Fallen Eagle-Chapter 5: Birth of a Villain

The shock of the statement washed over Iohannes with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened, his breath hitched. “You want to… sell it?”
“You heard me, brother.” Theodorus’s voice was devoid of any of the weakness Iohannes had known his entire life. It was steady, and dead serious. Iohannes’s eyes narrowed.
A trap? This is too bold a move for him.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Because,” Theodorus’s gaze was resolute, unblinking, “there is nothing for me here now that Father is gone.”
The sheer audacity of it left Iohannes reeling. He didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or outraged. “Surely you jest! He gave your cowardly person an entire estate!” The confusion made him lash out, his voice a low growl. “A gift you did nothing to deserve, and you would simply cast it aside?”
A tense silence filled the space. “You were right, brother.” Theodorus took a slow breath, turning his gaze away as if shamed by the memory. “I was not at the battle. I was sent to guard the manor because I was deemed a liability.”
Iohannes remained frozen, his face a solid block of granite, watching where this performance would lead.
“I wasn’t even allowed to defend my own father,” He pulled on an echo of the original Theodorus, channeling his anguish into an exquisite performance. “Only to watch him die in my arms.” He looked back at Iohannes, the shame on his face hardening into something else entirely. “Because I was weak.” He paused, letting the weight of his resolve permeate the air.
A beat passed. “And this changes that?” Iohannes’s tone was laced with disbelief. “Selling your estate? How?”
“Yes, it changes everything,” Theodorus stated, his voice ringing with a strange, new conviction. “I will journey to the capital and enlist in the Royal Guard. I will conquer my weakness, and I will learn to protect what our father built.”
Each new statement left Iohannes more perplexed. Theodorus, in the army? He’d be devoured. Yet amidst the madness, a cold, terrible logic began to connect in Iohannes’s mind. And with it, a sudden, blinding realization.
“It was you,” he whispered, the accusation sharp. “The will. At the funeral. That was you.”
“The will is genuine, as I am sure you’ve confirmed yourself.” Theodorus’s calm, unwavering gaze was all the answer Iohannes needed. “I merely ensured our father’s final wishes were not… misplaced.”
Strangely, the fury Iohannes expected to feel did not come. The sheer bizarreness of the situation had smothered it. His timid younger brother had orchestrated the most humiliating moment of his life, and was now, in the same breath, offering to hand him the prize. It was absurd. But it was also undeniably beneficial.
“Your plan is… audacious, little brother,” Iohannes began, shifting his tone, attempting to regain control. “I am glad you saw fit to come to me. I will help you sell the estate.”
“You believe me insane and my plan doomed to fail,” Theodorus stated plainly. “I do not mind. But I have changed, elder brother. Father’s death has opened my eyes. I come to you not as a supplicant, but as a partner.” Iohannes couldn’t deny that this wasn’t the meek younger brother he knew. It seemed that Father’s death really had changed him. “ We both know I could have approached Georgios with this offer.”
The threat, unspoken but perfectly clear, sharpened the air in the room. Iohannes’s expression hardened. “And yet you did not,” he said, a cold provocation.
“I didn’t. Because my price is not only coin,” Theodorus leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. “I want an ally.”
“An ally?”
“Yes.” The word echoed in the cramped study. “The capital is a nest of intrigue. I will not succeed by myself. I will need connections, wealth, and, most importantly, patronage. This house cannot survive if it is divided. I refuse to see it fall.”
As he spoke, Iohannes began to see his brother in an entirely new light. He had never imagined the boy hid such depths.
“And what would it entail? This… alliance.”
“Nothing formal, not yet,” Theodorus answered. “A quiet partnership. But I want your word. And your support.”
Iohannes was silent for a long time; he didn’t speak, he didn’t move. He simply looked, analysed, observed with new eyes this brother he thought he knew and his daring proposition. This was why Theodorus chose him. For all his flaws - his pride, his authoritarian streak, his vindictiveness - Iohannes was a pragmatist. He could think. He was meticulous. And he could be reasoned with.
“Very well, Theodorus.” Iohannes finally broke the stalemate, his eyes telling Theodorus he had reached a decision. “You have a deal.” he held out his hand. An offer as an equal.
Theodorus took it, his grip firm.
A small, wolfish smile touched Iohannes’s lips as he withdrew his hand. The shock had passed. The humiliation had been mentally filed away. He was back in his element.
“Now,” Iohannes said, a small, wolfish smile touching his lips. “Let us talk numbers.”
