In the first half of 1447 AD, Europe entered a rare period of peace.
England and France were licking their wounds, the Holy Roman Empire was busy with internal strife, Eastern Europe remained in ruins, and Albania and the Ottomans were in a standoff, temporarily ceasing hostilities.
Poland and Lithuania had not yet completely eradicated the threat of the Teutonic Knights in the north, and Moscow was still deeply ensnared by the Tatar yoke.
News came from the south that King Abdullah had narrowly escaped back to the capital, Sabha, immediately declaring Sheikh Adnan and Sheikh Fatiyeh as rebels. He recruited nearby tribesmen to conduct a thorough purge, eliminating Fatiyeh's influence in the capital, barely stabilizing the situation.
Sheikh Fatiyeh led his entire tribe in declaring independence, no longer submitting to the kingdom's control.
Count Adnan moved south to Uqayr Spring, decisively defeating the king's garrison, seizing local fields, pastures, water sources, and iron mines, and proclaimed the establishment of the County of Uqayr. He declared Eastern Orthodoxy as the state religion and pledged allegiance to the Grand Duchy of Surt.
The Count of Uqayr immediately announced an investment of 1,000 ducats in the Surt United Chamber of Commerce, allowing it to establish a branch in Uqayr City, exchanging local iron ore for slaves and armor from the north.
Seeing his cooperation, Isaac reciprocated by selling 500 war slaves to Adnan at the lowest price.
Thus, three forces emerged in the southern Grand Duchy of Surt: Fatiyeh, Abdullah, and Adnan. These factions opposed each other, vying for the allegiance of surrounding smaller tribes.
The Hafsid dynasty in Tunisia was on the brink of internal chaos, and the Mamluks were preoccupied with the Damascus rebellion, unable to intervene.
In the short term, the surroundings of the Grand Duchy of Surt were secure.
The next period was one of recuperation, attracting refugees, and awaiting the opportune moment.
Currently, the Surt region was relatively calm, with the population of Surt Port increasing to over 7,000, more than half being immigrants.
Isaac's defeat of Fezzan and capture of the Jufra Oasis had spread throughout Italy. The Pope commended Isaac's crusade, widely promoting this long-awaited victory in Italy.
Many dispossessed knights and mercenaries from southern Italy came to Surt Port, then proceeded south, hoping to gain a share in the turmoil.
The Jufra region temporarily submitted to Isaac's authority, though future rebellions were anticipated.
All three legions were stationed in the Jufra region, ready to suppress any disturbances immediately.
"That's the current situation. The fourth batch of immigrants from Dobrogea is about to arrive. Settle them properly, placing them among the newly subdued tribes to serve as overseers."
"I will be leaving temporarily to inspect our overseas territories."
"During my absence, everything proceeds as usual. Lord Isolt oversees political affairs, Count Mihail manages military matters."
"Have Albert closely monitor the situation in Albania and report any developments immediately."
"Understood!"
Isaac raised his wine glass and drank with them.
On February 25, 1447, Isaac departed from Surt Port aboard the Grand Duke of Morea, heading to his first destination, Rome.
Upon arrival, he found Rome in mourning.
Just days earlier, Pope Eugene IV had passed away.
This Pope had been shuttling between various councils, always hopeful, yet retreating in despair.
The new Pope had not yet been elected, and the city was in a state of flux.
At the port, Gutenberg, head of the Roman printing house, awaited him.
"Your Highness, welcome back to Rome."
Gutenberg greeted Isaac warmly.
He knew well that his career's success was entirely due to Isaac's support.
"Your Highness, the Roman printing house now has 120 workers, three workshops, and monthly profits reaching 2,000 ducats."
"Your previous strategy was brilliant. Now, many Italian nobles collect books printed with the Papal insignia and the purple double-headed eagle emblem. Other printing houses' profits are far inferior to ours."
"We plan to establish branches in Ravenna and Montferrat to further capture the rich northern Italian market."
"Excellent, dear Mr. Gutenberg. I propose you also establish a printing house and a supporting paper mill in my new territory, Surt Port."
"We can leverage our geographical advantage to sell books to Tunis and Cairo, even as far as Damascus and Baghdad."
