The Foreordained Ending
Rain fell in a steady drizzle.
In Kostantiniyye, where rainy days were rare the hotter it grew, the heat finally eased, and raindrops soaked the earth.
“Prince Selim, it is raining!”
“I can see that.”
When his subordinate, down on one knee, spoke in a voice brimming with joy, Selim answered indifferently and spread out his hand.
Pooled water trickled along the lines of his palm, and as the droplets fell to the ground, the corners of Selim’s mouth slowly rose.
“It has been a long time.”
He had vowed, when he was still too young to grow a beard, that he would seize the heart of the radiant empire—yet only now, when his beard had begun to turn white, did he stand in this place.
The days when he had dreamed nightmares of having the position he longed for stolen from him, of dying as a defeated man, were over.
Gazing at the walls of Kostantiniyye standing firm beyond the rain, Selim turned around.
“Look! The rain we have waited for is falling!”
The soldiers who had waited before the capital for this very moment had their eyes shine at Selim’s cry.
The soldiers of the Crimean Khanate, made elite through countless wars and plundering, knew they would soon have to run toward those thick walls, yet they showed no fear.
Drawing his sword, Selim pointed it at the walls and declared,
“Do not be afraid! As my grandfather, Mehmed the Conqueror, once did, we shall cross those walls and seize glory!”
When the soldiers roared in response to his declaration, Selim smiled deeply.
‘I am the victor in this contest of time, Yusuf.’
Because they were cut off by the Bosphorus Strait, he could not know the exact news, but he had no doubt that between Ahmed and Yusuf, the latter would be the victor.
The rain had fallen before Yusuf, having defeated Ahmed, could reach this place. That meant Selim was the victor in this contest of time.
For rain was the key to victory.
The artillery that the central army took pride in had been rendered powerless by the rain, and the central army would have to stop an enemy five times their number without gunpowder.
“And the rain is also the promised signal.”
The traitors who had only been waiting for the rain would drive their blades into the Padishah’s back.
Listening to the sound of horns ringing through the rainy sky, Selim spread his arms wide and savored the rain.
“The one Allah chose in the end was me, Yusuf.”
The attack to conquer Kostantiniyye began.
∗ ∗ ∗
The rain that had lasted quite some time stopped.
The Bosphorus Strait, which divided Asia and Europe, had a swift current because of the difference in water level and salinity between the two connected seas.
Since the strait’s current normally reached three to four meters per second, they had to wait for the rain to stop before laying a pontoon bridge.
Watching the sight of small boats being linked together one by one, Arda said regretfully,
“It is a shame we cannot build a pontoon bridge all the way to the capital.”
“That would be greed.”
Kostantiniyye lay at the end of the strait, and there the width reached two kilometers.
Considering that the narrowest point of the Bosphorus Strait was seven hundred and fifty meters, it was far too wide to connect with a pontoon bridge.
“If I had meant to hurry that much, I would have boarded ships and entered the capital.”
In haste, one might end up going to Allah’s embrace first.
There was a limit to the number of troops that could be transported by ship at once, and considering the complicated situation in the capital, entering it without proper forces would be an act of suicide.
Even so, the pontoon bridge they had begun building from early dawn had more or less taken shape by noon, and planks began to be laid atop the tightly linked small boats.
“Is it not a magnificent sight?”
“It is worth seeing. Though it would have been better if there were a real bridge.”
At Yusuf’s words, the Grand Vizier smiled faintly and replied,
“That is a difficult matter. His Majesty the Padishah also tried to build a bridge over Haliç, but failed. Building a bridge here would be even harder.”
Haliç was a horn-shaped bay stretching long from the strait into the land, and at sunset its surface shone golden, so it was called the Golden Horn, or the Gold Horn Bay.
Since the Golden Horn bordered the capital, it had been an important strategic point since ancient times, and if a bridge could be built there, it would bring many advantages.
The Grand Vizier meant that if they could not even build a bridge over Haliç, which was narrower than this place, how could they build one over this strait?
‘Well, that design was too far ahead of its time to accept.’
The person who had designed the bridge the Grand Vizier spoke of was Leonardo da Vinci.