“Forty Hyperpera.” Theodorus met his gaze, his calm unwavering. “As I’m sure you know, the northern plot encompasses twenty-five hectares. Within it are two hamlets with a total population of forty souls, twenty of whom are working adults. They are shepherds and farmers. The pastures support the main flock, and the land comes with its own livestock, including two fine breeding bulls. Even the untamed forest consists mostly of good, strong oak, even if it is not currently being utilized to its fullest extent at the moment. It is a sizeable fortune.” Theodorus had spent the afternoon silently questioning affable household clerks and the reeves of his estate who had conveniently gathered in one place due to his father’s funeral. He knew every piece of information was ammunition he could use in the negotiation.
Iohannes’s smile thinned. He had expected a vague, emotional plea, not a precise accounting. The boy had done his homework. But the figure cited... “Preposterous. It is a rugged plot,” he countered, leaning back in his chair. “Barely profitable. It is a land of sentiment, not substance. I can give you ten gold hyperpyra for it, a serviceable horse, as well as armour and a sword from the armory. Things you will need for your military career. Things which you currently lack.”
“The substance, brother, is that it doubles your land holdings and solidifies your position against Georgios,” Theodorus replied smoothly. “And I am not merely going on a trip. I am journeying to the capital to represent the name Sideris at court. Would you have your family’s ambassador arrive looking like a hedge knight? My appearance will be a reflection of your own strength. Our strength.”
He paused, letting the point land before playing his next card. “In exchange for a fair price, I am willing to put it in writing. A formal document, witnessed by the household, renouncing all future claims to any Sideris inheritance. There will be no question of my ambition here. My ambition lies in Mangup, for the benefit of our House.”
That gave Iohannes pause. A legal forfeiture was a powerful gesture of trust. It was also an ironclad political shield. Still, he pressed. “Georgios would bankrupt himself to spite me. I cannot afford to do the same. You do not benefit if I am led to ruin. A weak ally is no ally at all.”
“Which is why my requests are for what is effective, not what is expensive,” Theodorus replied. “I have no need for gilded armor or a jeweled pommel. I need what works.”
“And what is it that you believe ‘works’? Because 40 Hyperpera is more than one year’s worth of income of all of our late Father’s estates combined. ”
“Twenty-five hyperpyra, then.” Theodorus nearly halved his demands easily. “To establish myself in the capital. A good horse, strong armor, and a warrior’s sword - not a parade piece. To ensure fairness, I suggest we allow Sir Spiros to oversee the selection tomorrow. His expertise is unquestioned, and he serves our house first and foremost.”
Iohannes gave a slight nod, a grudging acknowledgment of the cleverness of the suggestion. Using Sir Spiros as an impartial expert protected them both.
“You must consider you will also need supplies for the journey, and a competent guide,” Iohannes countered. “I can arrange both for you.”
“I will also need two sets of tunics. Serviceable enough to be worn at court.” Theodorus’s demands kept piling up.
Iohannes frowned. “This is still a great deal more than ten hyperpyra and a sword.”
“It is an investment,” Theodorus countered, his voice low and firm. “You know Father’s first marriage cost our family its position at court.” The mention of his mother and their exile made Iohannes clench his hands on the chair's armrests, his knuckles turning white. “I can begin the work of restoring it.” Theodorus had also questioned the servants about Iohannes. His tendencies, his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities. He knew this topic was close to his heart. He pressed his advantage. “That is my value to you. To help you restore the good name of our family, to show those fools in the capital how mistaken they were about us.”
Iohannes stared at him, the pieces of the grand, audacious strategy clicking into place. A brother in the Royal Guard, indebted to him, acting as his eyes and ears in the capital, restoring the very honor he felt had been stolen from him simply because of his mother’s origins. The cost was high, but the potential return was immeasurable. He was starting to believe this new clever, cunning version of Theodorus had a chance of actually doing it.
“Twenty gold hyperpyra,” Iohannes said at last, his voice final and absolute. “Do not forget I can also offer you this.” He held the Sideris will, the source of his vexation, pointing not at its contents but at the Sideris House seal. “I can draft a formal letter for you, stamped with our House’s seal and signed by me, its acting head.” His eyes held a calculating gleam. “A missive to the Megas Doux, informing him of Father’s death and petitioning for your audience. That seal grants you legitimacy. And in the capital, that is worth everything.”
Unlawfully taken from NovelFire, this story should be ed if seen on Amazon.
Theodorus gave a single, slow nod. The point was masterfully made, and the offer was invaluable.
