Although Manuel genuinely sympathized with the plight of the Romans of Crete, he was unfortunately not there to help them today, but merely to dock, resupply, and let his ships rest.
If there was any purpose, it was at most to observe the local sentiment and see if he, as the Roman Caesar, could garner any influence there in the future.
To his regret, due to the deliberate guidance of Venice, although the locals still retained their identity as Roman Greeks, most of their sharp edges had been temporarily blunted, and they dared not speak out against the Latins, only harbor resentment.
He also discovered that the Venetian officials on the island were extremely wary of foreign Eastern Orthodox, as if fearing they would interfere with the island's internal politics and incite rebellion.
This was understandable; historically, after Crete came under Venetian rule, there were numerous uprisings, big and small, over a hundred years, many of which involved Romans from both within and outside the island.
Coupled with the fact that a small island had to pay exorbitant taxes, equivalent to over 1/3 of its annual crop production, Manuel roughly understood the reasons for the Latins' actions.
After a brief day of walking around, Manuel also found that the proportion of Eastern Orthodox and Greek elites on Crete was practically zero.
Clearly, this was another doing of the Venetian colonial authorities.
To prevent the emergence of individuals with sufficient prestige and influence to hinder their exploitation of the island, these greedy merchants did everything in their power to suppress any potential catalyst for unrest.
"At this rate, the taxes of Candia will be collected until 1500; these Latins are truly slaughtering the colonies like cattle.
Aside from trade and infrastructure, Venice's governance methods on Crete feel even worse than the Ottoman."
Manuel, shocked by Venice's oppressive taxation, sighed inwardly as he looked towards the consulate of the Duke of Candia.
On Crete, Venice's distrust of the Romans far outweighed its distrust of infidels and other commercial Republics; this was the conclusion Manuel reached during a private conversation with his wife before falling asleep that night.
In other words, inciting a popular uprising to return Crete to Rome was practically impossible there.
"So, don't dwell on these things anymore.
It's too early for us right now, isn't it?"
At the end of that night, Barbara gently caressed her husband's face, speaking his unspoken thoughts.
Manuel nodded slightly in response, then buried his head in his beloved wife's embrace, temporarily suppressing his thoughts about Crete.
Thus, after a brief day of rest, Manuel eagerly returned to the caravel, ready to continue his pilgrimage to Alexandria.
Nothing else, the Venetian regulations and procedures for foreign Eastern Orthodox were truly terrifying, as if they feared they would support Cretan independence tomorrow.
However, this trip to Crete also inspired more thought in him: would such sorrowful and bleak scenes also be playing out in the homelands of other empires?
In the unseen, Manuel vaguely felt a sense of responsibility and mission, guiding him to do something to change everything.
But linking it to his current sphere of influence, his nascent sense of responsibility and mission immediately burned out…
After departing from the port of Ierapetra on Crete, the ship did not make any further stops until reaching Alexandria, as there were no other coastal islands, and thus sailed entirely at sea.
Manuel and his family naturally remained on board.
Although he was still in disguise, his identity on this ship was that of the owner, so there were no other outsiders present.
Thus, after four or five days of sailing, Manuel finally arrived at the destination of this pilgrimage: Alexandria.
It is also known as Alexandria, Alexandria, and Iskandariya, with the latter Arabic name being the current official name of this ancient city under Mamluk rule.
When he disembarked from the ship at noon, Manuel had expected to see a prosperous scene like Galata, Crete, or Trabzon.
But to his surprise, while the port of Alexandria could be considered prosperous, it was only slightly more flourishing than his hometown, Bangkok Pu.
Compared to the trading cities under the rule of commercial Republics like Venice, there was a significant and undeniable gap.
"It must be the lingering problems from the Crusades launched by King Peter I of Cyprus back then," Manuel thought.
Upon reflection, he found the governance of the Mamluk and Ottoman truly hard to describe; cities that would normally recover in a few decades had not recovered for centuries under their rule.
Especially under the Ottoman, before the establishment of the Muhammad Ali Dynasty, Alexandria had become a small fishing village with a population of less than ten thousand.
Thinking of these things, Manuel couldn't help but frown deeply.
Fortunately, the current Mamluk were not as inhumane as they would later become under Ottoman rule in official history.
For the purpose of maintaining their private property, the normal ones among them would more or less promote the development and recovery of their territories.
For example, his close friend, General Iskandariya, Emir Jaqmaq, who had invited him over by letter, was one such person.
Without lingering or lamenting at the port, Manuel, dressed in local attire and guarded by his attendants, led his family to a certain place within the city according to the map he carried.
Before arriving, he had secretly arranged with Jaqmaq in relevant letters about his lodging after arriving in Alexandria, and the other party had confirmed this in his reply, even specially gifting him this map with relevant markings.
A few hours later that afternoon—
When Jaqmaq heard the soldier's report, he finally knew that his old friend had arrived within his jurisdiction, and immediately ordered that the guest be properly accommodated in an excellent residence.
At that time, Manuel, who had already finished negotiating with Jaqmaq's servants and attendants, was hiding in the shade of a date palm tree, patiently awaiting the other party's response.
Soon, he was respectfully welcomed in by these Muslim.
And just as he had his wife and children go into the bedroom to rest, Jaqmaq also arrived, ready to have a good talk with his close friend in person.
Manuel naturally wouldn't refuse this.
Thus, after about three years, these friends of different faiths and cultures, united by common interests, met again.
Upon arriving at the residence he had arranged for his guest, the Emir gladly shared his chilled fermented grape juice with him.
Manuel was also pleased to see this scene and began to recount some of his journey's experiences to the other party.
As they talked, Jaqmaq playfully asked first, "So, Your Excellency Manuel, besides pilgrimage and visiting the Mamluk barracks, do you have any other plans here?"
"Let me see, how about doing business?"
"Oh, you've become just like those Frankish Latin parasites, haven't you? How about coming to the neighboring Maghreb to fight a holy war? Hahaha."
"What a joke, who in their right mind would want to run to the rotten lands of North Africa to drink sand when they can lie at home by the Black Sea and count money?"
Hearing the other party's joke, Manuel, who had been maintaining a stiff expression, finally burst into laughter.
After such unrestrained and casual conversation, Jaqmaq finally composed himself and got to the point, "So, my friend, do you want to go on pilgrimage first, or visit the barracks first, or settle the trade agreement here first?"