With the current architectural technology, they could not build piers capable of withstanding the swift current, so da Vinci had proposed a bridge with no piers, instead made in an arched form to withstand the load.
It was an idea too far ahead of its time, so Bayezid had not accepted it.
‘In modern times, a bridge was actually built based on that design, so it would be worth bringing da Vinci in and trying it once.’
Of course, ascending to the sultan’s throne came first.
While they exchanged light conversation, a long pontoon bridge was completed across the strait.
The pontoon bridge stretching all the way to the distant land was, quite literally, a magnificent sight.
“Move! Move out!”
The Janissaries and Kapikulu, laughing at the soldiers uneasy at seeing a pontoon bridge for the first time as though they were country bumpkins, took the lead in crossing it.
Contrary to its creaking sounds, they crossed safely, and Yusuf also set foot on the pontoon bridge.
The sound of rough water flowing between the small boats that had become a bridge could be heard, and the bridge swayed in the wind, but it was more stable than expected.
After crossing first, Yusuf was watching more than thirty thousand soldiers line up and cross the pontoon bridge when it happened.
“P-Prince! Urgent news!”
A messenger came running in a panic, dropped to both knees on the ground, and cried out.
“They say Kostantiniyye has fallen into Prince Selim’s hands.”
At the messenger’s words, Arda drew his sword with a furious face and aimed it at the messenger’s neck.
“How dare you bring such nonsense!”
“I-It is true. Of the ten galleys sent ahead in advance to check the situation in the capital, only one barely escaped the capital. This is what they reported!”
Everyone here knew it. There was no reason for the messenger to risk his life and tell a lie.
But it was news they did not want to believe, enough for Arda to react so violently.
Only Selim had remained as the final obstacle, and now that such news had arrived, the commanders’ faces darkened.
Selim had taken the capital, so now he would ascend to the seat of Padishah.
Amid those who dropped their heads as if crushed by despair, Yusuf alone remained calm and said,
“I will confirm it with my own eyes. We march on Kostantiniyye as planned.”
At Yusuf’s declaration, the soldiers who had crossed the pontoon bridge began to march.
With a dark atmosphere hanging over them.
∗ ∗ ∗
Because a bridge over the Golden Horn would not be built until the nineteenth century, the route of Yusuf’s army could not help but grow longer.
They moved as quickly as possible, but since Yusuf’s army was composed mostly of infantry, it was already near sunset by the time they faced the walls of the capital.
Dragging their exhausted bodies before the walls, they felt a terrible despair.
“As reported, it has fallen into Selim’s hands.”
Traces of the previous battle, which even the rainwater had failed to wash away, remained all over the walls, and soldiers stood densely packed along the long ramparts.
Before the walls, instead of Selim’s forces, only the empty remains of a camp that had lost its owner were left behind.
While the commanders could not hide their hollow feelings, the tightly closed gate opened, and a single cavalryman approached and shouted,
—Şehzade Yusuf, listen! This is the message of Prince Selim, who shall ascend to the seat of the great Padishah!
At those arrogant words, Arda and the others tried to rush out, but Yusuf raised his hand to stop them.
“I will hear him out.”
—Şehzade Yusuf is to enter the capital at once, confess his past sins, and show his loyalty! If your loyalty is complete, he has said he will not take your life!
At the cavalryman’s words, Yusuf gave a snort of laughter.
“What bullshit.”
In the original history, it was Selim who had killed Korkut even though he said he would be loyal.
If Yusuf entered the capital, he could guarantee that his head would be placed at the succession ceremony like a pig’s head on an offering table.
As if there was nothing more to hear, Yusuf aimed his gun and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Thud.
He had fired carelessly as if telling the man to get lost, but when the enemy clutched one eye and fell from his horse, bewildered gazes turned toward Yusuf.
Yusuf shrugged.
“Lucky shot. I did not think that would hit. Since it has turned out this way, go return that bastard’s head to them.”
At this order, a cavalryman rode out, cut off the fallen enemy’s head, threw it near the walls, and returned.
Yusuf had shown marksmanship close to a feat of skill, but this was not a problem that could be solved by killing a mere soldier.
Şemsi, who had been pondering with a stiff face, said,
“Prince, it is still not too late. Become the sultan of Anatolia.”
