Power Struggle
How fleeting a prince’s death was in the Ottoman Empire could be seen in the death of Shehzade Alemshah.
No one expressed sorrow, nor did anyone take interest in the cause of his death.
Those who felt the struggle for succession drawing ever closer openly said it was fortunate that even one prince had been reduced from the field.
‘Which means there’s no need to be swayed by the attention I’m receiving now.’
The fact that a prince who had left after becoming a sanjak-bey had returned to the capital at the Sultan’s summons was fine fodder for gossipmongers.
In truth, compared to the other princes, Yusuf was a prince shrouded in mystery. Unlike the other successors, he had not received an official education, so few had even seen his face.
The prince with the least presence had thrown the capital into an uproar with an attempted assassination, and after being appointed sanjak-bey, he had distinguished himself greatly.
Naturally, whether the feelings they harbored were curiosity, goodwill, or hostility, he had to receive visits from people active in all sorts of fields.
“Are only the last guests left now?”
“That is correct.”
Even though he had permitted only visits from those with some measure of renown, he had been forced to receive guests without a moment’s rest for days.
The guests who came were varied as well.
There were scholars who came to assess his learning, and there were also physicians who sought him out because of the still-controversial variolation method.
He had been made to break into a cold sweat by their questions meant to find flaws, but they were not the most difficult opponents.
‘I never thought even the Shaykh al-Islam would come in person.’
The Ottoman Empire allowed subjects who believed in other religions to govern themselves through their own religious communities, and this was called the millet.
In exchange for receiving a tax called jizya and guaranteeing freedom of culture and religion, responsibility was placed on each religious leader if a rebellion or an incident threatening the empire occurred.
And the Shaykh al-Islam was the supreme leader of the Muslims.
‘Honestly, I nearly jumped out of my skin when he came carrying the Quran, but it’s enough if he left with a favorable impression.’
Though he went around shouting about holy war and Allah, for Yusuf, who had little interest in Islam itself, it had been a time of sweating bullets.
The Shaykh al-Islam did not have the right to attend the council, and since the Padishah could dismiss him at will, he did not possess tremendous power, but he would be able to create favorable public opinion among the Muslims.
In any case, despite such a variety of guests coming and going, the guest arriving now was someone he had invited personally.
“It is an honor to meet you like this. I am Ahmed.”
“It is good to meet you.”
Yusuf welcomed Dukaginzade Ahmed.
Unlike Koca Mustafa Pasha, who perhaps intended to test the waters and had remained silent in response to Yusuf’s request to meet, Ahmed, whom he had barely managed to find, came at once.
Perhaps he practiced some martial art, for even beyond his loose clothing, well-developed muscles could be seen, and the small scar on his face made him look all the more fierce.
On the face of the man, who was a little over thirty, there was a hint of tension along with goodwill.
‘Well, even if he came from a great noble family in Albania, he hasn’t properly established himself in the Ottoman Empire yet, so it’s natural he’d be nervous.’
To begin with, even his family had split between those who submitted to the Ottoman Empire and converted to Islam, and those who fled to Venice.
Later, it would become a prestigious family that produced many pashas within the Ottoman Empire, but for now, it was little different from a foreign house.
Yusuf spoke with a gentle smile.
“There is no need to be so nervous. I called you because I heard rumors that you were an excellent talent. Now, the Dukagjini family, was it? You come from a distinguished house.”
“At present, we are an insignificant family serving under the empire.”
“There is no need to lower your family so much. I have no intention of doubting your family’s loyalty.”
At those words, Ahmed relaxed his stiff shoulders, and in the more comfortable atmosphere, Yusuf was able to lead the conversation.
“It seems about time for you to begin serving as a sanjak-bey. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“How could I dare covet such a position?”
He said that, but his face showed that he did covet it.
After all, in order to raise up his wavering family, he needed to climb to an even higher position.
“If you wish it, I could recommend you to the Padishah.”
Ahmed, his eyes widening in surprise, bowed deeply.
“If you would only do that, I will not forget this grace.”
Yusuf nodded as if to say he trusted those words.
“I will speak to the Padishah about it. Good news should reach you soon.”
“Thank you!”