“A horse, sword, armor, supplies, and a guide for the journey. Two sets of tunics.” Iohannes recited, meeting Theodorus’s gaze squarely. “And the letter. You will have it.”
“And a promise,” Theodorus added softly. “An alliance. Forged between us.”
In the dark contours of the small study, Iohannes extended his hand, and Theodorus took it. The two brothers’ fragile, dangerous pact was sealed, the weight of their promise hanging like smoke in the air between them.
The next morning, Sir Spiros led Theodorus to the estate’s armory. It was a humble, spartan space, smelling of whetstone, oil, and cold iron. This was a place for arming men, not for display. Spears stood in barrels, and on pitted wooden racks lay two dozen swords. Half a dozen chests held armor of varying quality - leather, brigandine, and mail. Despite financial difficulties, the late Lord had kept his small force well-stocked.
Sir Spiros had taken Theodorus’s transformation surprisingly in stride. His gruff manner remained unchanged by the previous day’s turmoil.
“I require functionality, Sir Spiros,” Theodorus stated, his voice clear in the quiet room. “But also endurance. I need a blade with enough steel in it to last.”
The seneschal grunted and began his ritual. He took each sword, one by one, inspecting every inch of the steel - the edge, the balance, the fuller. He bent each blade, watching intently as it snapped back into true. After testing them all, he pointed to three plain, well-balanced arming swords. Theodorus then conducted his own inspection, but his eyes were on the scabbards. He selected one of fine, dark leather, embossed with the subtle sigil of the Sideris House: the sharp, long-beaked heron. For armor, a similar process yielded a thick woolen gambeson and a brigandine of hardened leather plates, the outer cloth dyed in the house colors of grey and black. Finally, they chose his mount: a sturdy mare, not the largest in the stable, but with a deep chest and a calm, intelligent eye.
The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of preparations. Theodorus insisted on departing the following day; the missive to the capital announcing Lord Konstantinos’s death could not be delayed. But the afternoon was reserved for a different kind of storm. Iohannes had the reeves, household clerks, and men-at-arms gather in the main courtyard.
The mood was tense. What would the eldest son, so recently thwarted, have to say now?
It was Panagiotis, a senior clerk loyal to Iohannes, who stepped onto the manor’s stone porch. “Might I have your attention!” His voice rang out, silencing the muttering crowd. “I present his excellencies, Lord Iohannes Sideris, and Lord Theodorus Sideris.”
A confused buzz went through the crowd. The meek third son standing beside the disgraced first? What was this?
Panagiotis unrolled a parchment. “I hold here a legal deed concerning the future of the Sideris estates! It reads as follows: ‘I, Theodorus Sideris, being of sound mind and acting of my own free will, do hereby renounce my claim to the northern estates bequeathed to me by my late father. I transfer all lands, assets, and titles associated with said estate to my eldest brother, Lord Iohannes Sideris, and do furthermore forfeit all future birthright claims upon the lands of our house.’”
A collective gasp went through the assembly. Yesterday, a shocking division of land. Today, the youngest son had not only surrendered his portion, but renounced any future claim to his birthright?
Georgios exploded, shoving his way to the front of the crowd. “Impossible! You lie! Did you coerce him, you scheming viper?” His hand flew to the hilt of his sword, his default response to any problem he couldn’t immediately solve.
“He did not, brother,” Theodorus’s voice cut through the noise, calm and clear. “It was my decision.”
“Then what madness has seized you?” Georgios roared, his eyes wide with primal rage.
“No madness. My eyes were simply opened. I was weak, and our father is dead because of it. I will go to the capital to restore our family’s honor by joining the Prince’s army.”
Georgios looked as if Theodorus had just sprouted wings. His jaw dropped. He turned on Iohannes, who wore a faint, knowing smile. “It was you! This is your trick!”
“Stop embarrassing yourself, you fool,” Iohannes replied, his tone imperious and cold. “You have lost. And you have made a powerful enemy.” He let his gaze sweep over the men-at-arms standing behind Georgios. “Something your followers should consider. It is never too late to align with the winning side.”
The men shifted, their faces a mixture of shock and unease. They met Iohannes’s gaze with scowls, but the seed of doubt had been planted. Iohannes had just proven himself a capable diplomat, wringing a victory out of a certain defeat. And doing so in dramatic and astonishingly quick fashion. Now that he controlled two-thirds of the Sideris lands, the balance of power had irrevocably shifted. The crowd could not fathom that Theodorus had orchestrated this, and he was content to leave them ignorant. Having Iohannes take sole credit worked to cement his ally's power base.
