Ismail and the Princes (2)
Yusuf called the fortress where they made cement and firearms the workshop for convenience’s sake, and despite his deep interest in it, he rarely visited in person.
His head contained all sorts of knowledge, but turning that into reality was another matter.
He thought it was better to simply tell them the methods and leave it to them than for someone who had never swung a hammer at metal to stand beside them and meddle for no reason, and that judgment had proven correct.
After all, they had achieved satisfactory results.
The fortress, usually noisy with the sounds of firing and grinding cement, was so quiet that not even breathing could be heard, and the air, normally heavy with hazy stone dust, was clear.
That was because all work had been halted once Yusuf’s visit was scheduled.
“Welcome, Your Highness.”
“Tahir, it has been a while. I’m glad to see you look healthy.”
“It seems Allah has no interest in this old man yet.”
Seeing Tahir burst into hearty laughter, Hassan, who stood behind Yusuf, furrowed his brow slightly.
If all the curses he had eaten from Tahir during that time were collected into a book, it would be thicker than the Quran, so seeing him act like that with the kindest face in the world was almost absurd.
Of course, there was no one here who cared about Hassan’s feelings.
“As I informed you beforehand, I’ve come to check on the state of firearm production.”
“This way, please. We made it according to the blueprint you gave us.”
What Tahir had made was a lathe.
Not a furniture shelf, but a machine tool that rotated the material being cut and used a fixed cutting tool to shave or bore out the inside.
“Now that you’ve made and used it, is it useful?”
“There is no question. I lamented that I had lived to this age without ever thinking of such a thing.”
The barrel through which bullets passed could not be made by casting, pouring molten metal into a mold and letting it harden.
A cannon might be one thing, but a narrow cylinder like a gun barrel was difficult to make through casting, and if air bubbles formed while the molten metal was being poured, the barrel could explode during firing.
‘That wouldn’t be shooting a gun, it’d be setting off a grenade right in front of your eyes.’
In other words, it was a perfect way to die.
That was why they made barrels by placing a rod and wrapping heated metal plates around it, but if they had a machine tool that could shave out the inside, the difficulty of production could be lowered further.
‘If I set my mind to it, we could even cut rifling. But rifling would be getting greedy.’
Rifling, the spiral grooves inside a gun barrel, greatly increased accuracy, but it did not come with only advantages.
Even with a machine tool, precisely making uniform grooves on the inside was an incredibly difficult task, and production costs rose accordingly.
On top of that, cutting rifling weakened the barrel by that much and increased the risk of explosion, while also slowing the reloading speed, to the point that even Napoleon had preferred smoothbore muskets.
In other words, in a situation where they were making matchlocks due to production cost issues, coveting rifling was excessive.
“Then how many matchlocks can you make in a day?”
“Roughly one or two. Of course, if you provide additional craftsmen, we can make them faster.”
“That won’t do. It was hard enough just to bring you here. Instead, I’ll attach plenty of slaves for you to use.”
Tahir smacked his lips, but he understood well enough. He knew how much care was being taken to maintain secrecy.
Nor did he have any desire to get mixed up with some unsavory person for no reason and end up dead with only his clothes left behind.
Shaking off his regret, Tahir brought over a gun that he had carefully set aside on one side.
“I tried making this with the metal you gave me before.”
The gun Tahir handed over was a flintlock type: when the trigger was pulled, the hammer holding the flint struck the part containing the powder and fired.
After examining the gun from various angles and even pulling the trigger, Yusuf asked.
“So, was it worth making?”
“If possible, I would rather not make another one. You would be better off calling in a clockmaker to make it.”
Seeing Tahir look utterly sick of it, Yusuf smiled slightly.
It had been made for personal use anyway, and he had no intention of making him produce more.
“I’ll make good use of this. And now I’ll need you to begin producing matchlocks in earnest.”
“Hm, that is earlier than scheduled.”
He had intended to build up their skills for another year or two before manufacturing them.
“I have a feeling the day we’ll need them will come sooner than expected.”