After expressing his gratitude again and again, Ahmed departed, and Arda asked cautiously.
“Do you truly intend to recommend him as a sanjak-bey?”
“No.”
At the firm answer, Arda looked surprised.
“He is someone who will become a sanjak-bey on his own soon enough. There’s no need to scratch at it and create a sore.”
“What will you do if he does not become one?”
If things went according to the future, he would become the sanjak-bey of Ankara next year.
Of course, as Arda pointed out, the situation had changed greatly because of him, so even with the Dukagjini family behind him, he might fail to become a sanjak-bey.
“Then it cannot be helped. If he is a man who cannot even become a sanjak-bey on his own, I have no need for him.”
It might sound cold, but there was no need to pay attention to someone who was of no help.
“If it goes well, he’ll think it was thanks to me. If it doesn’t, he’ll think it was his own fault. This is what one calls a white lie.”
Yusuf spoke shamelessly.
∗ ∗ ∗
If Yusuf were asked to name the most important officials, he would choose Hersekzade Ahmed Pasha, who had previously served as Grand Vizier, and Hadim Ali Pasha, the current Grand Vizier.
That was because, from here on, the two would serve as Grand Vizier in turns.
Ali Pasha died while suppressing the Shahkulu Rebellion, so he only ascended to the post of Grand Vizier twice, but Ahmed Pasha became Grand Vizier a total of five times.
Of those, two were during Selim’s reign, and he died a natural death, which was more remarkable than it sounded.
‘Because it means he survived under Selim, who was harsh on his retainers.’
Under Selim, even a retainer’s life was worth no more than a fly’s.
Even Dukaginzade Ahmed, who had played a significant role in helping him ascend to the Sultan’s throne, was executed by Selim on suspicion of being involved in a Janissary rebellion.
That alone meant he was no ordinary political figure.
“Why would a man like that invite me?”
The reason Yusuf had tried to approach Koca Mustafa Pasha was that he thought it would be difficult to connect with anyone more powerful than him.
Since the Sultan had not yet made a decision regarding the succession, even Mustafa was avoiding a meeting.
In such a situation, Ahmed Pasha himself had requested a meeting that could become an obstacle later, so it was only natural for Yusuf to be puzzled.
“What will you do?”
“Who knows.”
To begin with, he was a man who had entered a political marriage with Hundi, the younger sister of Ahmed, the most likely candidate for the next Sultan.
‘If I think of it only this way, he seems like someone who supports Ahmed, but that isn’t so important.’
If he had been an ardent supporter of Ahmed, he would not have survived during Selim’s reign.
One only had to see how Mustafa had been executed by Selim because of his past support for Ahmed.
‘Come to think of it, it’s rather funny.’
Mustafa, who had supported Ahmed, and Dukaginzade Ahmed, who had supported Selim, had both been executed in the same way from the office of Grand Vizier because of Selim’s suspicions.
In any case, he did not know the reason for the invitation.
“Since he went so far as to invite me personally, I should go.”
After all, he would only know what scheme the man had in mind by seeing it himself.
Following Yusuf’s decision, Arda responded to the invitation, and after setting an appointment, Yusuf headed to his mansion.
Arriving in front of the mansion with his guards, Yusuf summed it up in one word.
“Splendid.”
It appeared to be a level larger than the detached palace assigned to him, and he could tell just how powerful the man was.
It was not strange for him to be wealthy.
The title Hersekzade meant the son of the Duke (Herzog) of the Kingdom of Bosnia.
When Yusuf dismounted, a man who appeared to be a servant showed his respects.
“Welcome. The master is waiting for you.”
Just by looking at the servant showing his respects without the slightest disorder, one could tell what kind of place this was.
Following the guidance inside, Yusuf could see that the interior was even more substantial than it appeared from the outside.
The guards maintaining strict watch all looked like elites, and the slaves moving within had all clearly undergone thorough training in etiquette.
After passing through the large mansion and arriving before a great door, the servant said in a loud voice,
“Prince Yusuf has come to visit.”
“Show him in.”
The door opened along with a gentle voice, and Yusuf was able to face an elderly man with a benevolent face.
Though he still wielded immense authority, there was not the slightest hesitation in the way he courteously showed his respects.
