Tunis, the capital of the Hafs Dynasty.
Located at the northernmost tip of the African continent, Tunis is separated from Sicily by the short Strait of Tunis and controls the gateway between the eastern and western Mediterranean.
The region has a typical Mediterranean climate with hot, dry summers and mild, humid winters, as well as abundant rainfall, making it suitable for habitation.
Unlike other regions of Africa, Tunisia was discovered by Europeans at an early stage and became one of the first colonial outposts of ancient European colonizers.
Long ago, Phoenicians from the Syrian coast arrived aboard their narrow ships, established settlements and built cities. They leveraged the region's excellent natural conditions and geographical location to develop maritime trade.
They established a renowned kingdom here — Carthage.
Following the three Punic Wars, Carthage lost everything and became part of the Roman Empire as the African Province.
Following the decline of Rome and the division of the empire into eastern and western halves, "the last Roman", Belisarius, led a force of just over 10,000 troops into North Africa. They defeated the Vandal Kingdom, which had occupied Carthage, and the region was reclaimed for the Eastern Roman Empire. For this achievement, Belisarius was awarded the title of "Consul".
However, with the rise of Islam and the Arab conquests, the Eastern Roman Empire suffered repeated defeats and gradually lost control of the Levant and Egypt. The African province, isolated overseas, soon fell entirely under Islamic control.
From then on, this fertile land entered a thousand years of Islamic rule.
At the end of the 12th century, the Almohad Caliphate, which had once ruled northwestern Africa and Andalusia, collapsed and three Berber forces established their own kingdoms in its place.
From west to east, these were the Marinid, Tlemcen and Hafs dynasties.
The Tlemcen Dynasty was the weakest of these, besieged on two sides. The Marinid and Hafs dynasties were roughly equal in strength, with the Marinids slightly stronger overall.
In the palace of Tunis, an elegantly dressed Islamic nobleman listened intently to a financial report, his mind already elsewhere.
He was the head of Tunisia, patriarch of the Hafs family, emperor of the dynasty and self-proclaimed caliph: Abu Uthman Yahya.
From a traditional perspective, Yahya was undoubtedly a mediocre ruler. He did not implement any innovative policies or shocking reforms, but he had a grandfather, Abu Aziz, who left behind a rich political legacy.
During Aziz's reign, the Hafs dynasty gradually emerged from the shadow of the Marinid dynasty. They restored national strength by subduing rebellious emirs across the region and actively promoting trade.
He was a skilled military leader who subdued local tribes to the south, launched multiple campaigns against Tlemcen to the west and raided Christian merchant ships to the north. He pulled the decaying dynasty back onto the right path amid internal and external crises.
In 1434, Caliph Aziz died of illness during the war in Tlemcen. His successor, Muhammad III, died two years later and power fell into the hands of Aziz's grandson, Yahya.
After coming to power, Yahya basically followed in his grandfather's footsteps, seeking neither glory nor disgrace.
However, Yahya did not have Aziz's prestige.
Muhammad III died prematurely, and Yahya came to power amid chaos. After initially stabilizing the situation, he realized that the centralized power his grandfather had worked so hard to achieve had collapsed within a few years.
The regional powers had submitted to Aziz's military might while he was alive and had behaved themselves.
Although Aziz was dead, his influence remained, and Muhammad III was barely able to keep these local warlords in check.
Following Muhammad III's death, however, with a young ruler and a divided country, the regional powers began to stir.
The Hafs branch in Béjaïa and Constantine began to openly challenge the central authority, while the merchants' council in Tripoli elected a prince as their puppet.
The more marginal regions became even more unrestrained. Several small southern countries expelled Tunisian envoys and acted independently, while the unpredictable Tlemcen repeatedly violated the border and broke treaties.
In response, the young Yahya displayed a decisiveness beyond that of ordinary people. He relinquished direct control over the peripheral regions, gathered his confidants and worked hard to maintain the prosperity and stability of the core regions.
At the same time, he continued his grandfather's trade policy of encouraging European merchants to engage in commercial activities in Tunisia, supporting trade routes across the Sahara Desert and reopening communication with sub-Saharan Africa. This resulted in the acquisition of large quantities of gold and slaves.
