By early evening, Constantine convened a final council in the barracks war room. Seated to Constantine's right was Logothete Dukas, his Master of Provisions, a thin man with ink-stained fingers and keen eyes. Across from Dukas sat George Sphrantzes, quill in hand, ready to take notes. A couple of other high-ranking officers hovered at the room's edges. This meeting was primarily to finalize logistics and assignments before departure.
Constantine scanned the faces present and cleared his throat. "Let's review the status of our forces and supplies," he began. "Logothete, you have the latest figures?"
Dukas nodded and rose, the parchment in his hand catching the candlelight. "Yes, Your Majesty." His voice was reedy but sure as he delved into the report. "As of this week, our recruitment drives across the Achaia have yielded nearly two thousand new soldiers designated for the Pike Tagmata, as you saw today. They are almost fully equipped." He ticked off points with his forefinger. "Each man has been issued a pike, boots, and a short sword or dagger for close combat. We've managed to procure enough helmets for perhaps three-quarters of them, mostly simple iron caps. As for breastplates, those are scarce; only veterans and officers have those for now."
Constantine exchanged a glance with George. They both knew armor was costly and time consuming to make, and much of what existed had been mostly scavenged or inherited. Many of their men would go to war with just padding or leather for protection. It was a reality they must improve, but one step at a time.
"Boots and weapons are a good start," Constantine said. "We'll address armor in time, perhaps with our new initiatives."
Dukas continued, adjusting his scroll. "Furthermore, Capten Andreas," at the mention of the name, a few officers smiled or nodded; the captains's zeal was well-known "Captain Andreas reports from Zetouni that he has already begun recruiting an additional one thousand men from the local population and refugees willing to fight. However, he urgently requests that we send equipment north to arm these new volunteers. Specifically, enough pikes and swords for a thousand, along with boots and cloaks for the coming winter."
Constantine's brow furrowed. Andreas was nothing if not ambitious, stationed up in Zetouni to hold their newest northern gains, he was gathering all the manpower he could. "Do we have sufficient spare arms to supply him?" Constantine asked.
Dukas made a so-so gesture. "We can scrape together a thousand pikes. Swords and daggers, we might cover perhaps half that number from our armories. The rest might have to make do with farm tools turned into weapons, untill we produce more." He sighed. "We are already stretching our blacksmiths thin. As for boots and winter clothing, that's also challenging, but I've placed orders with cobblers and weavers. We can send some, if not all, by November."
"We'll not have men fighting barefoot or freezing if I can help it," Constantine muttered, more to himself than anyone. He mentally added this to his long list of worries. "What of gunpowder? Andreas specifically mentioned that in his last letter."
"Yes, Majesty," Dukas said, "He requests additional gunpowder to resupply the cannons we dispatched to him, and to equip the few pyrvelos he's training up there." Dukas tapped the parchment. "I have earmarked ten barrels of powder to send to Zetouni on the next caravan. It's as much as we can spare without cutting into our own reserves."
"Ten barrels…" George murmured, making a note. "He'll ask for more soon, no doubt."
That drew a few chuckles around the table. Constantine allowed a brief grin; Andreas's relentless demands were a sign of his work ethic, but they did strain the treasury. "Alright. What's next, Logothete?"
Dukas resumed, "Fortifications in Zetouni and the region are underway. Andreas reports progress on repairing the old Bodonitsa fortress as well. So far, no interference from the enemy, Ottoman forces seem to be keeping their distance since their defeat, likely licking their wounds. We should be cautious come spring, but for now the north is quiet."
Constantine gave a satisfied nod. Each fort secured was another shield in front of the Morea. The longer they could consolidate without Ottoman counter-attack, the better their position for the next year's campaigns, or for impressing Western allies.
Dukas's face then took on a more somber cast. "However," he continued, "with so many men sent north to garrison Zetouni, Bodonitsa, and the other frontier forts, we've run very low on troops available for local garrison duty here in the south. Several castles in the Morea are undermanned. For instance, the garrison at Kalavryta has half its usual complement, since we dispatched troops to Livadeia and never replaced them. Corinth, even Mystras itself, all are a bit thin on watchmen." He cleared his throat. "If any trouble were to arise, we'd be hard-pressed to respond quickly in every location."
A silence followed this report. It was the perpetual problem of their nascent recovery: short blanket syndrome. Pull reinforcements to one front and another was left exposed. Constantine drummed his fingers on the table. "Noted," he said.
"George" he turned to Sphrantzes, "I charge you with that, as we discussed. I expect you to act."
George inclined his head. "Of course, Majesty. I'll tighten patrols in those under-garrisoned areas and see if some of the new recruits can be assigned to guard duty to fill in gaps."
"Do what you must," Constantine agreed. It was a delicate balance to maintain training regimens while ensuring safety in a sprawling territory. But he trusted George to manage the chessboard of manpower.
Dukas consulted his parchment for the next item, but George spoke up out of turn, his tone hesitant yet firm. "There is also Captain Aristos, Your Majesty."
Constantine's expression darkened slightly. "Ah yes, Aristos." He had nearly forgotten in the flurry of local issues. Aristos was a capable, adventurous officer who had taken a small regiment up to Albania a year ago to aid the local warlords in the fight against the Ottomans there.
