She changed Europe

Page 144

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 534 The Turkish Symphony of the Vienna Rose: Capter 31 The Empress of the Cities (Seeking Votes)

Several days later Gisela arrived in her faithful Constantinople —

Constantinople in the latter half of the 19th century had already been under the rule of the Ottoman Empire for more than four hundred years. During these four hundred years, the city had grown from a pitiful population of about 10,000 at the end of the Byzantine Empire to a magnificent Eurasian city with a population of millions.

The city's prosperity is inextricably linked to the meticulous management of successive Ottoman sultans. This was a dream city built by this once-mighty empire, spanning three continents—Asia, Africa, and Europe—by integrating all the wealth it had plundered.

In terms of population alone, perhaps only Paris in France and London in Britain can rival it in the eyes of Westerners, while Berlin, the capital of Prussia, and Vienna, the capital of the Empire, can only lag behind.

However, this scale was insignificant compared to that of other countries during the same period.

At this moment, the imperial train slowly pulled into the railway station outside Constantinople.

Due to the aging railways within the Ottoman Empire, the train could only travel at about half its usual speed. Meanwhile, Thiers, the president of the Third French Empire, and Loris, the Prussian lady, who had departed much earlier than Gisela, were still en route to Constantinople.

"Your Majesty, Constantinople is currently undergoing renovations in the Old City, and the train cannot enter the Old City." Shahrador, who had already changed into his formal attire, stood meticulously beside Gisela's seat and quietly informed him.

Today, Shahrador wore a white headscarf decorated with white feathers, and a set of Turkish-style court lady's dress. Her chest was covered with a silk gauze, which was both revealing and concealing without overly exposing her skin. Everything she wore was in accordance with the image of a woman in this religious and secular country.

The Ottoman Empire inherited the Byzantine Empire's approach to religion quite well, adopting a tolerant attitude towards religions within its territory. Even though each sultan called himself Caliph, they did not excessively exercise their theocratic authority. This is evident in the fact that even today, the Ecumenical Patriarch of the Eastern Orthodox Church has his own church in Constantinople (not the Hagia Sophia, of course).

"However, Your Majesty, please rest assured that our Grand Vizier Mustfata will personally greet Your Majesty at the station." Everyone knows that although the current monarch of the Ottoman Empire is Huriem Sultanah, the one who truly controls the country is her nominal husband, Mustfata, whom Shahrado mentioned.

“I understand,” Gisela replied seriously, then turned her gaze to Rita and Aponia, her two most trusted maids. Rita and Aponia exchanged glances with Gisela and nodded knowingly.

First, Rita went to a corner of the train, picked up a box, and took out the scepter used by Gisela during her coronation. Meanwhile, Aponia took out a brand-new white military uniform from a box at the other end. It's worth noting that as Gisela proclaimed the Danube Declaration, initiating the imperial reforms, the empire first replaced the white uniforms of the former Austrian Empire with those of all Imperial Allied Army soldiers, replacing them with darker blue uniforms more suited to combat.

The white military uniform was originally intended for use as dress uniform and was only issued to high-ranking officers. Of course, Gisela, as the Empress of the Empire, had no problem continuing to wear the white uniform, as it was her privilege.

"Is there any problem with me meeting your Grand Vizier in military uniform?" Gisela stood up, a slight smile playing on her lips—clearly she knew the answer. In this era, women typically wore traditional long dresses for diplomatic meetings, even female monarchs were often required to do so, but Gisela was never one to follow conventions.

“Of course, I would prefer that Your Majesty teach Lord Mustfata a lesson, without going too far in violating diplomatic protocol.” Shahrado and Mustfata have never gotten along. After all, as a confidante of Hürem, Shahrado had always been a threat to Hürem’s position. However, that risk is no longer present, as Mustfata has dealt with most of the ladies-in-waiting or Pashas who were close to Hürem.

As for Shahrador, a mage, while Mustfata couldn't kill her directly, it wouldn't be difficult for him to drive her away in the name of the Empire.

“Your Sultanah still depends on you, your political enemies hate you, and your people have forgotten you. Now I really want to know what you are thinking as you are about to return to your homeland?” Gisela slowly took off her dress, and Aponia dressed Gisela in new clothes.

“I once threw a shard of pottery inscribed with my vow into the Golden Horn Bay. In the future, I will fulfill my vow and use everything I have to tear apart any enemy who dares to invade the Empire.” Shahrador’s eyes were filled with determination, and his tone was unwavering.

