Konstantinopolis; the Queen of Cities, seat of the Basileia Ton Romaion, 1448
The city was bustling with activity, as would be expected, being an important centre of trade and the gateway between Europe and Asia Minor. The ancient city had been through much these past few centuries and its days of glory were far behind it, however, as they likely always would be. Nevertheless, the populace went on about their lives under the shadow of the looming threat of the Turks. The Islamic heathens had stolen what was rightfully theirs, corrupting and tainting the lands of Anatolia and Asia Minor with their heathen religion and disgustingly inferior culture.
Resentment towards the Ottomans set aside, Basileus Konstantinos knew the gravity of their situation very well, and he was resigned to hold the city to the last man once the Ottomans inevitably set their sights on it. He stood on a balcony overlooking the Polo Field and the Bosphorus just beyond, all manner of vessels sailing through on their way into or out of the Black Sea. It was only upon hearing footsteps drawing closer that the Basileus was torn from his reflection on life, history, and where he stood now compared to the great Emperor's of old; dreading the idea he might be remembered as the last in a line extending back before Christ himself. Though, he personally never had reason to believe in Christianity; questioning the validity of religion in and of itself, with the decline of the Empire further solidifying his religious cynicism.
Konstantinos turned to see a member of the Varangian Guard, Byzantium's designated guardians of the Emperor and Imperial Dynasty, escorting a cloaked and hooded man. The Guardsman saluted respectfully before offering his explanation. "My Lord, this man requests an audience with you. He claims to be a messenger from the West."
"One could say that, yes; from a land far to the West indeed." The aging man said, putting his hood down so the Basileus could get a better look at who he was speaking to. This "messenger" seemed not much older than Konstantinos himself, albeit this stranger's hair and beard alike had lost almost all their colour.
"Oh?" Constantine replied, a cool autumn breeze passing... Ominous, as a more superstitious man might have thought. "Perhaps we should take this inside."
"Agreed, your eminence." The Messenger replied, bowing his head respectfully while Konstantinos dismissed the Guardsman. All returned to the warmer confines of the palace, the Basileus and the "Messenger" walking to the Throne Room.
Once they had arrived, the Emperor took his seat atop the glorious throne of Byzantium; a throne which greater men had sat upon in days long past. Lesser men as well, though most would either be villainized by history or worse; forgotten entirely. "You say you want to speak we me? Then by all means, speak." The Basileus ordered. His full attention, and that of others present in the court at this time, turned to the old man who stood now before the Basileus.
"Certainly, O great Despot of the children of Roma; who rules over an Empire about to breathe its last." The "messenger" replied in an ominous and slightly mocking tone. The comment in and of itself proved an offense to many, causing a bit of an uproar amongst those gathered.
"Enough!" Konstantinos exclaimed in reply to the court, who were infuriated by this. "You're a bold one indeed, making a statement such as that here. Please; elaborate before the court loses its temper again."
The messenger smirked smugly as the Imperial court was put back in its place by the Emperor, for a time. Still; he was not here to antagonize, much as he'd love to. "But of course, Lord Palaiologos. I came to tell you that you need not falter to your enemies who encroach upon you from the East. As you already know, I come from a land far to the West; a rich, hospitable land. Though most noteworthy of all is the fact it's completely uninhabited by any Human civilization. I know the way to these virgin lands, your majesty; and would be more than willing to guide you there... so long as you're willing to leave this city and these shores."
The court was thrown into an uproar once more, with government officials labeling him a liar and some calling him a false prophet. Konstantinos himself was uncertain whether there was any merit to this man's claim. He contemplated his options, holding a hand up as a signal for the court to cease their incessant bickering in the hopes of having relative peace and quiet in which to think.
"Of course, you could always just stay and wait for your doom to come. Think of the position you're in; the Ottomans control both sides of the Bosphorus, save this City and its outlying regions. It's only a matter of time before they decide to take it. You may call me a liar, ladies and gentlemen. As far as you know, however, I may very well be your Civilizations best and last hope for survival. Consider my offer, as the alternative is waiting for a doom you know will inevitably befall you." The messenger replied before turning to leave.