“Like Şehinşah?”
“You are different from him, who was so in name only.”
Unlike Şehinşah, Yusuf had the support of many cities in Anatolia, so as those words suggested, he could split the Ottoman realm in half.
Of course, if Selim became Padishah, Yusuf would be at a disadvantage in legitimacy, so the danger of rebellion and betrayal would be high. But with the guns and gunpowder that had proven effective in the previous battle, they believed they had enough chance of victory.
Thinking they could not give up like this, voices of agreement burst out from here and there, and Yusuf asked the Grand Vizier,
“Grand Vizier, what do you intend to do from now on?”
Depending on his will, the actions of the Janissaries and Kapikulu who had joined them would change.
At Yusuf’s question, the Grand Vizier slowly paid his respects.
“The last order I received from His Majesty the Padishah was to assist Prince Yusuf.”
At the Grand Vizier’s words, the faces of the other commanders brightened, and Yusuf nodded.
“Good. Then I must receive that assistance right now.”
“Give the order.”
“We must send messengers to the cities of Rumelia and request support.”
The commanders thought he would borrow the Grand Vizier’s name to request troops, but the words that came out were completely unexpected.
“We need a great deal of food and tents.”
“…Food and tents, you say?”
The Grand Vizier was taken aback.
Because in the current situation, troops were more important than such supplies.
Some commanders even briefly suspected that Yusuf had suffered a great shock from having the capital taken by Selim.
Of course, Yusuf’s mind was perfectly sound.
“Pasha, did you not find it strange? That I focused not on information from the capital, the most important place, but on information from Anatolia.”
“…It was strange.”
When there was something to gain, there was always something to lose.
In exchange for concentrating on intelligence from Anatolia, the lines of communication leading out of the capital had been all but severed.
Considering that any prince who seized the capital would be placed in an extremely advantageous position, it was a strange course of action.
However, Yusuf had a reason for making that choice.
‘Selim is mistaken. This war of succession is not a race against time between him and me. It is a race against time for me alone.’
Of course, it had been surprising. Selim had taken the capital by scaling walls no one would have dared even think of attacking.
It was enough to make one marvel: as expected of Selim.
But Selim’s actions would not affect the outcome of this war of succession.
‘Because this fight ends the moment I reach Rumelia within the allotted time.’
If Selim had failed to seize the capital, Yusuf would simply have led his army there and executed him. And even if Selim had seized the capital as he had now, it did not matter.
No, rather, it was fortunate that Selim had taken the capital.
“A great calamity will soon unfold in the capital.”
The disaster known as the Great Earthquake of Konstantiniyye, called the Little Doomsday.
By now, as planned, his informants would be spreading rumors through the capital: “A false man has ascended the seat of Padishah, and so calamity shall descend.”
‘Since the war of succession happened to break out in 1509, all endings were already decided.’
Yusuf spoke coldly.
“Become the source of calamity and the cornerstone of my empire, Selim.”
∗ ∗ ∗
When he became Yusuf and began making plans for his survival, one of the most important variables he had considered was the great earthquake of 1509.
No matter how much he affected history, he could not change a scheduled natural disaster.
On top of that, the great earthquake that would soon occur was no ordinary calamity.
‘Even if I could have ascended the sultan’s throne without any interference, I would have refused if it had been before the great earthquake.’
In this era, when there was no seismic design to prevent vibration, a great earthquake exceeding magnitude seven was a tremendous disaster, and the damage was not limited to the capital.
It inflicted severe damage on many cities, including Edirne, the former capital located two hundred kilometers west of Konstantiniyye, and even Egypt beyond the Mediterranean felt the tremors.
As people of this era did, they viewed the cause of this calamity as the wrath of God. The West claimed it was God’s punishment against the Ottomans who had taken up arms, while Bayezid insisted it was due to the faults of religious leaders.
‘In other words, if I were to carelessly sit on the sultan’s throne before the great earthquake, I would be perfectly suited to be blamed as the source of the disaster.’
Just like the future awaiting Selim.
When Yusuf brought up calamity, the commanders wore confused expressions.
No matter how much they trusted Yusuf, believing in a ruler’s ability and believing in prophecy were clearly two different things.
