Isaac purchased a prematurely "decommissioned" carrack from Genoa for 8,000 ducats.
This massive sailing ship, weighing over 800 tons, was a true behemoth of the sea.
The carrack had multiple decks and immense internal space, capable of storing ample supplies and artillery. Its propulsion came from four sails—three square sails at the front and a triangular lateen sail at the stern for steering. Fore and aft castles were built for command and scouting.
The carrack's tall sides made it highly resistant to boarding tactics.
This warship had served the Genoese navy for three years. Now, thanks to Niccolò's maneuvering, it bore the name "Grand Duke of Morea" and belonged to the Bailleul family.
However, it appeared Isaac had once again been tricked by the greed of Latin merchants.
The ship was essentially an empty shell—no cannons, no sails, no crew. Isaac had to arrange all of it himself.
That meant spending a significant sum again—and waiting.
Seizing the opportunity, Isaac divided his fleet into two parts.
The Grand Duke of Morea became the flagship of Isaac's personal fleet, commanded by Captain Fidel.
The personal fleet included:
St. Nicholas galley-sailer, with former first mate Henry promoted to captain.
Sparta, another galley-sailer, captained by Fenton, formerly first mate of the Manuel.
Two armed cog ships and three supply transports.
The rest of the warships were assigned to the Montferrat Trading Company.
The trading fleet was commanded by Norwich, comprising four galley-sailers and twelve transport ships. The refitted Manuel acted as the flagship.
Captains of the other ships were appointed by Northern Italian nobles—Isaac did not interfere.
The company leased a port near Genoa for the fleet's use. Isaac's personal fleet had permanent docking rights there.
After clarifying responsibilities, the two fleets parted ways.
The trading fleet headed south to Rome, launching its first trans-Mediterranean trade expedition.
Isaac's personal fleet remained in Genoa, awaiting the completion of the Grand Duke of Morea being assembled in Ajaccio.
Before departure, Isaac met privately with the newly promoted Norwich.
The honest Bulgarian captain was deeply grateful—having risen from imprisonment to fleet command.
"You're heading from Rome to North Africa. Be cautious along the way. If you encounter Muslim ships, avoid conflict when possible," Isaac warned.
Due to financial constraints, the company fleet's combat strength was limited—only four galley-sailers had real fighting capability.
"When our finances improve, I'll buy more ships. Then you may return to your old profession—punishing the infidels in the name of God."
Norwich nodded and saluted.
Isaac called him back.
"There's one more task I need you to handle."
He looked into Norwich's brown eyes.
"Your Highness, say the word. You raised me up—I'll complete whatever you ask."
"Genoa has trade agreements with many North African tribes. You can dock and resupply at their ports," Isaac said.
"Besides major cities like Tunis, I want you to travel along the Libyan coast."
He paused thoughtfully.
"Send a few sharp, capable sailors who speak Arabic inland. Have them map the terrain, study local customs, and most importantly—report on uncommon diseases and how local tribes treat them."
"Can you do this?"
Norwich thought for a moment.
"Your Highness, we have many sailors who speak Arabic, but few can draw maps or write. Those types are usually officers."
A reasonable objection—he didn't blindly agree just to look good. Not bad.
"Very well. I'll assign a few literate monks to your fleet as chaplains. During downtime, you can have capable sailors learn to read from them."
Isaac handed over a money pouch.
"I know they won't want to learn. Tell them: any sailor who learns Greek or Latin will be handsomely rewarded."
"Yes, sir."
"Also, your journey covers half the Mediterranean. You'll meet all kinds of people—keep an eye out for promising talent."
Isaac waved him off. Norwich took the pouch and left.
In the distance, the fleet began to raise anchor. Sails billowed in the wind, each emblazoned with the blue double-headed eagle on a white background.
This was the flag Isaac had designed for the Montferrat Trading Company.
To avoid offending the Northern Italian nobles, he refrained from using imperial purple.
Still, many unresolved issues lingered within the fleet—conflicts between Greek and Genoese sailors, tensions between Catholics and Orthodox, and unfamiliarity among the captains.
Isaac could only trust that Norwich was reliable enough to manage it all.
All he could do was pray.
Manpower shortage was becoming critical.
Once maritime operations settled, Isaac was determined to establish a Royal Naval Academy and a Royal Knight Academy.