“It is an honor to meet you. I am Ahmed Pasha.”
“The honor is mine, to have received your invitation.”
“Please sit here.”
After exchanging light greetings, Ahmed yielded the seat of honor to Yusuf without hesitation.
At this, Yusuf was slightly surprised.
If he was a man who had even served as Grand Vizier, then no matter how much his counterpart was a prince, there was no need for him to maintain such a low posture.
Even if he could not sit in the seat of honor, it would have been proper to offer a place on equal footing.
“It is all right. I have come here as a guest, so I would like to face you and converse together.”
“Then let us do so.”
At those words, Ahmed smiled lightly and sat facing Yusuf.
A short while later, light refreshments were brought out, and Ahmed spoke first.
“This must have been a sudden invitation, so thank you for accepting it. I hope it did not burden you?”
“Fortunately, I had nothing more important than your invitation. More importantly, may I know why you invited me?”
At Yusuf’s suggestion that they not waste time probing each other for no reason, Ahmed readily agreed.
“Do you remember the conversation you once had with Chandarli Ibrahim Pasha?”
Of course he remembered.
He had been the former Grand Vizier who had kept finding fault with him when he was trying to go to Trabzon.
“Of course. It is a pity that he went to the embrace of Allah in the war against Venice.”
“Was that not Allah’s will? In truth, after hearing the contents of the conversation you had then, I became greatly interested.”
Since much of the conversation had touched on sensitive matters—such as talk of a kingdom led by the Shiites appearing in the lands of the White Sheep Dynasty, and of inducing the Mamluks and Venice to dig a canal—it was not something widely known outside.
However, the man before him had held the post of Grand Vizier before Ibrahim Pasha, so there was no way he would be unaware of that conversation.
“Seeing events unfold as you said, I could feel that Allah was watching over the empire.”
“It is something to be grateful for.”
It was not strange for words almost like a confession of faith to come from him.
After all, the prince who had shown a miracle by saving his own life with a few silver coins kept in his robes had now shown predictions bordering on prophecy.
Having said that much, Ahmed swept his gaze around and spoke.
“May we speak alone from here on?”
When Arda asked with his eyes what should be done, Yusuf nodded, and only the two of them remained in the spacious room.
Once they were alone as he wished, Ahmed continued.
“When one reaches my age, you see, one begins to think about the day of one’s death. One comes to ponder what Allah’s will might be.”
He was a man who would live more than another ten years, but he was indeed old enough that it would not be strange for him to die at any time.
“In the eyes of this inadequate servant, Your Highness seems to be the one who most closely shows a form befitting Allah’s will, and so I would like to ask you one question.”
“I do not know whether I can give you the answer you want, but ask.”
Ahmed, erasing the gentle smile he had been holding on his lips, asked in an even voice.
“Is your interest in saltpeter, used to make gunpowder, also Allah’s will?”
Should I kill him now?
Yusuf smiled broadly.
∗ ∗ ∗
Not only did the sultan have nearly twenty thousand central standing troops armed with gunpowder weapons, but if he wished, he could mobilize more than ninety thousand sipahis from across the country.
If one of his other brothers became the next sultan, that difference in military strength would be impossible to overcome, which was why the princes waged wars of succession before any one of them could become sultan.
‘It is literally a matter of life and death, so by now my other brothers must be preparing for the succession struggle as well.’
Building up their forces was a given, and they were sure to send spies to investigate Yusuf, who had achieved great military merit.
It was safe to assume that the strength he had used in this battle with Ismail would be completely exposed.
Not only his connections with Circassia and Samtskhe, but even the heavy cavalry that had played such a useful role.
‘Since I have already achieved results with heavy cavalry, they will raise heavy cavalry too.’
The biggest problem in raising heavy cavalry was money, but his other brothers had already spent nearly twenty years serving as sanjak-beys and had accumulated capital.
That meant they could raise as much heavy cavalry as they wanted, if they set their minds to it.
If things turned out that way, his advantage in military strength would inevitably disappear, and to secure victory, he had no choice but to reach for gunpowder weapons.
‘But to think that would be discovered.’
If he followed his heart, he would have killed Ahmed, who had dropped such an explosive remark and was now leisurely drinking his beverage.
