The streets of the Ottoman city were alive with vibrant energy—vendors shouting about their wares, the clip-clop of horses' hooves on cobblestone, and the hum of conversations in countless languages. Mila and Leo strolled through the lively chaos, Mila clutching her sketchbook as her eyes roamed the surroundings, absorbing every detail.

"This city is remarkable," Leo said, his gaze shifting from the grand mosques to the bustling market stalls. "It's unlike anything I've seen before."

"It feels like it's alive," Mila replied, her hand resting protectively on her sketchbook, hand over the leather. "Every corner has a story waiting to be told."

Leo smiled at her enthusiasm. "You're already thinking of new sketches, aren't you?"

Mila nodded, opening her sketchbook slightly to glance at her recent drawings. "There's so much beauty here. I don't want to forget any of it."

As they rounded a corner, Mila didn't notice the man walking toward them. She collided with him, and her sketchbook slipped from her grasp, scattering its pages across the cobblestones. "Oh no!" Mila exclaimed, quickly kneeling to gather her drawings.

The man she'd bumped into crouched as well, helping her pick them up. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with a grayish-brown beard and piercing eyes that held a quiet intensity. As he lifted one of her sketches, his expression softened into awe.

"This is... extraordinary," he murmured, studying the intricate lines and lifelike details of a Hungarian village scene. He handed the sketch back to Mila, his gaze meeting hers. "Did you draw these?"

Mila nodded, her cheeks flushing. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

The man smiled and straightened up, holding out his hand. "I am Matracki Nasuh Effendi, an artist and cartographer in service to Sultan Süleyman."

Leo's eyes widened in recognition. "Matracki Nasuh Effendi? The renowned mapmaker and artist? I am Leo from Ruthenia, and this is Mila. We are both artists, though of a much humbler sort."

Nasuh chuckled. "Humble or not, the talent here is undeniable." He turned his attention back to Mila. "You have a gift. These drawings capture something more than mere technique—they have soul."

Mila's blush deepened, and she exchanged a glance with Leo, who encouraged her with a slight nod.

Leo stepped forward. "We've come a long way, and we're seeking work as artists. I am also searching for my fiancée, Alexandra, who was taken by Tatars and sold into slavery in the Ottoman lands."

Nasuh's expression grew serious. "That is a difficult path, but not an impossible one. As for your art, the court of Sultan Süleyman has a great appreciation for creativity. If you wish, I could recommend you both to the Sultan or Grand Vizier Ibrahim Pasha. They are patrons of the arts and may have work for you."

Mila's breath caught in her throat, and Leo's eyes lit up with hope. "You would do that for us?" Leo asked, his voice steady but brimming with excitement.

"Your talents deserve recognition," Nasuh replied. "Come to Topkapı Palace tomorrow. I will arrange for you to present your art. Perhaps it will lead to something greater."

Mila and Leo exchanged looks of disbelief and elation. "Thank you, Effendi," Mila said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nasuh nodded, a twinkle of encouragement in his eyes. "Until tomorrow, then." With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

As they continued walking, Mila hugged her sketchbook tightly. "Leo... did that really just happen?"

Leo grinned. "It did. Mila, this might be our chance—not just for work, but to find Alex."

Mila looked up at the towering minarets of the city and felt a surge of determination. The world seemed to open up before them, filled with promise and possibility.