---

Scam (1)

Thanks to the sacrifice of the Swiss Guard, Clement VII managed to escape from St. Peter’s Basilica to Castel Sant’Angelo through a secret passage, but things weren’t looking good.

Castel Sant’Angelo was built as a tomb by Emperor Hadrian for himself and his family, and after the fall of Rome, the Papal States used it as a refuge and prison for the Pope.

Constructed on a 15-meter-high brick base, the 21-meter-high cylindrical Castel Sant’Angelo was a fortress that belonged to Rome, effectively leaving the Pope besieged.

Unable to flee, the Pope could only watch the pillaging of Rome as he had initially held great hopes when the first shots and shouts rang out, thinking a crusade to save Rome had begun.

This hope shattered when he saw the army under the red-flagged turbans take over the city.

“Why on earth are these infidels rampaging here?”

With a horrified expression, Clement looked down at the walls.

Roman citizens expressing gratitude to the Ottoman Army was as surreal as the pillaging of Rome itself.

He could hardly point fingers at their acts of apostasy.

In a situation where hundreds die daily, one can’t afford to care if they’re demons or infidels.

“Your Holiness, the Ottomans have sent envoys again.”

“What did they say?”

“They repeated the same message. They said they saved Rome and now demand the gates be opened.”

“…I will think about it a little longer.”

With a haggard face, the Pope gazed below.

Wagons laden with corpses rolled by, and large obstructions were being cleared as Rome began to show signs of recovery.

Yet acknowledging that the Ottomans were at the center of this reality was not easy for the Pope.

Having heard that the Pope was not yet considering leaving the fortress, Murad spat as he looked upon Castel Sant’Angelo.

“Just how long does he intend to hide? Yagiz, how about knocking on the doors?”

“If you’re thinking of banging down the doors with cannon fire, it’s best to refrain. He’ll only retreat deeper like a turtle.”

At Yagiz Pasha’s words, who had served him for a long time, Murad licked his lips.

“I would say my father would have done that.”

“Your Highness is not the Padishah, though. If you wish to perform your duties well and not draw wrath from the Padishah, you should calm yourself.”

Hearing this from behind, Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, the bishop of Ostia, tried to maintain composure.

“The current Pope is, to put it kindly, cautious, but to put it unkindly, lacks decisiveness. He’s someone who will hesitate and fall into misfortune, so he won’t come out easily.”

“It’s not particularly required to bring the Pope out, so it doesn’t concern me.”

Murad slightly trailed off and looked back at Alessandro.

“How long do you plan to follow? You may return to Ostia now.”

“With the situation in Rome being like this, how could I possibly return? If assistance is needed for the reconstruction of Rome, I will do my utmost to help.”

“Do as you please.”

Having said that, Murad turned and headed towards St. Peter’s Basilica, where the cardinals awaited.

Alessandro’s words sounded slick, but it was obvious he was trying to elevate his own influence by taking advantage of the Pope’s absence.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have one more person who understands the situation.”

It’s a world where even if you save someone, they expect compensation in return.

For now, they might be grateful for saving Rome, but there’s no way that gratitude would last forever, and it was already felt that the citizens’ eyes were becoming increasingly uneasy about the Ottoman presence.

Being a city that had long served as the heart of Christianity, one could only imagine how deeply rooted the resentment towards Islam was.

“I finally understand why my father said this was a land we could not seize.”

Even without external backlash, it would turn into a city that could revolt at any moment.

With confident strides, Murad entered the St. Peter’s Basilica guarded by the Ottoman forces, standing before the gathered cardinals.

“It seems everyone who’d be expected has arrived.”

At Murad’s nonchalant beginning, the cardinals tensed up.

Aside from the unavoidable, all the cardinals in Rome were present.

With the Ottoman Army glaring fiercely, few dared to act tough, and those few could not refuse such an important gathering that concerned the fate of Rome.

“I have no intention of changing the promise that we won’t occupy Rome as part of the Empire’s territory. Our Empire has come solely to rescue the pillaged Rome.”