If his use of gunpowder, one of his crucial strategies, became known to the other princes, it would be troublesome; moreover, gunpowder was a strategic material even the Ottomans regarded as precious.
‘Every time they go to war, they use an absurd amount of gunpowder.’
The Ottoman cannon was the kind of thing that loaded stones weighing hundreds of kilograms into a massive cannon drawn by sixty oxen and hurled them more than a kilometer.
Each shot was bound to consume a great deal of gunpowder, and wars did not end after one or two shots, so they always had to stockpile enormous amounts of it.
If it became known that he had coveted such gunpowder, even as a prince, he could not know what consequences he might face.
‘Well, still, he has not heard that I secured saltpeter, so it should not become a major problem.’
Yusuf responded calmly.
“I do not know what you are talking about, Pasha.”
“Hoho, is that so?”
As if he had expected that response, Ahmed laughed.
“Then please think of what I say from now on as the nonsense of an old man.”
“I will hear you out.”
If Ahmed had intended to deal him a serious blow, he would not have informed him like this, so Yusuf listened closely.
After all, Ahmed’s fate would be decided by the conversation that followed.
“Your Highness did not make any particular mistake. By receiving many guests and drawing attention directly to yourself, those moving in secret to obtain saltpeter were not discovered.”
In other words, there had been meaning in deliberately receiving guests in such a noisy fashion.
“Continue.”
“Even I, who pride myself on knowing the capital like the palm of my hand, would not have known had I not usually taken an interest in Your Highness. Who would pay attention if a few laborers who had been rowing on the ship you arrived on left their posts for a while?”
So he had found out only after using his power to behave like a stalker. Yusuf nodded.
This was a problem that could not be helped no matter how well trained his informants were.
Who could have imagined that such a vicious obsessive fan would be in the capital?
“An amusing story. But I do not know why you are telling me this.”
He was not telling him to stop saying something irrelevant, but asking him to reveal why he had given up the chance to hold a weakness over him.
At those words, Ahmed stroked the Qur’an placed beside him with his rough hand.
“I was dragged to a foreign land at a young age and forced to believe in Islam.”
“You were from the devshirme?”
“That is so.”
Even the third son of a Bosnian ducal house could not avoid being taken as the sultan’s slave.
No, rather, because he was high nobility, one could say he had been taken in the sense of a hostage.
“Do you regret coming to believe in Islam?”
“It has been with me my whole life. At this point, the reason I came to believe is no longer important. It is only that, at times, I wonder what Allah’s will truly is.”
It was not something that particularly resonated with Yusuf, who was not a devout Muslim, but he could understand a man who had held the highest power in this world thinking about what came after death.
“I merely wish to watch and see whether Allah’s will truly accompanies Your Highness.”
“For someone who says he is only watching, you do not seem particularly helpful.”
In truth, saltpeter could be obtained by creating saltpeter beds, but even if one knew the basic method, trial and error could not be avoided.
Because it took years to produce saltpeter, even a single failure would be a heavy blow, and it was possible that they would not be able to produce the necessary amount in time.
He had tried to secure saltpeter separately in order to reduce the risk, only for an obstacle to appear there, so he could not help but complain.
“Hoho, one who watches should not obstruct. By now, a ship carrying a gift should be on its way to Trabzon.”
There was no need to ask what the gift was. Yusuf’s expression hardened as he asked.
“What is it you want?”
“You may simply think of it as a gift.”
A gift? Nothing in the world was more expensive than a gift received for free.
When Yusuf continued to stare at him as if telling him not to try any tricks and to speak quickly, Ahmed gave a small laugh.
“Since you urge me so, I suppose I have no choice. In a few years, a beautiful woman is expected to visit Trabzon.”
“What is her relation to you?”
“When one reaches my station, it is only natural to have a daughter or two others do not know about.”
A political marriage with someone who had risen as far as Grand Vizier would not be bad.
No matter that he already had Ayşe, one who ascended the sultan’s throne could not dream of monogamy, nor should he.
However, even aside from Ayşe, there were other things that bothered him.
“It seems the Pasha wishes to keep this political marriage hidden?”
Sending a daughter others did not know about meant exactly that.
