Throwing Ashes
I don’t know what anyone else might think, but considering I opened my eyes to find myself saddled with the body and memories of an Ottoman prince I had never asked for, I think I’ve done pretty well.
I survived by avoiding all manner of minefields, and I properly established myself as a prince.
‘At this point, it’s gone beyond the level of swearing I must become Sultan. It’s at the level where there’s actually a chance I can.’
That was a bigger difference than one might expect.
The more accustomed I grew to Yusuf’s life, the more my thoughts about this place gradually changed as well.
‘At first, I thought it was simply inside a game. No, maybe I had to believe that.’
In one corner of my mind, as I did my utmost to survive, there had been the thought that if this were a game, perhaps I could start over. Perhaps if I died, I could go back.
That had been a kind of defense mechanism.
But as time passed, as I met more people and accumulated more experiences, I realized that the place I was in was undeniably reality.
‘In a game, I never would have been able to do things like develop gunpowder and spread variolation.’
Even without things like that, when you laughed and cried together with others, you could no longer dare to think of it as being inside a game.
Of course, I still couldn’t know whether I had returned to the past or come to a parallel dimension.
As for why I was talking about matters related to identity like this…
“Damn puberty.”
This was no time to be asking philosophical questions like who I was, yet my hormones must have been running wild, because I was having these useless thoughts.
And, in what I called rebellion, I was drinking barley coffee without mixing in even a drop of milk.
‘Well, that’s just an excuse.’
The one advantage was that I had been able to escape that sickening taste of coffee milk under the pretext of rebellion.
Yusuf looked with a sullen face at Ayşe, who was smiling brightly beside him.
“What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Nothing much. I just hope you grow up quickly.”
Only the other day, he had been watching Ayşe gradually grow with pleased eyes, but now that he was the one being treated this way, it felt strange.
At this rate, if he had a wet dream, he would be praised for it.
Perhaps sensing that she would be chased out if she teased him any further, Ayşe changed the subject.
“I hear there’s a lot of talk because of the preventive method bearing Your Highness’s name?”
Agitation and fabrication were not talents unique to him.
The princes who went beyond merely feeling sick with envy when their brothers did well and practically had fits over it were skilled enough at such things too.
“Some people refuse it, saying it’s grotesque to be injected with pus from a cow, and there are even rumors going around that people turned into cows after receiving cowpox inoculation.”
It was the kind of thing that made one wonder who on earth would believe it, yet people believed it just fine.
Since the empire recognized local autonomy, there were places that actively carried it out, saying they had nothing to lose by believing, while there were also places that treated it as utter nonsense.
‘This was expected, and it isn’t a bad thing.’
After all, a preventive method shone brighter when there was something to compare it against.
Still, it was fascinating that rumors identical to the fake news that had circulated in England when cowpox vaccination first began were circulating here as well.
Was it because people all thought the same way?
“What can I do when they themselves don’t want it?”
The die had already been cast, and he had no intention of paying any more attention to vaccination.
He had no time to play with his brothers, because in the east, Ismail was raising a whirlwind just as he had in the original history.
Baku, the center of Caspian Sea trade, was an impregnable fortress and resembled Constantinople.
It had triple walls and a deep moat, and aside from one side of the walls, it was surrounded by the sea.
After capturing that place following a short siege, Ismail turned his blade toward the Aq Qoyunlu dynasty and fought a great battle on the Sharur Plain.
The Aq Qoyunlu led nearly thirty thousand troops, while Ismail led seven thousand Qizilbash.
Despite the enormous disparity in forces, Ismail once again won a great victory.
‘No matter if history really went this way, does this actually make any sense?’
Honestly, if he had put ten points into luck and even obtained a system called traits, shouldn’t life have felt a little easier?
With a monster like that openly roaming around, even with future knowledge and a system, he couldn’t feel confident.
It was only because he had even this much that he could dare to think about putting up a fight.
‘Ismail’s very existence is a cheat. If someone had written a novel with Ismail as the protagonist, it would have been treated not as historical fiction, but as fantasy.’
A story in which a child who had lived in hiding founded a country at fifteen and, by his mid-twenties, took all of Iran was practically the stuff of founding myths.
He would sooner have believed a record saying Ismail had been born by breaking out of an egg.
‘And what about Selim, who defeated a monster like that?’
Ismail had been so continuously victorious that his confidence became excessive, and that did lead to his defeat, but it was no reason to underestimate Selim.
