Would You Look at This Guy?
“Stingy. So stingy.”
He had survived two brushes with death, and the score he’d been tossed was only 10 points.
At this rate, even old Scrooge would have said, “This is a bit….”
But what could he do? He had to take what he was given and make good use of it.
Fortunately, with 10 points gathered, he now had enough to buy his first trait from the shop.
‘By around this point, there was advice I always gave beginners.’
In “Sultan, Rule the World,” it was not to expect too much from talents or traits.
The same went for talent.
Just because you put 10 points into physical talent and gained talent on the level of a War God didn’t mean you could become sultan.
If being strong were enough to become sultan, Xiang Yu would have beaten Liu Bang, and Lu Bu would have unified China.
Even with high intelligence, in an era when fists were closer than the law, most people lost their lives to night visitors before they even had a chance to use their heads. And as for luck, the problem with humans was that even if you were lucky a hundred times, one stroke of bad luck could kill you.
Charm? That wasn’t even worth discussing.
Even talent, which was considered the most important, was treated like this, so traits, ranked lower, didn’t receive good evaluations either.
‘No, that’s not it. The abilities themselves are useful. The problem is that even with those abilities, the situation is still hopeless.’
People casually called it Lu Bu-level talent, but if such talent were common, would he have been praised as “Lu Bu among men”?
The problem was that even talent great enough to be recorded grandly in history books still wasn’t enough to make becoming sultan possible.
‘Then again, the position of sultan isn’t something you can get just by being talented.’
Mustafa, who could have followed in his father’s footsteps and continued the empire’s golden age, became entangled in a conspiracy and was executed by his father, Suleiman I.
In the end, Selim II, who spent his life drowning in wine and women, became sultan.
No wonder Selim II’s mother, Hurrem Sultan, who created that mess, was called the Empress Ki of the Ottomans.
In any case, that wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered was that the gamble he had staked his life on had succeeded, and he had gained an opportunity to make use of his abilities.
If he had missed this chance, he would have wasted four years doing nothing, or been assassinated while the sultan was away.
“As expected, what I need to aim for is the difference between the game and reality.”
Lightly tapping the table, Yusuf reached his conclusion.
No matter how much freedom a game offered, it had limits, and a gamble like the one just now would have been unthinkable.
If this had been the game, Yusuf would have ended up sucking his thumb and waiting for four years, then died without even being able to resist properly.
Thanks to this incident, he could clearly feel the difference between the game and reality.
In the end, even if a trait had a low evaluation in the game, he needed to choose one that would show excellent performance in reality.
With his heart pounding as if he had stopped by a duty-free shop, Yusuf examined the shop.
[Strong Grip] [Charming Way of Speaking] [Dignified Voice] [Quick Battlefield Assessment]….
As if proving why the game developer was called a pervert, the traits continued without end.
There was one absolute rule when it came to traits: there were no unrealistic or excessive abilities.
In simple terms, there were no traits that let you bend rebar with your bare hands, use internal energy like in martial arts novels, or otherwise transcend humanity. Nor were there traits with absurd cost-efficiency.
For example, to be called a so-called famous general, you had to be covered in all sorts of traits, such as tactics, troop command, and mental strength.
You couldn’t stand shoulder to shoulder with one just by adding a single trait.
‘That’s why traits usually require proper buildup.’
If you stacked traits well, you could become a famous general-level figure, or an outstanding administrator.
That was why he had said not to expect too much from each individual trait.
“But that’s game talk. Just the fact that they can make up for my lack of experience means traits can fully serve their purpose.”
The experience and memories of a modern person?
They were simply insufficient to face monsters who lived in an era where one wrong move meant losing your life.
The more he looked, the more he found good traits that could fill in what he lacked, and Yusuf ultimately narrowed it down to two traits.
[Emotional Perception] [Quick Talent Perception]
Emotional Perception was exactly what it sounded like: the ability to easily notice what emotions the other person was harboring.
Its versatility was high, but its limits were also clear. It didn’t work on monsters with hundreds of serpents coiled in their bellies.
Of course, sultans, and anyone with even a bit of fame, could easily hide what was in their hearts, making it a half-baked trait that couldn’t be used where it mattered most.
Even without that limitation, it wasn’t evaluated very well in the game.