“I think you and her might get along very well on the vow.” Gisela raised her head and looked at Jeanne, who was lying on the chair in a daze. Perhaps because of the hot weather in Turkey, Jeanne was wearing very light clothing, with her hands hanging down, and sticking out her tongue like a salted fish looking at the scenery outside the window.

"Doesn't it look just like a husky?" Gisela revealed a mischievous grin, the aloofness she had previously projected as a superior vanishing without a trace.

“Your Majesty, I am not a lackey,” Shahrador retorted, his brows furrowed slightly.

"I didn't say you were." If Gisela looked in the mirror, she probably wouldn't realize how irritating her expression was.

“Your Majesty is ready.” Aponia respectfully stepped aside and took out a mirror from behind her, placing it in front of Gisela.

The new military uniforms were redesigned, highlighting the Empress's figure without excessively exposing her skin. This resulted in a conservative yet innovative aesthetic, perfectly reflecting Gisela's character—possessing the virtues of monarchs of the past while also demonstrating foresight and pioneering spirit.

Of course, Gisela wasn't interested in how her servants speculated about her, nor could she tell them that she had read the script to some extent.

“It’ll do.” Gisela nodded and then took her scepter from Rita’s hand.

Just then, Gisela's royal train came to a complete stop.

"Aponia, you will take the Holy See to his lodgings to rest in a little while. I reckon the Ottomans will want to talk to me again tonight." At this moment, the Holy See was curled up on the table, fast asleep. If you looked closely, you would easily see crumbs of biscuits on her face.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 535 The Turkish Symphony of the Vienna Rose: Capter 32 Rose and Heron (Seeking votes)

As for Marta, who seemed to be doing nothing, Gisela wouldn't casually assign her any trivial tasks. After all, the war of this intelligence queen had already begun from the moment she entered the city.

This Congress of Constantinople was an unprecedented event in terms of scale and international influence, attended by the leaders of six of the most powerful nations—Russia, France, Britain, Austria-Hungary, Turkey, and Prussia—as well as the leaders of the traditional five great powers of Europe.

This is because it is the first meeting in half a century since the Congress of Vienna in 1815.

Similarly, spies from various countries have already begun their operations, aiming to obtain more of the other side's trump cards before negotiations begin, so as to gain a more advantageous position for their country in the subsequent negotiations and seek more benefits.

“Jeanne, you should go and rest with Rita. France has been invited to this meeting, and I'm sure you don't want your compatriots to see you in the camp of another country.” Although it wasn't a secret that Jeanne had defected to the enemy, the French Republic had always kept silent, so this matter did not attract the attention of the French people.

Most still believe that Jeanne is merely residing in Austria and will return to her homeland to lead the French people whenever France truly needs her. Of course, the French people would likely be heartbroken upon learning the truth, for their idol is nothing more than a sophisticated egoist who disregards national interests and acts solely because she deems them meaningful.

That's why Jeanne is always completely under Gisela's thumb. Gisela isn't afraid to talk about morality with others, but she's most afraid of unreasonable people, like Marta and Chloris.

"Oh," Jeanne replied casually, tilting her head.

Outside the train, under the parasols held up by two female slaves, Mustapha took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow, staring intently at the train and the Austrian Empress who had yet to disembark.

As Mustafata left the palace, the officials warned him to be careful of the scorching temperature that day, because in just one morning, the water in the royal garden pool had decreased by one-fifth.

Unlike the Turks, Gisela's temperature measurement personnel observed the thermometer placed outside the train and determined that the outside temperature had reached 40 degrees Celsius.

Just as Mustafa was feeling anxious and uneasy, the train door slowly opened, and a strikingly beautiful woman with fox ears, dressed in a white military uniform, stepped off the train. Although Mustafa was the most powerful man in Turkey and surrounded by countless beauties, he was still momentarily taken aback when he saw the noble and beautiful Empress of Austria, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Prepare the music." The Ottoman Sultan's band, dressed in magnificent robes and adorned with jewels, began to play the empire's national anthem.

Gisela frowned slightly, looked up at the blazing sun, and then sighed helplessly. She turned her gaze to the middle-aged man in the distance.

Clearly, the middle-aged man standing in the shade was the Ottoman Empire's Grand Vizier Musfata that Shahrado had mentioned. To be honest, it was understandable for a middle-aged man of such high rank and power to be somewhat overweight. However, what surprised Gisela was that this middle-aged man looked surprisingly healthy. Not only was he tall, but he also had a distinctively handsome and serious aquiline nose.

This made Giselas compare the image of the middle-aged man to that of Suleiman the Magnificent, the powerful ruler of the Ottoman Empire at its peak. Unfortunately, he was just a powerful minister and could never become a monarch, at least not now.

