Order

Leaving the University of Florence, Vitus headed to the artillery workshop to find the blacksmiths crafting the Ribauldequin, observing the process of them forging the iron barrels.

Clang! Clang!

The blacksmith repeatedly hammered a flat strip of wrought iron, rolling it into a tubular shape before heating it, sprinkling powder over the seam, and continuing to hammer it for reinforcement.

Typically, a Ribauldequin consisted of 10 to 20 iron barrels; the blacksmiths mounted them side-by-side on a mobile wooden carriage, lighting the fuses during battle to fire all barrels in a single volley.

Vitus found the workshop foreman and requested a large order of iron barrels. "Reduce the caliber to half the original size, increase the length, and remember to add a touch-hole at the end of the barrel..."

In his view, the barrels of a Ribauldequin were similar to the barrels of a matchlock or a hand cannon, both forged from wrought iron; when fired, the gunpowder at the rear was ignited to propel the projectile within the chamber.

Since the blacksmiths could produce a Ribauldequin, they could surely manufacture barrels for matchlocks.

According to historical records, by the mid-15th century, the English would invent a new ignition device and firing mechanism, evolving the hand cannon into the matchlock. The design was not complex, and Vitus had recently drafted a sketch, preparing to introduce this new type of weapon to the battlefield.

"Why do you need these kinds of iron barrels?" A blacksmith untied his filthy apron, suspecting the man was out of his mind. The next moment, Vitus pulled a pouch of gold coins from his chest, silencing everyone's doubts.

"Fine, you're the boss." Since the client was willing to pay, the foreman and the blacksmiths accepted the job happily.

Leaving the south of the city, Vitus found the Tuna Mercenary Group stationed outside the walls and revealed his identity to the many Greek miners.

After hearing the employer's explanation, Marcus thought he was telling a joke and offered an awkward smile. The remaining Greek mercenaries began to laugh, shouting that they were sword-wielding guards, theme generals, provincial governors, imperial senators, or grand marshals...

Minutes passed, and Vitus's expression remained cold. Damien sensed that his employer was not joking, so he hurriedly tugged at Marcus's sleeve and scolded the soldiers to stop the horseplay.

"My lord, er, Your Highness, you are not joking?"

Vitus replied calmly: "Correct. I will be holding an engagement ceremony with Agnes Di Maggio soon, and I can no longer use my original identity."

Considering his employer's daily conduct and level of education, Damien accepted his explanation and raised a critical question: "So, what exactly is our status? Are we part of the imperial army, or..."

Vitus: "As usual, I pay your wages, and you do things for me. Continue recruiting Greek laborers from the area during this time; once the wedding is over, I will take on more mercenary contracts."

The ranks then dispersed, and the mercenaries headed to their respective campfires to cook dinner, their conversation focused on their employer's true identity.

Overall, their attitude was positive. Serving a member of the imperial family was better than serving an ordinary mercenary captain; at the very least, royals cared about their reputation and would not withhold their brothers' wages and bounties without cause.

A few mornings later.

At the Di Maggio Estate in the suburbs, Agnes was being dressed by her attendants, changing into a red velvet gown and donning intricate jewelry. After a long time, she was escorted to the courtyard, her gaze locking onto Vitus in the crowd.

Even on such an occasion, Vitus wore no flashy attire, opting only for a solemn deep purple formal suit with a sword at his waist, staring blankly at a fig tree nearby as if lost in his own thoughts.

Soon, Giulio led his daughter into the center of the crowd. A notary from the city council unfurled a parchment scroll and read aloud the marriage contract and the dowry paid by the Di Maggio family: thirty thousand Florin, a vineyard in the Arno River valley, and various pieces of jewelry.

By the time the trivial formalities concluded, it was already one in the afternoon. Vitus mounted his horse and followed the procession into the city for the parade. The riders at the front held high silk banners embroidered with the family crests of both parties, marching grandly along the main thoroughfare.

The scorching sun hung high, pouring down like molten gold onto the cobblestone streets. Houses on both sides kept their shutters closed, and passersby gathered under the eaves, discussing the sudden engagement ceremony.

Vitus paid no mind to the gossip; the collar of his formal suit was tied so tightly it was harder to endure than marching in armor.

The parade passed over the Old Bridge on the Arno River, bypassed the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore—which was still under construction—and moved slowly toward the north of the city. By now, Vitus was dizzy from the heat, sweat trickling slowly down his temples, his vision bobbing up and down with the horse's gait. Only one thought remained in his mind:

"Why choose the hottest time of the day to enter the city?"

Finally, the procession returned to the suburban estate for another round of inexplicable rituals. By dusk, famished, he was ushered into the banquet hall.

Even now, Vitus could not rest; he forced himself to stay alert and converse with guests like Albizzi. In fact, most of the high-ranking figures in Florence had already guessed his identity and did not appear overly surprised.

As the banquet neared its end, two small mechanical puppets descended from the dome, placing lily crowns upon the exhausted Vitus and Agnes.

Amidst the laughter of the crowd, Agnes whispered, "It's finally over."

Vitus, standing beside her, offered a bitter smile: "Just wait. The wedding ceremony in Constantinople will be even more tedious. I expect you'll be too tired to even speak by then."

The engagement ceremony was over, and logically, they should have waited a while, but the condition of Andronikos could not afford delay. With no other choice, Vitus took Agnes, the physician Gennaro, and others to Livorno, boarding a three-masted Carrack returning to Constantinople—the Harpia.

The Harpia was a typical Carrack, 32 meters long, 10 meters wide, with a draft of 3 to 5 meters and a cargo capacity of four hundred tons.

Vitus carefully observed the ship, judging that its center of gravity was too high, making it less resistant to wind and waves. Fortunately, the Mediterranean conditions were relatively calm, allowing such a bulky and massive vessel to perform well.

Once the last batch of wool was loaded, the sailors worked together to turn the capstan, weighing the heavy anchor and maneuvering the ship slowly out of the harbor.

From Florence to Constantinople, the entire voyage took twenty-three days. Passing through the Aegean Sea, Vitus "luckily" witnessed a maritime conflict between Venice and the Ottoman Empire.

As it stood, the Ottoman strategic focus was not on the navy. The energy of Murad II was primarily spent on land battles in Anatolia and the Balkans. The Ottoman fleet consisted mainly of small and medium-sized galleys, suitable only for coastal defense and unable to contend with the massive Venetian navy.

In the end, a bold idea sprouted in Vitus's mind:

"If the two countries go to war again, I could emulate Rhodes (Knights Hospitaller) and frantically raid Ottoman merchant ships and coasts. It would be a way to make money while striking the enemy—truly killing several birds with one stone."