‘Because most high-ranking officials are either enemies or people who ignore you anyway, so there’s no need to go out of your way to confirm it with a trait.’
Still, since he had gained the sultan’s favor, he didn’t have to worry about his reputation being at rock bottom.
[Quick Talent Perception] was the ability to vaguely discern physical and intellectual talent.
Talent perception sounded like a good ability, but for physical ability, it was worse than a fitness test, and for intelligence, it was worse than taking a single IQ test.
It was simply similar to how a competent trainer could roughly tell from someone’s build or naked body whether they had been born with a decent physique, or how an experienced old professor could sense how smart someone was after a few conversations.
If you were thinking about cultivating talent, it was a decent trait, but within the game, this too did not receive a very good evaluation.
‘So what if you discover someone talented? People that capable aren’t going to attach themselves to someone with little chance of becoming sultan. And even if you raise them from the start, they’ll just get snatched away.’
It would be fortunate if they weren’t snatched away and simply ended up as a pie in the sky.
‘And this is an era where what kind of education you received matters more than how good your talent is.’
He couldn’t mistake it for the modern era, where people received public education.
This was an era where even a genius equal to Einstein could go his entire life doing farmwork without ever seeing a book.
Conversely, even an ordinary talent could make a name for himself as a fairly capable person if he received an outstanding education.
After much deliberation, Yusuf made his decision.
[Emotional Perception]
It was the ability that filled his empty trait slot.
He had used all 10 points gained from the two crises, but he had no regrets.
It was the ability he could use most effectively.
Yusuf called the servant waiting outside the room.
“Amal!”
“Did you call, Your Highness?”
At Yusuf’s call, the servant opened the door, entered, and lowered his head.
As Yusuf carefully observed the servant who had come in, he felt a sense of wonder.
Didn’t everyone have at least one person around them who was especially good at noticing other people’s emotions? He wondered if this was how those people felt.
From his breathing, his eyes, and the pitch of his words, Yusuf could vaguely discern the servant’s emotions.
‘Tension? Fear? Something like that, roughly.’
Then again, the assassination attempt had happened just yesterday, and people had been beheaded one after another for failing to properly protect the prince, so it was understandable.
“How much spare money do I have right now?”
“At present, you have two thousand Venetian ducats.”
‘That’s a lot. Even if I might die at any moment, a prince is still a prince, huh.’
The Venetian ducat was a gold coin minted by the Republic of Venice and served as a key currency.
Each gold coin contained 3.545 grams of gold at 99.47% purity, so it could be thought of simply as roughly one don of gold (3.75 grams).
At present, 1 ducat was worth about 60 akce, and considering that the total tax revenue of the Ottoman Empire was less than 8 million ducats, it was clear how large a sum 2,000 ducats was.
‘Though I can’t judge it so simply, since there’s a lot of money coming in besides officially collected taxes.’
There was side income such as plunder brought back from war and goods presented from various regions.
Even considering that, 2,000 ducats was still a great deal of money for an eleven-year-old to possess.
Of course, once he was officially appointed as sanjakbey, there would be a lot to spend it on, so he couldn’t squander it freely.
“Still, when it’s time to spend, you have to spend. Amal, prepare to go out.”
“Where would you like to go?”
Amal asked with a tense expression.
If another assassination attempt happened, this time his own head might be cut off along with the others.
Yusuf, who had actually returned from the brink of death, spoke calmly, as if he wasn’t afraid at all.
“The slave market.”
“Y-Your Highness?!”
Seeing the servant almost have a fit, Yusuf waved his hand.
“It’s a joke, a joke. After what happened yesterday, how could I go somewhere crowded?”
The slave market wasn’t exactly a place one needed courage to visit, so it wasn’t worthy of praise for bravery.
It was obvious he would lose, all at once, the favor he had risked his life to win from the sultan. How could he go to the slave market?
‘If I end up going to Trabzon, I’ll have to go once.’
Of course, it wasn’t because he wanted to search for beautiful female slaves in an eleven-year-old body, but because he had a picture he was drawing in his mind.
If it was a large city, there would be at least one slave market, so there was no need to go to the capital’s slave market specifically. But the capital was the capital for a reason.
