Chapter 46 – Interrogation in the Dark
When Murat landed with heavy, controlled steps on the stone ground, the splendor he had left behind on the upper floor of the ballroom gave way to a dim tension. Below, Cafer and Balibey had already completed their part. Gritti writhed on the ground, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle—most likely broken. Eunuch İbrahim Pasha was trapped in Cafer's grip, silent, drenched in the cold sweat of fear.
Murat cast a quick glance around. They stood in a secluded rear courtyard, surrounded by stone walls. The darkness of the night deepened the silence, broken only by the faint sound of water lapping from Venice's distant canals.
Murat turned to Balibey.
"That ruined building you mentioned—the one with the basement... where is it?"
Balibey answered without hesitation. "It's nearby, my Sultan. Hidden among the back alleys. I noticed it during reconnaissance. It looks worthless, but inside it's intact. Thick walls, structurally sound."
Murat nodded slowly.
"Are you sure you showed Kasım the way?"
"Yes, my Sultan," Balibey replied, eyes steady.
Murat stepped forward, eyes fixed on Gritti's twisted leg.
"Then lead the way. We don't have much time. We must ask our questions quickly, get our answers faster, and disappear just as silently."
"As you command," Balibey said, and without delay, grabbed Gritti by the arm and began dragging him across the ground. Gritti's groans echoed off the cold stone.
Cafer moved like a specter, dragging Eunuch İbrahim Pasha in silence. There was no rage or resistance left in the man—only a numb silence frozen in fear.
Murat walked behind them. His stride was firm, his gaze unwavering. The sky had fully darkened. While the city drowned in the haze of revelry, a different kind of reckoning echoed in these narrow streets—one that could change the course of history.
And none of them would emerge from this night unchanged.
Kasım hurried down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. The space was still thick with steam rising from the final trays of the banquet. Through the bustle, he spotted Giovanni. Their eyes met—no words were needed.
"We need to leave," Kasım said firmly.
Giovanni gave a sharp nod, tore off his apron, and without hesitation, followed. He didn't know what had happened upstairs, but determination was etched across his face. They exited the kitchen and entered the ballroom, Kasım's eyes scanning for Viki. She was still in the same place, eyes filled with worry as they searched the crowd.
The moment she spotted them, she rushed over. "Are they alright?!" she asked, locking eyes with Kasım.
Kasım stepped close, his voice low but resolute. "Don't worry. Everything is going according to plan. But now we must leave immediately."
Right then, chaos erupted from upstairs. A representative of the Holy Roman Empire came stumbling down the stairs, shouting in panic:
"Sir Gritti has been abducted! Guards! We're under attack! Seal the gates!"
Panic surged through the crowd. The music stopped. Whispers turned to cries. But Kasım didn't even flinch. His mind was locked on one goal—getting them out. He grabbed Viki by the arm and pulled her forward.
"Move to the exit," he ordered.
Giovanni followed close behind.
Just as they neared the door, a guard blocked their path, sword drawn at the command of the alarmed delegate. Kasım's heart raced, but he did not give in to fear. Reflexively, he stepped in front of Viki, shielding her. The guard's expression was cold, unyielding. But so was Kasım's.
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He summoned the natural energy within him, pulling as much as he could. It surged through his muscles like a warm current. When he opened his eyes, the air shimmered around him.
He envisioned a fireball. Small, dense, radiant… and when he hurled his arm forward, it became real.
The flame shot toward the guard with blinding speed. The man's eyes widened—he was unprepared. The fire struck his chest, and he collapsed with a cry of pain. A brief hum… then smoke… and silence.
Viki stood wide-eyed, her mouth slightly agape. Giovanni stared at Kasım in disbelief. Kasım simply smiled.
"Move," he said.
They passed through the exit swiftly. Using the chaos to their advantage, they vanished into the labyrinth of alleyways. Guards shouted "Stop them!" behind them, but it was too late. They were already deep within Venice's darkened backstreets.
Murat entered the ruined building with silent steps. The moonlight filtered in through broken walls, casting shadows across moss-covered stone. Rotten wooden beams, toppled columns, and the smell of damp earth filled the air. Yet the ruin held a hidden serenity. It was the perfect place—for a reckoning.
He signaled to Balibey and Cafer with his eyes.
Then turned to face the broken forms of Gritti and Eunuch İbrahim Pasha.
"Sit them down. Now."
Without a word, Cafer and Balibey dragged the two traitors and forced them to their knees before Murat.
He began pacing, slowly, his gaze burning into İbrahim Pasha.
"We'll start with this snake," he said coldly. Then to Cafer: "But we wait for Kasım. We'll need truth to spot the lies."
Cafer nodded.
Just then, a noise echoed from outside. Cafer's hand went to his dagger, and like a shadow, he slipped out. Moments later, he returned with Kasım, Viki, and Giovanni in tow.
Murat's eyes narrowed as he looked them over.
"Just in time," he said. Then to Kasım, with a nod of thanks.
Now, the time had come.
Murat turned to Eunuch İbrahim Pasha. His voice was sharp as steel.
"Speak. Why did you betray us? Was it power? Title? Gold? I gave you everything. I made you Governor of Rumelia. What more did you want?"
İbrahim Pasha trembled, his face pale, lips quivering.
"My Sultan… forgive me… I was tempted by the devil. They offered… promises if I turned on the Empire. They said they would make me king of Rumelia… they promised me a throne…"
The words barely left his mouth. His eyes welled with tears, his breath short. But in Murat's gaze, there was no pity. No forgiveness.
In one swift move, Murat drew his sword.
And with a single strike, decapitated the traitor.
The head struck a pillar, then rolled to a corner of the room.
The body trembled for a moment, then collapsed. Blood pooled on the stone, reaching the feet of the kneeling Gritti.
Gritti gasped, shaking. It was as if he were witnessing his own death.
Murat stepped forward, raising his blood-stained blade. He used its tip to lift Gritti's chin.
When their eyes met, Gritti saw not only fury in Murat's gaze—but the judgment of fate.
The ruin, soaked in shadow, became a tomb for betrayal.
And justice… took form at the tip of an Ottoman blade.