Judging by the original history, there were still four years left until the full-fledged succession war in which the sultan and the princes would show off their family affection, but history had already been twisted enough.
Just from the fact that the princes’ movements had already quickened, he could not know when or what might happen.
At Yusuf’s order, Tahir spoke cautiously.
“Making them is not a problem, but I do not know whether what I make will be that practical.”
Even though it was something that might earn him displeasure, Tahir said it bravely.
If they took them into actual battle for no reason and the guns became the cause of defeat, he might be killed in anger.
At Tahir’s words, Arda, who was guarding Yusuf, also added a word.
“Considering how you failed to hit anything at close range in the last battle, that is not wrong.”
“…That was merely bad luck.”
It was a pitiful excuse from someone with Luck 10.
Putting aside that first shot, which had remained like a dark chapter in his personal history, the guns were practical enough.
“First of all, considering production costs, guns are not weapons that are significantly more expensive than bows.”
People said guns used expensive gunpowder and were costly to produce, but bows were by no means cheap weapons either.
The wood used to make bows was not ordinary wood but high-quality material that had been well managed, and it was quite expensive.
On top of that, they took a long time to make. Even a simple longbow required more than a year to gain elasticity and durability, and a composite bow glued together with hide glue required three years.
Considering the materials and production period, guns and bows were similar.
“Unlike bows, they are not weapons that require much proficiency. With only simple training, conscripted soldiers can be made into shooters.”
They could not function properly in the rain? Bows were weapons that could not be used properly in the rain anyway.
“We will have to use them ourselves to see how lethal they are in actual battle, but they have plenty of value.”
If he was worried they would fire once or twice and die like scarecrows, he could attach bayonets later. Then even if they could not shoot properly, they would at least serve as spearmen.
The two, who had merely expressed concern, simply accepted it and moved on.
“Then, Tahir, I’ll leave firearm production to you.”
“Leave it to me.”
When Yusuf, having finished all his business at the workshop, was about to return to Trabzon, a soldier came running in urgently.
“Shah Ismail’s army, which had gathered in Erzincan, has begun advancing toward Kayseri.”
“Return to the castle!”
∗ ∗ ∗
When 1507 arrived, two things happened to Yusuf.
One was that he gained points for the first time in a while.
When Mehmed died of smallpox, the sultan, who had previously left the matter up to choice, ordered the implementation of variolation.
It was an order he could neither refuse nor had any reason to refuse, and variolation was implemented across the country. After a long time, the system window appeared.
[Smallpox Herd Immunity within the Ottoman Empire, Points +60]
Although he had received a large sum of 60 points, he still needed 20 more points before he could purchase his next trait.
One encouraging thing was that these were points gained within the Ottoman Empire, so if it spread overseas, he might be able to gain additional points.
The other was that Hatice, with whom he had periodically shared a bed, had become pregnant.
She was due to give birth early next year.
‘If things go wrong, I may not even see the face of my newborn child.’
Hatice might feel disappointed, but it could not be helped.
When he returned to Trabzon Castle, Şemsi, who had already heard the news, was waiting in his office.
“Pasha, Ismail, who was in Erzincan, has begun moving toward Kayseri?”
“That is correct.”
The region through which Ismail was marching, including Kayseri, was Ottoman territory to the end.
It was no different from a declaration of war, but Ismail had no intention of directly clashing with the Ottomans.
‘He’s testing how far we’ll tolerate it.’
Soon, he would send a letter to the sultan apologizing for the territorial incursion, and while the sultan received that letter and failed to reach a proper conclusion, he would lay waste to Dulkadir.
If he advanced through Kayseri as though swinging a scythe, there was also the advantage that Bozkurt Bey, the master of Dulkadir, would find it difficult to flee to the Ottomans.
“What will you do?”
“Do we have any reason to help that bat-like Bozkurt?”
“We do not.”
This was not simply a matter of personal ties or profit.
If one was a small country, it was only natural to walk a tightrope between great powers, but after this war, he was a figure who would openly side with the Mamluks.
