The Twisting State of Affairs
Most of the orders Yusuf gave were far from easy.
Even Tahir, who had been entrusted with the cannon-boring machine that would carve out the barrels of cannons, racked his brains together with Suleiman, who had become an engineer instead of the Padishah.
The blueprint Yusuf had casually tossed to them contained many troublesome parts, including gears, and they also had to decide how large the boring machine should be.
On top of that, he had ordered a boring machine powered by water through a waterwheel. Even if waterwheels were familiar enough to be used in mills for grinding flour, this was no light task.
While the two were groaning as they tried to turn it into an actual object, they received an invitation from Yusuf.
“Suleiman, Tahir.”
“Yes, Your Majesty the Padishah.”
“Once the boring machine is complete, you must also research how light we can make the cannons.”
“…Yes.”
“The sooner the better, but there is no need to feel burdened. If you ask Shemsi Pasha, you will be able to receive as much of the necessary budget as you need.”
They felt burdened.
The two, who had been summoned to the audience hall and suddenly treated to dinner, looked as though Yusuf’s words had stopped their breathing.
They wanted to ask for time rather than a budget, but those smiling green eyes did not seem inclined to permit it.
The two realized that they would rather be with lumps of iron than at a banquet.
Still, the two were fortunate in that they had at least been allotted a generous budget.
Those in charge of urban planning had been troubled from the budget issue onward.
“Urban planning won’t be easy no matter how many talented people we have.”
For the sake of urban planning, officials led by the grand vizier, architects, stonemasons, and many others gathered to hold meetings.
The one fortunate thing for them was that the capital already had water supply and sewage systems built during the ancient Roman era.
For a city to grow, water was essential, so it was not uncommon to have an aqueduct, but sewers were extremely rare in this era.
‘We were lucky. If they hadn’t existed, we would have had to undertake something on the level of the renovation of Paris in the nineteenth century.’
As the empire grew, the population of the capital would also increase explosively, and without water and sewage systems, they would have suffered from epidemics.
Unfortunately, the several-hundred-kilometer aqueduct leading all the way to Topkapi Palace had been damaged in this earthquake, but the damage could be repaired.
Since the basic water and sewage systems existed, they only needed to take this opportunity to make some further improvements.
One might think that, since there were water and sewage systems, there was nothing else to do, but they needed to straighten out the roads tangled like a maze from haphazard development and secure green spaces while they had the chance.
‘If we conquer the Mamluks as well, the capital’s population will be three times what it is now, so we need to prepare in advance.’
Even in the original history, the population of the capital, which had been only two hundred thousand, exceeded six hundred thousand in fifty years. Since he was the one ruling, there was a strong possibility it would grow even more than that.
Yusuf, who had been lost in thought for a moment, looked at Ali Pasha, who had returned from grand vizier to chamberlain.
“Ali Pasha.”
“Yes, Your Majesty the Padishah.”
“How have Mehmed and Murad been doing lately?”
Yusuf was not exactly idling his days away, and as a result, he had inevitably neglected his two sons.
“As far as I know, they have been visiting the Enderun often these days.”
“The Enderun?”
It was a kind of school located in the deepest part of Topkapi, the Fourth Courtyard.
As the finest school for cultivating commanders and administrators, it admitted not only those brought in through the devshirme system but also the children of high-ranking officials.
Because the education was vast and strict, those who graduated became talents versed in both letters and arms, and the majority of those promoted to high office came from there.
“It shouldn’t be a place those two are ready to go yet.”
The princes’ education was also conducted at the Enderun, but it was still too early for a seven-year-old and a four-year-old to go there.
They were still at the age to learn from tutors.
At Yusuf’s assessment, Ali answered with a subtle expression.
“Because of the two princes, the Enderun has been in an uproar lately.”
“Why?”
“Prince Mehmed is said to be spending time with the effendis of the Enderun these days.”
Those who bore the title effendi were not ordinary learned men; to put it simply, they could be considered the equivalent of professors at renowned universities.
They had just as much pride, and no matter how much of a prince he was, they were not people who would go trailing after a child.
“They say that when he is taught one thing, he understands several times more. They all say with one voice that it is Allah’s grace for the prince to be so intelligent. They are apparently trying to teach him all sorts of things.”
“Hmm. So that was why.”
No matter how much he spoke with Mehmed, Yusuf had never felt anything through his precise talent appraisal.
That did not mean he had been swindled by the Trait Shop.
‘I already confirmed it through Mimar Sinan.’
Mimar was a title given to architects, and Sinan was the representative architect of Suleiman’s era.
He had been born in 1489, the same year as Yusuf, and was now a fledgling who had just joined the Janissary engineering corps.
He was a great architect considered to have perfected the distinct Ottoman architectural style characterized by large domes and minarets, but for now, it was difficult to expect him to show the qualities of an architect.
‘Still, through the trait, I definitely sensed that he had great talent in architecture.’
He had personally confirmed the effect of the trait on a talent who would live to the age of ninety-nine, yet it had failed to work on Mehmed, so he had found it strange.
After hearing Ali’s words, he instead thought it might be because the boy had too many talents.
“Then how is Murad doing?”
“Prince Murad is very popular with the military officers who teach martial arts. They say he is immensely strong and quickly learns anything done with the body.”
They were doing well in accordance with their traits, but still.
“Ali Pasha, did I not already assign teachers to those two?”
“You did.”
Even without going all the way to the Enderun, they could summon as many people as they wanted to teach them.
And yet the fact that they deliberately went to the Enderun meant only one thing.
“They’re already trying to make people of their own.”
Yusuf chuckled.
Whether they had acted after calculating it or done so instinctively, it was truly befitting Ottoman princes.
∗ ∗ ∗
At the time when the Ottomans were thrown into chaos by rebellion and battles between princes, and Yusuf had sent his brothers into Allah’s embrace.