This place, Kostantiniyye, was where all sorts of precious goods from the Ottoman Empire gathered.
In any case, he couldn’t go to the slave market right away, and just as he was wondering how he could make good use of his time…
-Lady Fatima Hatun has come to visit.
“…Ah.”
She looked so fierce that her beautiful appearance seemed meaningless.
At Fatima’s gaze, which was more frightening than the assassin he had met yesterday, the servants and guards all fled.
“Yusuf! If you were safe, you should have at least sent someone to this mother of yours! Do you know how worried I was all night…?”
Because Fatima shouted, shed tears, and checked him to see whether he was hurt anywhere, Yusuf had to break out in a cold sweat for quite some time.
It was his own mistake, caused by thinking only of his plans and forgetting the person who would worry about him.
Still, in a life surrounded entirely by enemies who wished for him to die and by bystanders curious about when he would die, it wasn’t such a bad feeling to know there was at least one person who sincerely worried about him.
“Are you smiling while this mother is speaking?!”
“…I’m sorry.”
Though he would have to suffer for quite a while for the sin of underestimating maternal love.
Having finally calmed herself, Fatima stroked Yusuf’s small hand and sighed.
“I’m sorry. I knew you were doing something dangerous, but when I actually heard the news, I was so shocked. There will be many dangerous things in what you do from now on too, won’t there?”
“There will.”
Even if he did not deliberately invite danger as he had this time, he would have to cross the threshold of death several more times in the future.
That was the fate borne by those who sought to become sultan.
“Then this mother will steel her heart as well. This will not happen again.”
Fatima was not stupid.
Because he knew full well that his actions could end up shackling Yusuf.
Knowing how much resolve it had taken to say those words, Yusuf quietly nodded.
“Then tell me now what conversation you had with the Sultan yesterday.”
Yusuf told her everything he had discussed with the Sultan, and Fatima listened intently, expressing both admiration and surprise.
“How astonishing, that you had such a dream. Then even if it is not Trabzon as you wished, you will likely be appointed a sanjakbey before long.”
“Most likely. That is why I was checking how much money I have.”
“Good. I have a business I have been running, so if we add that as well, you should be able to secure ample funds.”
To Yusuf, those words were like sweet rain in a drought.
Even moving soldiers meant scattering money into the air, so the more money he had, the better.
“I will put it in order and add it to your funds.”
“Before you put it in order, may I inspect it myself?”
Who knew? Perhaps leaving it as it was might prove more useful than liquidating it.
Since Yusuf had nearly died just yesterday, Fatima hesitated for a moment before nodding.
“Then let us go together and take a look.”
∗ ∗ ∗
“My name is Hassan! It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”
Upon meeting Hassan, who managed the business on Fatima’s behalf, Yusuf lifted the corners of his mouth.
‘Well, look at this bastard.’
∗ ∗ ∗
The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were important periods in world history.
In 1492, Columbus of Spain discovered the Bahama Islands, and in 1498, Vasco da Gama of Portugal rounded Africa and arrived in India, marking the beginning of the era known as the Age of Discovery, or the age of pioneering new sea routes.
Before the emergence of the rising power known as the British Empire in the seventeenth century, this was the point at which the golden age of Spain and Portugal began.
But in the process, the Ottomans had long been misunderstood by modern people.
It was the misconception that the Ottomans, after destroying the Eastern Roman Empire, blocked the trade routes from the Mediterranean to China, forcing the European powers to seek new routes, and that the obstruction of East-West trade caused spice prices to rise.
‘Complete bullshit.’
The Ottomans were not some Western version of Heungseon Daewongun, and there was no way they would do something as stupid as erecting anti-foreign trade monuments and blocking commerce.
If anything, the Sultans put great effort into normalizing trade.
“The Sultan, who has a great interest in commerce, said it was a good idea when I told him I wished to run a business, and gave me permission. You were still in my womb at the time, so it has already been more than ten years.”
“Even with permission, it couldn’t have been easy.”
“That is true. There was no end to the interference. Still, once you were born, they could no longer scheme so openly. I was prepared to fight them to the death if things went wrong.”
Though it was safe to say she had no chance of becoming the Sultan’s consort in any meaningful sense, she was still a concubine who had given birth to one of only nine princes in the empire.
