At the end of 1498, a rare lull was shattered as the year ended.

In November, the Ottoman Sultan led an army of nearly 100,000 men to Bucharest.

The original 80,000 Ottoman army was strengthened by the reinforcement of several subordinate countries that had been conscripted by order of the Sultan.

Among these conscripted subordinate armies, the light cavalry of nearly 2,000 men provided by Wallachia and the original light cavalry of the Sultan formed a large cavalry force, and these Wallachians, with their traditional thick beards and heavy felt hats, cleared many obstacles for the Sultan's march into Bucharest with their round shields and long knives.

As in Wallachia, the troops of almost the entire Balkan principality of Colombia were restricted, and whether they wanted to or not, they had to provide the Sultan with more or less the number of troops he needed to protect himself from the Sultan's wrath.

The Ottomans were clearly bound for Bucharest, as can be seen from some rumors.

In addition to the tribal and vassal armies, the most notable is the Sultan's Guard.

This new army, which began in the 12th century, became more and more formidable over time, especially during the complete conquest of Constantinople, and the terrible fighting power of the Ottoman Guards made many Europeans fearful.

Superb combat skills and sophisticated equipment have made this army a world-recognized powerhouse, and more importantly, in order to make this army far more powerful than any opponent, since its establishment, successive sultans have spared no effort to invest large sums of money in them.

The Ottoman Guard, always armed with the sharpest and most advanced weapons, became the guarantor of the sultans' ambitions to conquer Europe.

So when they heard that Baseyet II had brought a full 10,000 guards with him on this expedition, many people couldn't help but change their faces with fright.

Bucharest could not be held, and such rumors were not only circulating in Wallachia and Moldova, but even in the courts of many Western countries, the question of "how long could Bucharest be held" was circulated.

The Venetians were dispatched, and although they did not have much affection for the Hungarians, they knew very well that if Hungary failed, then what awaited Venice would be to face the Ottoman threat directly sooner or later.

The pressure from the sea was already straining Venice, and they did not know how long they would be able to hold out if they were to face the Ottomans directly on land.

Perhaps with the same mind as Venice, the court in Vienna also sent emissaries, hoping to persuade other countries to resist the enemy from the east, and even sent an envoy headed by his brother Count Linz to Poland, which had always been at odds with him, for the sake of this Maximian emperor, in an attempt to persuade the Polish king to send troops to protect Christendom.

For a time, envoys from various European countries came and went frequently, and the storm was surging.

Vatican, in the office of Pope Alexander VI.

In front of the hot hearth recessed down in the room, the Pope sat on a thick, soft cushion, and not far from him, Nomelo was holding a notebook in his hand to record the Pope's words.

"It is the will of the Lord that crusades may be organized and that edicts be issued to all nations, that the invasion of the infidels into Christendom must be stopped." Alexander VI couldn't stop talking, his eyes fixed on the flames that were rising from the hearth, and his mouth was saying things that he didn't even believe.

This is not the time of Urban II, or even the 14th century, when the Church could barely make a call in the name of the Church, even though it had long since been detached.

It was the eve of the last year of the 15th century, when the prestige of the Church had fallen to a low point never seen before.

Alexander VI looked up at the table, where there was a thick dictionary of calendars, he had just checked the dates, and knew that today was the birthday of Urban II.

This was seen as a good sign, and as for whether this date was so accurate, Alexander VI did not care very much.

"All the nobles of the European court must obey this edict, or it will be regarded as disrespect and betrayal of God," said the pope, still thinking to himself, noticing that Nomerlo's hand seemed to pause, and then looked up at the secretary, "Do you think there is anything wrong with this?" ”

"Your Majesty, this is not the time of Urban."

Nomerlo's eyes flashed with concern, he wondered if the Pope had become a little agitated by being too worried about the Ottoman invasion, or at least he felt that the words of the edicts were inappropriate.

"yes, it's not the time of Urban." Alexander VI was a little stunned, he turned his head and continued to look at the fire in the hearth, and then suddenly let out a sneer: "Do you think I'm crazy, or am I frightened by that Bayezet?" ”

Nomelo shook his head silently, he didn't think so, but it was also true that the Pope didn't seem to be in a good mood.

"Don't worry about me Nomerlo, I'm fine, not even better than this time," Alexander VI looked back at the secretary again, "You know, I even want to have a good drink to congratulate the news." ”

Nomelo looked at the Pope in bewilderment, he was sure that the Pope must be very conscious at this time, but because of this he felt incomprehensible.