"Welcome to Constantinople, Your Majesty the Empress." The man stepped forward and politely extended his hand.

“Thank you for your welcome, Mr. Mustafata,” Gisela replied with a smile and composure.

“I have seen it. Allah has made the sun of the Empire shine on their homes, surrounded their lands with paradise, named them ‘Turks,’ and given them authority to be emperors of their time, ruling over the people of that era.” Gisela recited softly in his captivating voice, then looked at the middle-aged man before him.

"It comes from the 'Great Dictionary of Turkic Languages,' written by Kashheri, a gift from a great scholar from the East to the Abbasid Caliph. Your Majesty, you are far more learned than I imagined," the middle-aged man said humbly to Gisela with a smile.

The powerful Arabs at that time could not have imagined that these mercenary slaves from the northern steppes would eventually become the masters of this land and their land.

"It's nothing, I just enjoy reading a variety of books." Gisela nodded and smiled, her every gesture exuding elegance and nobility.

“Your Majesty, the sun here is too strong for your skin. Would you mind if we got into the carriage first?” Mustafata took a step back and looked at the luxuriously decorated carriage in the distance.

It's no wonder it's the Ottoman Empire. Even though its national power was declining, it still put a lot of effort into its appearance. Whether it was the patterns carved with gold or the decorations made of gemstones and ivory from Africa, everything looked exceptionally luxurious.

“Of course.” Gisela glanced at Rita behind her, nodded, and then stepped into the carriage under Mustafata’s guidance. It’s worth mentioning that Rita seemed unusually serious today, her expression revealing an unprecedented earnestness that left Gisela feeling inexplicably puzzled.

A moment later, as the coachman slowly turned the reins, the carriage, escorted by the Imperial Guard, headed towards the old city. As for the other attendants inside, the Ottomans would send officials to receive them.

Gisela and Mustafata sat facing each other, while Rita, seemingly gazing at the scenery outside the window, was actually keeping a close eye on the middle-aged man in front of her.

"Mr. Mustafata, are these apples edible?" Gisela asked, looking at the red apples on the silver plate on the small table in the middle.

“Of course, Your Majesty, as long as you wish, we can fulfill any request you may have, not just apples. We can even prepare lychees from the East for you.” Mustafata appeared exceptionally polite and generous.

"Alright then." Gisela casually picked up the apple, and without peeling it, bit off a piece of the flesh. Rita noticed Gisela's action with some surprise and wanted to stop her, but Gisela had already put the flesh in her mouth.

In this era, peeling fruit was basic common sense, and eating an apple in such a barbaric manner was naturally extremely impolite. Although Mustafata didn't say much outwardly, he was already somewhat dismissive of Gisela. In his eyes, this young queen was indeed the "big boobs, no brains" type. His earlier impression of Gisela's erudition was quickly overshadowed by this detail; perhaps those earlier impressions were merely deliberate displays, and this was perhaps her more authentic self.

PS1: Ra!

Chapter 536 The Turkish Symphony of the Vienna Rose: Capter 33 The Plan That Was Seen Through (Seeking Votes)

“Mr. Mustafata, while I was eating the apple, I couldn’t help but think of your Turkic proverb, ‘Red apples are meant to be picked.’” As he said this, Gisela slightly raised his right hand and held up the apple he had taken a bite out of.

"In 1453 you first took this apple from the hands of our God, and 76 years later your armies reached our capital, attempting to take the apple from the hands of the Habsburg family." (1453 refers to the fall of Constantinople, and 76 years later, in 1529, refers to the First Siege of Vienna.)

For a long period of time, the Habsburg dynasty was on the defensive in the war with the Ottoman Empire, and the empire also had to face the threat and ambition of the French. However, the situation has now changed, and with the decline of the Ottoman Empire, the empire has almost taken over the entire Balkan Peninsula.

"But history is not the same now, and the Orthodox army of revenge has already gathered in your north. They will crush your country under the leadership of Saint Michael. How will you, so weak, face them?" Gisela looked coldly at Mustapha in front of her, then crossed her legs and casually threw the half-eaten apple out the window.

What he was throwing away seemed to be the hope of this Mr. Mustafata before him.

The already tense atmosphere inside the carriage plummeted to freezing point after those few words. Rita, seeing her emperor's serious expression, also held her breath in tacit agreement.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot, you also have the support of Britain."

"But what I want to say is that just because they helped you the first time doesn't mean they'll help you a second time. And even if they do, how much effort are the British willing to put in?" Those familiar with this history know that the most powerful force in the last war was not the British but the French, and specifically Napoleon III, who is now the Emperor of Africa.

