xymnovel Chapter 105 Feint to the East, Attack in the West
Chapter 105 Feint to the East, Attack in the West
Almorin's figure vanished like ink drops into water, disappearing into the thick darkness of Constantinople before dawn.
Instead of immediately carrying out his contract with Enrico Dandolo, he turned his attention to the Church of the Holy Apostles, deeper within Constantinople.
This place is not only the final resting place of several early emperors of the empire, but also, because it is relatively far from the core area of the palace, it preserves a large number of royal secrets that are not convenient to be publicly recorded in Hagia Sophia, including the private baptism records of many nobles.
Almorin decided to begin his investigation into the crown prince of Jerusalem from here.
The church's heavy, iron-clad wooden doors were useless to him. Almorin easily unlocked the doors with a set of specially made tools, and his figure slid into the room like a ghost.
Beneath the enormous dome, the slivers of light filtering through the stained glass form beams of light in the dust, illuminating the thousands of dust particles suspended in the air.
Almorin had no interest in admiring it; he had a clear goal and headed straight for an inconspicuous archive room at the back of the side hall.
The room was filled with the distinctive smell of aged parchment, ink, and decaying wood. Ignoring the ordinary files neatly stacked by year, he went directly to a dusty oak cabinet in the far corner, relying on his knowledge of the unspoken rules of such places.
The cabinet door was unlocked, as if its contents had long been forgotten. He gently pulled it open, and an even stronger musty smell wafted out. Inside were not exquisite official imperial archives, but rather copies of private documents or original records of varying materials and writing styles.
After nearly an hour of careful examination, his fingers finally stopped in front of a stack of thick books bound with ordinary linen thread.
The booklet cover was unmarked, but the handwriting on the inner pages was deliberately messy and blurry. He flipped through it quickly, his gaze sweeping over each name before finally settling on a record.
The Baptist... Lyon.
Indeed, worthy of His Majesty's favor, he so easily uncovered the secrets of the person he was investigating!
He continued reading.
Lyon's mother was indeed, as his investigation had shown, Maria Komnina, the great-granddaughter of John II of Basilius.
Almorin frowned when he saw his father's message.
The writing here seemed to have been deliberately stained by some kind of acidic liquid, making it blurry and difficult to discern, but the remaining strokes and patterns were vaguely familiar to him.
As he pondered, memories of the past gradually overlapped with the strokes of his pen.
"I see..." he murmured almost silently, a cold smile curving his lips. This secret was so astonishing that it was enough for the Assassins to use it to shake up the entire Levant.
He carefully put the booklet back in its original place, erasing all traces of his presence as if he had never been there.
As the sunlight grew stronger, the clamor of the military parade could be faintly heard. By noon, the parade had reached its climax, and the cheers of the crowd were deafening.
Almorin then appeared again at Enrico Dandolo's residence. As he entered through the window, Enrico was at his desk sealing a letter.
Almorin didn't say much, only leaving Enrico with one sentence: "The time has come. Help me create chaos, distract Cantostefanos, the more significant and urgent the better, enough to make Cantostefanos take away the patrol fleet upstream of the Golden Horn."
Enrico gave him a deep look, asked no further questions, and simply waved his hand wearily: "You Assassins are as useless as ever, you still need to bother your old clients to get things done."
Almorin ignored his sarcasm and climbed out the window to leave.
Enrico put the letter in a box full of letters, then spread out a parchment and began to write a petition.
The petition, written in both Latin and Greek, appeared humble but was sharp in its demands, calling on the imperial government to immediately release all Venetian sailors and soldiers captured in the Battle of Antalya, based on "the mercy of the Christian monarch" and "the peace that both sides are working toward to conclude."
He summoned the embassy clerk, had him make multiple copies, and then gathered the petitioners.
The clerk quickly returned and reported: "Your Excellency, representatives from the Genoa and Pisa communities have arrived, and merchants from other city-state guilds have also brought many of their men, along with gentlemen from our Venetian community... about forty people in total, all dressed in plain clothes and unarmed, as you instructed."