“…Then do you intend to withdraw now?”

I asked, hoping for a hint of optimism, but Murad smiled shamelessly.

“With Rome in such a dire state, how could the Empire simply turn back? In a situation where there aren’t even mercenaries to defend the city, if the Imperial Army withdraws, who knows when the Habsburgs might come out next?”

That was unlikely.

The pillaging of Rome had been a disaster caused by an army made up primarily of mercenaries, with pending salaries and absent commanders.

This was an exceptionally rare situation, and under normal circumstances, Rome wouldn’t have been pillaged like this even if it were occupied.

Of course, no one could speak the truth when the Ottoman forces filled the basilica.

“After helping so much, if another tragedy occurs, it would be a waste of effort, and that cannot happen.”

“What do you intend to do then?”

“The Empire will assist in the reconstruction of Rome so it can be self-sufficient.”

At least among the cardinals gathered here, none wished to receive such help, but fearing that rejecting it might provoke the Ottomans, they were left with no choice but to agree for now.

“The precise treaty will have to be drawn up after the Pope opens the doors, but the biggest issue is surely money, isn’t it?”

With the devastation wrought during Nero’s reign rivaling the Great Fire of Rome, the cardinals felt suffocated at the thought of having to rebuild.

“If possible, we hoped to resolve this with the spoils obtained by the Empire this time, but it seems it will be insufficient. Therefore, we will need your generosity.”

“What do you mean! The plundered goods are no small amount!”

“Exactly! Even if the costs of reconstruction are large, this is too much!”

When it came to money, the cardinals vehemently protested, and Murad scowled and slammed the podium.

His gauntleted fist smashed the podium, and as sturdy wooden debris fell, the cardinals shut their mouths.

The force could have crushed a person’s skull.

“Be quiet. You are people capable of putting out a large amount of money to the Habsburgs for your safety; I trust that for the reconstruction of Rome, you can give even more generous donations.”

With words akin to those of a robber, the cardinals felt despair.

*

“Are we just going to watch?!”

“At this rate, the infidels will completely ruin everything.”

It had already been a week since they’d heard Murad’s announcement, and the situation worsened as the Ottoman Army entrenched itself in Rome.

Unlike the cardinals, who faced pressure to contribute large sums of money, the citizens welcomed the Ottoman’s declaration of rebuilding Rome with open arms.

With many having lost their homes and now finding themselves on the streets, the reconstruction of Rome was the most important matter for the citizens.

It was a situation where they had to cough up donations due to the pressure from the citizens, not just the Ottomans, and judging by the Ottoman’s stance, it didn’t seem like it would end after just one donation.

Avoiding the Ottomans, the cardinals expressed their frustrations, and one cardinal said.

“There’s still a chance. News has arrived that in response to the infidels occupying Rome, various nations including Florence are gathering forces.”

“Is that possible?”

“It should be possible. The Ottoman Army here amounts to barely 10,000. Before the walls are reconstructed, we can adequately confront them.”

Though the nations, including Florence, were gathering forces for their own interests, to the cardinals, they would rather deal with them than the Ottomans.

They had more room for negotiation.

“The Pope has also said he will hold out as long as possible.”

The moment the Pope signs a treaty to entrust the reconstruction to the Ottomans, there’s no turning back.

If the Pope, having locked himself in the fortress to live alone, became a help, the cardinals could only pray for the situation to turn in their favor when the doors suddenly swung open.

A cardinal who had been running came in late, panting.

“The Ottomans!”

“Yes, we were just discussing the issue concerning the Ottomans.”

“No, they’ve sent more troops! And they’re accompanied by the first prince of the Ottomans!”

Already? With that thought in mind, the cardinals rushed out to find the Tiber River filled with the Ottoman fleet, unable to say a word.

Just by looking at the goods and troops disembarking from the ships, it was clear they hadn’t come in response to the news of the occupation of Rome.