"Your Majesty, what exactly do you want to say?" Mustafata leaned forward slightly, then observed Gisela's every move with a serious gaze. Clearly, he wanted to use his ability to observe others to see what the young empress around him really wanted.

“It’s nothing, I was just saying.” Gisela changed the subject, looking out the window, where the ruins of the legendary Theodosian walls still lay before her.

As expected of a political strongman who had become the Grand Vizier, when he saw that Gisela's attention was not on the topic, he did not dwell on it too much. Instead, he refocused his attention on the purpose of the trip. As for the political topic, they could still have a good talk about it later.

He can also fully utilize his diplomatic skills to resolve the current issues in the time to come.

"The city beyond this wall was the highest demand of Allah for 800 years before 1453, the ultimate test given by the Prophet to all believers and their successors." When this honor was mentioned, Musfata straightened his back. As a devout believer, he knew the greatness of this country.

Gisela didn't rush to refute anything, but continued in a calm tone:

"This city has been captured twice in its thousand-year history, once by the treachery of our Western Crusaders, and the second and final time." The infamous Fourth Crusade, led by the Doge of Venice, sacked the Christian holy city of Constantinople, an act that ultimately led to the downfall of the Eastern Roman Empire. It is for this reason that the proverb "hanging the Doge of Venice" arose among all those who admired Romans.

“Yes, we Ottomans are honored to have brought an end to this great thousand-year-old empire,” Mustfata echoed Gisela.

It is the right of every victor to flaunt the spoils of victory, and in this respect, it is the Ottomans, not the Romans, who stand before Gisela, which is the best proof of that.

"So do you think you will keep winning?" Here, "winning" does not refer to victory in the narrow sense, but may refer to the country and the political system. As the behind-the-scenes ruler of this country, he is well aware of the country's problems, but he cannot and should not change those problems because those radical "revolutionary" parties are shaking the foundation of the empire. What they want is the Turkic people's own nation-state.

"..." Mustafata could not answer this question, even though he knew the answer very well.

Just then, the carriage quickly passed through the city gate and entered the old city of Constantinople.

A new wonder appeared before Gisela: the famous Hagia Sophia. This colossal cathedral was completed over six years by Justinian, the greatest emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire, a time when the Purple Empire possessed unparalleled power.

Looking back over its long history of 1123 years, ninety-three emperors have donned purple robes and been crowned emperors here. On the marble floor beneath this enormous dome, described as "hanging from heaven by a golden chain," the blood of countless innocents and ambitious men has flowed, from dynastic changes to court intrigues—all so inevitable, yet so dramatic.

Her portico once witnessed the papal envoy arrogantly entering with an excommunication decree. Her walls were defaced by savage Viking graffiti. And it was here that the Frankish Crusaders ruthlessly looted her, and the northern Rus' princes bowed their heads and embraced Christ.

Here, people argue endlessly over religious differences, and devout believers wear the floor smooth with their feet while praying. Hagia Sophia is a shadow of Byzantium—both sacred and secular, mysterious and beautiful, lovely and cruel, highly irrational, both divine and human.

Of course, it was also a shadow of the Ottoman Empire, because without destroying the original architectural structure, four towering minarets rose from the ground, spreading their new faith across the land.

They inherited the ambition and inclusiveness of Byzantium, making them the most unique nation in the Islamic world.

Even in the later era of nation-states, countless Turks and Arabs longed for that time of religious unity and strength. The Ottoman Empire, as a whole, represented unparalleled national power and vitality in the Islamic world. Unfortunately, conservatism and backwardness have become synonymous with this country today. Meanwhile, their former northern barbarians have undergone a transformation amidst defeat, decline, and the upheaval of reform. Once again, the scales of war have tipped in favor of the Russians…

To be honest, Gisela really wanted to explore the city, but she still had to carry out necessary diplomatic activities. Thinking about this, Gisela sighed helplessly.

PS1: It's so hot QAQ

Chapter 537 The Turkish Symphony of the Vienna Rose: Capter 34 The Basilica Cistern of Yelebatan (Seeking votes)

The gaze shifted slightly to the city of Constantinople—

After parting ways with Gisela, Marta entered the old city ahead of Gisela and immediately went to the famous Basilica Cistern of Yelebatan, located between the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia.

During this era, the Water Palace was almost never open to ordinary people because it was crucial for the city's water supply. Furthermore, it was guarded by fully armed Ottoman soldiers, making it virtually impossible for outsiders to approach.