"Don't limit ourselves to the Christian market; Muslims also have a significant demand for books."
Isaac nodded in approval.
"I've heard your son, Jost, is proficient in law. My territory lacks judges. Would he be willing to serve me as a chief justice?"
"Thank you so much, esteemed Highness."
Gutenberg was momentarily speechless with excitement.
"Everything will be as you command."
"Then it's settled. Jost can report directly to Governor Isolt."
Isaac patted Gutenberg's shoulder and boarded the carriage prepared for him.
"To the Bessarion residence."
He instructed the coachman.
Soon, Isaac arrived at a manor, a typical Baroque-style building.
A servant led Isaac through the garden path, past corridors adorned with Christian theological paintings, to the host's reception room.
The host was a middle-aged man full of vigor, with a smiling mouth, dark eyes, brown-black hair, and a somewhat comical hooked nose.
His face was kind and broad, resembling a farmer.
He wore a red cassock, a biretta on his head, held a cross in one hand, and flipped through a book on the table with the other.
Isaac glanced at it; it was Plato's "Sophist."
The exquisite cover bore the emblem of the purple double-headed eagle.
"Greetings, esteemed Cardinal Nicholas. A traveler from afar seeks your guidance."
Isaac paid his respects, adopting a humble posture.
"Greetings! Brother from the East, I've heard of your exploits in North Africa and am pleased for you."
Tommaso Parentucelli, papal name Nicholas, historically renowned as Pope Nicholas V, the last Pope of the Middle Ages and the first of the Renaissance.
This Pope came from a humble background and was a famous Renaissance Pope. During his tenure, the Renaissance spread widely in Italy and throughout Western Europe, known for his enlightened and tolerant governance.
Historically, this Pope, to save Byzantium, shamelessly sought help from all over Western Europe, collecting tithes to fund a crusade against the Ottomans.
Clearly, he failed; no monarch was willing to throw money into the bottomless pit of Constantinople.
Eventually, he used his own funds to hire fleets and Italian mercenaries to join the city's defense.
"All for spreading Christ's gospel, esteemed Eminence."
Nicholas smiled slightly.
"I'm not the Pope yet, dear child."
"No one is more devout and suitable to be Christ's vicar on earth than you."
Isaac signaled his attendants to bring in the gifts he had prepared.
"Eminence, these books are treasures from the Constantinople royal collection. My printing house has re-bound them exquisitely. Knowing your love for reading, I present them to you."
The servant brought up a chest of finely bound books—some works of ancient Greek sages, others collections of Roman thinkers' writings.
Cardinal Nicola opened Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics and flipped through a few pages. A subtle scent of ink and parchment filled the room, bringing an almost reverent stillness.
"You've gone to great effort," Nicola said with a smile."These books are of great value. I deeply appreciate your generosity.""I am but a servant of God, possessing little in terms of wealth. Tell me, what might I offer in return?"
"Your Eminence, do you not feel the Duke of Savoy has expanded too aggressively in northern Italy?" Isaac replied.
Nicola smiled faintly, offering no reply.
The previous Duke of Savoy, Amadeus VIII, uncle to John IV, Marquis of Montferrat, and the current antipope Felix V, had been a capable man. In barely over a decade, he had grown the modest County of Amadeus into the powerful Duchy of Savoy.
In 1440, Amadeus had been elected Pope by the Council of Basel, passing his ducal title to his son, Ludovico. Ever since, he had stood in natural opposition to the Vatican.
"John IV of Montferrat is my cousin," Isaac said."I hope you and the Venetians will assist him in shaking off Savoy's grip and restoring peace to northern Italy.""I can assure you—John will be your most dependable ally in the region."
…
After his meeting with Cardinal Nicola, Isaac wasted no time. He rode northward along the Ligurian coast and arrived in Genoa.
Though Nicola had not made any explicit promises, he had expressed his disapproval of the Savoyard desecration of the Holy See's authority.
Historically, the pressure from Venice and the papacy would eventually force Savoy to relinquish control over Montferrat. Isaac's efforts had simply sped up the process.
That evening, he was warmly received into the castle by John IV, Marquis of Montferrat. The two exchanged pleasantries before settling down.
