Chapter 11 – In the Wake of the Shadow
Istanbul's nights were silent. But shadows always spoke.
And Cafer was the one who understood the language of shadows best.
With his hood drawn over his head, he tracked through Galata, Eminönü, and finally to Unkapanı for three long days.
Port registries, inn ledgers, even the routes of passing fishing boats—he searched them all.
But Signor Gritti had vanished like mist.
A sheet thought to belong to him. A letter, a seal... all misleading.
Every trail that appeared before Cafer was swept away, as if an invisible hand erased it the moment it surfaced.
He had reserved a room at an inn—under a false name.
He had secured passage on a ship—but the ship had left three days earlier.
He was set to meet someone—the man was found dead in the Bosphorus.
Gritti was an enemy who knew how to leave no trace.
And for the first time, Cafer felt as though he could not step into this particular shadow.
On the fourth morning, Cafer mounted his horse and returned to Topkapı Palace in silence.
No guard stopped him. By the Sultan's order, he went straight to the Imperial Chamber.
Three knocks on the door.
A single word echoed from inside:
"Enter."
When Cafer stepped in, Sultan Murad stood by the window, his back turned, but fully aware of who had arrived.
"What have you brought me, Cafer?"
Cafer stepped forward. His voice was steady and plain.
"I chased the shadow, my sovereign. But this time... it vanished."
"Signor Gritti has left Istanbul.
He concealed his point of departure.
Anyone he contacted is either silenced—or dead."
Murad said nothing. He remained still. Only the sound of a deep breath escaped him.
His words dropped like a verdict:
"We will track him to wherever he flees.
Because a fleeing shadow is like a returning blade—
You never know where it will strike."
Cafer bowed.
"We'll catch that blade midair, my sovereign."
Not long after Cafer departed, the door knocked again.
Still standing by the window, Murad answered without turning:
"Enter."
Balibey walked in with stately steps. His armor had been removed, but his eyes still held the fire of battle.
He stood tall, clasped his hands behind his back, and spoke:
"My sovereign... the purge in the palace is complete."
Murad slightly turned his head to listen.
Balibey continued:
"Every soldier, clerk, and official tied to Topal has been captured or remains under interrogation.
But..."
His voice dipped lower, heavier:
"...they were all pawns.
None of their testimonies reached beyond Topal.
It's as if an invisible barrier had been set.
Topal was their final link."
Murad fixed his eyes on Balibey. He said nothing for a while.
Then, walking heavily toward the center of the room, he spoke a single sentence:
"Then this game requires more than capturing pawns…
We must topple the king."
Balibey bowed. "Your word is law, my sovereign."
Murad looked back toward the sea—but his eyes were far beyond its waves.
"Now, it's time to lift the veil."
Sultan Murad left the window and approached his desk with slow, deliberate steps.
A large world map lay before him. His gaze swept across the Adriatic coastline, then shifted north to Italy.
After a brief silence, he turned to Balibey:
"Tomorrow, at dawn… we board the Hajj ship."
Balibey's attention sharpened. Murad continued:
"But when that ship anchors at the first port…
We vanish."
"Our true journey begins from there."
He placed a finger over Venice on the map.
"Our first destination is Venice.
Gritti has returned there."
"If not even Cafer could find his trail, then the only place he could've gone… is home."
Balibey nodded. "If that's where he leans, then his shadow remains there."
Murad stared into his general's eyes.
"Gritti isn't just a spy.
He may know the locations of the sacred relics.
Perhaps he is not Leonardo's messenger—but the key."
He drew a breath. His voice grew hard.
"Which is why Leonardo is not our first target.
Gritti comes first."
Balibey bowed low, resolute:
"Preparations will be complete before sunrise.
The ship's course will remain under our command.
No one will suspect a thing, my sovereign."
Murad nodded.
"Good. This time, we set the game board.
And the enemy will only know where we've gone—once we've already arrived."
With the command received, Balibey left swiftly. Silence fell over the room once more.
Sultan Murad stood alone.
As the last hours of night gave way to the early ezan, its first echoes rippled through the palace corridors.
Murad walked solemnly toward the mihrab. The chamber was dimly lit. Only the flicker of lanterns danced on the walls.
He entered sujood. Raised his hands toward the heavens.
His eyes closed. But his heart spoke aloud:
"O Lord…"
"Before us lie dark forces—
Fiends cloaked in human form,
Warriors driven not by order but by hatred…"
"Enemies chasing sacred relics with blood-stained hands…"
"Grant us strength without arrogance."
"Protect our cause without demanding the sacrifice of those we love."
"For the sake of our state's survival, our people's peace, and our faith's honor…"
"Let this campaign bring victory to our intent, not merely to our blades."
He bowed his head one last time in prayer. A long silence lingered.
Then he rose.
He drew in a deep breath. Eyes closed. And at last, he whispered—
"Set sail… Bismillah."