Enrico solemnly ordered, "Tell our friends that this trip is solely to plead with His Majesty for justice, and remember to maintain order. If the Imperial Guards come to drive them away, they should not resist in principle; simply send a representative to state their grievances."
Those who could work under a powerful and influential elder like Enrico were all shrewd and capable. The clerk immediately understood the consul's implication and bowed in agreement.
Meanwhile, Almorin quietly blended into the gathered crowd.
Initially, the march did maintain a restrained order, just as Enrico had "requested."
They carried crosses and the St. Mark's banner, and silently walked along Via dell'Amce leading to the Grand Palais.
However, when the procession reached the Piazza della Signoria between Antioch and the St. Constantine, a conflict inevitably broke out.
A group of Constantinople city garrison soldiers attempted to stop the procession, and in the ensuing scuffle, an elderly Venetian merchant was knocked to the ground.
"The Greeks are hitting people!"
"They would rather sign a non-aggression pact with Saladin than respect the Latins!"
"Despicable Greeks!"
"Release our brothers!"
Several sharp shouts erupted from somewhere in the crowd, instantly igniting the pent-up anger.
Stones flew from the crowd and struck the shields of the garrison.
The stalls next to the market were knocked over, and goods were scattered all over the ground.
The riots spread like wildfire, alarm bells rang shrilly, and the unresponsive guards quickly sent someone to consult Marshal Cantostefanos, who was inspecting the Golden Horn.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Almorin slipped away from the crowd and stealthily made his way towards the Golden Horn Bay Naval Factory Prison, the commotion behind him providing perfect cover.
The news reached Marshal Cantostefanos, who was accompanying Lyon on an inspection of the Royal Workshops at the Golden Horn, with lightning speed. His face turned ashen, and he immediately led a squadron of armored paladins to Piazza della Signoria at breakneck speed.
To prevent the Latins in the port from joining the unrest, he also moved the naval fleet upstream of the Golden Horn to downstream.
When he arrived, the square was in complete disarray. The Latin mob and the garrison were locked in a fierce standoff, but strangely, neither side used weapons; it was more like a chaotic struggle.
Cantorstefanos's gaze swept across the entire area like a hawk's, quickly locking onto that familiar blind old man.
Surrounded by Venetian nobles and servants, Enrico Dandolo sat calmly on the stone steps at the edge of the square, as if everything before him was none of his concern.
The marshal rode his horse through the crowd, heading straight for Enrico. He reined in his horse, his voice laced with suppressed anger: "Your Excellency! Is this how Venice treats imperial celebrations? Inciting riots on His Majesty's wedding day, a day of national celebration!"
Enrico raised his cloudy, white eyes and "looked" in the direction of the marshal's voice, his tone carrying a hint of innocent surprise: "Why do you say this, Marshal? I am old and frail, but I have only heard of the injustices suffered by some poor Latin people, and today I wish to plead my case to His Majesty. As for the current out-of-control situation... alas, perhaps it is the impetuousness of young people, or perhaps your country's soldiers are too hasty in enforcing the law; I am blind and cannot discern the truth."
He tapped his cane lightly: "My only wish is that the Empire handles the matter of prisoners of war fairly, so as to demonstrate the benevolence and justice of Basilius."
Kantostefanos knew perfectly well that the old fox had completely absolved him of any responsibility. Suppressing his anger, he said coldly, "Mercy and justice are built upon order! Disperse your men immediately, or don't blame the Empire's sword for being merciless!"
"Disperse? Of course, of course..." Enrico said slowly. "If His Excellency the Marshal can make a clear promise, such as... immediately releasing the Venetian men who have been detained for nearly half a year, I might be able to try to persuade these poor, emotionally charged people."
As the two exchanged words, Almorin had already moved like a ghost through the defensive gaps created by the garrison being transferred to the square, and approached the shadows beneath the high walls of the naval factory prison upstream of Golden Horn Bay.