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Black Knight (1)

The beginning of the Italian Wars that started in 1494 was a conflict over succession rights between the Kingdom of Naples and the Duchy of Milan.

However, due to the interests of various nations, a dynamic of alliances and betrayals unfolded, leading to four successive wars, leaving the Italian Peninsula in a devastated state.

In such circumstances, negotiations between the two pillars of the war, France and the House of Habsburg, were sure to shift the balance in the Italian Peninsula.

The news that France and the Ottoman Empire had formally formed an alliance shocked the West.

“Those crazy French have finally gone mad, siding with the infidels!”

“No matter how much better it may be than before, forming an alliance is absurd! Have they forgotten about the Crusades?”

Voices of criticism erupted even within France, but the French shrugged off the expected backlash.

Under pressure from the Habsburgs to yield significant territory, they couldn’t afford to quibble about infidels.

Caught off guard by the unexpected alliance, the Habsburgs entered negotiations with a bruised ego, and neighboring countries began to prepare for the future situation.

The first nation to take action among many was the Ottomans.

“We shall support Algiers with 10,000 troops, including Janissaries.”

The conclusion of the peace negotiations between the Ottomans and the Habsburgs signified the end of their treaty.

Having suffered terribly at the hands of pirates during the peace treaty, the Spanish were expected to take action to seize Algiers.

It was seen as a move to bolster the position of their alliance with France in negotiations.

Under Yusuf’s command, the troops moved to Algiers, and even the obstinate Habsburgs had no choice but to take a step back.

– France would completely abandon Milan and withdraw from Lombardy.

It was the moment when countless sacrifices made to secure Lombardy, in Northern Italy, turned to dust, but France had no choice but to sign the treaty, satisfied that Flanders and Burgundy were absent from the negotiations.

The French army withdrew from Lombardy according to the treaty, and just as they thought peace would return to Italy, suspicions arose about the assassination of the Pope.

Yusuf asked Hasna, who was sitting elegantly.

“Was it worth the trip all the way there?”

“I believe it was a good experience. I realized how difficult it would be for noblewomen to travel to the Empire.”

“Traveling is much harder for women than for men.”

There were physical differences, but it was also a time full of inconveniences and dangers that made it challenging to embark on a journey without serious motivation.

To leave behind a comfortable life for perilous travels abroad required strong motivation.

“This won’t be resolved in the short term, so it can’t be helped. You did well in doing what you had to do.”

“Thank you. By the way, it hasn’t even been a year since I returned, yet so much has happened here too. The bridge is completed, and Mustafa is fully active, right?”

“Indeed, the ship he ordered has the shipyard working busily.”

While Mehmet was undertaking glass research, Murad conquered the Sahara, and Kasim returned from France to expand his influence, Mustafa was not idle either.

Having become the Sanjakbey of Basra, Mustafa placed an order for ships with his investment, rising as a significant player in the shipbuilding industry.

“It seems Mustafa will go out to sea himself.”

“Seems so. Our family’s bloodline doesn’t wait long.”

At Yusuf’s joke, Hasna giggled softly, covering her mouth.

Not knowing whom they took after, none of the princes had an easygoing personality, and you could say Mustafa’s parents, the Tazlu, had given up on him.

‘He’s a lucky fellow—surely won’t die easily.’

Mustafa was a source of concern in a different sense than Murad.

If he fell into the desert, it felt like he would find an oasis in less than a day.

“Father, may I ask one thing? Is the chaos you mentioned happening in the Papal States right now?”

“Indeed.”

“Did the Pope really die from an assassination?”

With wide, curious eyes, Hasna asked, and Yusuf leaned back in his chair, speaking leisurely.

“Well, it’s possible he was assassinated. Look at how the foolish ones in Rome rejoice at the Pope’s death. The cardinals even held a party shortly after.”

Where there is great power, there are many vying for the papal throne.

Based on modern standards, at least six have been assassinated through poisoning or strangulation, and the number of those under suspicion is even greater.

