At the end of their private meeting, they concluded with prayers from their respective faiths, signifying the successful completion of this secret diplomatic encounter—
"The Holy Mother above us."
Serenus made the orthodox sign of the cross with his right hand.
"Allah above us."
Muhammad Khan clasped his hands together, praying to the true God he believed in, just as his ancestors, who followed Eastern pagan religions, had done.
After the Bosporus delegation left the Khanate palace, Muhammad Khan scoffed with some dissatisfaction, "Hmph, these Greeks speak so eloquently, yet their logic is so clear. Dealing with them is as troublesome as ever, perfectly matching my stereotype of Greek Eastern Orthodox."
"Then, Khan, the results of today's secret diplomatic meeting..." his trusted attendant probed, making a guess.
"What else can be done? Before I deal with those ambitious princes in the Khanate, I truly don't have the strength to launch a full-scale war against Bosporus."
Muhammad Khan smiled bitterly, "At least these Goths have rejoined the Khanate system. Although we all know the reality, on the surface, it's an achievement. It's enough to silence those arrogant good-for-nothings."
"Yes, Khan."
Meanwhile, Serenus, after leading his delegation back to their residence, immediately had them pack their luggage, preparing to leave Sarai soon.
"Lord Serenus, we've just finished our diplomacy with the Golden Horde, why are we leaving Sarai so soon?" one of his young attendants asked, perplexed.
"Everything we could do has been settled; the specific matters will be decided by the two Majesties above us. Moreover, Manuel also entrusted me with a vital mission," Serenus said with a smile.
"Ah?"
"Yes. To reveal a little, next, we will travel from the Eastern European Great Plains to the Southern Caucasus."
"Huh?!"
At the same time, in the suburbs of Trabzon, the capital of the Empire of Trebizond, John, the Crown Prince of Trabzon, was hosting a young nobleman from the British Isles in his castle.
"Lord Rapol's visit truly fills me with immense joy," John said, flattering him with a smooth smile.
The young nobleman before him was quite embarrassed by this. He had originally come here to pass through Asia Minor, intending to follow in the footsteps of his predecessors to visit the Holy Land and clarify his thoughts; or to detour to Constantinople to first admire the ancient Hagia Sophia. However, due to his lack of experience, he was tricked and coaxed by Venetian merchants halfway and sent to Trabzon. Although this was also one of his destinations, the reality was vastly different from his imagination.
Anyway, after a series of twists and turns, he ultimately temporarily served the future monarch of Trabzon before him.
But this was not truly his heartfelt desire. Thinking of this, he sighed inwardly with some emotion, "In the end, I still ended up doing things I quite disliked when I was in Western Europe. Never mind, once I've repaid this favor, I'll save money to visit Constantinople or the Holy Land."
However, Crown Prince John was unaware of the inner thoughts of this Western European nobleman named Rapol, but even if he had noticed, he wouldn't have cared much. As long as his plan was officially implemented next year, and he successfully became the monarch of Trabzon, what this Western European nobleman did afterward would be none of his concern.
It just seemed he wasn't yet fully aware that his preparations were not foolproof; at least, certain people across the sea had begun to closely monitor him through their dealings with him.
But this was not the most pressing matter for them. At the end of October, in the city of Mangup on the northern shore of the Black Sea, Bosporus Caesar Manuel, who had just concluded a grand tour, was troubled by several political affairs of varying importance.
Foremost among them was the population problem in North Tauris. It seemed his methods were still too crude. Enforcing orthodox by violent means in the region was satisfying for a time, but filling the large population gap caused by it was a real headache. According to reports submitted over the past few months, many pastures and grasslands showed signs of gradually turning into wasteland as their owners left or disappeared. Although the Autocratic State had issued a series of decrees encouraging settlement and cultivation since he ascended the throne, due to the unsuitable local conditions and a wait-and-see attitude towards the new policies, few responded.
"Am I to resort to coercive measures?" Manuel thought with a bitter smile, "No, don't. I've only just managed to fill the population of the Panticapaeum Isthmus, and now I have to establish another batch of criminal exile sites? Never mind, I'll seriously consider these matters after Mana's delegation returns from Lithuania. I can only hope Švitrigaila will seriously consider my requests."
After temporarily setting aside immigration matters, Manuel turned to another file on his desk. Its main content was a letter of introduction from the Venetian Black Sea Consul, his old acquaintance Pietro Lando. In the letter, Lando said he had a talent from Florence, and for the sake of their friendship and the friendship between their two nations, he intended to introduce this talented young man to Manuel.
"First Morea under East Rome, then Venice's Black Sea territories. What, do they want to add weight here so badly? Do I look that promising?" Manuel was quite helpless about this.
He had been on the political stage for some time and naturally knew what such acts of placing people with him meant: recommending stable retirement places for their retainers, or places to hone their skills, all to plant their own 'nails' within the target's upper echelons.
Judging by Bosporus's current situation, it should be a combination of the second and last options.
Manuel, though he had some reservations, reluctantly accepted for the sake of a good diplomatic environment. After all, the initiative was ultimately in his hands. If the person was capable, they would be assigned to a suitable position; if they were an incompetent good-for-nothing, they would be assigned to an idle department.
Thinking this, he felt much relieved and continued to read the letter of introduction, "Let me see, what kind of person is Venice trying to send me this time.
"'A nobleman from a banking family, though a bastard, he is as proficient in economics and finance as his ancestors.' Is this true? There are so many noblemen from banking and commercial backgrounds in Italy, which family is this from?
"'Left Florence for some reason...' How exactly did he leave Florence? Couldn't they be more direct?"
Feeling a little impatient, Manuel skipped directly over the middle content of the letter and the tedious prayers, turning to the part with the name, "'Carlo di Giovanni de Medici.' Is that his name? What is a Medici Family member doing in the Black Sea?"