"Wait!" Konstantinos ordered as the old man began to walk away, prompting him to stop and turn once more. "Your offer is... Intriguing. I would hate to leave this city to its fate as much as any true Roman. Though if there are uninhabited lands to the West, as you claim... then would it not be better to re-locate to said lands? To build a new Empire and recover our strength until such a time as we might return to this City and reclaim it for Christendom? I will see to the construction and purchase of a fleet from Genoa and Venice. The recovery and recording of state secrets, along with the organization of our Empire's best and brightest; only if you can provide me a map of this land you claim to hail from."
The old man smiled mischievously, quickly changing his expression so as not to come off the wrong way. Such could very well change the mind of the one man who really mattered in this entire Empire, small as it may be. "I can produce a map for you, Sire. What kind of traveler would I be were I not able to?" With that said, he reached for the pockets beneath his robes. Taking a rolled up piece of paper, he handed it to a Guardsman, who then proceeded to take it to the Emperor.
Konstantinos opened the rolled parchment, seeing a rather well-drawn map detailing a land far beyond the great Western Oceanus, which had impeded the Westward progress of the ancient Empire. Along with what appeared to be the outline of the Pillars of Heracles and the entire Northern Mare Internum from Hispania to Italia and ending here at Constantinople. Cartography was obviously a pastime for the traveler from the West. "This map seems legitimate." Konstantinos began, rolling the map up and handing it back to the Varangian, who then took the paper back to the old man. "You've convinced me. I will make arrangements for a fleet to be gathered. Before I dismiss you, I'd first like to know your name, traveler."
The old man placed the blank parchment back where it belonged, satisfied the illusion enchantment placed on it had survived his crossing between worlds. He laughed internally, already forming plans, eager to see them come to fruition. "My name, Majesty? I am known by many names in many tongues. Though you may call me Daidalos."
"Daidalos... Interesting." Konstatinos replied, reminded of his lessons in Ancient Mythology. "You're dismissed, Sir Daidalos. I hope you enjoy our fine city and all it has to offer, as these next couple years may very well be the last we spend here."
"Of course, Your Majesty. I mean to make the most of my time in this fine city and will be here whenever you find yourself ready to begin the journey to the new world." Daidalos replied, somewhat ominously, bowing respectfully before leaving with a sly grin on his face.
Konstantinopolis, Late May of 1450
It was difficult to believe that less than two years ago he stood here, resigning himself and everyone under his command to their fate; to await imminent destruction. That was all before Daidalos had arrived, a mysterious traveler from the West offering them a chance to start anew in lands uninhabited. Or rather, "Untouched by human feet", as the old man put it. The decision to begin the Odyssey had been met with some initial resistance; both from the Imperial Court and Konstantinos' brothers, Demetrios and Thomas, Demetrios especially. Few in the government wanted to surrender their pre-established positions of power on the off-chance this false prophet, as they had come to call Daidalos, was actually telling the truth. Tensions looked to boil over with the threat of Civil War, Demetrios leading the opposition against the Odyssey until Konstantinos finally had a chance to speak with his younger brother; that being the purpose of their meeting here and now on the same balcony where Konstantinos had first met Daidalos roughly two years ago.
"You're a fool, placing your faith in that man." Demetrios stated. Having met Daidalos for himself earlier in the day, his opinion of Konstantinos' decision lessened, and his detestment of their "savior" grew accordingly.
"Perhaps, though what choice do I have? Brother, somewhere across that strait the barbarian armies of Mehmed wait to take this city of decayed glory and value which has deteriorated into nothing but symbolism these past few centuries. I hate the idea of leaving all we've built behind to be raped and pillaged by those pretenders to this centre of true Civilization, but what else is there for us to do? As a leader of our people it's my duty to protect all that defines us, all that is us; it's my duty as Ro̱maíos Basileus to preserve the Basileia and her people. Try to put yourself in my place, Demetrios. I'm responsible for thousands of lives here, many of whom will have to be condemned to the mercy of the Turkish invaders, who are just as responsible for tearing our once-great Empire apart as all the damned Senators and Nobles whose greed and avarice doesn't help at all. To make matters worse, they've gotten to your head as well!" Konstantinos argued, raising his voice towards the end of his little speech. He calmed himself soon afterwards, turning with a sigh and looking back out over the Bosphorus. Genoese and Venetian ships were arriving, several dozen left behind as arranged while the rest and their crews carried on to trade recently opened up to them in the Black Sea.