In original history, when Selim marched out to conquer the Safavids, far from helping, he plundered the supply lines, and in the end, he was executed along with his four sons.
In other words, he was not the sort of man who would feel grateful just because one did him a favor.
“Nor do I have any desire to go through the trouble of fighting Ismail.”
After years of wars of conquest, the Qizilbash had become something that could fairly be called war machines, and as a bonus, the monster Ismail was personally commanding them.
If one stuck one’s head into a place like that for no reason, one’s neck would be lopped clean off.
“My situation is different from my elder brothers’, who need to win even the slightest great merit. There is no reason for me to overdo it.”
“Then will you watch?”
It would be nice to enjoy watching Ismail and the princes bash each other’s heads in, but it was a waste to simply sit idle.
“Once Ismail has gone deep enough that retreat will be difficult for him, we will occupy Erzincan and operate raiding parties.”
The admission fee for entering another country’s territory was going to be rather expensive.
∗ ∗ ∗
Anyone who has experienced even a little bit of communal life will agree, but controlling people is no easy task.
If it was twenty thousand cavalrymen who enjoyed looting, then needless to say, it was difficult. Yet Ismail controlled his army perfectly.
The army, which marched silently without a single act of plunder, turned its horses’ heads near Kayseri toward Elbistan, and once it entered Dulkadir’s territory, it revealed its true nature.
The small villages that were unlucky enough to lie along the road turned to ashes without a single survivor left behind, and as they looted, set fires, raped, and slaughtered, Ismail’s army advanced mercilessly toward Elbistan.
The frightened Bozkurt abandoned Elbistan, his capital, and fled south to Maraş, while Bayezid II, the sultan of the Ottomans, maintained his silence.
It was the moment the princes had been waiting for.
“Since when has our Empire grown so weak?! What is the Padishah so afraid of that he merely watches this carnage!”
Selim shouted, his face twisted in rage.
To face the Qizilbash numbering twenty thousand, the central army alone was insufficient, and there was the difficulty of mobilizing troops from across the entire nation.
However, such reality was unimportant. What mattered was only that the Sultan’s conduct was unbefitting of the Empire’s master.
“The time has come to end the heretics’ rampage that the Padishah merely watched! It is time for the holy war!”
At Selim’s cry, the thousands of soldiers lined up stomped their feet and mounted their horses.
Selim’s remarks contained the military’s harbored grievances intact, and his words spread quickly alongside Selim’s advance.
Not to be outdone, the princes raised their armies and began gathering toward Dulkadir.
It was the prelude to a bloody war of succession.
∗ ∗ ∗
There is no eternal power in this world.
Even the master of the Ottomans, who made Europe stir with every move, was no different.
Just as a president with few days left before transferring power falls into lame duck status, the old Sultan who had to hand over his position to one of his sons had become a toothless tiger.
Selim’s remarks questioning the Sultan’s judgment and the military’s tacit consent were clear examples showing that the Sultan’s authority was wavering.
Those sensitive to power clearly felt this change.
‘Ignorant fools, war isn’t something as easy as words.’
‘The Padishah made the right judgment, but the prevailing mood is quite foul.’
Without proper provisions prepared, mobilizing troops would shake the finances, and food prices would rise overall, becoming a burden on the subjects.
Of course, if they had been invaded, he would have immediately mobilized the army, but there was no need to endure such losses for Dulkadir.
This was something the military fully knew as well. However, since the military, which gains power through battle, was inevitably hawkish, they were merely expressing their discontent.
Yusuf, who received the news while marching to Erzincan, clicked his tongue.
“The Padishah must have quite the headache.”
This was a situation where discontent had spread throughout the military.
If the Sultan tried to clumsily suppress such discontent, it could deteriorate beyond control, so for now, the Sultan would likely try to placate the grievances.
Eventually, extreme acts like rebellion or insubordination wouldn’t occur, but.
‘Through this incident, the military will emerge as an important variable in the succession.’
Since the military, which holds armed force, has the ability to overturn the heir the Sultan designated.
