I Became A Black Merchant In Another World-Chapter 384: The Merchant of Death, Fabio (7)

Religion truly is the opiate of the masses.

The words of the great leader Chairman Mao, who exterminated sparrows with his finger and threw in tens of millions of Chinese lives for good measure, were right a hundred—no, a thousand—times over.

It’s barely been two months since I planted the seeds of this fake jihad cult...

So how is it that even in Riyadh, the capital of the Mahbad Sultanate, I’m already hearing cries of jihad echoing through the streets?

“The Great Allah has granted us permission for jihad! Brothers united under His name—let us pray together! May the Sultan hear Allah’s voice and declare a holy war!”

“Jihad is an opportunity! Those who die in the holy war will be comforted in paradise by seventy-two virgins, and those who survive shall be granted the lands of the infidels—and their people—as slaves!”

“Do not miss this once-in-a-lifetime holy war!”

Hundreds—maybe even close to a thousand—had gathered on the streets of the capital.

In the Toscani Empire, if anyone organized an unauthorized rally like this without reporting it to the government, the guards would storm in, yelling, “You treasonous bastard!” and drag the organizers away.

But here, even with imams screaming for jihad and riling up the crowds, the Riyadh city guards were just standing around and watching—no orders to disperse, no interference at all.

“Long live jihad! Long live Allah! Allah is great!”

Hell, even the guards were shouting along.

That's how powerful this cult had become.

The moment I arrived in the Sultanate, I turned to the officer escorting me—half bodyguard, half spy—and asked:

“Is it always this loud with the jihad chants in the capital?”

“Indeed. The so-called ‘Holy Empire’—which dares claim holiness without even worshipping Allah—has been split in two by His power, and Allah has raised the Kingdom of Lyon to strike them. The people are hopeful that the Sultan will declare a holy war.”

“I may not serve Allah, but I do agree—the so-called Holy Empire is neither holy, nor an empire, nor does it have the pedigree of a proper ancient state. They called themselves holy, and thus deserve divine punishment.”

“Deus and Allah are one and the same. Perhaps Deus has finally taken the side of those who truly follow the gospel. What do you say—maybe it’s time you believed in Allah?”

You think I’ve lost my mind?

This version of Allah hasn’t flown planes into oversized twin towers yet, nor has he blown up any news agencies...

But followers of the one god always have something a little off about them.

Besides, if I convert, I’ll never be able to live in the Toscani Empire again.

“I’m a noble of the Toscani Empire. I can’t convert so easily.”

“Still, for an infidel, you speak quite reasonably. I believe we can cooperate for the greater good.”

My Medici baronial family had built up trust over centuries by trading spices with the Al-Sini family of the Sultanate.

I’d approached them with maximum diplomacy.

Hell, when they prayed five times a day, I even prayed to Deus at the same time—just in case. freewebnσvel.cѳm

If I’d prayed to Allah, it would be heresy. But Deus? That’s just good local adaptation.

...Although, honestly, my followers cared more about me than any god, so even if I shouted “Allahu Akbar,” they’d probably just go with it.

“What do you think of this jihad, Sipahi?”

Sipahi—roughly equivalent to a knight.

And if this man was assigned to escort a secret envoy from the Toscani Empire, then he had to be someone of considerable rank.

He might not officially speak for the Sultan, but—

—his views would likely reflect the noble class's opinion on the matter.

“If this jihad means punishing those who defiled our lands under the name of the Crusades, I’d ride at the front myself. The other Sipahi likely feel the same. That’s why no one is stopping these imams gathering crowds in the streets.”

“I see. Then perhaps you and I will be able to work together.”

“Haha, I believe so. Didn’t you say you hated the Holy Empire?”

“Those who share the same enemy often become friends.”

“Friends, yes, friends... In our Sultanate, when a friend or guest comes from afar, we always offer hospitality. After your audience with the Sultan, come visit my home. It won’t be as grand as the Sultan’s banquet, but I’ll make sure your eyes roll back with pleasure.”