There was a long period of silence between the two brothers as Demetrios contemplated what Konstantinos had said. He questioned the very cause he petitioned in favor of, attempting to sympathize with the stress his older brother was under since taking this position from their late brother, Ioannes, in 1448. "Very well, then..." Demetrios spoke after a prolonged period of silence, catching the attention of the calmed Konstantinos. "I suppose I'll withdraw my support for those opposing the Odyssey. Know that I still do not approve of the man who claims to be our salvation, brother. I only have one demand to make in exchange for my support, however."
"And that would be?" Konstantinos asked, expecting something unreasonable.
"You proclaim me the Despot of a new Morea." The younger brother replied with a smug grin.
Constantine took a moment to take that in, laughing soon afterwords before hugging his younger brother. "Is that all? By god, I would have given you the crown." He said as he withdrew, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You have my word that all you need will be yours once we arrive."
"If we arrive, you mean?"
"Come now, Demetrios; try to think positively."
The two were interrupted by the arrival of scholars, priests, statesmen and military officers; all of whom had begun making arrangements for the Odyssey as soon as their ships had arrived.
"My lord, the collected knowledge of our people has been gathered and is ready for transportation. In our search for knowledge, I'm happy to report we've even re-discovered the secrets of Liquid Fire." A scholar informed, with a bow preceding such.
"Majesty, our men are gathering the best our Empire has to offer. More ships will be waiting in Morea to carry our people from the peninsula to the new world with us." One of the Generals reported, not sounding very enthusiastic.
Finally, a newly appointed, Imperial-born Venetian Admiral stepped forward to deliver his report. "Basileus; with the help of Latin engineers, we've been able to re-construct our Dromon's in a manner that will make them far more capable of travel into deep seas for prolonged periods of time. We've a little more than a dozen to contribute to the fleet, sire."
"Perfect." Konstantinos replied, looking to Demetrios before turning back at those whom he had delegated the authority to oversee preparations for the Odyssey, all of which had turned out far more efficiently than he had initially predicted. "Let's be off, then. We still have lose ends to tie up in Morea before we leave."
With that, Konstantinos, Demetrios and family, the Varangian, and Government officials who supported the Odyssey abandoned the Grand Palace. They were as ready to leave behind all that they had known and loved as they'd ever be, all in the hopes of finding somewhere new, somewhere safe. A land where they might lay the foundation of a new Empire in the image of the old.
They took no pleasure in marching through the streets of Konstantinopolis to the harbor, where the ships waited to carry them away from this skeleton of archaic glory. Painful memories and partings set aside, it was the idea of something better waiting on the horizon that drove Emperor Konstantinos onward. With Demetrios having recently pledged his support to his older Brother while the loyal, the gentry, intelligentsia, and even the best craftsmen and women to be found among the peasantry were gathered and boarding the boats by the time Konstantinos, Demetrios, and their entourage had arrived.
Not a word was said when the ships had filled. Once the Venetian and Genoese Baque's and Carracks, alongside re-modeled Imperial Dromons, disembarked from these shores, it was the first, and last time. The Emperor looked out over the Polo Fields once more. This time towards the Palace he had called home for forty-six years. There was no going back now, however, and no use in shedding tears for the doomed city. It wasn't to say it pained him to watch as it disappeared into the distance, though he was responsible for the lives of thousands. Thousands whom he'd been forced to hand-pick from thousands more to whom he felt an equal amount of responsibility towards. No, if tears were to be shed for anything, it would be for those left behind. Those left at the mercy of Barbarian invaders, the likes of which he was sure would do terrible things to the people and all they had laboured to build.