Thus, Selim also made critical remarks about his father and the bureaucrats to win the military’s favor.
At Yusuf’s words, Somsi nodded as if in agreement.
“With dissatisfaction having spread this far, he cannot watch Ismail’s atrocities forever.”
“Of course, he will likely mobilize the army soon. What matters is the period consumed in that mobilization.”
In that period, Ismail would turn Dulkadir into a wasteland, and still have time left to fight the princes who had currently begun their advance on Dulkadir.
Currently, only two princes were not marching on Dulkadir.
Şehinşah, who was presumed to have joined hands with Ismail, and Yusuf, who was directly invading the Safavids.
Excluding these two, four princes had begun gathering at Dulkadir.
“The soldiers led by the four princes number roughly ten thousand. Added to that, Bozkurt Bey, who isn’t even properly defending his own home and is just fleeing, has roughly fifteen thousand with him. It’s a number worth fighting once, but there is an important variable here.”
“Whether the princes can truly combine their strength.”
“That’s right.”
No one could be certain how much brothers worse than enemies would gather their strength and fight.
Since they all needed to achieve military merit, they might properly join forces, or they might suffer a disgraceful defeat with an organization like scattered sand.
If assessed cool-headedly, the possibility of the latter was greater.
“If they all join hands and go to Allah together, it is a good thing for me.”
If they died without him needing to dirty his hands, he had the mind to express his condolences.
“If the other princes perish in this battle, the Padishah will be greatly angered.”
“He will surely be angry. However, it is a situation where proper retaliation is difficult. To lead an army and invade the Safavids for revenge, there are dangerous elements within the Empire.”
“Unless the Turkmen, who have been branded as would-be rebels, are dealt with, it is difficult to create a void domestically.”
He dared say that if the Sultan led a punitive campaign against the Safavids, those upon whom Ismail’s influence reached would instigate a rebellion.
If he dealt with the internal dangerous elements first and then embarked on the campaign, Ismail would have executed scorched earth tactics to remove all materials that could fall into enemy hands.
The discontent of soldiers marching through devastated land with nothing to plunder had a high possibility of leading to the expedition’s failure.
‘The moment you practically permitted Ismail’s invasion, you had already lost the battle of wits.’
Mistreating the Turkmen to the point of grievance, and merely watching the invasion—everything was the Sultan’s blunder.
All of this would soon strangle the Sultan’s neck.
—Erzincan is in sight!
The shouts of the soldiers moving ahead reached him, and Yusuf gripped the reins and spoke.
“There is no need to fret over an uncertain future. We simply need to move according to the situation.”
After all, the one who would profit most from this war would be himself.
∗ ∗ ∗
Elbistan, the capital of Dulkadir, was a breadbasket region where agriculture flourished.
Possessing the fourth largest plain on the broad Anatolian peninsula, and with the long Ceyhan River spanning over 500km flowing through it, water resources necessary for agriculture were abundant as well.
The name Elbistan itself was derived from the meaning of orchard, and disaster had struck this place that had been so abundant.
Moooo!
Using ripe grain and fruit-laden trees as firewood, the spreading inferno began devouring everything.
Livestock that could not flee were engulfed in the terrible blaze with ghastly screams, and acrid smoke covered the sky.
“It is a pity. To think we must burn such fine land.”
Watching from atop the walls of Elbistan as the ground was dyed red as if the sun had descended upon the earth, Ismail responded nonchalantly to Mohammad, the army’s commander.
“There is no need to be attached to land you cannot hold.”
Dulkadir was certainly coveted land.
When he first arrived in Elbistan, how greedy had he been upon seeing the fertile plains?
However, Ismail, a cool-headed commander, was not swayed by vain greed. For the two nations asserting themselves as masters of this place would never simply watch it be taken.
“More importantly, what of the Mamluks’ movements?”
“It seems the merchant’s words were correct; due to friction with a nation called Portugal over the spice trade, they have no time to care about this place. There are no separate movements.”