Those who share an enemy may be friends.

But do they know?

Crimes like fraud, assault, even murder—those things happen most often between people who are close.

And in politics, there’s no such thing as a “permanent alliance.”

If the tides turn later, I’ll make the right decision—for the Empire, of course.

For now, I’ll play the part of a friend. Hell, I’ll even call him “brother” if that’s what he wants.

“I’d best hurry and meet with the Sultan. Only then can I enjoy the banquet of my friend, the Sipahi.”

The relationship between the Mahbad Sultanate and the Toscani Empire was akin to the U.S. and the Soviet Union.

If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.

Actually, worse—because even without land battles, they still committed acts of piracy against each other at sea.

So it was no surprise when the Sultan greeted me not with a welcome, but with a sneer.

He didn’t even greet me, really—he just ignored me with open disdain.

“The Emperor of Toscani wants to speak with me? What’s this—has the sun started rising in the west, Chancellor?”

“I hear their Emperor is over seventy. Perhaps he’s finally gone senile.”

“Still, I am a merciful Sultan, so I suppose I should at least hear them out.”

“The merchant from Toscani will surely weep with gratitude for the Sultan’s generosity.”

For the record, I’m not just a merchant—I’m a royal envoy, hand-picked by the Emperor himself.

But the only reason I got this far isn’t because I’m a noble.

It’s because I’m from the Medici family, which has longstanding trade ties with the Sultanate.

So I was granted an audience not because I’m a diplomatic envoy, but because I’m a merchant?

Ridiculous—but what can you do?

The desperate one always ends up footing the bill.

They’re playing this theater deliberately—making it seem like they’re doing me a favor just by listening, so that they can extract more in negotiations.

“Peace be upon you. I am Fabio de Rothschild, Viscount of the Toscani Empire, here under the direct mandate of His Majesty the Emperor.”

“Rothschild, you say.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then let me ask you plainly, Viscount—why does your Emperor seek an alliance with us? From your perspective, we’re nothing but infidels. In your faith, infidels are two-legged beasts—no, worse than beasts. Walking demons.”

Cardinal Richelieu—who led Catholic France to victory in the Thirty Years’ War, despite the Holy Roman Empire being a fellow Catholic state.

A man of the cloth, one step below the Pope himself, yet he sided with Protestants for the sake of France’s interests.

“I won’t deny it.”

The moment I said that, the Sultan’s guards raised their spears and muskets in my direction.

In Lyon, the king couldn’t kill me even if he wanted to—but the Sultan?

He could kill me right now and suffer no real consequences.

The Toscani Empire has no official diplomatic ties with the Sultanate.

Even if I die, trade won’t stop. I’d just be another corpse.

This could go south real fast.

But a professional smiles even in danger.

Showing fear? That’s just begging them to cut your throat.

“Still, Your Majesty, I humbly offer counsel: let us join hands—for profit.”

“For profit? And how do I trust you? Even those who claim to follow Allah have betrayed me. How can I trust one who follows a different god?”

“Trust not in people—but in the profit, ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ prestige, and prosperity that lie before both Your Majesty and the Emperor of Toscani. People may betray. Money does not.”

“You are a most greedy man.”

“That’s the highest compliment one can offer me.”

Mock me all you want—I don’t care.

Say whatever you like.

In the end, I’ll be the one laughing while you dance to the tune I composed—right before your inevitable downfall.

So sure, I’ll let you talk. Smile, even.

“Your Majesty,”

I looked the Sultan directly in the eyes.

“I want you to become the greatest Sultan in history. And the Toscani Empire will do everything in its power to make that happen.”

“So now you play the role of loyal subject?”

“Hardly. Why would I pretend?”

A lie is only useful if the other party believes it.

If they don’t? It’s worthless.

“Let us split the false Holy Empire in two... and devour them.”