While Murad II was in a frenzy over the sudden changes on the battlefield, in stark contrast to the intense fighting in western Anatolia, Bosporus Caesar Manuel was leisurely seated on a birch bench on the Trabzon Palace terrace in the Pontus region of northeastern Anatolia, listening to his subordinate report on the current situation of the infiltration operation.
"Your Caesar, those Turkmen nomads, just as we had envisioned, after being incited and subtly influenced, indeed took the initiative to attack the Ottoman logistical granaries in the area northeast of Ankara, just as we wanted," Badars, the head of the intelligence department, reported, his eyes full of admiration and submission. It was clear that after this special plan, which Caesar had orchestrated from behind the scenes, his admiration for the Caesar he had followed since childhood had grown even more.
However, in contrast to him, Manuel, his monarch, did not show the smile of one who had everything under control. Instead, his hands were tightly clasped on the table, and he questioned with a touch of sharpness and concern, "During the execution, our Bosporus involvement wasn't exposed, was it?"
Facing Caesar's questioning, Badars immediately put away his smile and seriously reported the role the intelligence department had played during this period. As Manuel had instructed, they had indeed only used certain individuals with connections to the Turkmen nomadic tribes to reveal the Ottoman supply granary locations to those who were particularly lacking in supplies. Aside from that, the intelligence department had done nothing else.
This allowed Manuel to reluctantly relax. If that was the case, then even if the Ottoman side found some so-called evidence, they would not be able to force Bosporus to make concessions given the current busy combat situation. If the war between the Ottoman and Karaman ended, it wouldn't matter if Murad II used it as an excuse to cause trouble, as the Ottoman would have plenty of reasons to bother Bosporus by then. Compared to that, inciting Turk tribes to destroy granaries was nothing.
In short, as long as he did not directly instigate it, the Ottoman would not find a reason to declare war immediately, and Manuel would have no such concerns. As for their relationship with the Ottoman? What a joke. Ever since they forcibly took over the former Janik Beylik, their relationship with the Ottoman was already beyond repair. Since that was the case, it didn't matter how much worse it got; who would hit the brakes after jumping off a cliff!
After quickly deliberating on these thoughts in his mind for less than half a second, Manuel's smile now seemed somewhat relieved. After smilingly bestowing wine and praising Badars, he turned to another meritorious official who had contributed this time, "And, thanks to the methods of contact you provided regarding the Turk tribes in Asia Minor, Dungar, we were able to achieve such rapid results this time. How about a glass of fine Macedonian wine?" As he spoke, he personally poured a glass of wine for the other person, just as he had done for Badars.
"By the grace of the Lord, I am eternally grateful, Caesar," Dungar, the Army Commander of Pontus, said gratefully as he took the fine wine offered by his monarch, and then heartily drank it all.
Afterward, Manuel again displayed his affability, casually chatting with his subordinates present. During this time, he seemed to glance towards Western Anatolia as if by chance, "With all this done, and given Suleiman's capabilities, even if he hasn't cleared out those internal traitors and pests, he should still be able to resist the Ottoman with the support of the Mamluk Levant forces, right? If that's the case, then I'll continue with my own affairs."
As Manuel began to ponder his future direction, far away on the Hamid front, where he was confronting the Ottoman, Suleiman, in his military camp, learned of the events that had occurred in the Eskisehir forest.
"It seems the problems with those Beylik have truly been eliminated," Suleiman said, nodding and silently tapping on the wooden table in front of him after hearing the report from the returning scout.
After dismissing those not concerned, Karaman Bey did not feel relieved, but instead sighed deeply. Although this move would indeed allow him to quickly consolidate military and political power within the country, clearing the way for the upcoming war, he could not say whether it would have long-term negative effects. The armor on the thousand or so nobles who died this time was urgently needed by Karaman, which was a minor matter. However, according to Turk cultural traditions, until he achieved a truly shocking victory, apart from the nobles of his faction, the remaining noble lords in the country, while obedient, would likely have a huge question mark regarding their loyalty. This being the case, even after the war ended, he would probably rely even more on the support of external forces.
Among them, besides the Mamluks who had always supported him from behind, who else would benefit? It was self-evident…
"Is it my imagination? Or was this also part of your calculations, Manuel, you fellow…?" Thinking of this, Suleiman recalled his assessment of his old friend before they parted. He couldn't help but shake his head, his dark pupils fixed on the outside of the camp, repeating the same words he had said then—
"Still the same, you fellow, all you ever think about is yourself!"
Although he complained about his close friend, Suleiman could also feel that if he followed this path, this war might indeed have a chance of turning around. Soon, he again summoned his trusted aides, "Tomorrow morning, immediately send a portion of the Imperial Guard back to Konya, and following the Turk nomadic tradition, collect the wealth and land of those who died in battle. And while you're at it, 'clean up' the rest."
"Yes, Caesar!"
However, Suleiman seemed to have misunderstood something: his close friend had never fantasized that he would act according to the proposed strategy, but instead had taken matters into his own hands, sending special agents to secretly induce the Turk nomads within Ottoman territory. For Manuel, if Suleiman had indeed acted according to his plan, it would only be considered a pleasant surprise.
The next morning, as Karaman was about to begin a fervent purge amidst the war, outside Trabzon City, in the castle housing the intelligence department's high command, their monarch arrived once again.
This time, Badars was present. Facing the arrival of his respected Caesar, he immediately bowed. Manuel, however, did not dwell on these formalities. After a few concerned inquiries, he allowed him to return to normal.
After bringing his trusted intelligence department subordinates into a soundproof and sufficiently private room, Manuel immediately became serious, tapping on the wooden table in front of him as if asking a question without truly asking, "If I remember correctly, one of Ottoman Sultan Murad II's empresses or concubines belongs to the Branković Family of Serbia, doesn't she?"
"Yes, Caesar. You must be referring to Mara Hatton, or Maria Branković. Although she has not yet borne children for Murad, she is indeed one of Murad's empresses," a high-ranking intelligence department official, who usually disguised himself as a slick merchant, replied.
"Very good," Manuel nodded slightly, and asked with a gentle smile:
"Can she be killed?"