The vast expanse of the Mediterranean Sea was bathed in sunlight, the sky was clear and cloudless, and a gentle breeze blew across the water.
Against this backdrop, a fleet of warships moved slowly across the water, their sails billowing in the breeze and bearing the emblem of a double-headed eagle.
At the forefront was a graceful warship, its sides towering high as it cut through the waves, leaving a trail of foam in its wake.
The ship's hull was adorned with sharp Greek letters spelling out "Doge".
On the deck, sailors worked skillfully under the first mate's commands, shouting in unison, cursing, laughing and telling vulgar jokes that would make noble ladies blush.
In the captain's cabin, Giovanni Giustiniani, the Genoese captain, ignored the vulgar language, absorbed in his nautical log.
"10 June 1449, clear skies. We set sail as planned. I never imagined that our destination would be the Hafs Dynasty to the west rather than the Mamluks or the Ottomans to the east."
"Good heavens! King Isaac's move was truly brilliant. The Hafs fleet probably didn't have time to assemble."
"Lord, please protect us and bring us back victorious!"
...
"1449, 13 June, cloudy. The Grand Vizier found a suitable harbor in which to dock. The locals call it New Belpa..."
"We will use this place as our base to harass merchant ships from Misurata and Tripoli while we wait for the rest of the fleet."
"On 16 June 1449, it was cloudy again, but the wind was favourable, so we cleaned up the area around Milfa. This was the biggest haul our fleet has had since we set sail, with two hundred Muslim slaves captured alone."
"Pirates with privateering licenses can follow us and divide up the remaining small villages."
"Jettner joined forces with several small pirate ships and raided a wealthy fishing village, reportedly with a large haul."
"No wonder they've been missing for the past few days. They must have been transporting goods at sea."
"We encountered Muslim warships today. They were small and dilapidated and fled as soon as they saw us."
"Those idiots!"
"23 June 1449: clear skies. The spoils continue to grow. Today, many pirate forces arrived at New Belpa to obtain supplies before heading further west to join the feast."
"Hmph! They stood by and watched earlier, and now they want a piece of the pie? No way!"
"Captain Fidel plans to use New Belpa as a forward base open to all permitted pirates."
"We have discussed it and decided to leave some sailors and slaves in New Belpa while requesting that Count Mikhail, who is currently besieging Misurata, send troops to serve as a garrison here."
...
"30 June 1449, clear. We encountered the Tripoli fleet. This city is said to be renowned for trade, and the merchants' council controls a formidable naval force — sufficient for defense, but lacking in offensive capabilities."
"Alas! Tripoli's port defenses are well-fortified and equipped with crossbows and cannons. Its troops are numerous and highly skilled — no easy foe to contend with."
"It would be a pity to let such a wealthy city fall into the hands of infidels!"
But if Tripoli remains in the hands of the infidels, our holy war cannot continue.
"The transport and privateer fleets have limited range. Relying solely on supplies from New Belpa, it is impossible to reach the most prosperous Hafs trade routes."
"On 6 July 1449, Captain Fidel received a letter from Bilinchi with new orders."
"After discussion, we decided to divide the entire fleet into two parts. The Clark ships and large paddle warships, which are capable of long voyages, will continue northwest, while the rest of the fleet will use New Belpa as a base and continue raiding."
"On 9 July 1449, we continued sailing with sufficient supplies, avoiding the prosperous trade routes and concealing our presence like hunters lurking in the darkness."
...
"On 11 July 1449, we continued sailing. Nothing happened today. The sailors played cards. May God forgive them."
Giovanni put down his pen, closed the logbook, stretched and yawned widely.
"Captain, Captain Fidel is calling you to a meeting."
The second mate pushed open the door and Giovanni nodded.
A small rowboat was lowered from the Grand Master's ship and headed towards the Grand Duke's ship at the rear.
When Giovanni arrived at the captain's cabin, the small room was already filled with captains of various ships.
Captain Fidel nodded to Giovanni and motioned for him to sit down next to him and Captain Henry of the St. Nicholas.
Giovanni thanked the captain, smiled at Captain Henry and took the seat offered to him.