If someone went too far with their schemes and Fatima came out ready for mutual destruction, no matter who the opponent was, they might be driven out of the harem.
The concubines of the same standing who had given birth to princes had all left the harem to follow their sons, so the business had been able to grow without much trouble.
As they traveled by carriage, Yusuf asked.
“What sort of business did you mainly do?”
“Even if I became a concubine after having been a slave, how much could I possibly have had? All I had was a little money, the status of a concubine favored by the Sultan, and the fact that my son was a prince. While I was agonizing over it, I heard that trust was important in dealings between merchants.”
“Could it be?”
“Yes. I ran a brokerage business, acting as an intermediary. I introduced merchants who could be trusted.”
It was not just because she was his parent; she was certainly clever.
In this, it did not matter in the slightest that Fatima was a former slave, nor that she was a concubine looked down upon in the imperial family.
For a matter involving someone of the imperial household, committing fraud there would be, quite literally, an act of a man whose liver had crawled out of his body.
Even in modern times, if one fell out of favor with those in power, one could be subjected to a tax audit; in the Ottoman Empire, an absolute monarchy?
‘They would say, “How dare you insult the imperial family?” and your head would be lopped off on the spot.’
You would be lucky if you died alone.
Of course, since this was not intermediary trade in which she directly bought goods to sell to the other party, but brokerage trade in which she merely arranged the deal and took a commission, it would be pocket change to the powerful. But even pocket change, when gathered for ten years or so, became tremendous.
“It is a shame. If I am appointed a sanjakbey, it will be difficult to maintain this business.”
“That is true.”
After all, the halo of being a concubine only worked when one was close by.
Once he was appointed a sanjakbey and entered the succession struggle in earnest, there was no telling what schemes his other brothers might attempt, so it would be better to settle things.
‘Just having more funds is certainly reassuring, but….’
To be honest, it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Not only was his mother, a concubine, still alive, but she had even gathered money that could serve as military funds?
If it was a business that had begun ten years ago, then it was not influenced by the luck he had drawn recently. For someone who had almost been fed poison from the very beginning, there was no way something this good would just fall into his lap.
This was not distrust, but the product of hundreds of repeated experiences.
‘I’ll know once I go and see for myself, but there’s a high chance some kind of scheme is involved.’
He could even stake the 1 point in Charm talent that had added a spoonful to his looks.
Though he did not dare wager Lady Luck, he was certain enough to wager a precious talent.
While he and Fatima chatted quietly, the carriage came to a stop.
“We have arrived.”
As the Sultan’s woman, Fatima could not show herself to unrelated men, so she was wrapped tightly from head to toe, starting with a hijab.
Yusuf followed Fatima down from the carriage and saw the stern guards, as well as people hurriedly getting out of the way.
The atmosphere was already grim because of the war, and now even a prince had been attacked, so it was only natural that the people of the capital would keep their heads down.
“Let us go in.”
Perhaps because they had come without notice, the guards were startled as they opened the gate.
The building they entered, like most buildings of this era, had been constructed with brick and mortar using lime.
‘Building like this is exactly why everything collapses during an earthquake.’
The earthquake that would occur ten years later, in 1509, was something he had no way to prevent, no matter what he did.
He could play the prophet again then, but he could not be certain people would believe him.
‘If the building materials changed, at least the damage could be reduced….’
When they said mortar in this era, one should not imagine something like modern concrete or cement.
It was merely an adhesive used to join bricks or stone, and when applied to the exterior, it served as facing material—that was about the extent of it. Cement and concrete were not directly used as structural materials in buildings.
Still, it would also be wrong to think, “Cement is a building material that only came into use in the modern era!”
Because there was a country that had used it as a building material far earlier.
‘Rome, what on earth were you….’
If the United States tortured aliens in the twentieth century, then Rome must have tortured them before the Common Era.
The Pantheon and the Colosseum, made of concrete, had remained intact for nearly two thousand years, so there was no need to explain how remarkable that was.
That remarkable technology had also declined when the Western Roman Empire fell in the fifth century, and by now it had been almost forgotten.
‘Well, I’ve heard there are still some people who know a little of it. Since it’s a technology that will remain mostly buried until the mid-eighteenth century, it’s worth researching.’
