Chapter 214: Guns in Hand, Follow Me!
As the scholars' gathering neared its end, the door suddenly swung open. Guided by a servant, a middle-aged man with deep-set eyes and an air of scholarly refinement entered.
Everyone turned, exclaiming in excited surprise:
"Hilada, Master Chelebi! What brings you here?"
"Master Chelebi, we are just now poring over your magnum opus."
"Your writing is truly exceptional! There are some parts we don't quite understand; could you help us interpret them?"
"Please, sit here..."
Hilada, the scholar, greeted them with a weary smile, then settled onto the carpet, discussing the relationship between Tunisians and Romans with the assembled group.
This was already the third engagement he'd rushed to today. For him, it was initially just a business deal—he'd accepted a fee to publish "An Analysis of Tunisian Origins" under his own name.
The fee was substantial, a full 1,000 Riyals. This pamphlet hadn't received religious endorsement and vehemently criticized the Janissaries, so he was taking a considerable risk.
"It is beyond doubt that we originate from the mighty Eastern Roman Empire," Hilada declared, quickly becoming the focal point of the discussion, reiterating the pamphlet's arguments. "What now stands between us and civilization, between us and prosperity, are those Ottomans!
"They murdered our ancestors, brutally oppressing us, their Roman Descendants, for over a hundred years!"
The Ottomans he referred to were the Tunisian Janissaries. In fact, he didn't need to incite hatred against the Janissaries much; everyone in the room was already nodding. A century ago, when the Ottoman Janissaries invaded Tunisia, their conquest was naturally accompanied by widespread plunder and slaughter.
Someone cautiously inquired:
"But, Master Chelebi, our Roman kin, the French... they are Christians. What if they force us to convert?"
"Rest assured, such a thing will not happen," Hilada stated emphatically. "To be frank, I have had contact with high-ranking French officials. They are good people, civilized and tolerant. They intend to help us achieve self-governance and guarantee they will not force us to make any changes..."
"That's truly wonderful!"
As the Francophiles excitedly debated, Joseph was traveling in his boat-shaped carriage toward northern Sousse.
Inside the carriage, Joanne, the Consul to Tunisia, reported on the "Roman Descendants" identity campaign, then reminded him with some concern:
"Your Highness, we've been busy for so long, yet it seems no Tunisians dare to openly resist the Janissaries. I mean, Janissary attacks on French nationals are still frequent in various places. Don't you think we should send troops to deter them first?"
According to the Crown Prince's plan, the first step was to make the native Tunisians feel supported by their "Roman kin," then to rekindle their hatred for the Janissary Class, and finally to have them rise up in rebellion against the Janissaries.
Joseph shook his head.
"We absolutely cannot get bogged down in a guerrilla war; it would exhaust us. The Janissaries have ruled Tunisia for so long, it's not surprising that ordinary people fear them. So, we need to give them some 'incentive'."
"Incentive?"
"People might not challenge the powerful for revenge, but they will take a desperate risk for gold coins," Joseph said, smiling as he gazed at a distant mosque. "That is why I am going to meet Elder Alai."
Elder Alai was an extremely influential religious leader in Tunisia, with a vast number of followers. Most importantly, he was not an Ottoman but a native Tunisian.
An hour and a half later, in a villa outside the mosque, Joseph earnestly pleaded:
"This would also bring immense benefits to you and your faction—the religious establishment is currently dominated by the Ottomans; once they are driven out, you are certain to become the supreme religious leader of Tunisia."
However, the kind and benevolent-looking elder still hesitated and refused. After politely excusing himself, he led his entourage back to the tall mosque.
Although he was somewhat moved by the idea of rallying native Tunisians to drive out the Ottomans, he ultimately felt the risk was too great and did not agree to the young French dignitary's suggestion.
Joanne watched Alai's retreating figure and murmured:
"Your Highness, should we... try threatening him?"
Joseph immediately shook his head. "No need. We'll try again tomorrow."
Although Joanne felt that, given the elder's attitude, further persuasion would be futile, since His Royal Highness the Crown Prince had spoken, he said nothing more.
The next day, Joseph brought a few more people and met with Elder Alai again. The topic remained the same as yesterday: rallying believers to attack the Tunisian Janissaries. In this process, all wealth "recovered" from the Janissaries, except for land, would belong to the attackers.
