Chapter 45 – The Shadow of the Council
The whispered warning from the shadows had alerted Murat: the delegates were making their way upstairs one by one. As Cafer once again disappeared into the darkness, a look of grim resolve settled on Murat's face. He lifted his chin slightly, turned toward Balibey, and gave him a single look—a silent command.
Balibey understood immediately. With a slight nod, he turned his eyes toward Kasım, who was posing as a servant in the ballroom. A subtle hand signal was all it took. Kasım caught the cue from the corner of his eye and quietly began moving toward the back of the hall.
Balibey then turned to Viki. His voice was low, but the seriousness in his tone was unmistakable:
"Stay here. Don't move. If we don't return… go to the kitchen. Take your father and leave immediately. Go to Istanbul as soon as you can. Reach Kösem Sultan. If anything goes wrong, your connection to us will be exposed."
Viki's eyes widened in alarm. She opened her mouth to protest, but Balibey cut her off sharply:
"Do as I say."
Viki's lips moved soundlessly. She looked away and gave a reluctant nod.
Murat and Balibey moved toward the rear staircase under the quiet hum of music and masked silence. They slipped through the crowd like shadows, unnoticed and unhindered.
At the foot of the stairs, Kasım joined them as if he'd been waiting. Without a word, the trio began to ascend—until a large man at the top of the steps raised a hand.
"Stop. Where are you going?"
Kasım stepped forward without hesitation. His voice was calm and confident:
"These gentlemen are with Eunuch İbrahim Pasha's party. I'm escorting them to the council chamber upstairs."
The guard scrutinized them, his gaze lingering especially long on Murat. He was clearly suspicious. But after a tense moment, he stepped aside, letting them pass in silence.
The wooden stairs creaked underfoot as they ascended. The corridor above was dim, flanked by stone walls and padded with rugs that muffled every step. At the far end stood a heavy oak door between two marble columns. Behind it, murmurs and faint metallic clinks could be heard.
Murat paused briefly at the door, then slowly pushed it open.
The room inside grew quiet. A long table occupied the center, draped with a detailed map of the Ottoman Empire's vast territories. Game pieces and ink markings indicated troop movements and territorial disputes. Around the table stood some fifteen to twenty men—envoys from kingdoms and states, all deep in whispered consultation.
At the head of the table stood Gritti. His eyes fell on the newcomers, scanning their faces, until they landed on Kasım—and lingered.
"You're in the wrong place," Gritti said coldly. "Servant, escort these men back to the ballroom."
Kasım said nothing. His eyes remained locked on Murat's.
Then Murat stepped forward. His voice was calm—but held undeniable command.
"No. We're exactly where we need to be."
A ripple of confusion spread through the room.
Gritti narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
Before Murat could answer, a voice cut in from the side:
"That man… is Sultan Murat."
It was unmistakable—Eunuch İbrahim Pasha had stepped forward. His gaze landed on Kasım with a complex expression—not guilt, but apprehension.
The room shifted. Whispers rose in every corner. Some delegates stared in disbelief; others began to sweat visibly.
Murat's gaze, however, was fixed on one man: Gritti.
And Gritti stared back.
Murat's eyes were like a wolf's—silent, deadly, unrelenting. Gritti felt a cold dread build in his chest.
Suddenly, Gritti screamed:
"Guards!"
But it was already too late.
The door slammed shut—locked from the inside by Balibey. The heavy click echoed across the room like a gavel. Balibey turned to face the delegates.
"No one enters or leaves this room until our business is done," he said in a voice that was quiet—but lethal.
He nodded toward a shadowed corner. A grin flickered on his lips.
"Cafer… Two targets. Gritti and Eunuch İbrahim Pasha."
Eunuch İbrahim Pasha turned ghostly pale. The name "Cafer" struck like a death knell. In the Ottoman Palace, Cafer meant death in silence—a shadowed execution with no warning.
Then the shadows behind the Pasha rippled—twisted.
Cafer emerged in a blink, pressing a dagger to the Pasha's throat. His face was expressionless.
"He's mine," he said calmly.
Balibey smiled faintly, then turned to Murat, who stood unwavering at the head of the table. His eyes were still locked on Gritti—calculating, patient.
One of the delegates, in a panic, stepped forward:
"I am an envoy of the Holy Roman Empire! You cannot touch me!"
The others began shouting the same: from France, Prussia, Hungary… Voices clashed in fear.
But one voice silenced them all.
"Enough!"
Balibey's voice rang like a blade. His fist slammed on the table.
"There is only one empire in this world. Only one emperor. And that is the Ottoman Empire! Do you even know who stands before you?!"
Silence fell like a shroud. Fear took root in every face.
Then Murat spoke.
"Balibey. Take Gritti. We're leaving."
Balibey bowed in acknowledgment. Gritti was nearly on his knees from terror. As he tried to retreat, Balibey grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the window.
He opened the shutters—revealing the Venice night beyond. Then turned.
And shoved Gritti out.
Cafer called out from behind:
"Easy! We need him alive!"
Balibey looked back once, narrowed his eyes.
"He's alive."
And jumped after him.
Cafer sighed, then dragged Eunuch İbrahim Pasha to the window. Without a word, he tossed him out—and leapt after them.
Only Murat, Kasım, and the terrified diplomats remained.
Murat turned to Kasım.
"Go. Take Viki and my uncle. Head to the safehouse. Now."
Kasım bowed and unlocked the door. He left swiftly.
The envoys stared at Murat. No one dared speak.
Murat stepped to the window. The city sprawled before him—dark, glimmering, breathless.
He turned once more to face them.
"Go. Tell your kings. The Ottoman Empire is a mighty feast. Those who try to swallow it… choke to death."
His eyes were steel.
Then he jumped.
Silence.
Only the hush of the Venetian night remained. And the shaky breaths of men who had just glimpsed the shadow of empire.