How could one underestimate a man who more than doubled the territory of the empire?
“This isn’t easy.”
After being lost in thought for a while, Yusuf let out a lament, and Ayşe went behind him and began massaging his shoulders.
At her gentle touch, Yusuf closed his eyes.
In any case, he knew very well that monstrous people were scattered all around him.
‘It’s true that Ismail is the eye of the storm right now.’
From now on, everything in the east would change rapidly according to Ismail’s movements, but that did not mean he could not interfere at all on the board where Ismail ran wild.
“Ayşe, talks with Circassia are going well, aren’t they?”
“Of course. They have agreed to provide troops as long as we hold back the Crimean Khanate.”
“That won’t be difficult.”
Normally, even when Circassia sent tribute and requested that the Ottomans do something about the raids from the Crimean Khanate, the Ottomans paid no attention.
They had felt no need to.
But now, with the Sultan wary of Ismail, he would gladly put a leash on the Crimean Khanate.
‘Of course, the Crimean Khanate won’t like it, but they won’t be able to rebel.’
It had not even been thirty years since they had been conquered after opposing the empire, then swore to obey the Sultan forever if he merely restored the khan to his throne.
The one who struck might forget, but the one who was struck remembered, so they would obediently listen.
“I don’t know how many will come, but it’ll be better than having none. Next is Georgia…”
The kingdoms of Georgia were supporting Ismail.
They had even helped him in order to escape the Aq Qoyunlu dynasty, only for Ismail, after occupying Tabriz, the capital of the Aq Qoyunlu, to wipe his mouth clean and make them his vassals.
‘If I aim for that moment, could I incite a civil war in Georgia?’
If Mzechabuk, who had joined hands with him, stirred up the other states, it might be entirely possible.
There would surely be those watching only for an opportunity to expand their own power.
‘If I set the board like this, I can push it into a one-on-one confrontation between the Ottomans and the Safavids.’
The problem was that the Ottomans were busily fighting in the west, so they had almost no capacity to devote to the east.
Without standing at an advantage in strength, a war against Ismail, whose momentum had risen thanks to successive victories, had to be approached strategically.
After pondering for a moment, Yusuf looked back at Ayşe.
“Ayşe, do you know where it’s best to wage war?”
At the sudden question, Ayşe tilted her head.
“I’m not sure. Where is it?”
Yusuf smiled broadly.
“In someone else’s house.”
Yusuf’s eyes turned toward the region marked Erzurum on the map.
∗ ∗ ∗
It was the autumn of 1501.
Two years had already passed since he came to Trabzon, and Yusuf actively introduced the four-field crop rotation system, which had already clearly proven its value.
No matter how much of a sanjakbey he was, he had no right to issue orders on another person’s land, but because he had previously arranged for professional managers through the sipahi support policy, he was able to introduce it in many places.
Yusuf’s closest confidants, who followed him, had seen the effects of the four-field crop rotation system with their own eyes, so they could not help but look forward to the results of the following year.
However, the expressions of those gathered at the meeting were frozen stiff.
“Pasha, inform them of the intelligence that arrived yesterday.”
“Understood.”
In a gathering that even included the qadis and subashis, Şemsi read the contents of the paper.
“Ismail, maternal grandson of Uzun Hasan, has occupied Tabriz and proclaimed himself Shah of the Safavids.”
The fact that he had used the title Shah, meaning king in Persian, meant that he had founded a state.
Uzun Hasan had been the emperor of the Aq Qoyunlu dynasty, and Ismail, his maternal grandson, had clearly declared that fact and seized legitimacy.
“Good heavens… Was he not said to be only fifteen years old?”
Voices mixed with admiration and shock burst out from here and there.
Everyone knew that the Aq Qoyunlu dynasty was not in a normal state. After Uzun Hasan’s death, the civil war that broke out had continued for more than twenty years.
Beyond his sons, even his grandsons had fought civil wars, and it was true that the Aq Qoyunlu dynasty had been greatly shaken.
Even so, it was hard to imagine that a figure named Ismail, who had suddenly appeared, would occupy even the capital of the Aq Qoyunlu.
Their gazes naturally turned toward Yusuf.
‘Surely the reason he prepared for war like that was because of this?’
It had seemed strange that he had hurriedly trained troops for something supposedly prepared simply for the sake of succession.
Once they realized this, it felt frightening, beyond mere astonishment.
“Now is not the time to be surprised. It is time to make plans for what comes next. Ömer.”