However, Mata was no ordinary person. She easily subdued the guards with a little seduction, then changed into a loose Turkish soldier's uniform and swaggered into the water palace.

The history of the Basilica Cistern dates back to 542 AD, built by the Eastern Roman Emperor Justinian using 7,000 slaves on the ruins of a cathedral. Its purpose was twofold: to ensure the court's daily water supply and, more importantly, as a strategic consideration to prevent enemy siege. The cistern held a massive 100,000 tons of water, enough to supply the entire city for a month when full. Interestingly, the cistern wasn't discovered until centuries after the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople, and its rediscovery was thanks to a Dutch merchant who accidentally unearthed it while developing a property…

As Marta descended the steps from the entrance to the Water Palace, it was as if she had entered another world. The scenery before her was both surreal and enchanting, with the clear sound of water droplets falling into the water echoing in her ears. The stone path beneath her feet was a little slippery, and a row of flickering torches stood by the roadside, giving her the illusion that she was in a dark alley.

Leaning on the railing, the white marble pillars bear the marks of time and flowing water. The misty vapor and the shimmering reflections from the base of the pillars create a tranquil, secluded, mysterious, and profound atmosphere. Looking down, one sees a shallow pool of water, crystal clear, where schools of fish dart about, seemingly strolling leisurely, as if they were the true masters of this place.

Of course, Marta wasn't there for sightseeing. She quickly stood in front of the Medusa-patterned stone slab at the very edge, observed it for a moment, then took out a Byzantine-era gold coin, placed it in the slot, and inserted two fingers into the hollow eyes of Medusa. She turned the mechanism, and the stone slab immediately made a sound.

Centuries have passed in the blink of an eye, and everything about this place has long been forgotten by its former inhabitants. Ironically, it is a group of foreigners who still remember its existence.

Returning to the present, as Medusa's stone slab slowly descended, the room hidden within it was revealed to Marta. This composed, black-haired woman first observed the passageway with some surprise, then took out a flint from her impressive chest, lit the extinguished torches on the water palace wall, and removed them.

As she slowly stepped inside, a cool breeze brushed against her face, indicating that the ventilation in this passage hadn't been very good. However, this wasn't a big deal, since she was a magic user and could rely on her own power to handle anything.

The narrow passage didn't last long before Marta stepped into an open area. The room was completely dark. To avoid any accidents, Marta stood at the exit for a long time before she saw a trough-like pipe on her right, filled with black liquid.

These substances might have been mysterious to the ancients, but to Marta they were nothing new, because the black substance was petroleum, the fuel for the internal combustion engines that Gisela had developed.

Thinking of this, Marta extended the torch toward the trough. As the black liquid was ignited, the flames spread throughout the room along the path of the trough.

The dark space before her was illuminated by the firelight, and directly in front of her, a double-headed eagle pattern made of flames came into her view. The familiar design allowed Marta to assert that this was the Byzantine double-headed eagle, which had disappeared for nearly four hundred years.

"The purple phoenix will be reborn from flames and ashes. At that time, the Lord will lead the legion of six-winged angels to sweep away all evil and filth, and the heavenly kingdom on earth will return to the world." Marta spread out the Greek rubbing in her hand and looked at the words under the double-headed eagle symbol.

"Even charlatans have their limits," Marta retorted dismissively, closing the rubbing in her hand and walking towards the center of the hall. As she approached the sarcophagus, the floor sank, spewing out several tongues of fire. Marta frowned slightly, leaned forward, rolled on the ground, and then leaped high to dodge the flames, while countless arrows flew from all directions.

Marta raised her left hand, conjuring a magical shield. Then, thin threads slid from her right sleeve, which she tossed onto a stone pillar in the hall. Several silver threads scattered, using this as support to levitate Marta in mid-air.

The arrow flew directly beneath her, its tip embedding itself in the walls on either side.

“Greek fire and Roman crossbows,” Marta muttered under her breath, then wiped the sweat from her brow with her free left hand.

The tighter the security, the more important what is hidden here. Just thinking about this made Marta's lips curl into a playful smile she had never shown before.

“My magical power isn’t as strong as the fox’s.” Marta raised her left hand, focusing her attention on her fingertips, where countless white lights shone as brightly as starlight.

She then gently manipulated the threads wrapped around her with her fingertips, and her magical energy quickly flowed through the threads to the surrounding stone pillars. At the same time, her senses expanded into the inner side of the stone wall along with her magical energy.

“Let me see where your weaknesses lie,” Marta said softly, as if talking to herself. Soon, a pipe containing mercury, buried inside a stone pillar, caught her attention.