“Are you saying a calamity will truly descend upon the capital?”
“Yes. Its aftermath will not end with the capital, and it will continue for a long time.”
Because the aftershocks from the great earthquake would continue for years to come.
Among them would be several major aftershocks that would plunge a dagger once more into cities still in the middle of recovery.
At Yusuf’s firm declaration, no one could readily speak, and the most experienced among them, the Grand Vizier, stepped forward first.
“Your Highness, please forgive our lack of virtue in being unable to believe this easily.”
“It is all right. It is only natural that this is difficult to believe.”
It was a time when Nostradamus, famous for prophecy, was not yet even of elementary school age, and those who learned that Muhammad was the final prophet were not likely to accept prophecy lightly.
If he were not a prince, he would have no excuse even if he were denounced as a heretic and hung from a pole.
‘No, if this were not a gathering only of those who follow me, it would have been dangerous even as a prince.’
This was the Ottoman Empire, where even the leader of Islam could be replaced at the sultan’s will, so he would not die, but it was something that could kill him politically.
That was why, despite knowing in advance of the great disaster called the great earthquake, he had not been able to readily decide what to do.
He could not play the prophet just to prevent earthquake damage.
‘So it is extremely fortunate that I can now point to Selim as the source of the calamity.’
With this great earthquake, the damage to the Ottomans went beyond material loss. Rumors spread that they had received divine punishment, undermining the authority of the Padishah.
It was also one of the reasons Shiites like the Safavids gained influence in Anatolia.
If he limited the source of divine punishment to Selim and prophesied the calamity, it could instead become a blessing in disguise.
“Then when do you think the calamity will occur?”
“Well, I cannot say for certain.”
Because it was such a major event, he had experienced it several times in the game, and he knew well that it would happen on September 10, 1509.
However, he avoided declaring the exact date. If it ended up being off by even a day or two, the plans he had built up until now could come to nothing.
“But it is not far off. It will probably happen within fifteen days.”
At Yusuf’s firm statement, the Grand Vizier stroked his long beard and fell into thought.
Although he knew that before Yusuf became a sanjakbey, he had foreseen victory in the war against Venice and the rise of the Safavids, prophesying a calamity was a different matter.
The Grand Vizier, who had been debating whether to believe him or not, made up his mind.
“I will act according to Your Highness’s wishes, but you must remember this. Everything you have depends on those words. Are you certain that calamity will truly come?”
If Yusuf’s words ended not as prophecy but as delusion, he would lose most of the trust he had painstakingly built up until now.
It would turn out worse than returning to Anatolia and preparing for civil war, as Shemsi had advised, and it might be better to meekly offer his neck to Selim.
The Grand Vizier had given him one last chance. A chance to let it pass as nothing more than a slip of the tongue.
But Yusuf smiled faintly under the pouring pressure.
“Thank you for your advice. But there is no need to worry. The calamity will happen without fail.”
“Understood. If you are so certain, then give your orders. We will follow.”
When the Grand Vizier first knelt and showed his respect, all the other commanders knelt as well.
Yusuf slowly looked down at the dozens of commanders on their knees.
Was it because of his charm? Or because of the achievements he had accumulated until now?
He could not be certain of the reason, but he knew well how difficult it was to follow an order so hard to believe.
There was only one thing Yusuf had to do in response to their weighty trust.
“I will not betray your faith.”
All he could do was repay that faith.
Having prevented division before the great earthquake, which had been the greatest source of anxiety, Yusuf made his decision.
‘Now that I have gained their faith, I can raise the stakes.’
If they had refused to believe his words that a great calamity was coming and the army had split apart, he would not have been able to move aggressively. But now there was nothing to hold him back.
“Shemsi Pasha.”
“Give your command.”
“Through our informants and messengers, spread the word as widely as possible that a great earthquake will come within fifteen days.”
“Understood.”
To spread the word as far as possible, he had to move at once, and Shemsi turned and set off to carry out the order.
Yusuf turned his gaze to the Grand Vizier.
“Grand Vizier, you must issue evacuation recommendations to the cities around Konstantiniyye.”
“How far should they go?”
“Westward, not only to Çorlu, but as far as Edirne. Eastward, messengers must be sent as far as Izmit.”