"Nomero you know the news that the Venetians have sent envoys to Hungary and Bohemia in order to defend against the Ottomans, and this time they would rather pay a huge price than support those countries to fight the Ottomans," ignoring Nomerlo's silent nod, Alexander VI's eyes were fixed on the top of the flames, "The Venetians are nervous now, they are more afraid than us, because in addition to the fear that the Ottomans may invade, they are also afraid that their territories in the Mediterranean will be taken away, If then their merchant ships won't have enough places to stay, so what do you think they'll do next? ”

Alexander VI paused, but Nomelo did not answer.

He knew that the Pope didn't really want him to say what he thought.

Sure enough, Alexander VI, who seemed to have straightened his mind after a while, continued: "The enemy that the Venetians have to face is the great Ottomans, who, in addition to a terrible army, and, above all, have an almost inexhaustible wealth that is sufficient to make the Sultan bear the huge expenses of his expedition, which I do not think any king of any country in Europe can do." ”

Speaking of this, the pope looked at Nomelo again: "Even Venice, known for its wealth, could not do it, and they could not take any chances, and once the Ottomans were victorious, then Wallachia and Moravia would remain completely in the hands of the Sultan, and then the Ottoman navy would be able to blockade the entire Adriatic Sea." Believe me, this is something that the Venetians definitely don't want to see. ”

Nomelo seemed to understand something, and he met the Pope's gaze.

"I don't know if the Ottomans will take Bucharest or defeat those countries, but I know that Venice will not be able to hold out like this," Alexander VI's eyes flickered on the rising and flickering flames, as if looking for something, "The Venetians will soon feel the pressure, and they will have to make a choice, whether to abandon the fighting Romagna and go all out against the Ottomans, or to insist on this folly of being a two-faced enemy." ”

Nomelo nodded slightly, and by this time he had roughly understood what the Pope meant.

Clearly, Alexander VI was right in his speculation that the Venetians might change their tactics in areas such as Romagna, but somehow Nomelo felt that the Pope still had something to say.

Sure enough, Alexander VI looked at the fire and said: "In addition, I don't think the Venetians will continue to support Florence, after all, supporting a city is not just a loan that can be successful, and even if the loan is withdrawn halfway, it may cause trouble." ”

Nomelo's eyes lit up, and he realized that the Pope might be on the verge of something.

Sure enough, Alexander VI paused, looked at Nomelo and said, "I'm going to expand our currency issuance in Florence, what do you think of this?" ”

Nomelo paused, his first thought was "I don't know what that Gombray would think", and then he suddenly shook his head in a conscious way to remind himself to come to his senses.

"Your Majesty, we may not have that much gold," Nomelo reminded in a low voice, "you know that only enough gold can support us in issuing enough coins, otherwise it will be very risky, and if we don't have enough gold, it will probably become very bad." ”

Alexander VI groaned, knowing that Nomerlo's fears were not unreasonable, but he could not resist the ambition that had been suppressed for too long when the Venetians had to be drawn to the east because of the Ottoman invasion, and that the whole of central Italy would inevitably become hollow with the shrinking of Venetian power.

"It seems that God is helping me," muttered Alexander VI, who looked at Nomerlo, who was puzzled by his words, and stood up and walked to the table, took out a thick document from the drawer, and motioned for Nomelo to look at it, "God's will is not permissible, so if God has arranged that I should have such great wealth as King Solomon, I must follow it." ”

Nomelo opened the document with some curiosity, and when he saw a mortgage agreement signed by Alexander himself, Nomelo couldn't help but be slightly in a daze.

After a while he said in a tone of disbelief: "That Cambrai, he's gone crazy?" ”

"I don't know," Alexander VI shrugged disapprehantly, "I don't know why he did such a thing, mortgaged all his property, I don't care about that, as long as he can guarantee that my granddaughter's rights will not be lost, let him go." ”

"All possessions?" Nomelo licked his lips, he didn't even know what the word meant to be.

"All the property," Alexander VI narrowed his eyes, "his share of the trade union, and all the dividends of the Roman exchanges, I don't know how much that money is, but I believe it will be enough to increase my currency issuance in Romagna." As for the future, we can use the profits of the exchange next year to support it. ”

Nomelo thought silently, he felt that this method at least seemed to be safe, and the key was that the huge circulation of the exchange was the foundation of all this.

Now, it seems that the exchange is just beginning to show its terrifying potential.

But what really mattered was that Nomelo knew that the Pope had clearly made up his mind on the matter, and that all he could do was help the Pope to make it almost perfect.

Alexander VI had taken the document from Nomerlo, and he knew its importance better than his own secretary, and it was fair to say that if Alexander could not pay an almost unimaginable sum of money in three years, as the agreement had written, then all his share of the trade union would be divided among the others.

