When the cannon exploded, the shockwave was so strong it knocked over the four galleys battling in the sea, scattering their oars, shearing their masts from their decks, and tearing their canvasses. The Romans were thrown into the water, which pulled them down into darkness.
Herakleia, Qutalmish, the Venetian Cassio, and a few fishermen crewed the Paralos; the explosion pitched them all over the side. Herakleia, who was the only one who could swim, found Qutalmish drowning. His head was beneath the surface; his arms were waving above. She grabbed him and—as he pushed her down, struggling to stay above water—she hauled him onto a floating oar.
“Do you have a grip?” she said.
He nodded, coughing up seawater. “No problem.”
Herakleia rushed like this from one man to the other, shocked at the difficulty of swimming so hard and fast, exhausting herself in minutes, her muscles burning as her stamina collapsed. But every member of the Paralos crew made it. The ship was in good shape—it had been slightly farther from the blast—though it had capsized like the others.
The sailors climbed back aboard and righted the ship as the voice announced that the quest was complete—Trebizond was saved from Rome. Meanwhile, the whole city was cheering, and the defenders were laughing, jumping, dancing, and hugging on the walls. They were even playing music when Samonas shouted that the wounded needed care. Then the celebrations stopped, and the exhausted defenders began the awful task of separating the living from the dead. Enemy corpses went into one pile, which would be burned to prevent the spread of disease; martyrs to the cause would be given graves and memorials. By then the Paralos was docked behind the harbor wall, and Herakleia was reunited with Alexios, Gontran, and Diaresso. All of them hugged, and then they helped the others take care of the dead and wounded.
Anna, Irena, and Theophano weren’t the only soldiers in the Workers’ Army who had perished. Ioannes also lost his life on the walls, along with a number of other soldiers. All were buried just outside the Satala Gate, with the entire city assembled to bow their heads and thank them.
“They gave their lives to the uprising,” Herakleia said. “Because of their sacrifice, the uprising still lives—as do they.”
Thousands of Trapezuntines bowed their heads. Alexios’s eyes were red with tears. Anna’s two children, Basil and Kassia, were crying at his side. He hugged them close.
“Yet they never would have wanted us to be unhappy,” Herakleia added. “We have achieved something amazing. The usurper’s elite soldiers are beaten, his terrible weapon destroyed. Yet whatever I say here cannot compare to what we have done here. People of Trebizond, this victory today will echo across time. We must celebrate. The white moon of slavery is setting, the red sun of liberation is rising.”
The mood was still solemn as she concluded her speech, yet as the workers and peasants and soldiers returned to the city—their city—and as the black Trapezuntine wine began to flow, and warm freshly baked bread loaves tumbled from the blazing ovens, people spoke with each other again, recounting stories of the battle, cracking jokes. Music started up once more. Before long, the party resumed. Bonfires rose into the night. Herakleia fell asleep at this point, but she heard later that orgies had taken place.
When workers party, we party, she thought.
In the morning, everyone slept late. Herakleia, Alexios, Gontran, and Diaresso all caught up over breakfast; Anna’s kids Kassia and Basil ate with them. Alexios never let them leave his sight. Because they were a hero’s children, the entire city mourned with them, gave them gifts, and tried to cheer them up and befriend them. Yet they were often quiet and downcast.
Gontran and Diaresso explained that they had ridden with Berkyaruq all the way to Niksar. After Narses murdered Berkyaruq, Gontran and Diaresso rode back to warn the Trapezuntines and another city called Koloneía, but the Romans were so fast that the two merchants were forced to hide, and eventually fell behind. They joined the Battle of Trebizond as soon as possible.
“Sure you did.” Alexios smiled at Gontran.
Gontran punched his shoulder, then rubbed his hair. Alexios hugged him.
“Thanks for coming back,” Alexios told him. “We couldn’t have done it without you. Trebizond might have been lost if not for you and Diaresso.”
“So I made a difference?” Gontran said.
“Hell yeah,” Alexios said.
“Nice.” Gontran grinned.