“That far?”
“In truth, even that is not enough.”
The area affected by the earthquake was far wider than that. But the evacuation recommendations, in truth, would not mean much.
Yusuf smiled cynically.
“Do you think people will listen just because we issue evacuation recommendations?”
“…They will not.”
If Yusuf were already on the sultan’s throne, they would at least pretend to listen, but Selim had already taken his place in the capital.
It was obvious that people would think of it as no more than Yusuf’s final struggle.
‘It is unfortunate, but even that will be their choice.’
If he could not reduce the damage, the best he could do was make use of the current situation.
Though the great calamity was not far off, Yusuf looked up at the clear sky.
“I wonder how history will record this.”
Would it think of him as a prophet like Nostradamus, or as someone who had spread rumors after the great earthquake in order to control public sentiment?
‘It might simply regard me as a lucky man.’
Either way, it did not matter.
The great calamity would make him the master of the empire.
∗ ∗ ∗
Selim looked down at the Divan meeting being conducted by the chancellor, the treasurer, and the military judges.
Only the master of the empire could look down upon a Divan meeting, and though he had ascended to the seat he had so desired, Selim’s expression was hard.
“Yakup Agha.”
Yakup, the commander-in-chief of the Janissaries, who had betrayed Bayezid and played a major role in the capture of the capital, showed his respect.
His expression was not good, for he could anticipate the words that would come from Selim’s mouth.
“Why have your soldiers not returned?”
“I apologize.”
Although the soldiers borrowed from the Crimean Khanate still remained in the capital, they were not his soldiers.
Selim, who knew how great a role the central army played in maintaining power, seethed inwardly because of the soldiers who had not returned.
The only solution, Bayezid, had been deprived of the seat of Padishah and was shut away in his own bedchamber.
‘If not for Yusuf, I would have gotten rid of him long ago.’
Now that he had ascended the seat of Padishah, Bayezid’s usefulness was at an end.
If he followed his heart, he wanted to kill him to reduce variables, but he could not carelessly kill the man who was both his father and the former Padishah.
To reduce suspicion, he would have to send him to another city and kill him in secret, but if he sent his father out of the capital, he might fall into Yusuf’s hands.
“Nothing but irritating matters.”
The central army that had gone out to suppress the rebellion had followed Yusuf and become rebels themselves, and the forces in Selim’s hands were mostly other people’s soldiers.
He could not kill the father who was an eyesore, and the Grand Vizier had sided with Yusuf.
On top of that, this was not the only thing grating on Selim’s nerves.
“Have you arrested those spreading the rumors?”
“…We are arresting them, but since they are making use of people from the back alleys, it is not easy to catch the ringleaders.”
“Ringleaders, you say. Is it not obvious who the ringleader is?”
That calamity would descend because of him—there was only one person who would spread such absurd rumors: Yusuf.
It was laughable that his only rival had fallen into delusion from the shock of defeat.
Selim twisted the corner of his mouth.
“Yusuf’s army still has no intention of returning to Anatolia?”
“That is correct.”
“What a foolish thing to do.”
He had already issued the summons, and tens of thousands of sipahis who had received the Padishah’s command would soon gather.
As time passed, the advantage was his, yet Yusuf was stubbornly wasting it.
Selim sneered at Yusuf, rose from his seat, and left the Divan chamber.
Ever since Selim became the master of the empire, the Divan meetings had continued late into every night, and the sky had long since turned black.
Torches brightly lit the Padishah’s path, and the Janissaries who had sworn loyalty to their new master stood on strict guard, showing off their keen blades.
Passing through the Second Courtyard where the Divan chamber stood, Selim reached the gate leading into the Third Courtyard.
It was the Gate of Felicity, through which only the sovereign and his closest attendants could pass, and where a grand enthronement ceremony had been held not long ago.
Selim was stepping through the gate, recalling the moment he had long awaited for so many years, when it happened.
Ruuuuumble!
“A-an earthquake!”
“Protect the Padishah!”
The ground shook, and the buildings screamed.
As the earth trembled so violently that it was hard to keep his balance, Selim staggered.
The Janissaries hurriedly supported him, and Selim, barely regaining his balance and raising his head, saw it.