Many of the men in this fleet were former soldiers who had served under King Isaac, enduring the heat and mosquitoes of West Africa, and fighting the Ottoman fleet in Corinth with great courage. They were highly spirited and did not pay much attention to Giovanni, who had joined the navy later in life.
Fortunately, Captain Fidel was a fair leader who treated Giovanni well, relying heavily on his navigational skills and ability to coordinate operations between sea and land.
During previous operations, Giovanni had always led the marines ashore first to clear the way for the rest of the troops.
"I have called everyone here to announce the fleet's next plan."
Everyone nodded, already prepared in their hearts.
"This morning, we captured a fishing boat and learned that we are about to reach our destination."
"This time, we will land far from our homeland and exploit the enemy's ignorance of our location to catch them off guard."
"In addition, we will be fighting alone this time, without the army's support for the time being."
Captain Fidel looked at the naval officers with an unprecedentedly serious expression.
"We must capture the target, hold our ground and fight to the death to prevent the Muslims from counterattacking."
"This time, I will gather all the best sailors from all the ships and put them under the command of Captain Giovanni."
Fidel turned to Giovanni and saluted him.
In an instant, all eyes were on his new colleague, who was said to be deeply trusted by His Majesty. Even Giovanni, someone who was usually very calm, couldn't help but feel a little nervous.
"The success of our mission today will determine not only whether we will be able to participate in the lucrative Mediterranean trade in Hafs in the future, but also the future development of our navy."
Ignoring Giovanni's thoughts, Fidel simply followed Isaac's instructions.
"If we can take this place, we will be able to strengthen our ties with the colonies in West Africa. We can bypass difficult Tripoli and threaten the heartland of Hafs directly, causing this dying monster to bleed continuously."
"Gentlemen, let's not waste time."
Fidel stood up and showed the captains Isaac's orders.
"His Majesty has ordered us to capture the island of Djerba!"
...
The evening in Tripoli was quiet and elegant. The white Mediterranean bride had shed her daytime beauty and appeared as a noblewoman who had washed off all her make-up: graceful and relaxed.
The curfew had not yet begun and vendors from far and wide were seizing the last opportunity to sell their remaining goods to passers-by.
Shouts, laughter and noise formed a symphony with the low humming of camels and the neighing of horses, creating the bustling atmosphere of an evening in Tripoli.
The siege of Misrata had no effect on Tripoli's happiness and peace. Merchants who had changed their route from Misrata made the city even livelier.
The hustle and bustle of everyday life is comforting to ordinary people. Whether noble or commoner, everyone likes to walk the city's streets before sunset, strolling around their favorite places and checking if their favorite goods have been discounted.
The envoy from Tunis, who had travelled a long way to get there, was obviously not one of them.
At that moment, he stood on the rooftop of a Hafez family property in the city, holding a cup of water and staring blankly at the setting sun and darkening sky.
After days of haggling, he still had no idea how to fulfil his promise to Yahya al-Harithi.
These arrogant merchants did not care about his status as a Hafs envoy, treating him with indifference and leaving him waiting.
The envoy had brought a large amount of money with him when he left, and now much of that gold had found its way into the merchants' pockets.
It was as if the merchants had made an agreement: they would accept the gifts, but they would do nothing about the matter.
The key point was that the Paier envoy had no way of dealing with them.
He did not know how Albert next door was progressing, but guessed that he was in a similar situation.
It seemed that the merchants were asking for a lot. Paier repeatedly recalled the progress of his negotiations, but he was at a loss.
Da, da, da—
He heard voices from behind. Paier straightened his clothes, wiped away his troubled expression and put on a confident look.
"Ata, Baikel invites you to his residence."
Paier's son and aide bowed his head and looked at him respectfully.
"Baikel? The merchant who took two thousand ducats from us?"
Paier 'er frowned.
Baikel was a member of the merchants' council. He was always smiling and didn't concern himself much with politics.
"Yes."
His son nodded.
"He also said he could solve your problem."
Paier's heart stirred, but he kept a calm expression.
"All right, prepare the carriage."
The carriage rolled through the last rays of sunlight and stopped in a deserted suburb.
Paier looked at the sentries at the gate and the guards patrolling nearby, feeling slightly uneasy.
