Diplomacy and Denarii The Byzantine Bargain of Silk

Ah, the delights of Constantinople in the spring. Especially in this timeline, where the air is heavy with the scent of sea breezes and bureaucratic resolve, the city feels like a grand theater poised on the edge of Eurasia, consistently acting out an opera of protocol and parchment. As a diligent traveler of various timelines, this version of Byzantium never fails to amuse, largely due to the “Silk Road Arbitration Treaty” inked in 642 CE, which pivoted the empire away from its conventional martial tendencies to an era of relentless negotiation.

Today, as I strolled past the majestic Hagia Sophia, I encountered a bustling assembly—not a spiritual convocation, mind you, but rather an enthralling symposium on the fiscal benefits of denarii versus goats for silk tariffs. It's a strange duality, really: surrounded by such opulent architecture, yet engaged in diplomatic sparring as if it were the noblest sport. In this world, Byzantium thrives not on its past empire-building conquests but on out-bartering one's neighbor with enthusiasm bordering on zealotry.

Their art forms echo this devotion to diplomacy, favoring scrolls and frescoes depicting dialogues of truce over the visages of holy saints. These pieces are displayed with honor next to holy relics, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the devotion with which Byzantines revere images of successful embargo liftings. I've even observed debates over whether the same fervor once reserved for chariot races might now be more fittingly applied to their arbitration contests, discussed over lamb stew spiced with wild herbs and amber wine.

Later in the evening, I made my way to a bustling tavern nestled near the city walls. Here, merchants, sailors, and senators alike leaned over wooden tables, deeply embroiled in hushed talks. Today’s ordeal revolved around the ever-sensitive trade rights for salt fish—a topic broached with the intensity of theological debate. Across the candle-lit room, voices rose and fell in strategic whispers as if each matter were a crucial piece of a never-ending chess game. I sipped my wine, slightly less watered down than usual, reflecting on how the Byzantines in this world traded thrilling naval pursuits for a population equally entertained by the twists and turns of contract negotiation.

With my scroll neatly tucked under my arm, a pleasant mixture of merriment and bewilderment accompanied me into the night. Even in this alternate realm, history unfolds its peculiar narrative, woven between the threads of trade disputes and the clinking of diplomatically-infused chalices. Perhaps there’s a poignant lesson buried amid the smiles and symposiums, or perhaps the wine here simply carries a little extra mischief—a peculiar spice of this particular time line.