Konstantinos managed to keep his emotions in check, barely. His eyes glazed with tears he managed to hold back, taking a deep breath and offering a prayer to whatever god or deity was listening. He prayed for the safety and prosperity of the children of Roma who had to be left behind. The thought of wishing damnation upon the Turks crossed his mind, though such was bound to be fruitless. Many Emperor's in the past had likely wished ill of them and look where mere wishing had them now.
Others socialized, discussing the recent turn of events; where they were going, why they were leaving, what their goal was, and so on and so forth. Mothers tended to their children, sailors ensured the ship remained in prime sailing condition, and song, dance, and drink alike were used to try and distract the people from their sorrows and grievances. A farewell to their lives, friends, and homes; and a prayer for safe passage and a good future in the new world that was promised to them.
As for Konstantinos? Restless days spent preparing were finally catching up to the Emperor, who resigned himself to his cabin and the heavenly peace sleep offered, if only for a short time. They would be arriving in Morea within the week; to re-supply, collect additional ships and Citizens, and perhaps even his brother, Thomas. An uncertain future awaited them, with a glorious past far behind them. Now more than ever it was important to focus on the present, so as not to let grief or fear overcome level-headedness. But first, sleep, lest exhaustion overwhelm the weary soul in place of sorrow.
Gibraltar; Early August, 1450
Konstantinos and Demetrios stood on the bow of their Flagship, the Venetian Carrack they had named "Poseidon". Thomas had refused their offer in Morea, remaining behind to preserve the Despotate of Morea and Hellenic culture in the Mediterranean. He had parted his older brothers with some rather harsh words, words the two were reluctant to reflect upon. On another note; Daidalos had confined himself to his cabin, rarely leaving save for when it came time to eat or his presence was otherwise required by the Basileus. Good riddance, some thought, and Konsantinos could understand why some might still mistrust the Westerner. On the bright side, no assassination attempt had been made on him, and no troubles had befallen which they could then accuse their guide of bringing upon them, as was usually the case in these instances. Their luck seemed to be changing, though, as Moorish galleys from the Kingdoms of Morocco and Granada approached them, sending an ambassador under the flag of truce to meet them.
"Let them approach... we'll humor them." Constantine ordered. The Admiral, a Venetian-Greek by the name of Leon Terezis, reluctantly complying and having the men ease themselves, while the Civilians were brought below decks.
"Hail, Greek-men!" The Moroccan Ambassador exclaimed as he approached, the light galley which had brought him over coming up alongside the Imperial Carrack, allowing him to climb up onto the ship. "You bring many ships, yes? Well, perhaps you hear of toll, no? We here to collect." The man spoke in broken and poorly executed Latin. The sheer fact he knew the language at all a wonder in and of itself.
"A toll? Who do you think you are!?" Demetrios exclaimed, reaching a hand for his blade until Konstantinos stopped him.
The Basileus looked the pirates and their ships over, assessing their strength. Twenty Galley's, eight of which were smaller, lighter iterations. True, they could outmaneuver the Carrack's and Barque's the Byzantines had taken from the Genoese and Venetians... though they had one advantage over these barbaric Moors, who were so orderless as to allow pirates to pillage innocent men and women. Something had to be done about this.
"Tell your master this is what I think of his offer." Konstantinos replied, grabbing the much smaller man and lifting him up, tossing him overboard and into the sea. The crew got a good laugh out of this, the small man shouting angrily, his face redder than the ripest of apples as he clambered back onto his ship with the help of his comrades. They sailed back towards their line, giving the Romans time to formulate a plan. "Admiral Terezis, are they ready?"
"Aye, sir; I don't know how well they'll work, if at all..." The admiral replied, sounding a bit skeptical.
"Better to find out now rather than never. Send the Dromons forward." The Emperor replied, re-counting the enemy's numbers and comparing them to the Dromon's; of which they only had about fourteen.