“Please speak.”
“What do you think we should do?”
Ömer answered as if there was no need to ponder.
“I believe we must firmly strengthen our defenses in preparation for any possible invasion.”
It was the most stable method, but it was not the answer Yusuf wanted.
“We will seize Erzurum and conduct a defensive battle there.”
“Sanjakbey-nim?!”
Yusuf raised a hand to those who were about to oppose him with shocked faces.
“If we have to fight a defensive battle anyway, it’s better to do it in someone else’s territory. Even if we succeed in defending, we will suffer enormous damage.”
Ordinarily, when war broke out, everything outside the walls was laid waste.
Of course, if they simply hunkered down, there was a high possibility that Ismail, who had no immediate intention of fighting the Ottomans, would not attack.
‘If I avoid battle like that, there’ll have been no meaning in coming all the way here.’
If they had to fight anyway, it was better to fight on someone else’s land, and at an ideal location at that.
“Erzurum is a strategic stronghold on a plateau. As long as we hold that place, we can keep Ismail in check as much as we like.”
“Conversely, that is why it will be difficult to occupy.”
If one tried to occupy it honestly through force, then of course it would be difficult.
“I hear that after Ismail occupied Tabriz, he began suppressing the Sunnis.”
For Ismail, it was only natural.
His chief justification was that he would build a Shiite empire, and it would make his power all the more secure.
“I intend to spread this fact as widely as possible.”
It would throw ashes onto Ismail’s table, and it would become an opportunity to get a foot into Erzurum.
Yusuf laughed softly.
Ismail had invoked legitimacy and even boldly declared that the land of Iran was his.
‘But in the end, the one who eats first owns it.’
He intended to stake his claim in Ismail’s bowl first.
∗ ∗ ∗
At times, chance meetings do happen.
The still-young Yahya realized that fact.
“It has been a long time, Lord Suleiman.”
“Yahya, it is good to see you.”
Since they were milk brothers who had grown up like siblings, neither could hide their joy at meeting again in the distant capital.
As Suleiman chatted lightly with him, his gaze fell on the book Yahya was holding.
“What book is that?”
“Ah….”
Suleiman glanced at the book and tilted his head.
“Mechanical clocks?”
“Th-the prince. I mean, Shehzade Yusuf told me to learn about them when I had time. He said I would surely become interested.”
“Shehzade Yusuf did?”
Unlike his father, Suleiman remembered that warm hand, and his interest was piqued.
Why had he told Yahya to read a book like this?
Wondering about it, Suleiman pondered briefly before speaking.
“Now I am curious. Let us look at it together.”
∗ ∗ ∗
As could be seen just by looking at the Aq Qoyunlu, which had nearly collapsed because of royal succession, inheritance was an important matter.
For that reason, all sorts of methods had been devised. Among nomads, there was ultimogeniture, where the eldest sons were given their inheritance in advance and sent off to form branch families, leaving the youngest son to inherit. There was also fraternal succession, where upon a ruler’s death, not a son but a brother inherited.
Compared to other places, where methods of inheritance were generally set in ways that minimized conflict between brothers, the Ottoman method was bizarre.
‘Even when only power is at stake, civil wars break out. Since their lives are on the line too, of course brothers fight to the death.’
Will you sit quietly and die? Or will you at least try to resist?
If asked that, most would choose the latter.
There was a reason the Ottoman state still functioned properly despite using a method that made it easy for the country to split apart.
‘Because the sultan is too strong.’
No matter how a prince became a sanjak-bey and gathered troops, it was fortunate if he could muster three thousand men.
With that number, he was nothing but laughable before a sultan who led tens of thousands of guards armed with gunpowder and armor.
In other words, once one became sultan, no matter how much his brothers started civil wars, he could easily conquer them.
‘The reason they prefer the area around the capital is also because, if the sultan happens to die suddenly, they intend to snatch the throne at once.’
The sultan himself might also settle the succession and hand it over while still alive.
Which territory one would receive and whom he would back as heir depended on the sultan’s will, so the sultan held absolute influence in the nomination of a successor.
Therefore, nothing good came of earning the sultan’s displeasure.
“So I do need to report in advance that I intend to go to war.”
“The Padishah may oppose it once he receives the report.”
As Shemshi said, that was the problem.
In the original history, the current sultan had been passive in the war against Ismail.
“It would become a war on two fronts, so no matter how good the plan is, he will not grant permission easily.”
