Chapter 679: Rebuild General Assembly?
The situation was starkly clear: the Serene Doge, though ostensibly an ally of Abdullah, was unwilling to proactively assist in his diplomatic mission. Instead, he expected Abdullah to independently resolve the complexities of Venetian politics. Common wisdom holds that for diplomats to achieve half of their objectives, the military must secure the other half. Yet, Abdullah was acutely aware of his navy’s past failures and its current inability to challenge Venetian supremacy at sea.
Abdullah had not come to Venice to demand peace; he had come to plead for it. Without allies and unable to use bribery—a tactic too hazardous given the current political climate where few senators would dare accept an offer that might enrage the influential Venetian noble families entrenched in foreign conflicts and arms trade—he felt isolated. The largest faction within the Venetian Senate, loyal to the Serene Doge, remained silent, focusing instead on maintaining the status quo to continue their domestic reforms.
The crux of the issue lay with the four or five ancient Patrician families, particularly under the leadership of Ciriaco Dandolo. Known for his political savvy and ability to manipulate from the shadows, Dandolo was a formidable opponent whose machinations were well concealed, making direct accusations difficult if not impossible.
As Abdullah stood gazing out over the tranquil Adriatic Sea, he watched the steady traffic of ships moving between Venice and the Italian mainland, each vessel a symbol of the bustling trade that the city relied upon. This scene of calm maritime activity contrasted sharply with the storm of thoughts raging in his mind. Despite the peaceful exterior, Abdullah knew that Venice, a hub of constant exchange vital for its survival, was as politically charged and complex as the bustling waters were serene.
Watching the flow of commerce, a strategic plan began to crystallise in Abdullah’s mind. It was a plan born of necessity and the urgent need to navigate the treacherous waters of Venetian diplomacy without the support of his nation’s navy. As he continued to observe the ships, Abdullah understood that his approach must be as dynamic and adaptable as the waters that sustained Venice.
Perhaps, just perhaps, there is no absolute necessity for him to always embody the seasoned, mature diplomat, perpetually cloaked in a guise of concern, conducting affairs with steadfast decorum. Abdullah gazed at his reflection in the water; his hair had turned ashen at the temples, and wrinkles, like tiny caterpillars, had etched their way across his forehead. He dipped his face into the cool water, washing away the stress and worries, as he chided himself. "Oh, come on, Abdullah, have you forgotten your days as a privateer for the Sultan, transporting remedies for his concubines? Have you forgotten the times you traversed the seas, ransacking ships? What has made you so confined to the rules? Is it because you are now the very person who crafts rules and laws for others?"
Turning to his stewards, who had been silently standing by, Abdullah inquired, "Do we have a list of all the households of the senators? And I need detailed locations."
"Yes, my lord, we have a comprehensive list of all the senators opposing our peace deals, complete with information on their residences." The steward lifted his head, his expression one of awe. "What are you planning to do?"
"It has become clear that we are unable to advance even a single step in negotiating a peace deal favourable to us. I believe that most of our conventional diplomatic efforts have failed due to the opposing forces within the very senate itself. I think it’s time we try something different, something decidedly less peaceful."
"And what might that be, your highness?"
"The republic, ruled as an oligarchy by the Patrician class since the general assembly of freemen, the ’Concio’, was abolished half a century ago in exchange for enhanced welfare for its citizens on the island and in Veneto. However, now, following the end of the spice trade and the ongoing blockade by the entire Roman Empire, coupled with external pressures, the Venetian economy is fraying. Their state-owned ’Forza ordinaria’ is in steady decline, increasingly reliant on the ’Forza straordinaria’ consisting of mainly mercenary bands from all over the place. The people are growing discontent; the republic’s expansion has halted."
The aide seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation as he pondered Abdullah’s words.
"The disparity between the rich and the poor has been widening over recent decades, exacerbated by inflation and the sustained support for war efforts on the island. This has led the republic to lose nearly three or four thousand men over the years, resulting in thousands of discontented families. We might exploit this growing unrest and kindle a rebellion among these citizens."