It seemed they had been preparing for a long time, and the cardinals felt a chill in their hearts.

‘Is the real infidel emperor a prophet or something?’

It was an impossible sight unless one had foreseen the future, and it was also when the plans laid out had fallen apart.

While no one could even utter a word, a man walked alongside the enormous Prince Murad.

His steps were graceful and steady, and his handsome features met with cold green eyes, creating an air of intimidation.

It was unnecessary to even ask for the identity of the other; the cardinals’ predictions had hit the mark.

“It’s Prince Mehmet, his older brother. He has come personally to provide assistance for the reconstruction. He will be a great help in this desolate land.”

“It’s Mehmet. From now on, rather than my younger brother, you will have to converse with me.”

“There’s much to say on our first meeting, but I shall take my leave now.”

As Murad passed by the cardinals, he clicked his tongue and said quietly.

“Tsk, you all should have just made a treaty with me before my brother came to bother you. Good luck with your struggles.”

“What does that mean?”

As Murad vanished without explaining, Mehmet opened his mouth.

“Upon checking, it seems Murad’s calculations were off. There are many expenses to consider, starting from the stationed army that will defend Rome. Don’t worry, though; even though they’re elite soldiers, I’ll calculate them at the level of Italian mercenaries.”

The cardinals, who would receive a lengthy bill starting from the costs of utilizing Ottoman prisoners for labor, deeply felt the weight of Murad’s words.

Realizing further resistance was meaningless, the Pope stepped out of the fortress and signed the treaty for the reconstruction of Rome.

*

In actual history, the pillaging of Rome symbolized the downfall of Papal power, and now the Ottomans had drenched themselves in it.

The West was already plunged into severe chaos over religious issues, and the unprecedented situation of the Ottomans stationing in Rome quickly led to a blame game.

The first to take the hit was the Habsburgs.

Blaming himself for the pillaging, Charles V declared that the looting of Rome was caused by the mercenaries who believed in Lutheranism.

The backlash fell back on the Lutherans, as they claimed it was due to the corruption of the Papal States.

In the mix, France, which faced severe criticism for allying with infidels, stoked the controversy further by stating that the Ottomans cannot be seen as an Islamic state, given their role in this rescue of Rome.

‘After occupying Rome, the West is in flames.’

Yusuf tore up the letter in his hand.

“Will the Empire burn alongside the West? What kind of nonsense is this about mushrooms in Rome? We’re not about to fight with the Crusaders.”

Through this reconstruction of Rome, the Christian faction within the Ottoman Empire gained strength, and the Ottomans began to transform from an Islamic state into a secular one.

There was no reason to commit the mad act of building a mosque in Rome as the Islamic fundamentalists desired.

‘Since Mehmet has taken hold of Rome, there’s no need to worry about that side for a while.’

As the saying goes, the right man for the job; Mehmet was far better suited for the reconstruction of Rome than Murad.

While it would be essential to carefully observe the situation in the West, there likely wouldn’t be any major issues arising immediately.

Yusuf drummed the armrest, recalling a letter he had recently received.

“The Ming Dynasty asked for help to combat pirates, huh?”

Whether it was due to the weapons handed over by the Governor of India or not, it meant the situation was serious enough that the Ming would make such a request.

‘Even so, they’re just pirates.’

The main imperial fleet, aboard large vessels, wouldn’t suffer greatly in combating pirates, and what would happen next was up to Suleiman.

“I wonder if he’s doing well.”

*

-Long Live, Long Live, Long Live! (萬歲萬歲萬萬歲)!

Beijing, Ming Dynasty.

The loud shouts of “Long Live” echoed through the heart of the great Ming, a shout reserved for the emperor that could lead to punishment for treason if used otherwise.

In a scale of court officials like none seen in Joseon, Suleiman moistened his lips as per the formalities of meeting the emperor.

The command he received from Yusuf for this encounter was simple.

“Scam the emperor, no matter what.”

Suleiman swallowed hard.