Now the trade union is already like this, so three years later?

What kind of formidable behemoth would that be?

"Your Majesty, what is Gombray doing with such a large loan?"

Nomelo finally couldn't help but ask curiously.

To his surprise, the Pope shook his head a little dazedly.

"I don't know," Alexander VI looked a little irritable, "I think I know the young man, as can be seen from his affair with Lucrezia, who is an ambitious and adventurous man, but now I suddenly feel that I don't know anything about him. You know what, that's why I don't want Lucrezia to be with him. ”

"So you acquiesced in Caesar's bringing Lucrezia back from Pisa?" Nomelo finally asked the question that had been haunting him: "I remember that when you heard that Caesar was detained in Pisa by Cambrai, you were not surprised at all, but sent me to Pisa to rescue Caesar. ”

Alexander VI shrugged noncommittally, he picked up a piece of wood and threw it into the hearth, and after a moment watched the flames dance, the Pope looked back at Nomerlo.

"Nomerlo, I'm glad you rescued Caesar, but this time I need you to go to Pisa or Montina to meet that Cambrai," said the pope's expression sank, "I don't know what he wants for such a large sum of money, but you tell him that whatever business he wants to do, I will count it." ”

………………

Gusts of cold wind blew through the dry branches, making a "whirring" screeching sound that rose and fell, and sounded like someone was roaring and roaring.

At night, such a sound is always terrifying and indescribable, and if there is only one person, it will seem even more terrifying.

On the Tiber River, a boat broke through the icy water and headed for Tiber Island in the middle of the river, and in a corner of the recess in the center of the boat, a man leaned against the gang, hiding his head in the crook of his arm and seemed to be napping.

The boat shook slightly, as if touching the shore, and the man immediately raised his head, and he glanced at the boatman, who was ignoring him, and then got up and jumped out of the boat.

The cold feeling of his feet in the water lifted the man's spirits, and he walked down a slope towards the island, looking at the monastery far south of the island, and he turned and walked towards the cemetery high up in the north.

As Kryan walked onto the deserted marble platform of the cemetery, he saw a figure standing in front of the burial chamber.

Seeing that he was still wearing a mask on his face, looking gloomy, Clarion shook his head.

He didn't know if the man was afraid that people would recognize him or if he was just used to it, but Crean didn't think the mask would be of any use to him, as not many people knew him in the first place.

"You've been walking for a long time," the masked man said dissatisfiedly, "I thought I might never see you again." ”

"It's long enough, but it's really worth it." Cleion smiled, he never thought that kind of hypocritical pretense was of any use, on the contrary, he preferred to let others think of him as the most ordinary person.

Just as in Sicily, when the Sicilians were about to arrest him, they didn't think it was right when he raised his arms, because what threat could a small merchant pose to a heavily armed soldier.

Then the men paid the price for their contempt, and Crion went back to Sicily this time, and even went to his former home to have a look, but the house had already changed owners, and no one knew where his family had gone.

Clarion was a little stunned by the news, but not sad, that home was only part of his identity as a businessman, and once he ceased to be the grocer in Palermo, it had nothing to do with him.

"So what exactly did you find?" The Masked Man asked impatiently, he felt that he had waited too long, and that he had heard a lot about the Count of Montina, some of which he had inquired about, some of which he had heard, but whatever it was that made him unhappy.

"Something you might be interested in," Clarion sat down and took a bite out of his pocket, "or something the elders would be interested in. ”

"What's that, tell me quickly," said the Masked Man, impatiently, "you know that you've caused a lot of trouble in Rome before, and the elders are not happy with you, so you'd better bring some news that makes sense for them." ”

Kryan nodded, he had worked alone too many times, and a person who had been separated from everyone for too long would inevitably arouse the suspicion of others.

"I found out where that Cambrai was, how he showed up, and I met a couple of very important people who gave me important information."

"Oh, really?" The masked man moved excitedly, "I knew there was something wrong with this person, he was by no means an ordinary Sicilian, tell me who he is, and what secrets did you discover about him?" ”

Looking at the excitement that the masked man could perceive even if he couldn't see his expression, Clarion groaned slightly, and then under the expectant gaze of the other party behind the mask, he said slowly, "This man is indeed from Saint Sebaron, and the abbot there can testify to this, but it doesn't matter......"

"What else, what else?"

"What matters is who this man was before this," Cleion said to him in a low voice, looking at the masked man's eager look, "according to the Sicilians, perhaps we really met a big fish." ”