The radiant capital collapsing in ruin.
Boooom!
“Kyaaaah!”
Buildings that could not withstand the tremors came crashing down, raising clouds of dust like fog, and the capital sank beneath screams, sobs, and wails.
The breath of disaster spread beyond the frailest private homes and across the entire capital.
“A-Allah!”
One by one, the mosques that conveyed the will of God caved in, and the imam who had been crying out to God in the great Fatih Mosque despaired.
For the four great pillars supporting the mosque were collapsing.
The last thing he saw was the cold moonlight beyond the dome, split apart in devastation.
“I-it is the moment of judgment! The Day of Judgment has come!”
“Allah! Save us!”
Above the heads of those who had collapsed to the ground and were praying desperately, the massive minaret of the Hagia Sophia Mosque came falling down.
The minarets built in hopes of reaching the heavens descended to earth and claimed countless lives.
Moreover, the hand of disaster made no distinction between highborn and lowborn.
“Kyaaaah! My l-legs! Please, save me!”
A woman who had, not long before, been held by Selim and received the title of Gözde, meaning beloved, slowly met her death with both legs crushed.
The horrific sight, as though the end of the world had come, filled Selim’s eyes and ears.
A terrible despair wrapped around his body, and just as he wished he could believe it was only a nightmare, a Janissary’s shout rang out.
“A tidal wave!”
Selim stared blankly as a tsunami over six meters high swept through the capital, then screamed with the face of an evil spirit.
“Yusuf!!!!”
∗ ∗ ∗
“A-an earthquake!”
“The tents are falling! Hurry and save them!”
A great commotion arose in the camp, and the entrance of the tent was flung open roughly.
“Your Highness, it is an earthquake!”
At Şemsi’s excited words, Yusuf slowly opened the eyes he had kept closed.
“Yes. The time has come.”
The time to become the master of the empire.
∗ ∗ ∗
Before the great earthquake, Yusuf had withdrawn his army far to the rear.
This was not an earthquake that would end with the tents in the camp collapsing and horses panicking and running wild. It was a great earthquake that would split the ground and send a tsunami surging in.
If he stubbornly stayed near the epicenter and suffered heavy losses by accident, he could become an unparalleled fool who had prophesied an earthquake and still taken enormous damage from it.
‘I would become the perfect example of a fortune-teller who cannot see his own future.’
Of course, if he had simply been worried about damage, there would have been no need to come somewhere more than ten days away by infantry march.
The reason he had come this far was to cut off Selim’s final opportunity.
No matter how much Selim, who had become the root of the disaster, calmed the chaos in the capital, he could not be acknowledged as Padishah.
‘Soon enough, he’ll be notorious on the level of Satan. Who would support him?’
The last chance remaining to such a Selim was to kill every claimant to the succession, including Yusuf.
If he killed every claimant and handed the Padishah’s throne to Süleyman, he could move the empire from behind the scenes.
Remaining near Selim, who needed only to cut off the head of his last remaining brother, was a situation that could bring great bloodshed.
“There’s no need to force a fight against an opponent who’s thoroughly poisoned with desperation.”
Even with gunpowder weapons, victory was not guaranteed.
Leading a force made up mostly of infantry who had not even been properly trained against thirty thousand Crimean Khanate cavalry, hardened by plunder and war, would be like sticking one’s head into a tiger’s jaws.
Of course, he would not be devoured easily, but with time on his side, what reason was there to overextend?
As Yusuf led his troops and slowly marched toward the capital, Arda spoke to him.
“A report from the scouts. They say a sipahi unit of ten thousand is approaching.”
“Understood. Prepare to receive our guests.”
Only a single day had passed since the earthquake.
The fact that sipahis of that scale had gathered meant they were troops Selim had summoned to capture him, yet Yusuf smiled leisurely.
Several dozen minutes passed, and the sipahi army that approached with the earth trembling beneath them slowed its pace.
They had the appearance of typical Rumelian sipahis, armed with chainmail glittering in the sunlight, long lances, and javelins for throwing, and one mounted man came toward Yusuf.
“I greet the great Prince Yusuf.”
The middle-aged man dismounted, knelt, and paid his utmost respects. Looking down at him, Yusuf asked.
