bolhabela: That's a possibility. Who Andreas marries will be pretty important coming up soon.
Elfwine: It's my insurance policy. If I ever get tired of writing this TL, it's easy to end it.
Arrix85: Venetians got what they wanted at Smyrna and the next full update will have action in the Balkans. As for Venice, I can easily see Theodoros doing the full inventory The Sandman suggested, although probably add killing the Doge's wife and any daughters in front of him. Andreas will likely be much more...emotional about the whole thing.
Grouchio: Andreas does have a challenger, namely his older sister Anastasia who's playing Anna Komnena (the writer of the Alexiad) to Andreas' Ioannes.
Mathalamus: Andreas will need to mellow before he'd make a good Emperor. But he should get the time, hopefully.
Dragos Cel Mare: Yeah, those two are distinct events. Although that doesn't mean the Empire won't have rough spots before the Time of Troubles.
Tyg: I hadn't thought of Avignon creating a proto-Geneva convention, but that's a good idea. One condition Theodoros would likely insist on would be that the conditions only apply to wars between states, not between a sovereign and rebels (in this war from Theodoros' view that's the Bulgarians and Italian peasantry).
As for Andreas, I wanted to create a gray Emperor. Someone who can be a good, decent person but also capable of unspeakable cruelties. It's a tall order to make such a person internally coherent and consistent, and I didn't want to use a mental disorder like bipolarism because I want Andreas to be functioning.
As for anti-rape statues, well the Romans have been using castration a lot, which is a rather poetic punishment.
luis3007: Pretty much. No one is going to come out of this clean.
Tongera: "I will be a Timur to the state of Venice."-Andreas Doukas Laskaris Komnenos
thekingsguard: It is. The Black Day ITTL is specifically referring to the events of April 10, 1455. But the Empire is by no means out of the woods yet.
The Sandman: That'd be appropriate. Romans: We sack efficiently. If Rome fell, the Papacy/College of Cardinals would probably flee and set up shop in some German archbishopric, probably Trier or Mainz. How much anyone would listen to them would depend on the details of the exile.
Ferngolly: The papacy would likely be placed near the Rhine, which would help pull Lotharingia in. England-France would likely stay Roman Catholic, since all the people it's arguing with (Aragon, Arles, Norway-Scotland) are Avignon, while Poland is sandwiched between Avignon Scandanavia, Avignon Hungary, and Orthodox Russia. Italy though would have a lot of potential for religious shifts; perhaps TTL Protestantism actually starts there?
frozenpredator: The Venetians aren't all evil, even if their policies are. It's a way of keeping the Serene Republic from toppling off the edge into cartoonish-evil.
Avitus: Thanks. That Venetian is dead. After Andreas' blanket statement of 'Kill them all' I couldn't think of a good justification for keeping him around. The Romans won't destroy the city itself, as some have suggested. Venice is too valuable. As for how the Venetians themselves are treated, the main factor will be the character of the Roman Emperor when it falls. If it were Andreas right now, at the very least every male above the age of thirteen (aka anyone who could possibly have fought) would be killed. An older Andreas who's had some time to get over what he's seen might be more merciful.
And since this TL has been very dark of late, here's a more fun mini-update.
The Roman siege lines, Jerusalem, April 13, 1455:
Theodoros, Emperor of the Romans, sighed, flicking a hyperpyron across the table. It banged against an empty silver pitcher. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Squish. He wiped the bits of smashed fly off the golden coin. Clunk. “Where’s the serving boy? I’m thirsty.”
Alexios Palaiologos looked up from his book. “Do you want me to fetch him, your majesty?”
“No.” Squoosh. Theodoros wiped off the antennae splattered across his portrait on the money. “Worst place to put a holy city, ever,” he muttered.
He picked up an ink quill, scratching at a piece of paper. Scrit, scrit, scrit. Alexios looked up. “Your majesty, may I ask what you’re doing?”
“Figuring out exactly how much Janbulat owes me for all this. War is like trade. You each try to swindle each other, and whoever wins then makes the other reimburse them for their trouble with interest. Now let’s see, carry the four…” Scrit, scrit. “Aha. Wait a minute; that isn’t right.” He glared at the number. “Oh, that’s what’s wrong. I just included the ‘this place sucks’ rate. I forget the ‘fuck you’ interest rate.” Scrit, scrit. “Much better.”
Alexios looked at the figure. “That’s…umm…huge.”
“Yes, it is. And I’m actually leaving out the…” Theodoros turned his head toward the tent entrance. “WHERE’S MY DAMN DRINK?!...” He turned back. “…rate.”
The serving boy hobbled into the tent, two goblets clattering on the tray held by his shaking hand. Sweat was pouring down his forehead as Theodoros swiped one cup. “About time,” he muttered, bringing it to his mouth.
The smell wafted its way into his nose. He sniffed; something about it was off, bitter. He set it down, looking at Alexios. “Don’t drink it; it’s poisoned.”
The boy’s eyes widened, Theodoros wondering if they’d pop out of his head. Then the boy winced as Alexios’ hand crushed his bicep. The Emperor was surprised at the strength in those wrinkled, seventy five year old hands, hands that had fought at Manzikert, at Caesarea. The last of his father’s generation looked at Theodoros. “Find out what he knows,” Theodoros snarled. A moment later the strategos hauled the boy out.
Theodoros stared at the table. Flick. Clunk. Squish. He stared at the fly’s eye splattered in the middle of his portrait’s forehead. “And I still don’t have a damn drink.” Scrit, scrit, scrit.
"Finally. By the way, you owe me three hyperpyra for this picture."