It wouldn’t be strange for the cardinals in power to seize the opportunity to assassinate a Pope who called for reforms now that the war is over.

“Of course, he might have died due to a health decline. After all, he is over seventy, isolated with enemies all around; his health couldn’t be good. His external activities had noticeably decreased over the last year.”

“Then I suppose we can’t know the truth.”

“They’re just honest about their desires; the cardinals aren’t foolish. Now that the assassination has succeeded, there’s no reason for the truth to come out.”

With that, Yusuf wore a deep smile.

“But sometimes, even the mere existence of suspicion is enough.”

Spreading the suspicion of the Pope’s assassination throughout Italy isn’t a futile endeavor.

Sowing suspicion is enough to move the Habsburgs.

– Your Highness, Hasan Shaitan Pasha requests an audience.

At the call from the courtier, Yusuf stood.

“Leave now. This isn’t your time to step forward.”

“Understood.”

It might have been disappointing, but Hasna didn’t voice any complaints.

No matter how favored she was by the Padishah, there were lines to be maintained, and she knew better than anyone that maintaining her current favor depended on not crossing those lines.

Turning his back on Hasna, Yusuf entered the audience chamber, took his seat at the high table, and commanded Hasan, who was preparing to bow.

“Report.”

“The Imperial Army stationed in the Lombardy region has begun its advance toward Rome.”

“It has finally begun.”

With France, the greatest threat in Italy, retreating, and the Italian states too worn from the long war to withstand the Imperial Army, they couldn’t afford to miss the opportunity to plant their flag in the symbolic city of Rome.

Anyone familiar with the historical flow of the Italian Wars would expect such movement.

“Well then, we must also begin to move in earnest.”

Yusuf wore a deep smile.

*

KWAANG!

A cannonball struck the Aurelian Walls, which had protected Rome for so long, and the cracks in the walls echoed a horrifying noise.

– The walls are collapsing! The walls are collapsing!

The sight of the precariously standing walls crashing down signified that Rome’s last bastion had fallen.

“Commander! The walls of Vatican Hill have fallen!”

“I see it too. Damn it!”

Kasper Leuchts, the commander of the Vatican Swiss Guard, tightly gripped his blood-stained sword and cursed.

From the start, their power disparity was clear.

Rome’s defensive forces consisted of 5,000 ragtag mercenaries and militia, while the Imperial Army boasted 20,000 elite soldiers hardened by war.

The walls, which had defended the capital for nearly 1,300 years, could not withstand the superior artillery of the Holy Roman Empire.

“I will risk my life to escort the Pope to safety!”

“Understood!”

Protecting Clement VII, who had succeeded Hadrian VI as Pope, was the last remaining duty for the guards sworn to loyalty.

As soon as the walls were breached, the mercenaries hired by Papal States fled in all directions, and the guards carved a bloody path toward St. Peter’s Basilica.

“Capture the Pope! Kill him!”

With crazed eyes, the Imperial Army charged at the guards protecting the Pope.

It was because the Imperial commander, the Duke of Bourbon, who had been prime target due to his white cloak denoting command, had been shot by a firearm during the battle and killed.

The last thread controlling the disgruntled Imperial Army, swelled by unpaid salaries, had snapped, and indiscriminate violence erupted in Rome.

“Quick! Quickly!”

Grasping the sword that pierced his chest, a guard gasped for breath while clinging to a foe, even as the following Imperial soldiers severed his neck, refusing to let go.

Despite shedding tears of blood over the death of a comrade with whom he had shared brotherhood, the guard never retreated.

The number of guards, which had been 189, swiftly dwindled, and by the time they reached St. Peter’s Basilica, only a handful of them remained.

Stained with spattered blood, Clement gazed at the burning Rome and murmured in a dazed voice.

“That’s enough. Return to your homeland.”

The sounds of savage plundering by the rabid Imperial soldiers turned Rome into a hellish wail.

Screams, shouts, and pitiful cries for mercy echoed.