Under his rule, Tunis quickly regained its prosperity and the empty coffers gradually filled up.
"Caliph, in the first half of the year, seven caravans successfully crossed the Sahara Desert, exchanging European handicrafts for tribal gold, totaling more than 8,000 ducats..."
"Our commercial taxes in Tunis have increased only slightly, thanks to your tax exemption policy..."
"After you distributed the lands of the rebellious nobles to the farmers, land taxes have increased in recent years, and the people praise your kindness."
Yahya interrupted the flattery.
"What has become of our neighbor, King Isaac, who claimed to launch a holy war against the Mamluk Sultan?"
"According to our secret agents, King Isaac has gone all in. His Mediterranean fleet has already set sail and is expected to be destroyed by the Venetians soon."
Yahya nodded and thought for a moment.
"This King Isaac is the enemy of Allah. Once they have been completely defeated by Venice, will we be able to claim our share of the spoils?"
The advisor shook his head.
"Caliph, I do not recommend this. Before we resolve the matter in Tripoli, it is best to focus our attention on the mountains north of Tunis."
"However, you may wish to send out some raiding ships to seize some opportunities after the fleet returns from the west."
"Let's do that."
Yahya felt a little disappointed and grew to hate the Tripoli merchants even more.
"Continue. Are the Italian engineers we hired performing as expected?"
"Caliph, they are all quite skilled, and your domain is thriving."
Yahya listened to the financial report, his heart in turmoil.
While the dynasty was on the brink of war and his cousins were fighting amongst themselves for power, he had hidden his own ambitions and quietly consolidated his core territory.
Just wait and see — in a few years, no one will be able to match him! He looked at the map on the table and smiled confidently.
Bejaia, Constantine, Tripoli, Misurata — these cities should have been mine! Jered, Turgut, Mubza and Tlemcen should have been his subjects. The Marin family — you captured Tunis twice. When the day comes, I will repay you a hundredfold! One day, you will all submit to my might once again! ...
Outside Misurata, in the new village of Belaf.
Two years ago, this was a wasteland where many tribes came to graze their livestock in the autumn when the grass was lush.
The neighbors from the east completely transformed this land. After Prince Omar's failed Surra campaign, the tribes that had followed him on his raids were brutally punished.
Red-clad knights crossed the border in droves, following the densely populated coastline and burning, killing and looting everything in their path.
During this time, several tribes that had been grazing in Belaf were uprooted: the men were sold into slavery; the young, beautiful women were taken away; and the elderly, who were of no use, were killed outright.
Filled with regret, Prince Omar and his father-in-law Hamza stayed in the town, too afraid to go out and fight, and allowed the area around Misurata to be swept clean.
A year later, some refugees from Cyrenaica arrived and rebuilt villages, mainly living by fishing.
"Azagan! You dived the deepest again today, didn't you?"
"That's right! Will you teach me sometime?"
Azagan, a Muslim teenager, smiled and enjoyed the compliments from his peers. He waved his hands modestly as he basked in the warm evening sun, drying himself off.
As the sun set, the golden sand, warmed by the day's sunlight, felt soft and warm beneath their feet. Groups of children who had just finished their diving and fishing competition were scattered across the beach, enjoying the most beautiful moment of the day.
In the distant village, smoke curled upwards, carrying the aroma of cooking with it, drifting through the gentle sea breeze and into the children's noses as if by magic. Their empty stomachs began to growl in protest. Although this place was poor, there was plenty of food.
The Mediterranean currents had formed a small bay here where fish and shrimp were plentiful, providing enough food for the refugees who had escaped death.
"This is a good location with good water conditions. Large ships can dock here, and maybe we can build a small port in the future."
Azagan remembered a religious scholar from Kerouan passing through here, who had thought that this land had great potential.
The village chief, who had lost a hand in the war, waved his stump happily, bowed repeatedly to the scholar and presented him with the best salted fish.
His words represented hope.
Hope was what the refugees needed most.
"Azagan's swimming skills are improving all the time. He will definitely be the next Dubuqi."
