It was late in the afternoon when the sun shone brightly on Constantinople's marble-stone buildings. Diplomats were chatting away while soldiers patrolled the Great Palace. Byzantium was seen with a golden staff with a Greek orthodox cross on top while seated on a magnificent throne. He leaned his cheek against his hand and sighed in boredom. Byzantium exuded a heavily divine aura, but his demeanor was indifferent.

"Κύριε, Βοήθησε... γιατί έχω εξαvτληθεί... amen..."

With a quiet mumble, Byzantium straightened up and performed the sign of the cross while letting out another weary sigh.