While Dulkadir was an important region, for the Mamluks who had occupied Egypt, nothing was as important as the maritime trade route leading to India.
Portuguese fleets that had rounded Africa and reached India were continuously waging war against Calicut, nicknamed the City of Spices, in southwestern India.
For the Mamluks, who alongside Venice most guarded against Portugal’s advance into India, there was no leisure to pay attention to Dulkadir.
“It is fortunate the Mamluks are not moving. When this is finished, I must send an envoy. To face the Ottomans, their assistance will be necessary.”
“I understand.”
“But the Ottomans are the problem. The princes are leading soldiers and heading this way.”
What could mere princes leading troops possibly amount to? To Ismail, who had defeated a force of thirty thousand with a mere seven thousand, it was laughable.
The worry he now entertained was whether to kill them or not.
“Mohammad, do you think there is need to take risks for Şehinşah?”
“When I heard Isbat’s story, who is with Şehinşah, he seemed an extremely incompetent man.”
Despite knowing he had touched opium due to Ahmed’s machinations, he couldn’t break free from the addiction, and he would believe and entrust everything to Isbat, who was helping him.
He was absolutely not at the level to become a nation’s master.
Ismail smiled at those words.
“No matter how powerful a nation, it easily collapses due to one incompetent king.”
Ismail, who had supported Şehinşah to collapse the nation called Ottoman from within, made his decision.
“There is no need to force their deaths, but if the opportunity arises, do not hesitate. Kill the princes.”
“I shall issue the orders.”
Amidst the pillaging and slaughter filling Elbistan with screams and wails, Ismail smiled a cruel smile.
∗ ∗ ∗
The notoriety of Ismail, who had turned Elbistan into ruins, spread quickly.
The people of Dulkadir, feeling fear of a potential invasion, began to flee.
Having plunged Dulkadir into chaos and terror, Ismail left the devastated Elbistan and turned his direction toward Maraş.
Bozkurt Bey, who had fled to Maraş, the second city of Dulkadir, from Elbistan, welcomed the princes who arrived one after another.
“Welcome! Your journey must have been arduous.”
Mahmud of Saruhan, which had been Korkut’s original territory and would later be called Manisa, asked Bozkurt with a stiff face.
“Have the elder brothers already arrived?”
“They have. Prince Selim, the swiftest, arrived more than ten days ago.”
From Saruhan at the western edge of Anatolia to Maraş was a distant journey taking more than twenty days on horseback.
Annoyed by the fact that despite hurrying as much as possible he was already far behind, Mahmud asked Bozkurt.
“Where are the elder brothers?”
“Upon hearing that you were coming, they said they would gather in the meeting hall.”
Having spoken thus, Bozkurt led the way.
In the meeting hall, it seemed three princes had arrived first, and soldiers divided into three groups were squaring off against one another.
As if this situation were familiar, Bozkurt paid it no mind and opened the meeting hall door.
In the spacious meeting hall, three men were already seated, and a terrible chill permeated the interior.
“Are you Mahmud?”
“Yes.”
“We haven’t seen each other since we were young. Do you know who I am?”
“It has been a long time, Elder Brother Ahmed.”
At Mahmud’s greeting, Ahmed let out a hearty laugh, but his eyes were cold.
For it meant he had already taken his full measure, right down to his appearance.
“I cannot recall how long it has been since the four of us gathered like this.”
At Selim’s words, the other three nodded.
There was a ten-year gap between Ahmed, the eldest, and Mahmud, the youngest among those gathered here.
Since Ahmed had become a Sanjak Bey at the late age of sixteen, they had memories of living together.
“It is a pity that Shehinshah and Yusuf are absent from this gathering. Especially my youngest brother, whom I have never once met.”
At Ahmed’s words, Selim—the only one among them who had met Yusuf—spoke with a smiling face.
“If you meet him once, you will remember him for a long time.”
For he still regretted not having killed him that day.
A look of interest flitted across their faces at Selim’s words, and Korkut, who had been maintaining his silence, asked Mahmud,
“Mahmud, is life in Saruhan agreeable?”