From Yusuf’s position, the more widely a political marriage with the Grand Vizier became known, the more advantageous it would be, but Ahmed nodded.
“As one grows old, one becomes only more cautious. You need not think of it as a political marriage; you may simply think of it as a sign of goodwill.”
Yusuf’s mind moved quickly.
Even if it was a political marriage he could not reveal to the outside, it was not bad. After all, the man before him was someone who would rise again as Grand Vizier starting next year.
At the very least, there was nothing to lose. What he had to worry about was that they might later become an external clan faction, but—
‘If I become sultan, killing them is something I can do anytime.’
No matter how much the Grand Vizier was the empire’s second-in-command, before the sultan, his life was worth no more than a fly’s.
“I shall not forget your intentions.”
“It is enough for me merely to be able to watch Your Highness’s path.”
Yusuf, who might develop forgetfulness after becoming sultan, and Ahmed, who had managed to secretly place a line with him, looked at each other and smiled.
In the amicable atmosphere, Yusuf exchanged a little more light conversation, and when a suitable amount of time had passed, he rose from his seat.
“I shall pray to Allah that I may meet you again in the capital.”
“I, too, shall pray to Allah that you remain healthy until then.”
In order to visit the capital again, he would have to become sultan. Yusuf returned the greeting and left Ahmed’s mansion.
It had not been a long outing, but when Yusuf arrived at the detached palace, he felt a deep fatigue.
After sending everyone outside except Arda, Yusuf sank deeply into a chair, and Arda asked cautiously.
“How was it?”
“He is an impressive man. Impressive enough to survive no matter which prince becomes the next Padishah.”
Thinking of Ahmed, Yusuf gave a faint laugh.
‘Allah, my foot. There is no way a daughter no one else knows about will come only to me.’
Did it make sense that the Qur’an of a man who claimed to want to know Allah’s will showed no sign of having been properly used?
Even if he could recite it all by heart, if he were someone who lived with the Qur’an at his side, there should at least have been traces of wear.
‘Allah this, Allah that—put aside all that useless talk. It means that since I now have a chance of becoming the next sultan, he wants to put a line in place.’
It was even doubtful whether the daughter supposedly coming in a few years was truly his biological daughter.
Yusuf had seen through all of Ahmed’s maneuvering, but there was a reason he had played along.
A man who treasured his own life so dearly would not create problems that might bring repercussions upon himself.
‘If anything, he will help the other princes just as he has supported me with gunpowder.’
Though Yusuf did not know exactly in what manner he would help them.
“Arda, our tail was stepped on.”
“Was all of it stepped on?”
“No, fortunately, only the hide was caught.”
At the words that those who had moved to obtain saltpeter had been caught, Arda bowed his head as if apologetic.
“What will you do?”
As he had judged earlier, Ahmed was unlikely to use this to play any tricks, but—
“If there is a wound, refusing to treat it because it hurts will only make it fester. It cannot be helped.”
“Then I will handle it according to protocol.”
“Yes. Tell him I shall keep my promise, so he need not worry.”
Deciding the death of one who had followed him was a bitter affair, but it was an unavoidable choice.
If Ahmed had discovered it, there was no law saying others would not find out.
“Then what will you do about the one who was caught?”
Ahmed had keenly noticed those trying to obtain the ingredients, but he seemed unaware of those who had arrived before him and already acquired the gunpowder.
Acquiring gunpowder had proven easier than expected, so he had already stockpiled quite a substantial amount.
‘Corruption in military procurement is unavoidable, both in the future and now.’
He had enough that, if he so wished, he could put on an exciting fireworks display and still have some left over.
“Enough. Let us simply watch and see how he handles things from now on.”
If Ahmed did not wish to go to Allah’s embrace while trying to discern Allah’s will, he would have to tread carefully from now on.
A servant came to Yusuf as he was discussing future plans with Arda.
“The Padishah commands you to enter the palace tomorrow.”
After concluding his business with the Sultan, the time to leave the beautiful capital drew near.
∗ ∗ ∗
“How irritating.”
Selim clicked the hilt of his sword with a cold expression.
His youngest brother, who had taken his place in Trabzon, continued to get on his nerves.