The Roman method required volcanic ash, so it would be difficult to put to use, but lime and clay would suffice.
This could be useful both for making money and for military purposes.
…It felt strange that the memories of a wiki addict could be this useful, but in any case, it was fortunate that his thoughts about the great earthquake had led him all the way to concrete.
As he inspected the building while thinking such thoughts, someone came rushing over in a panic.
“Good heavens! What brings you here in person, and without a word beforehand?!”
The man bowing and scraping before Fatima had a plump build, and sweat streamed down his face as he repeatedly lowered his head.
Fatima accepted his greeting with a slight nod and introduced the man to Yusuf.
“Yusuf, this is Hassan, who has managed the business on my behalf for ten years now. He is a slave, but his ability is exceptional, enough to have grown the business to this point.”
“My name is Hassan! It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness!”
The fact that he was a slave did not matter. The Ottomans were a country where a slave could rise all the way to Grand Vizier.
Yusuf examined Hassan, who looked ready to prostrate himself at any moment, and raised the corners of his mouth.
‘Well, look at this bastard.’
The emotions he could sense from Hassan’s actions and glances were tension, anxiety, and fear.
Since he was a slave, one might think that was a natural reaction when meeting his master, but it had been ten whole years.
He had worked under her for ten years, and Fatima, who had even praised Hassan, was not likely to have spent her days cracking a whip and shouting, “Work, Hassan.”
Tension was one thing, but anxiety and fear were excessive reactions, and there were two possibilities he could anticipate.
Either Hassan was an incredible coward.
‘Or he has committed some sin.’
One could say he was overinterpreting emotions he had only glimpsed briefly, but since Yusuf had come here already half-convinced that there would be some sort of problem, it was more than enough for suspicion.
Yusuf was not foolish enough to reveal that thought without evidence.
“A pleasure. For Mother to praise you so, you must be quite an outstanding talent.”
“I-I am humbled. It is only because she has looked kindly upon me!”
Hassan, who smiled brightly at the praise, asked cautiously.
“By the way, may I ask what brings you here?”
“I came to introduce the business we run to Yusuf and to assess our assets. I hope we have not come when you are busy?”
“Goodness, not at all! I have nothing pressing whatsoever. Please come in.”
Hassan guided them to the office.
One could learn more than expected simply by looking at small details.
The neat state of the office, despite their sudden visit, offered a glimpse into Hassan’s personality, and from the behavior of his subordinates, it was clear that he had managed his people well too.
Just from this, Yusuf could understand why Fatima had trusted him with the business for ten years.
“Here is the list of the assets we possess.”
Fatima accepted the thick stack of papers, skimmed it briefly, and asked.
“If everything were converted into ducats, how much would it be?”
“At least ten thousand ducats.”
Yusuf looked at Fatima, wondering if the amount had been falsified, but when he saw her readily nod, he set that suspicion aside.
The business was not being run in a sprawling, many-tentacled fashion, and because it was a simple business, it would have been difficult to embezzle enough money to make him that frightened.
‘Then that means it’s another problem.’
What he had to consider was whether the cause of the problem could be found in the office.
He might be a slave, but he would not live in the office, and anything important could be hidden at home.
After pondering for a moment, Yusuf judged that it was likely to be in the office.
If the evidence was that important, it was most likely hidden in the office where he spent the most time, and the anxiety he had shown earlier was another reason for Yusuf’s judgment.
In that case, there was no choice but to look for it himself.
“I can take a look around the office, can’t I? Are these the contracts you’ve made?”
“That is correct.”
He quickly skimmed through the piles of papers.
They meticulously recorded what transactions the merchants had made and how much had been received in fees.
After examining the documents, Yusuf sighed inwardly.
‘As expected, there’s no coffee.’
Coffee, which originated in Ethiopia, should be spreading as a way to ward off drowsiness in Yemen across the Red Sea right about now.
It was only after the Ottomans conquered Egypt and Yemen that coffee spread all the way to Europe, so it was true that it was not yet being properly traded, but…
‘No, what kind of nonsense is this? To drink coffee I used to buy for a few thousand won, I’d have to conquer Egypt at the very least?’
As a caffeine addict who could endure going without chicken but not coffee, irritation welled up in him.