“It is a fine sanjak. I could see that you administered it with great care.”
Korkut twisted the corner of his mouth.
For Mahmud was mocking his own situation of having had his fief taken away.
“Yes, it is a fine city. Still, Alemshah, who became a Sanjak Bey before you, died without knowing the cause, so you too should take care. It is a more dangerous city than you think.”
“…Thank you for your concern.”
Bozkurt, who had merely listened to the conversation sharp enough to stab a man with words, clapped his hands lightly.
“It is truly heartwarming to see brothers sharing affection after so long, but it is now time to speak of important matters. As I have said before, I believe we must defend Marash.”
At Bozkurt’s words, Ahmed scoffed.
“Do you wish for all of Dulkadir to burn like Elbistan? Selim, what say you?”
“If we wish to minimize our losses, we must not insist on holding the city.”
Ismail, who had come with plunder as his goal, had no need to force the capture of Marash.
If they locked themselves tightly inside Marash, he could simply plunder and burn other cities.
Bozkurt, who valued his own life above all else, had advanced the opinion that they must defend Marash, but the four gathered princes shared the same view.
In the end, it was decided they would march out, and Selim, who was the first to rise from his seat, offered a pleasantry.
“Let us meet again in good health once the war is over.”
The four princes, any one of whom could plunge a dagger into the others at any moment, smiled.
∗ ∗ ∗
Capturing Erzincan was an easy task for Yusuf.
Unlike Erzurum, which had long served as a fortress, Erzincan was merely an ordinary frontier city.
Rather, it was surprising that they had chosen to resist despite not even having decent walls.
Of course, they could not endure even two days.
Rumble.
The walls, having been struck by trebuchets dozens of times, collapsed powerlessly, and the soldiers who had been scaling the walls on ladders pushed through the breached opening.
Arda lightly smacked his lips and spoke to Yusuf, who watched the scene from atop his horse.
“It is a shame we could not take it as easily as last time. Quite a few soldiers were wounded.”
Though they had captured it relatively easily, a siege was a siege.
Casualties were inevitable.
“It would be unreasonable to hope for the same stroke of luck as before. And responsibility for the losses should be laid at Erzincan’s door.”
After all, unlike Erzurum, it was not land they could continue to hold.
Which meant there was no need to needlessly concern himself with the people’s sentiments.
“More importantly, I trust preparations to depart are all complete?”
In the siege, there had been no opportunity for the cavalry Sipahis to distinguish themselves, and they were all in fine condition.
At the question asked while gripping the reins, Arda nodded.
“Yes, we can depart for Diyarbakır at once.”
Diyarbakır was a city located roughly 200 kilometers south of Erzincan.
Tracing its history, it dated back to the Stone Age, and even during the ancient Roman period, it had served as a core city of the Mesopotamian region.
‘What matters most is that it lies on the route Ismail will take on his return from Dulkadir.’
Of course, capturing it with their current forces was impossible, but they could plunder the surrounding area to their heart’s content.
“Then let us depart quickly. We should arrive before word of our invasion spreads.”
His horsemanship, honed by utilizing even his trait, was now such that calling him a nomad would not be an exaggeration, and they could cover roughly 200 kilometers in five days.
Now, before the news of Erzincan’s capture was heard and defenses were hardened, was the only opportunity to plunder Bayburt, and he had no intention of letting this chance slip.
Yusuf turned his horse south with four thousand Sipahis and put on a mischievous smile.
“When Ismail returns, he may well grab the back of his neck and collapse.”
Play with fire in another man’s house, and learn that your own house can burn as well—it would be a fine experience for him.
After all, the more painful the lesson, the longer it lasts.
∗ ∗ ∗
Born when the current Sultan, Bayezid II, was already over forty, Yusuf was quite the latecomer.
By the time Yusuf was born, Ahmed, the eldest, was already in his mid-twenties.