Even for the Ottomans, fighting Ismail in the east while at war with Venice and other Western powers in the west was a burden.
“If the Padishah opposes it, what do you intend to do?”
“Ignore him and proceed.”
At Shemshi’s question, Yusuf answered as if there were nothing to consider.
‘The sultan’s favor is just a fine-sounding fiction anyway.’
To put it bluntly, if he relied only on the sultan, the sultan might grow senile and suddenly raise another prince as his heir.
So even if it meant earning the sultan’s dislike, it was better to pile up military achievements and gain the support of the bureaucracy and the army.
“Then there is no need to wait for his answer. We can proceed with the matter first.”
“Yes.”
Yusuf had not merely watched while Ismail I occupied Tabriz.
He had already sent people all across the Aq Qoyunlu lands to throw ashes onto Ismail’s table, and they were only waiting for orders to be given.
After Shemshi left with his instructions, Yusuf smiled mischievously.
“I hope he likes my gift.”
It was merely a shame that he could not personally see the face Ismail would make upon receiving it.
∗ ∗ ∗
Spreading rumors.
It sounded like nothing much, but it was not as easy as one might think.
They said words without feet could travel a thousand li, but not every rumor spread that quickly or that far.
To spread the rumors effectively, the people Yusuf dispatched first approached nomads and refugees.
“Who are you!”
Even if there were cities and villages, not everyone settled on land to live.
There were also many nomads who did not belong to a single region and roamed from place to place, and because of the ongoing civil war and the recent major battles, they were on edge.
“Calm yourselves. We did not come here to fight.”
The group that had come answered with smiles, but the nomads did not lower their guard.
On the steppe, one must trust no one.
“We were sent by the ruler of Iğdır.”
“…Why have you come?”
At the words that they had been sent by the person who ruled this vicinity, the nomad asked in a somewhat softer voice.
Even if it was hard to fully believe them, many troublesome things happened when one made an enemy of a man in power.
“You are not, by any chance, those Shiite fellows causing trouble these days, are you?”
“We have been Sunni since ancient times!”
Muttering, “Good, so you are indeed brothers in the faith,” the man nodded and lowered his voice a little, as though telling them a secret.
“Our ruler told us to go around warning the Sunni brothers in this area, so we have come.”
“A warning?”
“That is right. You know that the man who recently occupied Tabriz and proclaimed himself Shah is a Shiite, do you not?”
“There is no one who does not know that.”
The Qizilbash in their red turbans were already well known, and they had achieved one unbelievable victory after another, so there was no way not to know.
And that included Ismail, whom they followed.
“After declaring that he would establish a Shiite kingdom, he has been persecuting Sunnis. They say Tabriz is already covered in the smell of blood because of all those killed for refusing to convert.”
“Is that true?”
“Why would I go out of my way to lie to you?”
The faces of the nomads darkened at once.
Changing one’s faith was not something to be decided so easily.
“On top of that, he claims to be the seventh-generation descendant of the Imam, but that is a complete lie as well. They say he is killing everyone who expresses doubts about it, so be careful. Avoiding the area near Tabriz as much as possible would also be one way.”
“We had no intention of going that way anyway, but we will be careful. Thank you.”
Since this was information that could have caused hundreds of their family members to suffer if mishandled, they expressed sincere gratitude.
“If you are that grateful, then be sure to tell those you meet along the road as well. Are we not all brothers of the same faith? And use this to help with your living expenses.”
The nomad who received the jingling pouch nodded vigorously.
“Do not worry. We will make sure to tell them.”
“Then take care.”
After even offering a gentle farewell, the man moved away from the nomads and asked the companions traveling with him.
“Where do we go next?”
“They say there is a group of refugees not far from here.”
Armies in this era were no different from plunderers.
They did not commit too many outrages against their own people, but in a country torn by civil war, who counted as one’s own people?
The places Ismail’s army passed through turned to ruins, and many refugees had fled from them.
“No rumor is more credible than a story heard from the victims themselves.”
The man smiled broadly.
“Let us move as quickly as possible and return. His Highness said that a long tail is bound to be caught.”
They were not the only ones spreading fabrications that mixed false identities with the truth, and the rumors quickly began to spread.
∗ ∗ ∗
Even if he had occupied the capital, the land of the Aq Qoyunlu that Ismail had seized did not amount to even twenty percent.
Since he could not conquer this vast region entirely by force, he had to accept the surrender of as many areas as possible.