It was well known that as rulers of Tunisia, the Janissaries controlled the vast majority of the country's wealth. Confiscating the assets of just one high-ranking Janissary official would be enough to feed several large Berber tribes for years! With such massive financial incentives and the call of a religious leader, it would be strange if the native Tunisians didn't fight the Janissaries to the death.
Of course, while most of the current Tunisian Janissaries were fat and complacent with low combat effectiveness, they still controlled the vast majority of weapons in Tunisia. If the natives wanted to challenge them, they would have to turn to their "Roman kin" for weapons and funds, thus forging tighter emotional and material "bonds."
This was Joseph's calculated gambit.
Yet, the cautious Elder Alai once again rejected his suggestion, politely implying that the young dignitary should not return. As a Berber, his ability to stand firm within Tunisia's Ottoman-controlled religious community was due precisely to his discretion—never stepping forward, never taking risks.
Joanne watched the elder depart, then turned to the Crown Prince, deflated, about to ask what to do next, when he saw His Highness turn to the two "guards" behind him and ask:
"Well? Are you confident?"
The two men simply nodded, then immediately returned to the carriage, pulling out charcoal pencils and sketchpads to begin drawing.
Ten minutes later, Joanne saw a lifelike depiction of Elder Alai on their drawing paper.
"Your Highness, you intend to?!" he exclaimed, looking at the Crown Prince beside him.
"Since Elder Alai won't agree, we'll help him agree," Joseph said with a sly smile, then ordered the carriage procession to a pre-arranged residence a few streets away.
Once inside, the two artists immediately set up their easels and began working on their paintings with their full array of oil painting tools.
Joseph watched their busy figures and couldn't help but sigh:
"Her Majesty the Queen truly predicted everything when she insisted I bring my exclusive painters!"
A few days later, an oil painting depicting Elder Alai solemnly waving his hand, calling on believers to expel the Janissary bandits, spread like wildfire across Tunisia.
Above the painting was an oval frame with a sharp corner, containing the words: "Drive out the Ottomans, and all wealth recovered from them, except for land, shall belong to the warriors who heed this call."
The sharp point of the corner indicated Alai's mouth in the painting, making it clear at a glance that these were his words.
Large numbers of these oil paintings circulated in every province, and tens of thousands more monochromatic lithographs of Elder Alai were printed.
In less than ten days, all of Tunisia knew about Alai's "declaration of war" against the Ottomans.
Joseph had drawn inspiration for this method from the previous "The Last Supper" incident.
If the French, who were far more educated than the Tunisians, firmly believed what they saw in a painting was fact, then the Tunisians should be even more convinced.
Fortunately, since the 18th century, the religious communities across the Ottoman Empire and North Africa, influenced by Europe, no longer rejected images, allowing his plan to proceed smoothly.
As for whether Elder Alai would deny it?
Not to mention that his home was already under tight cordon by the Police Intelligence Bureau, making it difficult for ordinary people to see him. Even if he could somehow get a message out, whether people would believe a spoken rumor or an oil painting that seemed to bring a real person to life before their eyes was an obvious choice.
Unless Elder Alai could instantly teleport to Tunis City and publicly declare, 'That painting is not real,' this "declaration of war" would be firmly established.
...
Soon, all of Tunisia, spurred by the religious leader's call, began to stir restlessly.
Andalusian, south of Bizerte.
Over a dozen members of the "Sword of Vengeance" organization, appearing to be in their forties and fifties, were gathered in a dim hut. On the north wall hung an oil painting of Elder Alai, surrounded by religious artifacts.
They were a Berber organization formed to resist the Janissaries, with a history stretching back over a hundred years. However, after such a long time, they had lost hope of expelling the Ottomans, young people were unwilling to join, and the organization was on the verge of collapse.
It was at this moment that the religious leader's "declaration of war" call arrived.
This painting helped them recruit over sixty new members within three days, all young men in their twenties and thirties. This news sent them into a frenzy of delight.
Gemile, leader of the "Sword of Vengeance," finished prayers with the organization's high-ranking members and immediately turned to the bearded man closest to him:
"What did the Fawaz tribe say?"