It was a scene unimaginable for a Rome that had once boasted a magnificent culture, and Clement, overwhelmed with guilt, yearned to give up everything.

At Clement’s words, commander Kasper knelt.

“Our swords have already been dedicated to the Pope. Our loyalty will not waver until the very end. Go. We shall protect this place.”

“…Thank you. I shall not forget your sacrifice.”

Looking at the guards with mixed emotions, Clement entered St. Peter’s Basilica.

Inside St. Peter’s Basilica was a secret passage connected to Castel Sant’Angelo, 800 meters away, allowing for an escape from Rome.

After Clement left, Kasper wiped the blood off his sword, watching the Imperial soldiers pouring in to capture and loot the cathedral.

“Today, we shall die here.”

With Kasper’s declaration, the guards began to swing their swords to stop the Imperial army, not leaving a single survivor to surrender.

Once all that remained was the last resistance of the guards, Rome was left with uncontrollable marauding hordes.

The order given by the newly appointed Duke of Orange, Philippe, to cease the looting went unheard.

Most of the Imperial soldiers were German Lutherans influenced by Martin Luther’s Reformation and saw Rome as the stronghold of the Antichrist, having been forced to convert and brutalized.

Because of that, the Imperial soldiers felt no pangs of conscience, and the ensuing plundering was horrific.

Captured soldiers of the Papal States were mercilessly executed, and regardless of whether they were nuns, women, or children, disgusting hands reached out.

Cathedrals, monasteries, and the mansions of cardinals and high-ranking clergy were not spared from being targeted, and cardinals had to pay a hefty price to survive.

Corpses littered the streets, and those impaled on poles emitted a foul stench.

In these times, there was no choice but to flee the hell that Rome had become.

Sack of Rome (Sacco di Roma)

The great plunder of Rome was underway.

*

“Prince Murad, the destination is in sight!”

Murad, resting his eyes against the railing, opened them at the report.

The Janissaries, feeling the ominous aura in the air, straightened their posture, and Murad smoothly rose his massive frame.

A typical port city came into view, and with his massive sword, Murad struck the deck.

“That must be Ostia.”

Barbarossa Hacibey, who had come with him from Algiers, nodded.

“I came here once to loot with Uruji before.”

“Is that so?”

Unleashing his armor-like thick muscles, Murad revealed a fierce grin.

“Just a little further there lies Rome.”

“Indeed.”

“Even if my father is harsh in raising his son, this time ought to be fun. Much more than playing with those without the will to resist in the desert.”

Having conquered the Sahara and awaited orders from Algiers, Murad surveyed his surroundings.

The fleet of 120 ships, carrying 10,000 elite troops and 5,000 pirates, cut through the waves, moving toward Ostia.

“A ship is coming from the harbor!”

Upon sighting the sudden appearance of a substantial fleet, the small port city seemed to be in chaos, as a vessel departing from Ostia approached, hoisting a white flag.

A man who had been thoroughly searched boarded the ship, and feeling terrified upon seeing the fluttering red banner of the fleet, he stammered.

“T-this is the land of the Papal States. Why have you come here?”

“Archbishop of Constantinople.”

At Murad’s call, a senior man standing in the back stepped forward.

Dressed in magnificent robes embroidered with golden thread, the archbishop smiled kindly at the trembling man.

“Fear not, brother of faith.”

“H-how did you get here?”

“I heard that the rude ones invaded the historically rich Rome. Is that true?”

At the archbishop’s words, the man spoke with a terrified expression.

“R-Rome has already fallen. People are fleeing in droves from the dreadful plunder.”

“Oh my. What a dreadful thing.”

Embracing the man with sorrowful eyes, the archbishop patted him on the back to comfort him.

Once the man calmed down, the archbishop spoke in a gentle voice.

“The Padishah foresaw such a tragedy and sent us here.”

Who’s who?

With a confused look on his face, the man received a hearty smile from Murad.

“It means we have come as knights for Rome. Our Empire, that is.”

The dark knight twisted his mouth into a grimace.