‘Originally, it probably would not have been that difficult. Ismail had already shown many things.’
He possessed the legitimacy of being Uzun Hasan’s grandson through the maternal line, and in the previous battle against thirty thousand enemy troops, he had personally led his army and defeated one of the main commanders himself, proving both his command ability and his courage.
That was why he had been able to take Tabriz, the capital of the Aq Qoyunlu, without much effort.
‘Honestly, how could anyone resist a war machine that won two battles in a row at seven thousand against thirty thousand?’
Aside from those of Aq Qoyunlu blood, there were plenty of regions that would surrender to Ismail as long as they were given an appropriate carrot.
That was how he had been able to take all of vast Iran in less than ten years.
‘But this time, it will not be easy, will it?’
It had not even been two months since he scattered the rumors, yet the atmosphere was already ominous.
Many were anxious because of the dreadful rumors, and those who firmly believed in Sunni Islam had begun leaving for foreign countries such as the Ottoman Empire and the Mamluk Sultanate.
He had certainly thrown ashes onto Ismail’s table.
‘But he will not collapse from this much. It will only be annoying, I suppose?’
It had only served as a sandbag to weigh him down, so he had to take Erzurum in the meantime.
Yusuf’s gaze turned to the map.
Between Trabzon and Erzurum lay a fertile plateau region called Bayburt.
“Only by taking this place first can I reach out toward Erzurum. I must take it quickly.”
He felt sorry for Bayburt, but he had no intention of spending a long time on such a small city.
If it refused his recommendation to surrender, he intended to seize it by force.
“I wish the sultan’s answer would return soon.”
The reply was later than expected.
If possible, he intended to move after hearing the answer, but since time kept dragging on, it was somewhat frustrating.
Just as he took a sip of barley coffee in irritation, Shemsi came in.
“Your Highness, the Padishah has sent his reply.”
“Did you read what it says first, Pasha?”
“How could I possibly do such a thing?”
It was not sent by just anyone, but by the master of the empire; no matter how much it was Shemsi, he could not read it first.
The reason Yusuf asked despite knowing that was because Shemsi’s expression was as bright as if he had already seen the reply.
Though puzzled, Yusuf first checked the contents of the letter, then clenched his fist.
“Good!”
It was permission with the condition that he had to take Erzurum as planned, but permission was permission.
On top of that, the Sultan’s support had been added.
As requested, he would strongly warn the Crimean Khanate to prevent them from raiding Circassia, and Yusuf would be able to receive assistance from the other sanjak-beys in the surrounding area.
With this, the start was excellent, and Shemsi spoke to the pleased Yusuf.
“Your Highness, you must go out to the harbor for a moment.”
“The harbor?”
“You will understand when you see it.”
Though puzzled by Shemsi’s enigmatic attitude, Yusuf went out to the harbor, where he saw ships filling it completely.
Hasan, who had been busily directing the unloading of cargo, saw Yusuf and called out with a bright expression.
“You have come, Your Highness!”
“Hasan, what is all this?”
“Goods bestowed by the Padishah. Please take a look.”
When they opened a tightly sealed wooden crate, what came into view was iron armor.
It was not the plate armor made of metal plates that one usually imagined when thinking of knights, but plated mail that organically combined iron plates and chains.
‘Armor like this is far better than plate armor.’
In a hot region like the Middle East, wearing armor made of iron plates would make one die of heat.
That was why in hot regions like the Middle East or India, well-ventilated chain mail was mainly used, and since chain mail was vulnerable to weapons like arrows or javelins, the Ottomans favored this form of plated mail with added iron plates.
‘No wonder the Russian word yushman for plated mail even came from Ottoman.’
Of course, even if it was favored, it was by no means cheap armor.
After all, this plated mail was more expensive than most mass-produced plate armor.
“Just how many sets are there?”
Since wooden crates were being unloaded from the ships without end, it was certainly not a small number.
At Yusuf’s question, Hasan answered at once.
“We will have to confirm it directly, but they say there are roughly five hundred sets. In addition, he also sent various weapons and gold coins.”
This amount was not simply a matter of money.
Because producing that quantity in Trabzon would have been impossible in just one year.
“Hasan, which way is the capital?”
At this rate, he ought to pray not toward Mecca, but toward the capital.
For the Sultan’s grace had resolved what he had lacked.
‘Now all that remains is for me to do my part.’
Yusuf’s gaze turned south.
War was not far off.