And so the battle began. The Byzantines moved their ships, armed and outfitted with their secret weapon, while the Moorish crew of the Moroccan and Granadan fleets began moving their ships forward. Their men readied their bows and the light canons which their vessels were armed with. They closed the distance slowly, but surely, the Moors noticing immediately the bow of each Dromon had a rotating wooden "tower" with an odd device protruding from the front. The operators of these towers chose their targets wisely, heart's pounding and tensions building as they closed to range metre after metre...
At last, when the ships were closing the distance to ten metres, the Byzantines let loose their fury. Walls of fire burst forth from the short Towers, engulfing entire ships in their merciless embrace. The screams of the Moorish crews as their very flesh caught fire were drowned out by the crackle of hellfire, which lit up everything. The wood of the ships, the steel of the cannons, even the water itself was ablaze, such was the destructive power of Liquid Fire.
The crews of the remaining galley's stood in shock, terrified by the sight they'd just witnessed. Even more-so by the idea the instruments of death might be turned on them next. Making haste, the pirates took their remaining ships, turned them about face, and made way for the ports. Their oarsmen moved at double speed as the crews up top terrified them with first-hand accounts of the fates which had befallen their unfortunate comrades, claiming the Greeks "brought the flames of hell itself with them".
Within the hour, the expedition was well underway again, passing between the pillars of Heracles with no further opposition. Konstantinos and Demetrios alike had mixed reactions to the destructive force of their weapon, eventually settling on relief they'd never be on the receiving end of such a devastating tool of mass destruction. With their enemies either burning their way to the bottom of the sea or cowering on the coastline, the Odyssey could continue, hopefully without further issue.
Oceanus; October, 1450
The middle of nowhere, water as far as the eye could see. The hope of a new world in front of them, the threat of a hundred hostile nations behind them. The Children of Roma had no choice at this point but to push onwards. Their supplies had been replenished in Hispania, in a region the local barbarians had now re-named Portugal. With the money they'd saved from their brutal, though effective, treatment of the pirates, the Greeks had replenished their supplies. They'd masked their true intent under the pretense they were going on a voyage of discovery around the world, to see if it really was as flat as most the uncivilized peoples of Western Europe so foolishly believed, though they had not worded themselves so harshly.
In spite of their recovery in Portugal, even the supplies they had gathered were limited, and the seemingly endless ocean stretching out before them did nothing to help morale. It was perfect for Daidalos, who busied himself in his cabin, readying everything for the spell that would bring them all back to his world. He removed a crystal from the pockets lining the inside of his robes, channeling the magical energies of the artifact and listening intently for those outside to notice the effects...
Meanwhile, outside, Demetrios stood alone, governing things while Konstantinos lay in bed. Age was catching up with his older brother, the stresses of rulership and all they'd been through starting to show. He discussed matters of navigation with Admiral Leon, their debate getting quite heated as one insisted on following the currents while the other wanted to push forward in as straight a line as possible until they reached land. Their bickering soon became secondary priority, however, as all on the deck noticed a very odd phenomena unfolding in front of them. Storm clouds formed above them at an alarming rate. Could the Old Gods be real after all?
The sea began to come alive, small ripples forming into waves before becoming massive walls of water, which tossed the boats and their inhabitants around carelessly. The storm escalated faster than any were prepared for, sailors struggling to secure the sails, some thrown off by the winds and water; either onto the deck or into the enraged ocean below. Citizens fled below decks, panicking, crying, afraid; why was this happening to them?
Demetrios and Leon shouted orders to the crew, the captains of each respective vessel struggling to direct their crew accordingly and to the best of their abilities. One ship in particular was swallowed whole by the sea; a treasure ship, as luck would have it, taking with it more gold than lives. Still, though, it wasn't clear how much longer they could last under these conditions.
At last, just as all hope of survival seemed lost, a bright flash of light blinded all for a brief moment, giving way to... Calm waters. A bright and sunny sky, and a battered, though still otherwise intact fleet. Slowly, people rose from the lower decks of their ships; and on the Poseidon, Konstantinos opened his cabin door, a bit disoriented after being tossed around like a piece of parchment in the wind.
"What happened?" The Emperor asked, joining his brother and admiral on the bow of the Carrack, a crowd forming behind them.