He spotted Demetrios in the crowd, the old man’s face a mask of disbelief. Theodorus offered a small, reassuring smile, which only seemed to deepen the servant’s confusion.
“This is not over!” Georgios was wrath incarnate, his face a dark shade of red. He fixed a murderous glare on Theodorus that promised retribution. “For either of you!”
“Any further threats out of your mouth will be answered with steel,” Iohannes commanded. On his signal, a line of his own men, led by Sir Spiros, stepped forward, their hands on their weapons.
Georgios spat on the ground in their direction, wholly unconcerned. He spun on his heel and stomped out of the courtyard, gesturing to his cadre. “We’re leaving.”
The ceremony concluded smoothly, with no further incidents. Theodorus publicly endorsed Iohannes, lauding his integrity and stewardship. The reeves from the northern plot, his subjects for less than a day, swore their new vows. Iohannes accepted their fealty and that of the main household, his face an imperious mask that could not quite conceal the flash of triumph in his eyes.
As the crowd dispersed, Iohannes invited Theodorus to supper. Theodorus agreed but excused himself for the moment, citing the need for rest. A subtle glance toward a shadowy figure waiting near the garden was all the explanation Iohannes needed. Iohannes nodded, understanding. He had his own new retainers to manage anyhow.
Theodorus had barely reached the garden path when Demetrios confronted him. The old man’s face was serene, but his eyes were like chips of ice.
“So. Off to the capital.” It was not a question. The tone was flat, guarded.
“Just for a time, Demetrios. You won’t have to miss me too much.” Theodorus offered a faint, confident smile. His audacious gamble had paid off. The alliance was forged, the funds secured. He was feeling ecstatic and it showed through.
“It seems things are looking up for you.” Demetrios’s words echoed Theodorus’s thoughts, but his voice held an undercurrent he didn’t like.
“Yes. I can start reestablishing our honour in the eyes of the nobility, to restore Father’s name.” He dictated the practiced excuse for his pilgrimage.
“By abandoning the birthright your father gave you?” The words were a splash of cold water. The smile died on Theodorus’s face. “By abandoning your people?”
“I’m not abandoning anyone,” They walked, their steps inevitably leading them toward the great hazelnut tree. “I lived a life of weakness, protected by my father. I promised to change. And I’m doing exactly that.” Theodorus said, falling back on his carefully constructed reasoning.
“Do you truly believe that?” Demetrios’s gaze felt as if it could see straight through to the cynical historian hiding beneath the boy’s skin. A cold knot of fear tightened in Theodorus’s gut.
He knows.
“Yes, I do.” He forced the words out.
“Then you are a fool.” The old man’s neutral facade fell away, revealing a bedrock of cold fury.
“I’ll not be spoken to in this manner, Demetrios. I-”
“Do you know why your Father divided his lands as he did?” Demetrios’s voice was impervious, cutting him off. His entire posture a fortress of cold restraint; hiding something.
“For my brothe-”
“He did it for
you
. It wasn’t for Georgios. It wasn’t for fairness. He did it for you, Theodorus.” A jolt, an echo of the original boy, seized Theodorus’s throat. “He was afraid for you." Demetrios's tone grew soft, laden with a heavy sadness. "Georgios inherited his talent and his love for fighting. Iohannes inherited his folly, his love for Alsu.” Demetrios spat the name. “But you, my boy… it was you who inherited his gentle heart.” Theodorus realized with sickening clarity what it was that Demetrios was hiding: Pain.
“And now you do this? You throw away the gift that he gave you?”
“I’m not throwing it away. I’m protecting it.”
“Protecting it? How?” Demetrios let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “By going to that viper’s den that exiled and shamed him?”
“Staying here would mean civil war. Do you think your father would have wanted that?”
“Perhaps not,” Demetrios’s features softened, his anger hollowing out into a deep, melancholic weariness. “But tell me truly. When you asked about your father’s life yesterday… was it to honor his memory? Or was it to mine an old man’s grief for information about the capital?”
The truth was a shard of glass in Theodorus’s throat. He wanted to lie, to shield this man who had helped him, but he could not. He hadn’t expected this canny old man would realise the nature of yesterday’s interrogation. He was caught off guard.
Demetrios’s gaze drifted slowly to the hazelnut tree, the hope he’d felt when planting it felt like ash crumbling through his fingers. “You've made good on your promise, Theodorus. You have changed. The boy I knew before his father’s death would never have been so cruel.” He rested a hand on the rough bark, the gesture a fragile caress. “You speak of being like your father, but he never would have used someone like you did. Or left his people to chase glory.”
