Duarte wanted to make a final effort, but because they had stayed on the side of the trade road for too long, they had already attracted the attention of the Ottoman guards, and an officer with a large turban and a black beard rode up to them, his attitude was quite polite, especially after seeing Giulio and the others, "This is an extraordinary lord." He said in his heart, reminding himself to report the matter to his superiors, and politely urging them to return to the caravan as soon as possible, so as not to cause unnecessary commotion and strand.

Duarte had to respectfully obey, and the caravan from Florence calmly merged into the flood of their kind, and on the face of it, they were not much different from the others.

This is the second time Giulio has come to the land of Istanbul, the first time he came here, he was also disguised as a merchant, and although Istanbul was strong and rich, there was always a lingering smell of stale dust in the air, like a temple about to be abandoned, and although everyone knew how beautiful it was, they could never shake off the sense of decay like a maggot on the tarsal bone - perhaps because it was still under the ruler of Bayezid II at that time - and not long after, There will be people who make a heroic declaration that "I am the state", but in fact, such a situation has appeared a long time ago, and a powerful and despotic emperor or king is almost a symbol of a country, and the country must bear his mark.

The new Sultan Selim I, who is older than Giulio and not yet in his prime, has plenty of energy and quick thinking, and these characteristics are perfectly present in the city of Istanbul - when they walk through the streets, they can hardly see the scars left by the disasters caused by the thunder of God, and everywhere is clean and intact, blue and white tiles, red cinnabar, with vivid turmeric, swirling milky columns, gilded round domes glow with impressive, haunting brilliance under the gaze of the people.

"It's been less than half a year since the tsunami passed." Ezio sighed.

"No, it can't be counted that way," said Giulio, "and it's only been four months since Sultan Selim entered the city. Little Cosimo's eyes widened when he heard this, "How did they do it?" Or was the catastrophe not as terrible as his father portrayed it?

"Slaves." Duarte coldly burst out the word between his teeth.

Cosimo Jr. suddenly understood that Italy was not without slaves, otherwise the church would not have to make a special statement that Christians should not be slaves. But he had never seen the use of slaves as tools and cattle on a large scale, without limits, "the tower of light," Giulio pointed to little Cosimo, "I watched it fall, and when it fell, there was nothing that affected the houses that were destroyed in an instant, but can you still see the damage that has been done here?" ”

Cosimo Jr. shook his head, and at the same time looked afraid, for under Julio's teaching, he had calculated how many men would have to work day and night to re-erect this tower of light, which was at least three hundred feet high, in just a few months—and there were more than a dozen such towers, as far as he could see, and they were located among the gilded round domes with a small point, and it was said that at night they would burn with flames, competing with the stars and moonlight, and that sight was desirable and overwhelming. But he also remembered that Giulio had said that by the time they left Istanbul, almost all the towers had collapsed.

Thinking of the countless manpower behind this gorgeous scene, or rather, the accumulation of white bones, I couldn't help but make this young man feel terrified.

As his father described to him, in fact, in the history books, almost all the buildings or deeds that can be called miracles bear immeasurable blood, tears and cruelty behind them - especially those countries and times that still practice slavery, because for those who are high, slaves are like animals, or tools, lowly barter, and so on, and can exchange these mustards that they don't even care about in exchange for something worthy of praise from them or others— There really is no more cost-effective deal, and as for how many slaves will be injured and killed in the process, does that have anything to do with them?

Not to mention the Ottoman Turks, even the merchants who traveled with them, those from all walks of life, who had different beliefs, different educations, and different ideas, but who else but his father, and Ezio and others, would have thought of the filth beneath the splendor and light? They either admired the generosity of the Sultan of Selim, or were intimidated by his authority, or they were ready to seek more and greater benefits from the new sultan.