Baker stood at the gate, laughing happily and stretching out his arms to Pail's messenger as though he had met an old friend he hadn't seen in years.
The envoy had no choice but to smile back. The two exchanged pleasantries for a moment before entering the large house arm in arm.
Shortly after entering the house, the envoy from Pail immediately sensed that something was wrong.
There was no furniture, no lights and no servants.
Just as Paier was about to speak, a black bag was placed over his head and he heard Baikel's voice in his ear:
"Don't move, don't speak, follow me."
Paier could feel a sharp knife pressed against his waist. He swallowed hard and nodded quickly.
Two big men flanked the envoy, with Baikel leading the way.
Paier could clearly feel that they were walking into a dark, damp tunnel. The tunnel was narrow and it was easy to bump your head.
After winding through the tunnel for a while, the feeling of being trapped in such a confined space suddenly disappeared.
"We're here,"
Baikel said indifferently.
The black bag was removed and the sudden brightness made the messenger's eyes water.
"Sitting before you is..."
A familiar yet unfamiliar voice rang out, filled with pride and arrogance, echoing in the empty underground hall.
"The legitimate Emir of Tripoli, the master of Tripoli City, the great-grandson of Aziz Harif."
"Nassirlan Hafs."
The Paier envoy moved his hands away from his eyes and saw the middle-aged prince sitting on the throne.
Despite his plain nightgown, he looked noble and proud — a complete contrast to his timid and incompetent appearance during the day.
Several burly, armored warriors stood on either side of him, their eyes fixed straight ahead.
The envoy looked around. The entire underground palace was filled with an intense atmosphere of killing intent. There was a weapons store, a training ground, a granary and a reservoir.
"You..."
"Surprised?"
Nassirlan was clearly pleased by the envoy's shock, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth.
The envoy nodded. This place had truly shocked him.
"Apart from my confidants, you are the first person to come here."
"It is my honor."
The envoy immediately bowed to show his respect for this insightful prince.
"Let's cut to the chase. Do you know why I asked Barker to call you here?"
The envoy had a vague idea, but remained silent, waiting for Nassirlan to speak.
"I want to overthrow Zakariq and gain my freedom."
Nassirlan's eyes suddenly became fierce and he turned to stare at Paier.
"That old man imprisoned me like a slave for five years — five whole years!"
"Do you know how I spent those years?"
During those five years, I constantly lowered my status, made myself appear weak and incompetent, and lulled him into a false sense of security!
It wasn't until two years ago that the old man started to give me a little freedom, just like a slave owner replacing iron shackles with wooden ones, which was completely meaningless.
I began to live lavishly, building luxurious palaces, capturing countless women and ruining my reputation among the people, all to eliminate his suspicions.
He must have been laughing in his heart as he watched me seize people's homes and build palaces.
"What he doesn't know is that my father was once the governor of Tripoli. During his tenure, he built a secret passageway."
This underground tunnel connects to a secret port, allowing us to obtain aid from the outside world when under siege.
Using this as a base, I gradually expanded my underground forces until today.
"Every night, I give the two prostitutes sent by that old man to spy on me a special aphrodisiac, and then I send one of my body doubles to sleep with them."
At this point, Nassirlan's eyes flashed with satisfaction and triumph as he looked at the envoy, relishing his surprised expression.
"Everything I have done was for today."
The envoy of Paier began to feel afraid, but tried to remain calm.
"What do you plan to do?"
"I have 150 elite soldiers, and some of the city guards are dissatisfied with the merchants' council. I can't control them, but I can easily stir up internal strife so that they can't interfere."
"As for Zakariq's guards, we'll need to discuss that together. We may need your help."
Once everything is accomplished, I will submit to the jurisdiction of the Caliph of Tunis and become the Emir of Tripoli, which will block the Christian offensive.
"Your son will wait here for our good news."
Two soldiers pushed Paier son forward. The poor young man curled up into a ball, his body trembling uncontrollably.
The envoy's eyes darted around and he sighed silently.
Did he have a choice?
If he dared to say no, his head would be cut off immediately.
But this seemed like an opportunity. Never mind!
"Your Highness, please give your orders."
The envoy knelt on one knee.
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