"Yes," Dukas picked up the thread, scanning a different letter. "A messenger came from Captain Aristos a few days ago. He's currently in Kruje. He requests additional gold coins to pay his men and local guides, as well as more men and gunpowder. "He was engaged in several skirmishes and is low on supplies."
Dukas paused, gathering himself before continuing. "The situation in Albania has shifted significantly. Gjirokastër was recently recaptured by Depë Zenebishi. In northern Albania, Nicholas Dukagjini seized territories once belonging to the Principality of Dukagjini and captured Dagnum. In central Albania, Andrea Thopia and Gjergj Arianiti successfully besieged and took the castle of Krujë. After Krujë fell, Ottoman beys near Albania were ordered to gather forces and counterattack. Less than a month ago, Ishak Bey, Sanjak Bey of Üsküb, marched into south-central Albania but was soundly defeated by Arianiti, losing many soldiers. Most of Albania is now effectively controlled by the rebels."
George made a faint sound of disapproval, which Constantine did not miss. Sphrantzes cleared his throat. "Permission to speak freely, Majesty?"
"Always, George," Constantine said.
George folded his hands on the table, choosing his words carefully but not disguising his concern. "Aristos is a fine officer, but I believe our venture in Albania has run its course. With Albania now mostly under rebel control, our presence is even less critical. We sent Aristos to aid when we hoped to spark multiple fronts against the Turk. That was before we secured these new victories and before we knew how much aid the West might offer. Now… we have too few men and too little gold to keep pouring into a far-off theater of war that yields little direct benefit to us."
Across the table, one of the officers bristled slightly, perhaps one of Aristos's kin or friends. "Do we not owe support? He harried the Sultan's armies when we needed it," the man said.
George shook his head. "We did support him, as much as we could. But we must reckon with reality. We cannot afford to maintain a proxy force in Albania and defend our lands. Something has to give." He looked to Constantine, eyes earnest. "Majesty, I recommend we withdraw Captain Aristos and his men entirely. Call them home."
A murmur ran through the small council. It was not a palatable suggestion, abandoning an ally.
Constantine closed his eyes for a moment in thought, picturing the map. Aristos had maybe a hundred seasoned men with him, comparatively not many, but each was precious. And gold? They barely had enough for their own troops. The coins Aristos wanted could outfit two hundred new infantry here. At last, Constantine nodded slowly. "I agree." He hated to do it, but George was right. "We will recall Aristos and his company at once. Draft a letter ordering him to return to the Morea with his men."
Dukas let out a small breath of relief, as if a weight was off his chest. "Understood, sire. I will have the scribes pen it."
"Make sure to also send tokens of goodwill, not only to Gjergj Arianiti but to the other warlords as well," Constantine added thoughtfully. "Perhaps we have spare weapons or supplies we can part with. Draft letters clearly explaining our reasons: we must consolidate our forces for the upcoming spring offensive elsewhere. Emphasize that our withdrawal is temporary, dictated by immediate necessity, and assure them that we intend to renew our support next year when our situation stabilizes. Mention also our diplomatic efforts with the West and our hopes that a broader crusade will soon materialize to relieve their burdens."
"I'll see to it personally," George assured him. "The mention of a crusade might help bolster their spirits, even if the timing remains uncertain."
Constantine nodded appreciatively. George's reassurance and pragmatic counsel eased the weight of this difficult decision. It was another subtle yet clear sign of how their circumstances had shifted: Constantine was no longer merely defending scraps of empire, he was managing resources strategically, balancing promises and power across a wider stage. It felt empowering, even if precarious
"Now, about recruitment to offset these withdrawals…" Constantine began, ready to discuss how to replace Aristos's men and fill garrisons, but George was already one step ahead.
"When I return to Mystras," George interjected, "I will begin new recruitment drives at once. I'll focus on the villages in Laconia and around where we haven't drawn as much yet. I'll advertise good pay," he caught himself with a chuckle, "assuming our treasury can handle it."
Constantine raised an eyebrow at that but did not comment.
"Draft able men, and if coin is short, remind them of the lands we seized from the Turks, land grants can be as good as pay for many," Constantine suggested. "A few acres for any man who enlists and serves for a year, something like that. We have empty farms in Boeotia now that we can distribute later."
George nodded, making a note. "Understood. I'll ensure we have at least a few hundred new recruits trained by spring to reinforce our garrisons and field army."
"Is there anything else pressing?" Constantine asked. When no one spoke immediately, he gave a satisfied incline of his head. "Then we are adjourned." Chairs scraped as officers stood and bowed. "Logothete Dukas, ensure those letters go out tonight. Gentlemen, thank you. You have your Emperor's confidence."
As they filed out, Constantine placed a hand on George's arm to quietly bid him goodbye for now. They exchanged a firm squeeze, almost a silent promise that each would do his part in the coming separation. Then George too moved to depart, but before he reached the door, an attendant appeared on the threshold, nearly colliding with him.
The young guard bowed hastily. "Pardon, Majesty. Elias the bellmaker is here. He says he has an urgent report and asks for an audience."