Samonas pulled Herakleia away, explaining that a lot of business needed to be taken care of.
“Hey!” she said. “I’m in the middle of breakfast!”
“A number of enemy soldiers and slaves were captured,” Samonas said. “The Roman child soldiers have also survived the battle. All are accounted for save the one whom Kentarch Leandros fought during the battle. That one has disappeared, along with General Narses.”
“The bastards must be riding all the way back to Konstantinopolis,” Herakleia said. “With their tails between their legs.”
“It’s possible,” Samonas said. “But perhaps the explosion incinerated them.”
Though the Roman child soldiers were unarmed, some knew about the farr. This meant that only the Workers’ Army could care for them. Since it was unlikely that Trebizond would be attacked in the near future, Herakleia assigned her soldiers to the children.
“They have been badly neglected and abused,” she explained to an assembly in the citadel courtyard. “Their parents have been enslaved or murdered, and they themselves were beaten—or worse—whenever they showed any emotion other than rage. Narses only hurt them for a few weeks, but it will probably take years to heal these wounds.”
Each soldier would need to take on two or three children. Most of the Workers’ Army were already parents, but Herakleia reassured them that sufficient resources would be provided for all, since it was the city’s collective responsibility to care for everyone. Once the child soldiers had proven themselves harmless, they would be reintegrated with society. Efforts would be made to find their relatives. As for any who were violent or dangerous, they would need specialized treatment.
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“It’s something I don’t know much about,” Herakleia told the assembly. “I’m not sure any of us do. But it looks like we’re going to have to learn.”
After she had made her case, she put her proposal to a vote, and nearly everyone agreed. Those parents who were already overburdened or who were, for whatever reason, uninterested in caring for “difficult” children would be spared the task unless it became necessary.
“Next order of business.” Samonas glanced up at the citadel. “The prison.”
“We need to let the old rulers go,” Herakleia said.
“They will join Emperor Nikephoros,” Samonas said. “They will spend their lives conspiring against us.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Herakleia said. “We need the citadel, and they’re a drain on our resources. We don’t want them, and we don’t need them!”
Samonas cleared his throat. “In earlier times—”
“I’m not executing them,” Herakleia said. “Tell them they can stay with us if they swear loyalty to the uprising. If they refuse, they need to leave.”
“What of the elders like Gabras?” Samonas said. “He will never swear allegiance, and any extended travel might kill him.”
“That’s a tough one. But we can’t just keep him locked up forever.”
“Indeed, it is not the Roman way,” Samonas said. “Usually criminals are mutilated—noses or ears are slit for serious crimes. Either that, or they pay a fine, suffer exile, are enslaved, or are executed. But to keep them in prison for more than a few weeks—that is unusual, strange, pointless.”
“Would it be so awful to just let him live with us if he wants?”
“He’s an old dog, that one,” Samonas said. “A snake. He’ll try to stab us in our sleep.”
“We can let him out during the day and see how he does. Then maybe we can lock him up at night. If he behaves himself, then he can be free at night, too. But that’s a big if. He needs to make up for his crimes.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” Samonas said.
“The same goes for the captured immortals,” Herakleia said. “They’re dangerous. But if we just abandon them, if we let them go back to the nightmare that created them, we’ll be no better than the people we’re fighting.”
Samonas nodded. “I agree, strategos.”
In the evening, Herakleia found herself eating dinner in the street with Gontran, Alexios, Basil, and Kassia, though the city was so crowded that many other people surrounded them. Qutalmish was also nearby with an orange-haired child soldier named Joseph. Samonas ate with his fellow eunuchs, while Diaresso was sitting with Tamar, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. The Queen of Trebizond had just apologized to Herakleia.
“Sorry for being so difficult earlier,” she said. “I thought you weren’t good enough for my son. It turns out he wasn’t good enough for any of us.”
“And I’m sorry for not making more of an effort to befriend you,” Herakleia said. “As for your son, Samonas and I were just talking about releasing him. He can stay here if he wants, or he can leave.”