Yusuf needlessly slammed the papers down and began rummaging through every corner of the office.
“What is this?”
“A chest from the East.”
“What’s inside it?”
“Tax records.”
He searched the office as if combing it for lice, but Hasan did not lose his composure, and by this point Yusuf began to think he had guessed wrong.
Feeling awkward for no reason, Yusuf gave Hasan a light pat.
“You’ve done well, haven’t you?”
“Th-thank you.”
Seeing Hasan so terribly flustered, Yusuf realized his mistake.
There was still one place left that he might have thought safest.
“Stand still.”
“Your Highness?!”
When Hasan tried to dodge Yusuf’s sudden groping, Fatima said coldly,
“Stay still.”
She thought Yusuf, who had been showing such surprising conduct, would not be doing this for no reason.
Ignoring Hasan’s trembling reaction, Yusuf continued searching him. Then he felt a rustling near the belt and swiftly pulled out the source of the sound.
It was fine paper, and when Yusuf unfolded it, he smiled.
[If Shehzade Yusuf’s escape to the West is reported, I swear by Allah that I shall free Hasan from slavery.]
…Interesting.
Yusuf was smiling as he looked at the paper.
However, those who saw him did not dare describe it as a smile.
After laughing for a long while, Yusuf hardened his expression and looked down at the trembling Hasan, then called Fatima.
“Mother.”
It had been a full ten years.
It was a long enough time for even a cold-blooded person to grow attached, but Fatima’s voice was cold.
“Nene, subdue him.”
At that order, Nene kicked Hasan’s ankle, then kicked his staggering body and sent him sprawling to the floor.
After Hasan fell with a crash, Nene stomped on his body, drew a dagger from her bosom, and held it to his neck.
It was easy to say, but for a woman to subdue a large, heavy man meant she had honed her skills through tremendous hardship.
“L-Lady Nene!”
Despite the pitiful cry, the blade aimed at him did not waver by even an inch.
Even if Fatima was the owner of the business, a woman of the harem could not move about freely, so Nene, her right hand, had mainly managed it and had been deeply acquainted with Hasan.
Yet once an order was given, Nene showed a coldness that suggested she would stab without hesitation.
‘The subduing went smoothly, at least.’
Regardless of whether the contents of the paper were true, there was nothing good about letting them become known outside, so the people had to be cleared away.
Having made his decision, Yusuf issued an order.
“Listen! From this moment on, don’t let so much as a rat leave this building!”
“Ha!”
His tone must have been so fierce that they obeyed an order that required them to leave the person they were supposed to guard.
Of course, they had not forgotten their duty, so two or three tried to remain, but Yusuf sent them all out of the room.
Once only four people remained inside, Fatima approached.
“Let me see.”
Yusuf handed her the paper.
As Fatima read what was written on it, her hands trembled, and she spat out her rage.
“How dare you! I treated you with importance!”
“Please calm down. We found this token and learned of it in advance, so it’s all right.”
No matter how trusted Hasan was, enough to run the business, he was still a slave.
His house could not be considered a completely private space, nor could he create such a place.
‘He could if he forced it, but just looking at this, it seems he received it not long ago. He couldn’t make a place like that in a short time.’
Since it was a token, he could not burn it like the letters that must have been exchanged beforehand, and if he entrusted it to someone and that person opened it even out of curiosity, his head would fly off at once. So he had no choice but to hide it on his body.
How could he have known he would be searched now, when it had not happened once in over ten years?
Of course, there might have been another reason he had hidden the token on his body, but the reason was not important.
Yusuf, who had found it, was lucky, and Hasan, who had been exposed, was unlucky. That was all there was to it now.
After calming Fatima, Yusuf met the eyes of the trembling Hasan.
“I wonder who it could be. If someone made a promise like this, it must be one of my elder brothers, right? I am a prince, after all. A mere high official wouldn’t have dared to match himself against me.”
Seeing Hasan clearly waver, Yusuf smiled and stroked his chin.
“Korkut? That brother should be busy playing with that pirate Uruj. He gave him eighteen galleys, after all.”
The Uruj who received galleys from Korkut would later become Baba Uruj, the governor of Algiers in North Africa.
Though he was a pirate infamous for his red beard.
‘He’s someone who plays around in the Mediterranean anyway, so I won’t have any reason to meet him.’