Over drinks, they discussed how Isaac's ten thousand ducat investment, coupled with profits from the trade company, had relieved the region's dire finances. Montferrat was now turning a profit, slowly recovering from the shadows of past defeat.
"My dear John, Wilhelm now serves as my Minister of Colonies. He's been traveling across the Atlantic—we won't be seeing him anytime soon."
"That rascal needs the experience. He'd stir up trouble if left idle..."
After a few rounds of wine, Isaac shared everything about his earlier meeting with Pope Nicholas V.
"John, let me ask you something," Isaac leaned in.
"Go on."
"The Duke of Milan—Visconti—isn't in good health, is he?"
Isaac's tone was subtle. John glanced at him.
"Yes. Word is, he's bedridden."
The two fell silent, eyes locked on the flickering candlelight.
The Duke of Milan had no legitimate heirs. He had only an illegitimate daughter, married to the mercenary leader Sforza.
"Several cities in western Milan were once part of Montferrat, weren't they?""Mm.""And the Visconti family of Milan—you share blood ties with them?""Mm.""And quite a few local merchant families are still loyal to you?""Mm."
John finally raised his head, staring at the gleam in Isaac's eyes.
"You're suggesting I reclaim those lands?""If possible, you might even stake a claim to the Duchy of Milan itself."
John shook his head.
"Sforza commands powerful troops. I'm no match for him."
"Listen. If the Visconti line ends, Milan's merchant council might declare a republic.You, the Doge of Venice, the Pope, Sforza—none of you want that."
"Everyone's waiting to bite off a piece of Milan."
"This is your chance."
Brother! I've laid it out for you—just take the cue!
"But we've only just recovered. Can we really stand against them all?"
John still hesitated.
"You've heard, I hold lands in North Africa. I'll support you."
With Isaac's earnest gaze fixed on him, John finally made up his mind.
"Very well. I'll begin preparations at once."
In March 1447, Cardinal Nicola, backed by various factions, was crowned Pope Nicholas V.
On April 2, 1447, Nicholas V convinced Felix V to abdicate. Together with the Doge of Venice, he forced the Duchy of Savoy to abandon its claim over Montferrat.
On April 3, Isaac bade farewell to John IV and left Italy, sailing westward.
"Captain Fidel, how did it go?" Isaac asked, pulling the captain aside in his cabin after boarding the ship.
"Your Highness, the merchant from the Snoopia family refuses to deal with us. He's afraid the matter might be exposed."
"We tried negotiating for several days, but he was evasive, only trying to sell us his small boats."
"Typical Genoese cunning," Fidel said through gritted teeth.
"Is that so? A pity."
Isaac had sent Fidel to negotiate with Niccolò Snoopia, hoping to buy another "retired" carrack just as he'd done before.
Naturally, Niccolò refused. Retiring multiple warships in a few years would raise suspicion.
Isaac sighed. This was what it meant to be strangled by supply lines—money couldn't solve everything if your suppliers refused to sell.
He had once planned to build a shipyard in Surt Port, but now realized it was unrealistic.
No large trees.
That was a problem.
They would need a permanent naval base—complete with shipyard, docks, repair facilities, and nearby fishing villages to recruit sailors.
"This time, when we reach Portugal, I'll try to negotiate with Prince Henry for the right to purchase large galleys and carracks. But don't get your hopes up."
Fidel nodded reluctantly.
"Also, inform all our captains: search every port for shipwrights. No matter their skill level, bring them to Surt Port. I'll reward them all."
The sails swelled with wind, the sea sparkled under the sun. Isaac retraced his journey—rounding the western Mediterranean from Genoa, passing through Gibraltar into the Atlantic.
The waves were stronger now. The ship bobbed like a leaf in the vast ocean.
But this time, the crew didn't stumble as they had before. They adjusted quickly.
Excitement surged through the sailors. Veteran seamen shared tales of their voyages with Isaac, proudly displaying the scars from their adventures.
Storms were the cocoon of sailors. Those who survived became the brightest butterflies.
These men gave the ship a soul.
They would carry Isaac's legend from generation to generation—until the day they left the sea.
Ahead, fishing boats and merchant ships dotted the horizon, bustling with activity.
Lisbon was near.