Someone murmured on the beach.
For a moment, everyone fell silent.
Dubuqi was Azagan's older brother. He had been a skilled swimmer and diver since childhood. After growing up, he fulfilled his dream of becoming a sailor on a merchant ship, later rising to the rank of boatswain and becoming the pride of their village.
He was killed by Christians.
Seeing that no one else was speaking, the child who had spoken realized that he had revealed too much and quickly fell silent.
All the children remembered the terrifying war a year ago.
Knights on horses and camels had galloped in all directions, charging into the panicked crowd and leaving a trail of blood and death in their wake.
The children had received advance warning, however, and hid in an underground passage built many years ago under their parents' protection. They listened fearfully to the cries of battle above them and felt the vibrations of hooves on the ground.
"So few?"
Azagan still remembers the rough voice above him asking this question.
The entire village was destroyed. Half of the villagers did not have time to hide and were killed outright without even being given the chance to surrender.
So few?
Azagan shook off the terrifying echoes in his mind and stood up.
"Let's go back and give the big fish we caught to our parents. We can leave some of the smaller ones behind. How about we roast them for dinner tonight?"
He forced a smile and waved the heavy fish basket in his hand, trying to pull his companions out of their reverie.
"Okay! Great!"
The children were very cooperative, knowing that they couldn't dwell on their memories forever. They all agreed.
They walked towards the shore, deliberately finding happy topics to talk about and laughing loudly to cover up their fear.
The sun set unusually quickly today and, in the blink of an eye, darkness replaced light and enveloped the earth. The moon had just risen, but it was obscured by thick clouds.
"Hahaha! Look at the sea! I wonder who the idiot is still fishing at this hour!"
Hearing this, the children turned to look.
Fog had risen over the sea, obscuring their view. They could only make out a few flickering lights, but they didn't resemble the lights of fishing boats. It was strange and indescribable.
The children looked at each other, unable to move.
They shook their heads, indicating that it wasn't their boat.
"Shall we go and take a look?"
Driven by curiosity, the youngest child shouted.
Azagan pulled him back.
For some reason, despite the hot and humid weather, he felt a chill come from nowhere.
The clouds dispersed and the moon goddess stretched out her arms, beginning to spread her light over the earth.
Gradually, the wisps of light increased, emerging from the thick fog like the burning eyes of demons in a deep cave.
The children's pupils widened and their mouths fell agape as they looked on in unprecedented fear and despair.
A huge fleet broke through the fog, bathed in moonlight and revealing its hideous appearance.
The lead ship was beautiful and majestic, its hollow cannons aimed at the shore and its sails emblazoned with a double-headed eagle and Greek letters that the Muslim children could not understand:
The Grand Vizier...
...
On 13 June 1449, Giovanni Giustiniani led the vanguard to land at New Belpa Village, successfully finding a harbor suitable for a large-scale landing for the rest of the fleet.
The following day, he led the marines and pirates to capture the town of Milerfa, defended by only 100 soldiers, and returned with a large amount of loot.
On 20 June, the raiding fleet sailed northwest, once again plundering the area around Misurata, which had only just begun to recover. Prince Omar retreated to Misurata and sent a distress signal to his father-in-law in Zliten, but his request for help was rejected.
Misurata's walls were too strong for a direct assault, so Giovanni circled the city instead.
Then, under the watchful gaze of the entire city, he seized the grain outside the city walls, plundered the surrounding towns and drove the inhabitants inland.
After doing this, Giovanni left triumphantly.
On 26 June, the fleet continued along the north-western coast, plundering unfortified villages and towns and intimidating the garrisons hiding within them.
"That's the situation. We have the upper hand."
At the war council, Isaac looked up at the excited eyes of the generals.
"The enemy has fled into the city in panic and will struggle to gather large quantities of provisions and weapons in a short time, which is very advantageous for us."
"The coast has been plundered clean. Omer has no militia, provisions or weapons, nor any reinforcements."
"I'll see how he defends himself."
Isaac pulled out a pen and drew a circle around the black dot representing Misurata on the map.
"The entire army will advance with Misurata as our target."
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