The next morning, Manuel was the first to wake up from bed. Looking at Barbara sleeping beside him, he couldn't help but blush at the thought of last night's "cream puff".
The couple looked at each other, gazed for a while, then suddenly said in unison, "How about…?"
And then… they continued their "battle"…
By the time the newlywed couple emerged from their bridal chamber, the monastery clock already pointed to ten and had chimed seven times.
"Hmm, do you think Their Highnesses will just indulge in pleasure like this?" This afternoon, after finishing his routine duties, Isaac Arno asked his colleague Badars with some concern.
"It's nothing. Everything will be as before. At most, His Highness might find a few mistresses who meet his needs somewhere."
"Hmm, that makes a lot of sense, but why are you so skilled at it?"
"Heh, just experience talking." Badars chuckled.
"Speaking of which, aren't you still unmarried? Could it be…" Isaac frowned.
"Yes, I am very familiar with those kinds of places in Theodoro. Do you want me to take you to experience it?" Badars, seeing his reaction, began to entice him.
"No, no, I want to find a respectable young lady from a noble family to be my wife; I can't mess around like that." Isaac took half a step back in disgust.
"You're not taking the princely couple as your role models, are you? Alas, don't look at how affectionate Their Highnesses are now. Once time passes, there will inevitably be some estrangement. After all, people are fickle, especially young people. So, it's better to seek pleasure in time." Badars spoke these words with the air of an elder.
"You're only a little older than me, don't put on this old man act, alright?" Isaac was quite helpless. "And I suggest you go to such places less often, whether it's getting sick or accidentally leaking secrets, it will be troublesome."
"What are you talking about? As His Highness's Commander of the Guard and head of the secret department, do you understand confidentiality or do I?" Badars retorted, clearly displeased.
While Theodosia was peaceful, a major event was unfolding in Vilnius, the capital of the distant Principality of Lithuania.
The King of Lithuania, Vytautas, lay weakly on his bed in the royal palace. His hair was streaked with white, cold sweat dripped from his body, his face was pale and bloodless, and his hands and feet trembled uncontrollably. But having just lost a whole liter of blood, he now lacked even the strength to move.
By his bedside, the high-ranking nobles of Lithuania had already gathered, surrounding him. Some, who had deep affection for him and had benefited from his grace, wept from the bottom of their hearts, but most were more nervous, as they did not know what Vytautas's dying arrangements would be, and what the future of the Principality would hold.
These people naturally included his brother King Sigismund, and his cousin, the King of Poland's younger brother, Švitrigaila. They now both hoped that Vytautas would directly name an heir, and also hoped he would not. "I hope my brother/cousin absolutely does not name King Sigismund/Švitrigaila," they prayed to the Lord in their hearts.
After a long time, Vytautas finally managed to sit up with great effort, supporting his waist with difficulty, and stood up from the bed. The cloudiness in his eyes also dissipated considerably, seemingly showing signs of improvement. But neither the physicians, nor the nobles standing by the bed, nor he himself, understood that this was merely a brief rally before death.
Looking at the Lithuanian nobles, including King Sigismund and Švitrigaila, who all harbored their own ulterior motives and were unsettled, Vytautas sighed deeply. He had largely understood that no matter what decision he made, due to the chaotic relations between the Polish, native, and Ruthenian factions, the Principality of Lithuania would inevitably fall into varying degrees of internal strife after his death.
Since the result would be the same no matter whom he named, "Then, let the Lord decide who will ultimately become King. All I can do is minimize the losses," Vytautas thought helplessly.
Having understood this, Vytautas first called in church officials to arrange his posthumous property matters. He then turned to the two possible heirs of the Principality. As they solemnly awaited his words, he sighed, suppressing the deep sense of exhaustion, and successively made a final series of strategic decisions. These included maintaining alliances with Poland, Hungary, and Moscow, continuing to resist the Teutonic Knights, pursuing his established Eastern strategy, supporting the Crimean Khanate, and finding ways to bring the Christian territories within Moldavia, Theodoro, and the Golden Horde under vassalage. As for the Lithuanian throne, his final decision was:
"Let the Grand Council decide who will wear the Crown of Lithuania. But King Sigismund, my brother," he turned to look at his brother, "whether or not you are the King of Lithuania, you will be the Grand Duke of Ruthenia." After he finished speaking with his last ounce of strength, feeling faintly that God was calling him, he fainted. And as the nobles and physicians tried to revive Vytautas, the countenances of the claimants to the Lithuanian throne, King Sigismund and Švitrigaila, showed subtle changes.
Švitrigaila felt quite delighted. "Good, good, Vytautas finally relented. He probably doesn't know that the nobles in the council have all been arranged by my brother. Now, as long as the council convenes normally, I will be the next King of Lithuania."
King Sigismund, however, frowned deeply. "Doesn't my brother know that the council nobles have close ties with Poland? Wait, he said I would be the Grand Duke of Ruthenia no matter what. What does that mean?" After a moment of thought, he seemed to understand something. His tightly furrowed brows relaxed, replaced by a look of sudden realization.
And while they were contemplating their inner thoughts, the two also actively tried to rescue Vytautas, but life and death are destined. By late night, Vytautas, whose condition had become irreversible, finally passed away, succumbing to his illness on his bed in the royal palace.
People at the time generally believed this was the result of gout not receiving effective treatment, but later generations have suggested that Vytautas's lack of energy, headaches, fatigue, and memory decline before his death seemed to be symptoms of lead poisoning. To debate this matter, academic papers on Vytautas's death were published one after another, until the modern era of this timeline, when researchers, through studying his hair, arrived at the true result: excessive lead intake, coupled with metabolic disorders caused by gout, with several factors combined, caused the King's elderly body to succumb to the burden and die. Regarding this, some scholars have pointed the finger at an important figure who was then suspected of intentionally offering him flawed medical advice, the Crown Prince of Theodoro Principality, then only 18 years old, who would become the first Emperor of the Gothic Dynasty of the Roman Empire: Manuel III Gavras.