"I... I can't honestly say. One minute we were caught in the middle of the worst storm I've ever seen and next... It's gone." Admiral Leon replied, his uniform drenched. The whole deck was still wet, a couple fish even having found themselves marooned on board.
"What of the fleet? And the crews?" Konstantinos asked. He took count of the other ships still in range; fourteen Dromon's, twenty-four Carracks, and eleven Barque's... "We started with twelve Barque's, didn't we?"
"Aye, sir, I saw one of the treasure ships go under." A sailor replied, a moment of silence being had for the crew of the lost ship.
Their sorrow was soon replaced with complete and utter disbelief as all those present on board heard someone from up top shout; "Land, sir; dry land!"
Everyone ran to and crowded around the edges of the Carrack; seeing ahead of them a beach; sandy dunes giving way to lush, rolling green hills; and god knew what lay beyond, though at this point they were too overjoyed to care. A cheer rose; the people forgetting all the hardships they endured and the home they'd left behind; they found it. The new world was here, waiting for them, as promised.
The crew began to move the ships towards dry land; harbored in the shallows in less than an hour; the Crew and Legionnaires unloading supplies while the Citizens disembarked, the first people to set foot on these virgin lands, if these were the ones Daidalos had indeed spoken of. Either way; they were glad to see it, and so soon after what would have been the biggest disaster to befall their expedition, had a divine miracle not saved them beforehand.
Konstantinos and Demetrios stepped out onto the beach; the younger brother greeting his wife, Theodora, and young daughter, Helena; both of whom he was overjoyed to see, and the feeling was mutual, it seemed.
"Father!" Helena exclaimed excitedly, embracing her father with a tight hug, evidence that she had been crying present. "It was so scary... I though we were going to die." She admitted, a bit shaken, though he could see she was keeping it together, barely.
Demetrios scooped his child up and held her close, comforting her. "It's all over now, Helena; we're safe, and all here." He said to her before setting her down, smiling slightly as he ruffled her short, brown hair; which almost made her come off as a son rather than a daughter. The heir to the Palaiologos dynasty then turned to his wife, whom he embraced with an affectionate kiss, holding her close for a few minutes before letting go. "Konstantinos and I will explore the inland a bit more; we'll be back soon, I promise."
"Very well. Good luck, and... Be careful." Theodora replied, feeling exhausted after the intense experience that had ended in their safe arrival here and now; roughly Ten Thousand men, women, and children.
"Can I come with you, father?" Helena asked hopefully, looking to her mother and back to Demetrios.
"I see no harm in it. Unless you wish otherwise, love." He replied, looking to Theodora, who looked at the both of them, contemplating her options.
"She can go." Theodora replied before kneeling down next to her daughter. "Stay close to your father at all times, understand?" She asked a little sternly, if only to put emphasis on the fact this was a serious manner, and that this new world could very well contain dangers the likes of which could be greater than they could comprehend.
"Yes, mother." Helena replied, standing tall and trying to keep a serious expression, though it was very difficult for the eight-year-old girl to contain her excitement.
"Well, then; let's not stand idly by; they day will be out before we know it." Demetrios stated, walking up the beach towards where a group of Legionnaires had gathered; Helena in tow while Theodora stayed behind. Konstantinos seemed rather busy as well; directing the unloading efforts, lending a hand where he could; Citizens resting on the beach; those who weren't working either being old, ill, or otherwise too young to lend a hand.
The Legionnaires who had gathered and were approached by Lord Demetrios saluted him as he came closer, most lacking their armour and outfitted only with the most basic of weapons; spears, short swords, and the like. Food and construction materials had taken priority over weapons and armour, but all that set aside; these disciplined men were more than capable of fending off whatever threat the local wildlife might pose, at least they were confident they could whatever nature had to throw at them here.
"I require several of you to accompany my daughter and I. Don't forget to bring a banner." Demetrios stated in a very straightforward manner.
"Yes, Majesty!" The Centruion replied, selecting several of the better-equipped troops to accompany the Despot and his daughter, one carrying the banner of Byzantium.
