?" Andronikas raised his eyebrows.
This answer was obviously beyond his expectations.
"Yes, Ireland." Basil's voice was filled with powerful confidence. "Ireland is an isolated island in Europe, far away from the conflicts of the continent. As long as we have a strong navy, we can turn it into an impregnable maritime fortress. Although the English claim it, their rule is very unstable. The Celts on the island will be our natural allies."
He paused and emphasized his tone.
"And, most importantly," Basil's face flashed with a strange light, "Ireland's soil and climate are very suitable for growing a high-yield crop unique to our New World - potatoes."
"Potatoes?" Andronica was unfamiliar with the word, yet it sounded familiar, as if he had seen it in a report on the products of the New World.
"Yes, it's potatoes," Basil explained, his speech beginning to quicken. "A crop that yields several times more than wheat and doesn't require much land! Once we promote its cultivation in Ireland, within a few years, this land will be able to feed an army of tens of thousands, with food to spare! We'll have a base capable of self-sustaining! We'll no longer have to worry about long supply lines across theAtlantic!"
Andronikas was completely stunned.
He looked at the boy in front of him, his mind was a little foggy for a moment. This twelve-year-old child was planning the future of the empire and the route for the empire to return home.
Incorporate a new crop into the highest strategy that determines the fate of the country?
Using a lump growing in the soil to support an expedition across the ocean?
"Use... potatoes to improve our fragile supply lines?" Androni was a little confused.
"Yes, it's this New World crop," Basil replied firmly. "It will be the cornerstone supporting our journey home! With sufficient food supplies, we can send a large army to the Balkans and defeat the Ottomans."
It took a long time for Andronica to come back to his senses from the shock. He suddenly laughed out loud, his laughter was loud and hearty, full of wonder and appreciation.
"Good! Good! Good! Basil, after these few months of study, you've truly developed your own judgment! You've begun to weigh the pros and cons from a global perspective!"
He patted Basil's shoulder hard, and the force of his hand made the boy stagger.
"Your analysis of the Ottomans and your emphasis on logistics coincide with my own. As for your Irish plan..." He pondered for a moment, his smile fading slightly. "Your idea is bold and convincing. But I still have concerns. Ireland is too far away. Attacking the Balkans from there isn't much shorter than launching from Elysium. Personally, I'd prefer to take action in North Africa, perhaps capturing Tunisia or a Mediterranean island like Malta. A step-by-step approach would be more cautious and safer."
"Teacher, your concerns are valid." Basil didn't insist on his own opinion. "Perhaps we can take a two-pronged approach. We can establish a stable rear base with the long-term goal of conquering Ireland. At the same time, before taking action, we can send a fleet to seize one ortwo islands in the Mediterranean, similar to Malta or Crete, to serve as temporary supply points and naval bases."
"Well... this idea is more comprehensive." Andronica nodded, very satisfied with Basil's flexibility.
Late that night, the candlelight in the palace study was still bright.
Andronicus reported the entire conversation between him and Basil to Constantine XII in detail.
The old emperor stood with his back to him, as usual before the huge world map. He listened quietly, without interrupting or turning back, like a silent statue.
When Andronicus talked about Basil's amazing plan of "using potatoes to build a self-sustaining base in Ireland", the old emperor's rock-like figure moved slightly.
"...Your Majesty, His Highness Basil's ideas have gone beyond the purely military scope. Не has taken agriculture, logistics, geography, and politics into consideration. He...he is planning this homecoming war in a way we have never imagined." Andronica's tone was filled with uncontrollable excitement and awe.
He took a step forward, his voice trembling.
"Your Majesty, Rome has such a 'good and holy grandson'. His journey home is full of hope! Congratulations, Your Majesty!"
The study fell into a long silence, with only the candle flame bursting and making a slight "crackling" sound.
"hope..."
Constantine XII finally spoke slowly, his voice carrying the weight of time.
"As long as there is hope, it's good... As long as there is hope, it's good..."
He turned around slowly, his old face full of wrinkles, and his eyes, which were once as sharp as an eagle, now looked a little cloudy.
His withered fingers gently stroked the name "Constantinople" on the map, his movements as gentle as if he was stroking a rare treasure.
"It's just that I'm an old man, already in my sixties."
His voice sank, filled with endless desolation.
"I'm afraid... I'll never see the day when that double-headed eagle flag once again flies over the Golden Horn."
These words made the air in the study heavy. Andronica's heart ached, and he was about to speak to comfort her, but the old emperor raised his hand to stop him.
Constantine XII's eyes became firm again, and the majesty of the Roman emperor returned to him.
"The fact that he could think of logistics and using new crops to support the war effort shows that he understood the nature of war."
The old emperor paused and made a decision.
"However, he had never witnessed the ups and downs of Europe firsthand and only speculated on paper. This was not enough."
"It's time to find an opportunity to let him visit Europe and move around more. This will be more conducive to his growth."