There were still several academies in Constantinople, but they had become havens for hardline clergy and spoiled nobles looking for credentials.
The road to restoring Rome was long.
That same day the two Bailleul-family-led fleets set sail, the long-ill Marquis Gian passed away.
Isaac never got to see him one last time.
John Bailleul succeeded him, becoming John IV.
"Father passed peacefully," said John, red-eyed. "I told him about our efforts to restore the family—he was pleased."
"We will carry on. My condolences."
Though Isaac hadn't known the marquis well, he still felt some sadness.
He knew many nobles had opposed the initial meeting with Isaac, fearing it would tie them to a war-bound chariot.
But Marquis Gian, frail and ill, had insisted on welcoming his distant cousin from Constantinople.
Thanks to his support, John had been able to rally the nobles and establish the trading company.
Isaac stepped before the coffin and bowed deeply.
The family motto was carved upon it:
"In the name of God, by my deeds."
Don't worry. We won't let you down.
In the days that followed, Isaac helped John manage his new responsibilities while awaiting the Grand Duke of Morea's completion.
In his free time, Isaac would take William sailing.
Since their father's death, William had begun to realize his own responsibilities.
His elder brother had taken up leadership. Isaac, younger than he, now owned a trade fleet.
He had achieved nothing yet—and felt ashamed.
Isaac welcomed his cousin's transformation and invited him to join the fleet.
Over the next two months, Isaac also received dividends from the printing press.
After the initial boom, indulgence sales slowed, but luxury Renaissance books grew in popularity among Northern Italian nobles.
People took pride in owning printed books with the purple double-headed eagle.
Most didn't even read them—they were just showpieces to impress neighbors.
As Isaac had expected.
In Rome, the factory now had 60 skilled workers and 10 printing presses, churning out cheap paper turned expensive books.
Meanwhile, Ibrahim's raiding career took a major hit.
In Epirus's northeast, he raided a village—only to be ambushed by regular army forces.
He lost dozens of men but escaped thanks to his cavalry's mobility.
Now, he was licking his wounds on the Athens–Epirus border, plotting his next move.
Isaac skimmed over irrelevant reports and had young Lothair draft orders.
While waiting for the flagship's completion, he reinvested part of his promised capital.
With the remaining 2,000 ducats, he bought a small Genoese galley-sailer.
He named it "Marquis Gian", assigned William to command it, and gave him an experienced first mate.
On April 10, 1445, the Grand Duke of Morea was fully equipped and manned.
The crew were all Orthodox Christians—mainly Slavs, with Greeks in supporting roles.
The flagship didn't need to be powerful—but it had to be trustworthy. Loyalty was paramount.
Isaac insisted on a trustworthy Orthodox crew, even if it took more time.
The rest of the fleet didn't require such strict criteria.
"What a magnificent warship!" exclaimed Captain Fidel.
Fidel was a Cretan fisherman by birth, raised on the sea.
Later recruited by the Venetians, he served for years as captain of the St. Nicholas, stuck in a dead-end.
Until Isaac bought the ship—and his fate changed.
Now he commanded a fleet.
Would he one day battle the Venetians who had oppressed him?
Fidel looked at Isaac, standing in the morning light.
The young prince, just thirteen, wore imperial purple. The Genoese crossbowmen stood proudly beside him, with the mighty warship behind him.
Could Byzantium truly be reborn under this youth's hand?
Isaac boarded the Grand Duke of Morea, turned to the crew, and announced:
"Set sail!"
The anchor was hoisted with a creak, sails caught the wind.
Cannons gleamed in the sunlight of early summer.
"Your Highness, the crew and slaves of the Grand Duke of Morea are all aboard. Sails are in good condition. Food and powder stocks full. Wind is favorable—we're ready to depart!" Captain Fidel reported loudly.
Isaac turned—other ships were signaling:
"Sparta ready, all systems normal!"
"St. Nicholas ready, all systems normal!"
"Marquis Gian ready, all systems normal!"
Transport ships echoed their confirmations.
After two months of coordination, the fleet was now a well-meshed unit.
Isaac ascended the quarterdeck, gazing across the sparkling sea.
Seabirds soared overhead, their cries clear and bright.
"Full sail!"
The Grand Duke of Morea surged ahead, leading the way.
"Your Highness, where are we going?" asked Fidel.
Isaac smiled.
"To distant lands—to seek the hope of an empire."
Destination: Lisbon!