The only one who could claim to have spent his childhood with Yusuf was Alemshah, who had already passed into Allah’s embrace, and even he had only been with him briefly when Yusuf was but a newborn.
Instead, the princes—excluding Yusuf—were not greatly different in age, and had many memories of time spent together.
Of course, they were anything but good memories.
“Come to think of it, when I was young, I once fell terribly ill with a stomach ache after eating food given to me by Prince Ahmed.”
“Did such a thing happen? It is too long ago; I can hardly recall.”
Selim smiled faintly at Ahmed, who answered with such shameless ease.
“You may not remember. But I, who nearly died of dehydration, remember it all too clearly.”
Korkut frowned at Selim’s words, which bordered on reproach.
He did not know what the future held, but for now he was in a position to support Ahmed, and he too had something to say.
“Selim, anyone listening would think the Prince did it intentionally. If we are keeping score, is not you pushing me down the stairs a greater matter?”
“Are you speaking of when I tripped over my own feet? If I recall, I fell together with you.”
“You crushed me beneath you.”
Rubbing the scar on his arm from that day, Korkut growled, and Mahmud, tired of the meeting going in circles, asked irritably,
“Prince Selim, what is the reason for dredging up stale old tales now?”
“Since we do not trust one another anyway, I am saying let us end this meaningless struggle for dominance.”
The commandership had gone to Bozkurt Bey, lord of Dulkadir and the one with the largest army, but it was in truth nothing more than a hollow title.
For the princes were united in the mentality of heeding no man weaker than themselves, and by that standard, he fell short.
Yet for any one of the princes to seize leadership was impossible, as their mutual distrust ran too deep.
“As you all know, we have not much time left. Winter will soon be upon us.”
“I have heard it does not get very cold here even in winter?”
Marash had a Mediterranean climate cool even in winter, and at Korkut’s remark, Selim let out a light scoff.
“That may be true here, but Elbistan, which the enemy holds, is cold in winter. Is it not?”
“That is true. Unlike here, snow falls there in winter.”
Bozkurt agreed with Selim’s question.
It was a distance reachable on foot within a week, but the temperature difference was considerable.
“Once winter sets in properly, the enemy will return to Elbistan. They have no reason to toil in the field. Then are we to march there and lay siege to Elbistan?”
The princes, who had received the finest education of the age, well knew how foolish it was to conduct a siege in winter.
If spring came after a fruitless winter, the Sultan would surely mobilize the army, and they, who had rushed here only to waste time, would become objects of ridicule.
Ahmed, tapping the table as he pondered briefly, reached a conclusion.
“Then we must revise our strategy.”
The initial plan had been to conduct maneuvers on the plains, but with no coordination between them and no unified command, attempting it would likely result in a crushing defeat.
Battlefield engagements were good for earning merit, but there was no need to take risks.
“We shall leave unit operations to their discretion, avoid all-out battle as much as possible, and prevent the enemy’s plunder. We shall have no choice but to abandon villages without proper walls.”
“Good. Now it seems we are finally speaking the same language.”
Selim flashed a toothy grin and rose from his seat.
“It seems a decision has been reached, so I shall take my leave to prepare for the march.”
Selim left the meeting hall with a smiling face and withdrew into his own room, guarded as impenetrably as an iron barrel by his men.
As if he had never been smiling, Selim hardened his expression and turned toward the subordinate who had followed him inside.
“Oktar.”
“Speak, my lord.”
“You have not forgotten our plan, have you? Troops may be expended as much as necessary.”
He was different from the other princes, who had to minimize their troop losses in preparation for the days to come.
His main force was, after all, the reinforcements he would receive from the Crimean Khanate.
‘Once I move to the Crimean Khanate, I will not be able to draw upon soldiers from distant Teke.’
To Selim, who intended to move to the Crimean Khanate and stage a rebellion when the opportunity arose, soldiers from Teke were expendable.
“There is no need to strive for great merit.”
Having already gained the army’s support with his previous words, he had no great need to covet merit.
As long as he did not suffer a ridiculous defeat, his position would not be greatly shaken.