It had been fine when the boy brought some outlandish method claiming it was a smallpox prevention technique, but achieving a great victory against the Safavids was a different story entirely.
‘Being recognized as a prince with proper succession rights is acceptable. However, gaining the favor of the soldiers is problematic.’
On top of that, Father had even summoned the youngest to the capital.
He couldn’t help but constantly wonder how things might have been if he had remained in Trabzon himself.
“In the end, the ones I must contend with are Ahmed, Korkut, and Yusuf.”
There were many other brothers, but these three would pose the greatest obstacles.
Of course, the most threatening adversary was Ahmed, and Selim sneered at the thought of him.
“Ahmed is a fool, so he will not do.”
If Selim had received that level of support, he wouldn’t be living with his heart in his throat for no reason—he would have already sent Father to Allah.
He was an idiot who took the long way around when an easy path lay before him.
As Selim was brooding over how to kill his other brothers, a subordinate urgently came to him.
“A message has arrived from the Crimean Khanate.”
“Oh?”
Selim received the letter with an indifferent expression.
With the help of Ahmed Pasha, who had even served as Grand Vizier, he had attempted political marriages several times, but the Crimean Khanate had been unenthusiastic.
Expecting another soft rejection, Selim opened the letter and broke into a deep smile.
“It is finally done.”
At the response agreeing to join hands with him, Selim burst into loud laughter.
“Is even this because of that brat?”
A subtle dissatisfaction with Bayezid, who had strictly controlled Circassian raids, was contained within.
That was why the Crimean Khanate had accepted a marriage that could lead to treason.
“Things are going to get more interesting from now on.”
Selim laughed as he drew a razor-sharp blade.
∗ ∗ ∗
From the Sultan’s perspective, the state called the Ottoman Empire was an incredibly well-designed nation.
The timar system was a centralized institution controlled from the center, unlike Western feudalism, and it was the source of the Sultan’s strong power.
It was the reason the Safavids, the Mughal Empire, and the Russian Empire possessed similar systems called iqta, jagir, and pomestye.
‘Not only does he possess the power to kill anyone he wishes, but he doesn’t even need to rack his brains over governing the nation.’
The Ottomans were a nation where the bureaucracy was so well-established that the state ran smoothly even without the Sultan. It was to the extent that the country functioned well even during the reign of Selim II, who would later earn the nickname “the Drunken Sultan.”
The Sultan had no need to be obsessed solely with running the state.
In the end, what this meant was.
‘He is not someone so busy that he needs to postpone our next meeting for so long.’
He had stayed in the capital for well over a week.
For someone who had summoned him on the very first day he arrived, it felt like the meeting had been dragged out endlessly.
“There must be a reason.”
He could tell just from looking at the sly Ahmed Pasha—the power players of this era were no ordinary men.
The Sultan sat at the peak of such men; it made no sense that he would delay things without reason.
‘Since I do not know his angle, it might have been better to stay quietly put, but...’
It was far too precious a time to cower in needless fear.
He would see the results later anyway. After all, if his father, Sultan Bayezid, stood in the way of his succession, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.
Yusuf visited the Topkapi Palace at the appointed time, and the Sultan welcomed him as he arrived to pay his respects.
“Welcome. How has your life in the capital been?”
“Thanks to the Padishah’s consideration, it has been comfortable.”
“That is a relief.”
The Sultan smiled faintly and rustled the papers in his hand.
“I read the report you submitted with great interest. There were many fascinating accounts.”
“What points interested you?”
The Sultan lightly flipped through the documents detailing the course of the war and tapped one section.
“Particularly this thing called cement.”
He had expected the Sultan to show interest.
The Ottomans were a nation that waged war whenever they had the means; there was no way they would fail to recognize the military value of cement.
“Is it truly a material that hardens as quickly and is as durable as written in the report?”
“How could I dare to speak falsehood? Everything written is true.”
“What a remarkable thing.”
The Sultan stroked his beard and gave a subtle hint; there was no way to miss this attitude.
‘Even if I give it, I cannot give it for free.’
Should he not secure what he could?
“If the Padishah wishes it, I shall present the method of production.”
“Oh, how admirable.”