He was the sort of person Yusuf would only become entangled with if he became sultan, so there was no need to worry much about him.
After carefully observing Hasan’s reaction, Yusuf named the next suspect.
“Then Selim? Doesn’t seem to be him either. Well, I suppose that brother doesn’t have enough room to spare to keep me in check.”
Selim would be the next sultan, but right now he was in the frontier region of Trabzon, so it would be difficult enough for him to pay attention to his other brothers.
“Aha, it’s Ahmed.”
Hasan did not answer, but his reaction told Yusuf that he was correct.
Yusuf smiled and tapped Hasan on the head as he praised him.
“Wow, a merchant really is a merchant. You chose your line properly. He has the greatest chance of becoming sultan, and he’s greedy enough in his own way to try something like this and more.”
Even in the original history, he was a man who called himself the sultan of Anatolia, moved his army, and killed his own nephew.
He got ahead of himself and ultimately lost the sultanate to Selim, but for now, he was the closest to the throne.
Now that the culprit had been found, they had to go through everything one by one.
“First of all, Mother, is what’s written in the letter true?”
“…I’m sorry. It is true that I planned to flee to the West. But I have not yet put it into action. After you changed, I also stopped the disbursement of funds.”
Fortunately, there was no evidence left behind.
If things had gone wrong, he could have been caught in a nasty trap.
After all, fleeing not to another Islamic region but to the West would awaken the trauma of the sultan, who had been tormented so bitterly by his younger brother Cem.
One might wonder whether a prince would be killed over the accusation of a mere slave, but if someone fanned the flames from the side, he could die.
‘If I’d just been whining from the start about why I’d been dropped into a place like this, I would’ve died without even knowing why, wouldn’t I?’
His life was an absolute minefield.
He was lucky to have discovered it before it was too late.
“Then there will be no problem as long as no one spouts nonsense.”
“Indeed. Nene, kill him.”
“Eek?!”
As Nene moved without hesitation to stab Hasan in the neck at Fatima’s order, Yusuf raised his arm and stopped her.
“He’s a slave anyway, so we can kill him whenever we want.”
Even the cheapest disabled slaves or black slaves were priced beyond what an ordinary person would dare buy, but he had not stopped her because he begrudged the money.
Nor was he harboring some useless sympathy for someone else when he himself did not know when he might die.
If he had possessed that kind of sympathy, he would not have told the sultan to kill all the guards.
“When we didn’t know, he would have been a threat, but now that we know, what is there to fear? Even if this man loses his mind and reports to the sultan, it doesn’t matter.”
Yusuf fluttered the paper that Hasan had received from Ahmed as a token.
“We can present this paper to the sultan as evidence and say I was framed. Judging by the contents alone, it looks like he made a false accusation because he wanted to escape slavery, doesn’t it?”
Since this letter was being used as a token, Ahmed had probably written it in his own hand, or it was the work of someone in his innermost circle. And for someone like the sultan, finding out who the culprit was would be as easy as eating cold porridge.
Of course, that did not mean it would be meaningful to run straight to the sultan with it and tattle, “He tried to frame me!”
Ahmed would only have to say that he, too, had been deceived by Hasan.
It was evidence that could be used only to clear Yusuf of a false charge.
“So for now, it’s better to keep Hasan alive and make Ahmed lower his guard. If we kill him, he may try some other trick.”
Ahmed was the heir supported by the officials, and he had the ability to throw ashes on Yusuf’s path.
With his appointment as sanjakbey ahead of him, there was nothing to gain by grabbing him by the hair and fighting; only Yusuf’s side would be exhausted.
If the current sultan began to fail, then even if he did not want to, he would have to stake his life and fight. So why waste strength from the very beginning?
It would only make the other princes happy for no reason.
Thinking Yusuf’s words had merit, Fatima readily nodded.
“Then we must first let this commotion pass quietly.”
“We made too much of a scene, so we can’t cover it up as if nothing happened.”
Thanks to him shouting Allahu Akbar and stirring up the capital, he was currently drawing everyone’s attention.
This commotion would not take long to spread either.
“So we’ll have to create smoke with something else. Hasan?”
“Y-yes! Your Highness!”