“Who are you?”
“I am Serya Pasha, Sanjakbey of Sofia. In accordance with the will of Mesih Pasha, Beylerbey of Rumelia, I have come to assist Your Highness.”
Just as the Anatolia Eyalet had a beylerbey named Karagöz, the Rumelia Eyalet, which referred to the Balkan Peninsula, had one as well.
That man was Mesih Pasha, and he was someone who had served as the Beylerbey of Rumelia for nearly thirty years.
Considering that most of his predecessors had failed to last even ten years, he could be called an impressive figure, but Yusuf gave a cold smile.
“Why did that man not come himself and send only you? The very man who was gathering troops to cut off my head. Ah, are you any different?”
Though it had been because of the order of Selim, who had become Padishah, they were indeed troops gathered to oppose Yusuf.
Had the earthquake occurred only a month later, they would have drawn their swords against Yusuf, and they could never escape that responsibility.
Under the pressure weighing down on his body, Serya bowed his head until it nearly touched the ground.
“Enough. There is no meaning in killing you.”
“…I thank you for your mercy.”
“Rise. In any case, Mesih Pasha must be out of his mind trying to deal with the damage in Edirne.”
At present, the capital of the Rumelia Eyalet was Edirne, and it was one of the regions that had suffered tremendous damage in this disaster.
“Mesih Pasha also wished to pay audience to Your Highness, but the damage was too severe.”
“It would have been better if he had properly heeded the warning.”
Clicking his tongue lightly, Yusuf spoke to Şemsi.
“Şemsi Pasha, send a messenger to Edirne.”
“Please give the order.”
“Tell him that another disaster will occur a month and a half from now. If he disappoints me this time as well, I will take his head.”
“I will convey it as such.”
Serya, who heard this instruction with them, looked confused.
‘If he prophesies another disaster even this time…’
In Islam, it was said that after Muhammad, no new prophet would be born until the Day of Judgment.
That was why Serya, who had personally witnessed Yusuf’s prophecy, was confused. The situation directly collided with Islamic doctrine.
Yusuf sensed Serya’s gaze, which seemed full of questions he wanted to ask, but he simply ignored it and moved on.
‘It is something that will need to be settled someday, but it is not something to resolve now.’
First, he needed to reclaim his rightful place.
“Serya Pasha, I will give you an order.”
“Command me.”
“Send messengers to the units gathered throughout Rumelia under Selim’s command. Tell them that if they wish to seek forgiveness, they must kneel before me and beg for their sins.”
“Understood.”
The forces gathered at Edirne were only a portion of the whole, and Serya, receiving Yusuf’s instruction, sent messengers throughout Rumelia.
The sipahis who received the messages quickly joined Yusuf, and Yusuf’s army rapidly swelled in strength.
∗ ∗ ∗
Clatter, rattle.
The ground shook, and the bowl containing Selim’s meal fell to the floor.
The food rolled across the floor, and the eunuch who had been delivering it turned deathly pale.
“Take him away.”
When Selim spoke coldly, the soldiers waiting nearby seized the eunuch by both arms.
“P-Padishah! Please, spare my li—”
With his mouth covered, the eunuch was dragged away like trash, and moments later, a terrible scream echoed through Topkapi Palace.
The aftershock that had kept everything trembling for a long while ceased, and Selim, who had been about to eat again, hurled the plate of food away.
“Damn it! Has Allah truly chosen Yusuf and not me?!”
Selim stormed out with rough steps, climbed the walls of Topkapi, and looked over the capital with a furious face.
The city’s scenery was utterly horrific.
As many as 109 mosques had completely collapsed, and more than a thousand houses had become stone tombs that had swallowed people whole.
“P-please, my family is inside. Get them out!”
A woman who had barely managed to escape alone clawed through the building’s wreckage with blood-soaked hands.
Near her, a man who had lost his soul stared with unfocused eyes at the ground where his family was buried.
A child who had lost his parents and survived alone burst into tears and begged for food, and even the faces of those fortunate enough to escape the disaster were stained black.
The woman, who had been digging through the stone tomb for a long while, lifted her disheveled head and screamed like a madwoman.
“This is all because a false man has ascended to the Padishah! It is the wrath of Allah!”