“However, there is one concern. I worry that if the technology leaks to foreign nations, it may become an obstacle blocking the Empire’s path.”
This was Yusuf’s aim.
The Sultan was not a stingy man, and he would surely offer monetary compensation commensurate with the valuable technology.
‘But I cannot simply take the money and be done with it. It might cause needless headaches later.’
Other princes might use cement to cause trouble, and since cement had appeared roughly two hundred years ahead of its time, its leakage to foreign nations could create unpredictable variables.
The Sultan judged Yusuf’s point valid and nodded as he asked.
“You mean to ask that production be strictly controlled. Is there no issue with it being produced in Trabzon?”
“Of course not. I considered it for military use from the very beginning, so the production method has been kept thoroughly secret.”
No secret lasts forever, and countless spies would come to uncover the production method, but he was confident it could remain hidden for quite some time.
“If you are that confident, very well. I shall do as you wish.”
“Thank you.”
Yusuf bowed his head deeply.
He did not know exactly when large-scale cement production would begin, but the quantities produced by the Sultan would flow toward reinforcing European fortresses for the time being.
In effect, he had secured exclusive usage rights for the time being.
‘There is no patent, but the Sultan’s guarantee is enough.’
Patent infringement could be settled with monetary compensation, but defying the Sultan’s will would cost one their life.
At this point, it was safe to say he had obtained everything he could from the capital.
Perhaps because the major issues—the Trabzon territory and the cement matter—had been resolved, the conversation that followed was closer to casual chat.
The Sultan listened to Yusuf’s vivid descriptions of the wartime situation much like a benevolent father would.
Upon hearing that the castle lord had been struck by a trebuchet, allowing Erzurum to be easily conquered, the Sultan praised Allah; and at the tale of sending Nevazır’s head to Ismail to taunt him, he burst into laughter.
The friendly conversation between father and son soon came to an end, and the Sultan asked.
“Will you not stay longer in the capital?”
“I am alright. I have already stayed for a long time, so I shall take my leave and return to my place.”
It was a dangerous offer to accept simply because the Sultan had proposed it.
‘It would be problematic if lingering unnecessarily gave the impression that I coveted the Sultan’s throne.’
Power was not something to be shared even with one’s son, and it was the reason princes were driven from the capital at a young age.
The capital was the Sultan’s sanctuary and symbol; no matter that he was his son, the longer he stayed, the more uncomfortable it would make the Sultan.
This was evident in the faint smile that touched the Sultan’s lips at Yusuf’s firm refusal.
“If that is what you think, it cannot be helped. Yusuf.”
“Yes, my Padishah.”
The Sultan called him in a benevolent voice and took Yusuf’s hand.
“I shall pray that Allah’s will is always with you.”
“Thank you. I pray that Allah’s grace is always with the Padishah as well.”
Yusuf took his leave with a respectful bow.
After Yusuf departed, an armed soldier entered the Sultan’s chamber where the Sultan had been clasping the still-warm hand, and knelt.
He was the commander of a unit called the Silahtar—a special forces unit, to which only the greatest warriors of the Ottoman Imperial Army could belong—Silahtar Agha.
He was the Sultan’s martial arts instructor and closest aide, spending most of each day with him as an advisor.
“My Padishah, what is your command?”
After a moment’s thought, the Sultan gave his answer.
“Execute all the soldiers who embezzled the gunpowder as planned, and as for Yusuf...”
No matter that he was a prince, embezzling gunpowder was a grave matter; even if not executed, he should have been severely reprimanded at the very least.
Yet, strangely, the Sultan felt no such inclination, which was precisely why he had summoned Yusuf to the capital to judge him for himself.
“Leave him be for now. I wish to watch longer and see how he conducts himself.”
“Then I shall proceed with the executions once the prince’s gunpowder smuggling runs its course.”
The Sultan nodded and questioned himself inwardly.
What would he have done if Yusuf, who had gained far more than expected in the capital, had been greedy and wished to stay longer?
He couldn’t say for certain.
“...I might well have punished him.”
Not as a father, but as the master of the Empire.
The Sultan coldly flicked the silver coin Yusuf had given him.
∗ ∗ ∗
Ahmed was confident that he would seize the Sultan’s throne.