"Chief Hassani agreed to attack the town's Janissaries with us. They will take sixty percent of the spoils."
Gemile nodded. The Fawaz tribe had numerous members and could deploy at least four hundred warriors, while his own side only had about one hundred and fifty. So, it was acceptable for them to take the larger share. Oh, no, the "Sword of Vengeance" was about avenging themselves against the wicked Janissaries, not about those paltry gold coins!
The bearded man, however, continued:
"However, Chief Hassani said they only have a few scimitars, and the rest are cleavers, so he's worried they won't be able to stand against the Janissaries."
The "cleavers" he mentioned were agricultural tools used for slaughtering livestock and chopping shrubs.
Although there were only around two hundred Janissaries in the town of Andalusian, they possessed dozens of firearms. If a real fight broke out, it would be genuinely hard to say who would win or lose.
Gemile couldn't help but frown. The "Sword of Vengeance" had spent years assassinating and kidnapping Janissaries, yet they themselves held fewer than a dozen firearms, all old Matchlock Muskets, making them utterly incapable of providing aid to their allies.
Another high-ranking member clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.
"What is there to fear? I can lead our warriors to drown those wicked enemies in their own blood!"
Gemile shook his head decisively, then heard the bearded man beside him say:
"I heard that a gentleman from Tunis City is willing to provide assistance to warriors who want to drive out the Ottomans."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice:
"Apparently, he has many firearms, and even cannons. Perhaps we should go see him."
Everyone in the room suddenly had their eyes lighting up.
...
Port of Bizerte.
Gemile cautiously surveyed the unassuming building across the street, then instructed his subordinates to repeatedly confirm there were no ambushes nearby before carefully leading his men inside.
This was the residence of the gentleman who could provide them with weapons. He had learned this information from a French merchant.
Ishaq, a Police Intelligence Bureau agent operating under the alias Zaganos, received them.
In less than an hour, Gemile emerged from the old house, his heart overflowing with joy. Just now, Mister Zaganos had simply asked them to agree to the "Roman origins" narrative—Gemile had read the pamphlet before and had no objection to acknowledging their identity as Roman Descendants—after which Mister Zaganos promised to supply him with a full one hundred Flintlock Muskets!
Furthermore, these items would be directly transported to Andalusian for him.
He felt dizzy, pinching his arm three times to confirm he wasn't dreaming. With this cache of weapons, he was confident he could sweep through the town's Janissaries!
Then confiscate the luxurious mansions of every Ottoman in the vicinity, one by one!
As soon as Gemile and his men left, Ishaq immediately ordered his subordinates to go to Andalusian and verify the authenticity of these individuals.
The "Sword of Vengeance" was a well-known anti-Janissary organization in Tunisia, so Ishaq specifically allocated them more weapons, hoping they would live up to expectations. The firearms, of course, were those previously seized from pirates and Janissaries themselves, numbering several thousand, so he felt no regret in giving them away.
On the other side, Gemile returned to his stronghold and quickly connected with Mister Zaganos's men. Five days later, they unloaded the firearms from a group of "olive merchants'" wagons.
However, to his surprise, the Fawaz tribe, despite having received the weapons, suddenly backed out at the last moment, stating they needed more time to prepare before discussing an attack on the Janissaries.
Similar situations played out across Tunisia.
The natives eyed the Janissaries covetously, and large quantities of weapons had been delivered into their hands through Agathon and the merchants' guild. But because a deep-seated fear of the Janissaries resided in everyone's hearts, no one dared to make a move.
In Tunis City.
Joseph frowned as he listened to Ishaq's report, finding himself recalling the plot of 'Let the Bullets Fly'—how Zhang Mazi raised his arm and shouted, 'Guns in hand, follow me!' yet the people of Goose City only dared to peek out from their homes, too afraid to attack Huang Silang's fortified mansion even with weapons in hand.
He truly hadn't expected the native Tunisians to be so timid.
He rose in frustration, pacing the room several times. Even the religious leader had issued a call—why was it still failing to ignite their courage?
'Did their Lord truly need to appear for them to dare...?'
'Hmm? Wait!'
Joseph suddenly paused at this thought. 'That's it, that's exactly what to do!'
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