The woman’s cry echoed through the hollow city, and soldiers who heard the shout came swarming.
“She has insulted the Padishah. Seize her!”
“Prince Yusuf should have taken the Padishah’s throne! Had he done so, such things would never have... kyaaak!”
The woman, grabbed by the hair, cried out for Yusuf until the very moment a blade pierced her throat, while rage filled the faces of the subjects who stared blankly at the sight.
Dozens of times a day, the pattern repeated: people insulted Selim and called for Yusuf, only to lose their lives.
The continuing aftershocks since the great earthquake caused no material damage, but instilled the fear that the great catastrophe might strike again at any moment.
This fear turned to anger directed at Selim, and the atmosphere of the capital grew increasingly grave.
“If the false Padishah does not step down, disaster will surely return again someday!”
“Only Lord Yusuf can save us!”
Yusuf’s spies, who had survived even the great catastrophe, moved about inciting the people.
Countless mosques had collapsed, and the authority of Islam had fallen to the depths; to overcome their fear, the people willingly cried out for Yusuf instead of Islam.
Even Selim, looking down upon the capital from Topkapi Palace, could hear the voices calling for Yusuf.
“Yakup Aga! Root out those who call for Yusuf and sever every one of their heads!”
“Understood.”
Yakup received the order with a dark expression.
It was not merely a problem of killing commoners; the movements of the Janissaries who followed him were also far from ordinary.
He already felt the situation flowing unfavorably, but Yakup had no choice.
Having betrayed Bayezid and enabled Selim to seize the capital, he had already crossed a bridge he could not retrace.
The Crimean Khanate soldiers within the capital and the soldiers acting on Yakup’s orders rooted out traitors, plunging the capital back into terror, while Yusuf’s army reached the outskirts of the capital.
When the great army numbering sixty thousand approached the capital, gunfire rang out within the capital.
“W-what is happening!”
Selim, who had lost sleep at night over reports that Yusuf had reached the capital, sprang from his bed, and a Crimean Khanate soldier who flung the door open prostrated himself before him.
“It is a rebellion! The Janissaries and Kapikulu have risen in revolt!”
Selim’s mind went reeling for a moment.
∗ ∗ ∗
Though he had felt it even in Chorlu on the road to the capital, facing the walls of Kostantiniye, Yusuf could feel the earthquake damage anew.
The towers of the walls visible beneath the moonlight had collapsed grotesquely, and damage here and there on the walls could be glimpsed, as if a fierce siege had been waged.
If even the sturdy walls were like that, the fragile buildings of the capital needed no mention.
“It should be about time.”
Refugee columns streaming out of the capital had continued due to the ongoing aftershocks since the great catastrophe, creating the perfect environment for spies to operate.
Having already been informed of the situation inside the capital several times, Yusuf gazed at the night sky and waited, and then gunfire spread through the capital.
—T-treason!
—Kill them all!
The sounds of gunfire and clashing blades were heard beyond the walls, and the firmly shut gates opened with a heavy thud.
Both the deep moat and the triple-layered walls were meaningless before the rebellion, and Yusuf drew his sword and shouted.
“Rescue the capital from the hands of the false Padishah!”
“Advance!”
As soon as Yusuf’s command fell, the Sipahis gripping their reins surged into the capital.
“B-block the gates!”
The Crimean Khanate soldiers moved frantically at the sound of hoofbeats clearly distinct from the tremors of the earthquake, but they could not break through the defensive formation the Janissaries had created.
The Sipahis who had broken through the gates began to aid the Janissaries in seizing the walls, and the Crimean Khanate soldiers were pushed back helplessly.
Once the gates were secured, Yusuf stepped into the capital and commanded the Sipahis gripping their reins with visible excitement.
“As the rightful heir to the Empire, I command you: capture Selim, who falsely claims the title of Padishah!”
At Yusuf’s command, the soldiers surged toward Topkapi Palace, sweeping aside the Crimean Khanate soldiers who hastily blocked the way.
Yusuf, following the path the soldiers had taken, looked upon Topkapi Palace where great turmoil was unfolding and raised the corners of his mouth.
“It is time to step down from your seat, Brother.”
It was the fall of the last remaining brother.