“If he’s going to betray us, then he isn’t my son anymore,” Tamar said.
“That seems a little extreme—”
“So is hurting all these people,” Tamar said. “And for what? A few more jewels? A fancy title? And I mean, don’t get me wrong. My son’s failure is my failure. But there’s only so much a parent can do.”
“That is right,” Diaresso said. “Truly you are a great philosopher, Tamar. A strong fighter, a brilliant woman. Is there any quality you lack?”
“No,” she said.
Everyone laughed.
“Now about the matter of becoming my second wife,” Diaresso began.
She shook her head. “You can join my harem if you want. But I’m not joining yours.”
Diaresso sighed. “I will do what I must. Anything for love.”
She kissed him.
“So we defeated the emperor,” Alexios said to Herakleia later. “And yet we’re still here.”
“What do you mean?” Herakleia said.
“I mean we’re still here,” Alexios said. “Still in Byzantium: The Game.”
“We defeated the emperor,” Gontran said, “but not the empire. We still have a ways to go.”
“Do you want to go back to the old world?” Herakleia said to Alexios.
“I would if I could,” Alexios said. “I would change everything there. And I don’t just mean myself. I mean, I would change the world, form a radical militant student union, that sort of thing. I want to put the ‘bye’ back into Bye-zantium.”
Herakleia glanced at Kassia and Basil. “You have some responsibilities, now.”
He hugged them close. “I’d bring them with me if I could. Yeah, you’re right, I can’t leave them. I just wish I could get a message to my parents or something. They have to be worried about me.”
“Assuming they even know we’re gone,” Gontran said. “If you want my opinion—”
“No thanks,” Herakleia said.
Gontran laughed. “I think time stopped. Outside the game, we’re still in the classroom, just kind of frozen around the game board. We never actually changed anything.”
“Look on the bright side,” Alexios said. “It means you won’t be late for your next class.”
“That’s right, I was obsessed with studying before I came here,” Gontran said. “I can’t believe it, I almost forgot.”
“Are you going to keep jumping through hoops for the Man when you get back?” Alexios said.
Gontran shook his head. “I’ll join that student union of yours.” He patted the pistol-sword by his side. “And now I know a thing or two about how to protect it.”
“What about you?” Alexios said to Herakleia. “Are you going to do anything differently in Maine when you get back?”
“I got everything I wanted here,” Herakleia said. “I learned how to fight back.”
“Wasn’t there someone else playing with us?” Alexios said. “Some kind of athlete?”
“I remember,” Gontran said. “A lobsterman’s kid. I hated that guy.”
“Lobsterman,” Alexios said. “Sounds like some kind of really shitty superhero.”
Gontran raised his fist into the air. “Money!”
Alexios raised his fist into the air. “Ignorance!!”
Herakleia raised her fist into the air. “Pollution!”
“By your powers combined,” Alexios said, “I am Lobsterman!”
“What are they doing?” Basil said.
“I have no idea,” Kassia said.
“Wonder whatever happened to him,” Alexios said.
“Still,” Herakleia said. “What we’ve done here is just an illusion. We’re still trapped inside the same system we’ve been trying to destroy.”
“That’s disturbing,” Alexios said.
“It’s a pretty believable illusion if you ask me,” Gontran said.
“I’m not an illusion,” Basil said.
“Of course you aren’t.” Alexios hugged the boy close. “The strategos is talking out of her ass, here.”
Herakleia frowned. “The problem must be that the usurper isn’t technically defeated. He’s suffered a major setback, but he’s still out there—still sitting on the throne.”
“We’ll have to fight him there,” Alexios said.
“Defending a city like this is one thing,” Gontran said. “But invading the Roman Empire? That’s something else.”
“We have to move on anyway,” Herakleia said. “If we stay here too long, eventually the Romans will regroup and destroy us.”
She looked to the city rising into the starry night, the streets filled with workers and peasants sitting and eating in the dim glow of the oil lamps.
“Once we’re all rested,” she added, “we’ll have a lot of work to do.”