Most officials supported him as the next Sultan, and unlike Selim, who had only one son, his having five made the succession stable.
This was why he had not worried much, despite residing in Amasya, quite far from the capital.
But when Yusuf made his move, his plans had been thrown greatly off course.
‘I didn’t like it from the moment that beast Selim moved from distant Trabzon to Teke.’
After all, by distance, it brought him nearly as close to the capital as Ahmed himself.
As if his mood weren’t already foul enough, the youngest, who had moved to Trabzon, had achieved a great feat and was receiving the attention of the entire nation.
“Was it Hasan? If not for that slave’s betrayal, things wouldn’t have come to this.”
It was a deep regret that he had missed an easy chance to kill him because of intelligence that he was preparing to flee.
The very thought of being played by a mere slave was enough to make Ahmed grind his teeth.
He wanted so badly to send assassins to tear Hasan apart, and his fury toward Hasan had gradually turned toward the Sultan as well.
“Father, have you taken such a liking to the youngest?”
He had always lived in obedient deference to the Sultan’s will, but now, skepticism and doubt crept in.
The thought that another brother might become Sultan over him made a dark, black emotion surge within, weighing upon his chest, and Ahmed let out a thick, heavy sigh.
“If Father insists on this, then I shall have no choice but to seize it myself.”
Even if he had to kill all his brothers before ascending the throne.
A visitor arrived for Ahmed, who wore a sneer.
The face he had grown sick of seeing since childhood bore the full weight of the years, slightly haggard as if to show he had been suffering greatly of late.
Ahmed embraced and warmly welcomed the guest who had come from afar.
“How good it is to see you after so long, Korkut!”
“Have you been well, brother Ahmed?”
Entering another brother’s territory was like walking naked into a tiger’s den, but Korkut had come in person after receiving Ahmed’s letter.
Korkut knew he had come to a dangerous place, and his nervousness was evident; Ahmed gently patted his rigidly stiffened shoulder.
“I called you here to share a sincere conversation between brothers, so do not worry too much.”
“Understood.”
Seated across from Korkut, Ahmed opened the conversation first.
“Your coming in person means you agree with my letter, yes?”
“…That is correct.”
“You chose well. I had wondered if brothers truly needed to be killed. If one does not become a threat, there is no need to kill him.”
Having come this far, Korkut had no reason to hesitate; he nodded as if in agreement.
“I ask that you keep your promise.”
“You need not worry. Unless you have a son, I swear by Allah that I shall not take your life.”
Once he ascended to the throne, Korkut, who had no sons, could not become a dangerous threat.
Having sworn to Allah, he truly intended to keep his promise.
‘I shall not kill you as promised, Korkut. But you shall be imprisoned for life instead.’
Ahmed smiled deeply.
The alliance of the two princes had been forged.
∗ ∗ ∗
They might have thought they were acting discreetly, but to Yusuf, who kept a close eye on his brothers’ movements, it was far from unknown.
‘So the Crimean Khanate intends to join hands with brother Selim after all.’
In the original history, the Khan of the Crimean Khanate had entered into a political marriage with Şehzade Mehmed, who governed nearby Kefe.
After Mehmed died, an alliance with Selim was formed by remarrying the daughter who had become a widow.
Their union was far swifter than in the original history.
‘Ahmed and Korkut. It was also unexpected that a camaraderie would form between them.’
For brothers aiming for each other’s heads to form an alliance was an event that would go down in Ottoman history.
Well, whether that end would be a beautiful one remained to be seen.
With his competitors now building their forces in earnest, he had no intention of remaining docile.
“Lord Yusuf, the preparations for the march are complete.”
Yusuf climbed atop the fortress walls and looked down at the assembled army of three thousand.
The troops looking up at him in orderly formation could be called elites without exaggeration, and Yusuf shouted to the army gathered to subjugate Georgia.
“March!”
Boooooo.
At Yusuf’s command, the sound of horns and drums announcing the march filled the plains.
Watching the army begin its march with heavy footsteps, Yusuf spoke as if making a vow.
“I have no intention of falling behind when it comes to power.”
For he would seize Circassia and Georgia.
The time of the princes had begun to ripen.