Giulio watched little Cosimo hang his head, and rode close to him, and then, in the exclamation of little Cosimo, picked him up and leaned in front of him—everyone around him was shouting, little Cosimo was in fact a twelve-year-old boy, and because he had inherited Giulio's height, he was now five feet two inches, and besides, he had been trained for several years by Ezio or other Assasins, and his limbs and body were covered with thin muscles—he looked slender, but in fact he was still very heavy, Not to mention the bonuses of leather armor and chain mail, but Giulio only took a light mention and a sweep to transfer him from his horse to himself, which not only frightened Cosimo Jr., but also made Duarte dissatisfied.

Little Cosimo blushed with rage, but Julio, the father who had left his son helpless, just laughed and messed up his coveted black curls.

"Yes," he whispered into little Cosimo's ear, "yes, my child, this is the world, and so is its beauty, and so it is evil. ”

"That's what I want you to see."

————————

Ezio remembered that when they first came to Istanbul, they stayed in an Albanian inn owned by a man named Fatis, and he was impressed by the splendid hotel, but he had the misfortune to encounter an accident called "Assasin" - so this time they changed places, but this time, some people in robes came to the hotel that night.

The owner of the inn almost cried out at the sight of the visitor, he had such a splendid and vast inn, of course, he also relied on it, but his dependence was only an aga (court steward), and he could not even compare with the real owner of the Marmara inn, a Devtda, let alone ...... What about the black eunuchs of Sudan? He could recognize them at a glance, because Istanbul had dark-skinned merchants, but they were never so tall and strong—the black eunuchs who came to the inn were six and a half feet tall each, and the width of their shoulders was almost as wide as a bull, and in the darkness of the night, where there was no fire, one could only see their eyes shining—and the black eunuchs at the head did not even bother to say anything to the innkeeper. The inn was also filled with the exception of Giulio and his party, but they were all confined to their rooms, and only one room was outside a chamber with a squire led by a eunuch holding torches.

The black eunuch, who was at the head, knocked on the door cautiously and respectfully.

"Come in." A voice said this, and the black eunuch pushed the door open, and entered, and the first thing he noticed was a man leaning against the wall, by the window, smiling rather than smiling, his face weathered, but still with a pair of young eyes, and his vision was reminiscent of a cold blade, a sharp arrow, or the fangs of a wild beast.

An excellent fighter. The black eunuch said in his heart, and then his gaze fell on another person, who was holding a lute in his arms, and was plucking it carelessly, he was wearing a mask, but from the edge of the mask, it could be seen that his face had been damaged, and the black eunuch was almost certain that he had an important duty in this group, because a strong man would not allow an ugly person to appear around him, unless he had something special that no one else could replace.

Then he saw a man with green eyes, which looked inky in the candlelight, but the chief duty of the black eunuch was to select for the Sultan the beautiful women to serve him, and he could see at a glance that the young man, who could still be called a child, had eyes like emerald ones, and shone like new leaves in the sun, and he sat on the floor, between the soft pillows, and smiled cheerfully at the comer.

The black eunuch almost laughed, but his constant vigilance and loyalty to the Sultan reminded him, and he bowed his head deeply to the man who sat on the throne in the Byzantine style, and then prostrated himself on the ground and saluted the black-haired prince from the Christian world with great dignity.

"What did your majesty say?" The man with the sharp golden eyes asked.

"He wants us to serve you as a sultan." The black eunuch said without hesitation.

Julio. The Medici nodded slightly, Duarte's sound died away, and Ezio straightened up.

"So he's waiting for me?" Julio asked again.

"Yes," said the black eunuch, "all the time." ”

Duarte's face tightened behind the mask, and having been a slave in Istanbul for three years, he certainly knew best what these Ottoman Turks really were—they could be the friendliest friends and the most generous benefactors when needed, but they could also become the most shameless traitors, the most cruel jackals at any time - the more gentle and tolerant the Sultan was, the more he would be removed from Giulio. The more the Medici seek here.

If anyone else had heard that he had been taken so seriously, he would have been overjoyed, but it would not have included Julio, and he stood up politely, "In that case," he said, "how can a guest make the host wait for a long time, let us go." ”

"Yes, a sedan chair has been prepared for you." The black eunuch said.

。 m.