"I must caution you, your highness, that this is an incredibly perilous path to tread."
"We’ve dallied here long enough, Alex," Abdullah interjected, his gaze fixed on the shimmering sea waves. "We have expended far too much time and effort trying to cultivate our relationship with the Venetian government, only to find that these people are not committed to peace. Most benefit from the ongoing war, while the rest remain indifferent..."
"...Therefore, we should seek allies among those who have suffered and lost due to the war—the Venetian populace. Moreover, we might need to confront the Dandolo faction more directly, even though physical means."
The follower, taken aback, hesitated. "Physical means?"
With a nod of resolute determination, Abdullah confirmed, "Yes, through physical actions... Gather all the men we can muster in Venezia and Veneto. We have tasks to accomplish!"
...
Meanwhile, As Abdullah persistently visited the Venetian Senate and the lavish residences of various senators, aiming to garner support for his peace initiatives. The Senate, however, persisted in its stalling tactics. Each time Abdullah stood to speak, a palpable silence suffocated the chamber. His attempts to engage at their homes were equally futile, met with excuses of absence or blunt rejections of his overtures.
This strategy, subtly orchestrated, was designed to shepherd Abdullah into a crippling state of isolation. Unlike overt mockery, which might provoke a spirited rebuttal, this imposed silence was insidiously effective, smothering any hope of dialogue or progress.
Even the Serene Doge maintained a conspicuous non-interference, while Leonardo Loredan, who had once shown a semblance of support, now maintained a courteous yet distant stance, signalling a waning confidence in Abdullah’s capacity to effect any change.
This tense atmosphere lingered until the dawn of the third day. That morning, as Abdullah delivered a fervent speech in the Senate about the mutual benefits of a peaceful alliance, an unusual stir began outside. The Piazza San Marco, just beyond the Senate’s walls, slowly filled with an increasing throng of Venetians. The gathering swelled, and with it, a crescendo of voices began to permeate the Senate chamber.
The murmurs grew into a cacophony, piercing the solemnity of Abdullah’s address. The senators, visibly agitated, stood up one after another, clamouring for the guards to clear the plaza.
But the situation escalated when the Senate doors swung open. The noise surged as if the sea itself were crashing against the walls of the Senate. The guards, in their attempt to disperse the crowd, only intensified the uproar. The clamour reached its zenith, echoing through the corridors of power, a resounding signal that the public’s unrest could no longer be ignored by those within.
The Serene Doge sensed that the unrest outside was no mere disturbance but a sign of deeper turmoil. He swiftly dispatched his disciples to unravel the source of the chaos. They returned hastily, their clothes tattered, and their breathing laboured from their rapid escape back to the relative safety of the Senate chamber, their dishevelled appearance drawing immediate attention.
"The citizens... The citizens have rallied!" one of the disciples gasped. "Overnight, posters, fake newspapers, and spokes persons appeared, announcing plans to reinstate the ’Concio,’ effectively returning the oversight of government to the populace!"
A collective gasp filled the room.
Simultaneously, another disciple added, "And there’s talk that the government, in response to public demand by the same senator advocating for the ’Concio,’ plans to distribute the spoils and plunder from our conflicts with the Greeks—pardon me, the Romans—as a reward for the public’s support during the war!"
A heavy silence fell over the Senate as the implications of this news settled in. Everyone present knew the bitter truth: the prolonged conflicts with Thessaloniki and Constantinople had drained the Republic’s coffers rather than filled them. They had lost far more in wealth and resources than they could hope to recover, putting immense pressure on them to enact monetary reforms and further extract wealth from their citizenry.
"If there’s nothing to gain, what then can be given?" muttered one senator, voicing the dilemma hanging over them.
The Serene Doge, his brow furrowed deeply, pressed for more details. "Is there any further intelligence on this matter?"
The disciple who had delivered the news hesitated, his eyes flickering with the weight of his next words. "Yes, the rumour mills claim that the policy announcement is set for next week. The crowds are here to express their steadfast support for it. And they believe... they’ve been led to believe that the architect of this reform is none other than—"