There was only one thing Selim wanted from this war.
“Three have died, yet five brothers still survive. That is still too many. There is a need to reduce that number a little further.”
Selim smiled cruelly.
∗ ∗ ∗
After the Conqueror Mehmed II captured Constantinople at the age of twenty-one and built Topkapi Palace, this place became a symbol of power.
Bayezid, who had once felt he possessed all the world by securing this place, tilted his cup.
“Grand Vizier, is the world not truly interesting?”
Ahmed Pasha, who had sent Hatice to Yusuf, had stepped down from his post last year, and Hadim Ali Pasha, who had once again risen to the position of Grand Vizier, silently lowered his head.
Bayezid, a devout and deeply faithful Muslim who had even been called Bayezid the Just, drinking wine was something even the Grand Vizier, who had served beside him for many years as a eunuch, had never seen before.
To Ali, crushed beneath the heavy atmosphere, Bayezid merely burst into laughter.
“There is no need to be so tense. It is only a light question. One of those who taught me in my youth once said this: when an ox falls, the knives multiply.”
It meant that once one was on the decline, those who wished to tear off a piece of flesh would gather.
At Bayezid’s words, the Grand Vizier cried out with a face gone pale in shock.
“How can you say something so dreadful?!”
“You looked as though you were at a funeral, so I tried making a jest.”
Though he let out a hearty laugh, it was not entirely an empty remark.
With his face slightly flushed, Bayezid swirled his wine cup and continued.
“I was simply reminded of old times. Seeing how these so-called sons of mine refuse to listen to a single word I say.”
Not only Selim, who had openly raised the banner of rebellion, but the three who had joined Dulkadir had, in effect, opposed his judgment as well.
Yusuf was better than those four, but he had left behind words that were little different from a unilateral notice and launched an offensive against the Safavids.
“At least Prince Şehinşah is remaining still, is he not?”
“Hmph. Do not even bring up that fool who does not know who has attached himself to him.”
“Surely he cannot be unaware. He must simply be watching them in order to make use of them.”
“Even if that is so, he has joined hands with the Turkmen, so he is no different from the others.”
In Bayezid’s eyes, they were all the same.
Seeing matters unfold like this reminded him of the things he himself had done to his father, Mehmed II, in the past.
“My father truly hated me as well. Well, he had reason to. I opposed him at every turn.”
“That was not Your Majesty’s fault. The Conqueror waged war far too often, and the empire’s internal finances were all but ruined, were they not?”
Mehmed II had waged war almost every year, and as he approached his later years, the deterioration of the treasury grew severe.
Even apart from financial matters, there had been an unbridgeable conflict between him, who favored Western culture, and Bayezid, who valued Islamic culture.
“Father had it better, then. At least Cem followed him well.”
“Even so, the one who became master of the empire was Your Majesty.”
“And I ascended to this seat with the help of the Janissaries.”
The Janissaries who supported Bayezid, upon Mehmed II’s death, rose in revolt, killed the Grand Vizier, and raised Korkut, who was in the capital, as temporary Padishah.
Had it not been for that aid, his younger brother Cem might have ascended the throne of Sultan.
“Is it not laughable? A man who rose to this seat with the help of the military later found that very seat endangered because of the military.”
“…If you but give the order, I shall execute every one of those impure men.”
At the Grand Vizier’s words, Bayezid shook his head.
“If I cannot govern even this much discontent, how could I presume to call myself master of the empire? Once they come to understand that the time has not yet come, their dissatisfaction will naturally subside.”
He was still too young to let go of power.
‘And I have no desire to meet an end like Father, poisoned by my own child.’
Bayezid, who had used dissatisfied forces to assassinate Mehmed, smiled coldly.
When a chilling coldness flowed through the room, the voice of the eunuch waiting outside was heard.
—Your Majesty, urgent news.
“Enter.”
With his permission, the eunuch entered and spoke while offering his respects.
“Prince Mahmud is said to have fallen in battle against Shah Ismail.”
The six princes had been reduced to five.