Chapter 727 The Devil in the Pit

The soldiers of the Karamanli family stepped forward with the Rumhe spear, but were immediately countered by Ibrahim's men.

In a flash, five against eight, but four of the latter fell, and the remaining four were firmly controlled.

Although Abidi was surprised, he still did not let go, but felt a little scared when he saw the bloodshot eyes in front of him like a hungry wolf.

Abidi felt that the other party did not dare to kill him, but Ibrahim's hand kept increasing the strength until the former's face flushed due to difficulty breathing.

"Ahem. Master Heshan went to Austria for business and will not be back until next month!"

Abidi felt that the hands pinching his throat loosened, but before he could be happy, he was lifted up by a strange force. Abidi felt that the world was turned upside down, and then fell rapidly.

"Quack!"

Ibrahim directly threw the steward of the Karamanli family to the ground. The latter's neck was twisted in a weird way and it seemed that he was dying. The rest of the Karamanli family soldiers were cut by scimitars before they could shout.

The musicians and dancers who were too scared to move just now screamed and wanted to escape, but the elites of the Imam Khanate did not give them a chance.

Soon the fine wool carpet was soaked with blood, and Ibrahim spread out a map.

"Send a signal to let the brothers who stayed on the ship prepare for the attack. We will go directly to the palace in the chaos.

As long as we control the head of the Karamanli family, we can control the city. They have been corrupted and degenerate and have become the running dogs of the Europeans.

We will take everything from them! Long live Shamil! Long live the Imam Khanate!"

"Long live Shamil! Long live the Imam Khanate!".

Ibrahim only brought more than 300 people this time. In theory, it is impossible for such a small number of people to occupy the largest city in Tripoli.

A week later, Franz looked helplessly at the man with a sad face in front of him.

That's right, this man is Heshan Karamanli, the actual ruler of Tripoli. It's hard to imagine that a city with more than 20,000 people was conquered by 300 people, and his uncle became a puppet king.

"Archduke Franz, your most loyal servant Heshan asks for your help. We have found the black oil, and those demons must have come for this."

"Are you trying to say that you suffered this disaster because you did something for me?"

Franz didn't like this statement very much, and he didn't like being morally kidnapped.

And he knew very well that the great powers had not yet realized the importance of oil, and the Chechens who lived in a remote corner were even less likely to know it.

At the same time, Franz had already grown up, and he didn't need to always pretend to be harmless.

Heshan Karamanli swallowed his saliva. He had been traveling between the Austrian Empire and Tripoli for many years. He knew the gap between the two and quickly changed his words.

"No, Archduke Franz, I mean those demons might go and rob the wealth in the deep pit."

"If anyone wants it, they can go and take it. I don't care if you keep a few more barrels."

Franz didn't like this kind of temptation at all. If he couldn't find a replacement, he wouldn't want to keep any of them, including the Karamanli family itself.

But this guy who can't manage his own family well and has many small thoughts should be replaced. Franz is not afraid, but he thinks there is no need to waste energy to cause trouble for himself.

Franz's words made Hershan Karamanli's heart sink. He thought the other party didn't know that he secretly stored oil.

"It seems that there should be spies from the Austrian Empire around me. I should clean them up when I go back." Hershan Karamanli thought to himself.

After some bargaining, Hershan Karamanli will pay 3 million Ottoman liras and five years of olive oil exclusive privileges as a reward for hiring Umbrella mercenaries.

(The Ottoman lira is a very unstable currency, with an exchange rate of about 30 to 1 with the British pound, but with the rapid depreciation of Magid's reforms, it has depreciated to 40 to 1 at this time.)

3 million Ottoman liras is about 75,000 pounds. For this money, Franz had to send at least 2,000 mercenaries and a dozen ships.

At the same time, because of the possibility of attacking the city, the mercenaries also brought 20 cannons.

However, the battle was much smoother than expected, and the dock was occupied with almost no effort.

After that, the new king's puppet army did not put up much resistance. At first, they dared to shout while hiding behind the city wall.

However, after two rounds of cannon fire, the walls built of sand, soil, bricks and stones collapsed, and the morale of the defenders completely collapsed.

The city garrison of more than 2,000 people surrendered without any suspense, and Heshan Karamanli felt that his money was not worth spending.

In front of the Tripoli Palace, Heshan Karamanli looked at the cannon in front of him and the neat mercenaries behind him, and he suddenly felt that he should show his kingly demeanor.

So the nominal Pasha of Tripoli, the actual king, walked to the gate of the palace.

"Listen, people inside, I am Heshan Karamanli, the Pasha of Tripoli, the king. I order you to surrender immediately, otherwise I will not forgive your sins, and Allah will not forgive you either."

There was a burst of gunfire, and Heshan Karamanli stared at the white robe on his chest with wide eyes in disbelief, and he pointed his hand in the air in front of him and fell on his back.

"The Pasha was shot! Fight back! Fire quickly!"

Several artillerymen had already finished loading, and the ignition rod was buckled on the fuse. The sound of artillery fire immediately covered the noise of human voices.

Ibrahim inside was bombarded before he had time to be happy. At this time, Franz's mercenaries had already equipped new high-explosive bombs, and the huge noise just now broke the former.

However, Ibrahim was a veteran who had experienced several years of guerrilla warfare. He immediately ordered his men to fight back, hoping that the gunner who had just created a miracle could continue to create miracles and knock out the gunners outside.

However, the miracle never happened. Until the end of the battle, no soldier could hit the gunners hundreds of meters away.

The battle ended with an overwhelming gap, and the pseudo-king Sayyid Karamanli and Ibrahim were both arrested.

The former claimed that he was coerced, but the explanation was too pale and weak.

So the Karamanli family and the local people sent him to the guillotine, and the latter was sentenced to stoning for his heinous crimes.

The fake king was dead, but the head of the Karamanli family, Heshan Karamanli, was also seriously injured by the rebels and died.

At this time, in order to quickly stabilize people's hearts, Hamed Karamanli, who had been in charge of contact with the Austrian Empire, could only be elected as the king.

Hamed Karamanli had become a spiritual Austrian due to his long-term influence on Austrian culture. In the foreseeable future, Tripoli will be more pro-Austrian, even Austrian.

The Austrian mercenaries did not stay for long. They quickly left the country by boat, but some soldiers' guns looked a little strange, and seemed to be equipped with some telescopes.