With an entourage gathered; Demetrios and company began to climb the hill that limited their line of sight. It wasn't long before they reached the top; looking out over mostly flat fields of tall grass with a few hills dotting the landscape. With mountains far off in the distance, a river quite a ways to the South, and a forest some distance to their West. The soil looked to be very fertile if it could support the great amount of vegetation they were seeing all around them; and to the North the range of mountains, where one could likely find Iron and Copper ore, two very important metals.
"So beautiful..." Someone commented, the rich diversity of unspoiled land and wildlife living within unlike anything they had seen before; most hailing from cities, coastal cities at that.
"Gentlemen; if we are in agreement, then I will hereby and henceforth claim this land now and forever as part of the Basileia Rhōmaiōn in Elysium!" Demetrios declared with no objection, one of the Legionnaires planting the banner in the top of the hill.
"This land is already claimed, and with a name at that!" A voice from above stated, eyes turning upwards to see a sight that paralyzed all. A grand, white horned pegasus mare with a long, flowing Celestial mane and tail, as well as some ornaments which denoted her status as being important. But that couldn't be right; horses couldn't form societies, let alone mythical creatures... Yet here she flew, descending towards the Men who had gathered on the hill, landing in front of them with a stern expression on her face.
"In god's name..." Someone commented, getting over the initial shock of what they'd just witnessed.
Princess Celestia looked past the men on the hill briefly, scanning the coast, which was now inhabited by the ten thousand-or-so exiles, who had stopped working, trying to comprehend what it was they were seeing. Were they all dead? Was this just a dream? No, this couldn't be; this had to be reality; unless the horse itself were a mere apparition.
Celestia had arrived to investigate the source of a great magical imbalance which had taken place once before a few months ago, when Discord had mysteriously disappeared after a storm over Canterlot that produced the same kind of strange, magical imbalance she felt here. There was no doubt this was his doing, which now left these creatures stranded here where they obviously did not belong.
"You;" The Princess began, pointing to Demertrios, who still seemed to be trying hard to take this all in. "Are you the Prince of these... Beings?" She asked, unsatisfied with her terminology, though there really weren't any better words to describe what she was seeing.
"Am I? Yes, well; no. That is to say..." Demetrios began, collecting himself on the fly, confused as to how this horse could speak; why it could understand him and they could understand it, though so many unexplained phenomena have been occurring as of late, perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise after all.
"I am Konstantinos the Eleventh Dragaš Palaiologos; Basileus Ton Romaion, successor to the Basileia Rhōmaiōn." Konstantinos stated as he neared the top of the hill, arriving with a retinue of advisors and military officers; as confused as everyone else was, though it would be unwise to pass up an opportunity at diplomacy with what he could only presume was a leader among the natives here, as odd as it sounded to refer to horses as being natives, let alone implying they could build a civilization.
"Oh?" Celestia began, turning her attention to the Emperor as he arrived at the top of the hill. "I'm afraid to inform you, sir, that you do not belong here; that I suspect trickery and powerful magics were used to bring you and yours here, and for what purpose I am uncertain. But come; it's almost time for me to lower the sun; we can speak more on this at Canterlot."
"Lower the sun? Who do you think you are, God?" Someone commented, the Princess promptly glaring at the man.
"And where might your Dominion be, Princess? No matter the distance; if the sun is about to set, I doubt we might make it in time for dinner, let alone a proper discussion." Konstantinos replied, feeling odd; he was speaking with a horse, an animal the likes of which was somehow sentient and of higher intelligence, unlike the horses he'd known back home. This was to say nothing of the fact she looked like a creature straight out of his people's Mythology; and then some, including the horn and celestial mane and tail, which there were no accounts of. Could the old gods be real?
"I can teleport us there, Emperor Konstantinos." Celestia replied simply, leading to scoffs of disbelief from some of the men whose perception of reality had been challenged in a manner most were not willing to deal with properly. Lacking the patience to tolerate their insolence; Celestia's horn began to glow; she and Konstantinos disappearing in a brilliant flash of light which blinded those on the hillside temporarily, causing panic among the exiles as their Emperor was "stolen" in the eyes of some.
