Judging by the situation in recent months, the friction between Karaman and the Ottoman has been escalating.
In particular, Suleiman had continuously and deliberately condoned his Turkmen tribes in raiding border villages and towns belonging to the Ottoman Sultanate, which eventually forced the fed-up Murad II to send an envoy to scold him.
In return, Suleiman also sent an envoy to return a "cordial greeting," and, in compliance with public opinion, confiscated the property of all merchants from the Ottoman lackey Ahi Brotherhood and expelled them from Konya.
The Ottomans were extremely indignant about the Ahi Brotherhood's plight.
However, when Murad tried to do the same and expel the Karaman merchants within his own country, he found that they had not engaged in any legitimate commercial activities within his territory for years, and he could only swallow his frustration.
Manuel could only clap his hands in glee at the Ottomans' misfortune.
However, the Ottomans' subsequent actions made him somewhat wary: Sultan Murad II seized this opportunity to consolidate the various Ottoman legions in Anatolia into the Anatolia Legion, which, along with the already existing Rumelia Legion, would provide mutual support, guarding the Sultanate from west and east.
Feeling a sense of unease, Caesar again wrote a secret letter to his close friend, advising him not to be too radical.
But this letter ultimately sank without a trace, receiving no formal response from the other party.
Seeing this situation, he could only intensify his secret military build-up, and send people to secretly plant the ergot rye in a suitable location, ensuring they would yield tens of ounces or more for future use.
After preparing for the worst, he continued to maintain his previous quiet demeanor, further lulling the outside world into a false sense of security.
Thus, the summer of 1442 was coming to an end.
Just before summer's end, in a secret chamber of Trabzon Palace, an event that would soon cause internal suspicion in a great power was being planned.
After meticulous planning, the Bosporus Secret Service, directly under Caesar, finally secretly presented its final assassination plan for Mara Hatton to the only object of its loyalty, the revered Caesar Manuel.
After Manuel personally pointed out several flaws in the draft and refined it, he finally secretly summoned several high-ranking officials of the Secret Service to the palace's secret chamber in mid-August, and the final step before the assassination had arrived.
After all other matters had been discussed, Caesar closed his eyes, tapped the round table in front of him, and raised his final question,
"Can the Bosporus people avoid involvement in this incident? I do not want the intelligence network established in the Ottoman to be destroyed by this assassination.
Although we are the masterminds, it is best to let the Turkmen carry out the entire operation as much as possible."
If Murad II discovered his involvement, then assassinating Mara Hatton would be entirely counterproductive.
For this reason, among others, Manuel had painstakingly confirmed the action plan with the Secret Service, and only now decided to implement it.
"Your Majesty, as the plan states, no citizens of our state will be directly involved in this operation.
The direct participants will mostly be infidels active within the Ottoman territory and a small number of Greeks, and those short-sighted fellows will be eliminated cleanly." Commander of the Guard Badars, who also served as the head of the Secret Service, bowed in response, answering his monarch's query.
Hearing this, Manuel pondered carefully.
After a while, he stood up, plunged into the darkness untouched by the candlelight, extended his left hand, and solemnly ordered:
"Go!"
In late August 1442, in the suburbs of Edirne, the capital of the Ottoman Sultanate, Mara Hatton, wife of Sultan Murad II, sat in a carriage.
Today, she was following her daily routine of going out of the palace to enjoy the scenery.
This young concubine, barely 22 years old, had not lived a happy life after marrying Murad II; there were even rumors that the Sultan had not consummated their marriage.
In her current life, the only solace she could find was occasionally leaving the palace for a stroll and diligently caring for her adopted son, Prince Muhammad, who was born to a Greek slave girl.
Late summer, early autumn, was a refreshing and pleasant time.
But for some reason, Mara Hatton felt no comfort; instead, she felt more of a somber, oppressive atmosphere that made her somewhat depressed.
Is it an illusion? The Sultana dismissed the thought and asked her maid to pour her a little wine.
Because she had retained her orthodox faith even after marrying the Sultan, the Islamic prohibition on alcohol did not apply to her.
After receiving the light fruit wine presented by the Turkmen maid, Mara drank it without hesitation.
The fruit wine today tasted strange, not very sweet.
Never mind, she thought, let's go back quickly; her adopted son Muhammad was waiting for her…
But she could never return.
Shortly after drinking the wine, Mara Hatton fell unconscious.
By the time the servants discovered what had happened and rushed her to the palace for a physician, the young woman had already passed away.
At the same time, in a secluded coastal area east of the Thracian Plain, several converted Greeks dressed in silk looked at the burning farmland and boasted to their orthodox compatriots nearby, "Heh heh, sir, you won't go back on your promise, will you?"
"Naturally." His infidel compatriot beside him, wearing a simple, plain robe and a scimitar at his waist, smiled casually.
Around this man were four other sturdy men, also armed with knives, who appeared to be his bodyguards.
"Good, good, good," the leader of the Islam Greeks laughed, "It wasn't in vain to have aconite mixed and planted here for so long as per your instructions.
But soon…"
Before he could finish, the orthodox Greek suddenly drew his scimitar and stabbed him to death.
His "bodyguards" also immediately acted, drawing their knives and killing all the unsuspecting infidels present, then stripping them of their clothes and throwing all the bodies into the fire to destroy the evidence.
After completing all this, the leader ran wildly towards the sea without looking back: a Turk-style small boat was waiting for its passengers on the water.
Early September—
Upon learning of Mara Hatton's death, Manuel, sitting in his office at Trabzon Palace, showed no extra emotion, merely nodding calmly.
"Hmm, I know.
Let me ask again, will the Autocratic State's people not be discovered because of this?"
"Rest assured, Your Majesty." Badars bowed and reported.
"Through shipwrecks, epidemics, and fires, all clues have been cut off in Thrace; we are no longer involved in this matter."
"That's good.
I have other official duties to attend to, Badars, you may withdraw for now."
"Yes, Your Majesty, loyalty!"
After the Commander of the Guard left, Caesar successively dismissed the other servants from the room, claiming he had secret matters to attend to.
Once Manuel was alone in the room, this not-so-young Caesar finally abandoned the calm demeanor he had just displayed, sighed, and recalled Maria Brankovich's life trajectory in official history, then shook his head.
If it weren't for him, wouldn't this young woman have been respectfully cared for by her adopted son Muhammad, whom she considered her own, ten years later, and enjoyed her golden years in the last moments of her life?
As a good person, she should not have met a worse end than in history.
But now, she died in a foreign land because of his machinations, an unexplained death, solely to incite internal political strife in a foreign country.
"I'm sorry, madam, I am truly sorry," Manuel composed himself and offered sincere apologies to Maria Brankovich, who died because of him, as if he saw in her the countless people who would also die because of him in the future,
"But I had to do this."