The heartfelt words echoed in the silent clearing, and Theodorus fought not to avert his eyes. He had made this choice, and he would own up to its consequences.
“The world is harsh, Demetrios,” Theodorus said after some time, his own voice quiet. “It is not just, nor is it fair. It is a cruel and ugly thing.” He stepped forward, joining the old man and resting his own hand on the tree, feeling the familiar grain. “And I am weak. I cannot change it from here. I could rule this land with kindness for a hundred years, but one bad harvest or one ambitious warlord would burn it all to the ground, and I would be powerless to stop it.”
He tore a piece of bark off and crushed it in his hand, turning to Demetrios as he spoke, the last of his mask falling away, leaving only a cold, heartless countenance.
“I lied to you, Demetrios. I manipulated you." He clenched his fist, grinding down the rough bark into wooden chips. "And I would do it again if it brought me one step closer to my goal.” He let the wood fall to the ground. Demetrios's eyes followed its descent into the dark earth beneath. “Because this world is an ugly place, and I must answer it in kind if I am to have any hope of forging something better. I will protect my father’s legacy - his kindness, his people. And if I must become a villain to do it… so be it.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Demetrios alone in the fading light, the old man’s hand still resting on the trunk of the hazelnut tree. The old man’s gaze fell on the swaying leaves with a deep sadness and longing.
The dinner that night was a rote performance. Theodorus sat beside Iohannes, raising a cup in a toast to their new unity, the smile on his face as hollow as the clink of their goblets. He played his part, endorsing his brother’s stewardship to the household clerks, but the victory felt like ash in his mouth
He awoke before the first rays of light, the last words Iohannes had spoken to him the night before echoing in his mind.
“Be careful in the capital, Theodorus. There are still those who remember our father… and why he fell from grace.”
At the estate’s south gate, his horse was saddled and hitched, panniers bulging with supplies. His new life was waiting. His guide, however, was not. Theodorus simmered, his impatience growing with the rising sun. The journey to Mangup would take the entire day, and a tardy guide meant a late arrival.
Finally, a figure emerged from the manor, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed straw hat. He carried another, which he tossed to Theodorus as he approached.
“A bit late, aren’t we?” Theodorus asked, the wait and yesterday’s confrontation having left him in a foul mood.
“My apologies, my lord.” The voice was familiar. “But after your nasty surprise, you must allow an old man his small revenge.”
“Demetrios!”
“The very same.” The old servant had traded his simple tunic for durable leather clothes and high boots, a sturdy walking stick in his hand. He moved to his own horse with a slow, deliberate calm, then looked back at Theodorus, a smile in his eyes. “You should see the look on your face.”
“You are my guide?”
“Is that so strange? I’ve made the journey many times for your father, carrying missives such as yours.” He mounted his horse, a smirk playing on his lips. “Besides. Someone must watch over you in that
viper’s den
.”
The words, so full of wry affection, drew a real laugh from Theodorus. “You cunning old fox.” The sound was freeing, melting away the anxieties of the past days. When the moment passed, he looked at Demetrios, his expression asking the silent question that hung between them.
Demetrios let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “I thought long and hard about what you said. As much as I hate to admit it, there was a measure of truth to it.” He turned his gaze towards the horizon. “I have spent my life following one rash and bold Sideris. Your dream is foolish, born from pain.” That was truer than Demetrios knew. “But it is a good dream. And I would like to see where it leads. However, you must promise me one thing.”
He turned in his saddle, his eyes suddenly dead serious. “You may fool the world. You may even fool God Himself. But you will not fool me again. Promise me this, Theodorus.”
Theodorus had thought he would have to face this gargantuan task alone. But now, in the most unlikely of allies, he had found a partner. Perhaps his instinct on that first terrible day, to latch onto the old servant weeping by his master’s bedside, hadn’t been so random after all.
“I promise, Demetrios.” Theodorus’s hand found the old servant’s shoulder, a firm, grateful pressure. “Thank you.”
“No,” Demetrios said, his voice quiet but firm. “Thank you, my Lord.”
Theodorus found himself weighed down by yet another promise he felt he could not break. Another chain weighing him down. Yet as they spurred their horses toward the road, Theodorus had never felt lighter. The challenge was still daunting, the path shrouded in shadow, but maybe he didn’t have to walk it alone. And maybe that was enough.