With his life hanging by a thread, Hasan answered in a voice stiff with discipline, and Yusuf frowned.
“If you don’t lower your voice, know that your tongue will be cut in half. Be honest. Is there no money at all that you took behind Mother’s back?”
“I…”
“Don’t bother trying to scheme. You’re already far past the point where a few coins matter. What’s the point of charging a condemned man with theft?”
At that example, which could never put him at ease, Hasan trembled and answered.
“Ah, a very small amount.”
I knew it.
Even in the modern age, where everything was computerized and an investigation would reveal it all, there were always bastards who embezzled company funds. Needless to say, it would be even worse now.
It was probably pocket change, an amount Fatima knew about and was willing to overlook, but the important thing was that it existed.
“You wouldn’t have been petty enough to eat alone. How many were there?”
“…Three.”
At the look that was almost as if he were seeing a ghost, Yusuf gave a faint laugh.
“What are you so surprised about? Including you, that makes four. That isn’t many. Even without those people, there won’t be any problem settling the business, will there?”
“The remaining personnel will be sufficient.”
Well, it wasn’t as if they were running some complicated business. How hard could it be to wind it down?
Listening to the exchange between Yusuf and Hassan, Fatima nodded.
“Then we shall handle this incident as something that occurred because we discovered Hassan and a portion of the staff had been embezzling.”
“Even so, if we give them a lenient punishment in consideration of their past merits, there will be less noise. Then what remains is this man….”
Under the gazes fixed on him, Hassan’s eyes held fear and a faint glimmer of hope.
“For now, I’ll make use of him. If he stays attached to me, the other side will think it actually worked out well for them.”
“Is there any need to keep a man who betrayed you at your side? You could put him somewhere suitable and kill him later.”
If he was appointed sanjakbey, there really would be no need to keep him alive.
“Mother, how many people do you think I have right now whom I can trust and use? They’re all untrustworthy anyway, so it’s better to use someone whose leash I’m holding. Still, there should be at least some safety measure. If I die, kill this man with me.”
When an important person died, it was only natural for those beneath him to be buried with him.
He had no taste for being buried together with a potbellied man, so wouldn’t it be enough if only their lives were tied together?
“Very well. I will be sure to kill him.”
At Fatima’s firm answer, Hassan trembled yet looked relieved, and at that sight, Yusuf lifted one corner of his mouth.
“Hassan, this isn’t the time to be happy. I’m sparing you because you’re capable. If I don’t like what I see, I’ll kill you at any time.”
“J-just leave it to me.”
But did this guy know?
That in the span of only a few days, he had crossed the threshold of death three times?
In any case, this was the best he could do for now. Some might ask why he would bother sparing and using a traitor.
‘When I’m so short on people that I’d borrow even a cat’s paw, why wouldn’t I be able to use a traitor?’
Once he became Sultan, he would have to use even the men who had stood on the side of the other princes and tried to kill him.
If he thought of it as a trial run, it was easier on the mind.
A trial run in working someone he hated so hard that they would rather die.
Once a conclusion had been reached, the cleanup proceeded swiftly.
Hassan was stripped of his position, and the remaining three received the lenient punishment of returning as much as they had taken.
As Yusuf thought that an awful lot had happened for an outing of only a few hours, Fatima spoke to him in a voice tinged with laughter.
“Seeing how you handled yourself today, it seems this mother of yours has no need to step forward.”
“Not at all. I still need a great deal of help.”
“No. Even the current Sultan would not have done this well at your age.”
“You praise me too highly.”
Whether those words were true or not was not particularly important.
After all, his opponents were not children, but monsters who had built their power bases twenty years before him.
In experience, wealth, and manpower, they were opponents he could not even begin to compare with.
‘Even so, I have to do it.’
If he did not want to die.
Through this incident, he learned one more thing.
‘It wasn’t Ahmed who attempted to poison me and sent the assassin.’
There was no reason for him to overreach when he had a card like Hassan.
“Then who could it be?”
Unlike the deduction he had made in front of Hassan, in truth, anyone could be the culprit.
After all, sooner or later, they would all be drawing blood from one another.
Yusuf’s eyes gleamed coldly.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Your Highness, it is the Padishah’s command that you enter the palace at once.”
At last, the time had come to decide his fate.