Italy, too, was caught in the flames of war.
This was because the Papal States, France, the Holy Roman Empire, Spain, and the Duchy of Ferrara had formed the League of Cambrai and attacked the Republic of Venice.
Just when Venice, pushed back by the allied forces, could no longer hold out, ominous news arrived from the Ottomans.
“You dare speak of rumors that the infidel sultan gives prophecies!”
At Pope Julius II’s thunderous shout, the cardinal who had delivered the news flinched slightly.
“However, the story has already spread widely through the lands of the infidels.”
“It must be a false rumor, just as it was when we first heard of it!”
“It has become too credible a rumor to dismiss as that. They say he predicted not only the great earthquake, but also the earthquakes occurring in Edirne.”
The cardinal would not have dared utter words that did not exist, and the movements of the infidel Ottomans were always under close observation.
It meant the information was highly reliable.
“An infidel who received God’s punishment giving prophecies, you say. Was he not a prince who would have simply withered away if an earthquake had not happened by chance?”
“Within the Ottoman realm, they believe that God punished them because Prince Selim ascended the throne.”
“Would divine punishment have descended merely because of that one prince? It was all because of the atrocities of wicked infidels.”
It was not something a man who followed secular power rather than faith should have said, but everyone listening agreed with him.
The pope judged that this rumor was more dangerous than he had thought.
“If such absurd rumors are circulating, then there must not be much turmoil within the Ottomans.”
“That is so. They say the infidels are praising the new sultan, saying that God’s will is with him.”
“This has become troublesome.”
The war of succession, which he had expected to continue for quite some time, had settled far sooner than anticipated, and with the new sultan seizing the hearts of the people upon his enthronement, the Ottomans would quickly recover their national strength.
For Christendom, which had always felt the threat of the Ottomans, this was not welcome news.
“At least there is one fortunate thing. Venice is in a situation where it has attempted negotiations.”
Venice, which had defeated the Holy Roman Empire and raised the signal for a counterattack, had suffered a crushing defeat with more than two thousand casualties and had effectively declared surrender.
The pope, who wanted Venice to be maintained in order to keep the Ottomans in check, willingly proceeded with negotiations.
The pope’s mind began to work quickly.
His goal had been to draw Venice into his camp and then drive France out of Italian lands, but he could not tolerate a situation in which the sultan dared to claim prophecy, a miracle of God.
After pondering deeply, the pope raised his head.
Light descended through the stained glass, beautifully illuminating a painting that praised God, and he made his decision.
“We must teach the sultan what happens when one speaks carelessly of God’s miracles.”
The pope, for whom the authority of Christianity was power itself, looked at the cardinal.
“We must change the terms of negotiation with Venice.”
“Please speak.”
“We need their ships and the ships of the allied forces.”
If it were a land war against their massive cavalry and powerful central army, that would be another matter, but in a naval battle, it was worth attempting.
“And tell the Venetian envoys this. I will permit them to establish ties with the newly arisen infidel state in the east.”
At the pope’s order to indirectly use infidels in order to catch infidels, the cardinal bowed his head.
History had twisted.
∗ ∗ ∗
The briny smell of the sea, the sound of waves, and the swaying hull.
Drinking rotten water and alcohol, and eating shriveled meals, was a life all too familiar.
As the middle-aged man looked down at the harbor where they were anchored from atop a massive four-masted flagship, he heard the creak of footsteps on the deck.
“Reis.”
“What is it?”
The title of Reis was given in the navy to admirals of general rank, and Kemal, who turned his head toward his subordinate, was the man who held the position of grand admiral in the Ottoman navy.
“News has come from the homeland. The new Padishah has ordered you to return home.”
“Is that so?”
His work was primarily to wage naval battles in the southern Ottoman waters against the Knights of Malta, who occupied Rhodes.
Not long ago, he had also captured ships belonging to the knights that were fleeing Rhodes.
At present, he was anchored in Alexandria of the Mamluks, but it was not as if he had heard nothing at all of the news from home.
“That man, the one everyone here is making such a fuss about, has summoned me?”
“Indeed.”
The Ottomans and the Mamluks were nations that shared a great deal of interaction.
It was only natural, for the Mamluks were a realm that goods coming from the Indian Ocean had to pass through on their way to the Ottomans.
Thanks to merchants coming and going across the Mediterranean, news of the Ottomans could be easily heard.
“A prophet.”
Those who devoutly believed in Islam decried such words, for the Quran states that Muhammad is the final prophet; yet Kemal simply looked intrigued.
“What do you think?”
“It would be a fine thing if His Majesty the Padishah is a prophet. If I am granted an audience this time, I ought to offer up a prayer as well.”
“That is a good way indeed.”
The sea is a place where even the finest sailor perishes when luck turns bad.
The sea was where all manner of superstitions held sway, and most of those aboard were considered heretics by Islam.
What could be better than the Sultan being a prophet?
“If His Majesty commands me to return, I must obey.”
“And they say Barbarossa (Redbeard) was summoned as well.”
“Is that so?”
This was a bit unexpected.
He had been the captain of the notorious Barbary pirates in the Mediterranean, a man who had received Korkut’s backing but fled to the Mamluks upon hearing of his death.
Summoning not only the grand admiral but even a pirate.
“Things are getting interesting.”
The scent of war, one he had tasted many times upon churning waves, hung in the air.
∗ ∗ ∗
Clang!
He swung so hard his arm went numb, yet his opponent parried it effortlessly.
Despite the cool weather, sweat poured like rain, and his breath grew ragged.
Once Yusuf was visibly exhausted, his opponent lowered his sword.
“Your Majesty, this ought to be sufficient.”
Yusuf put away his sword at the words of Silahdar Agha Alper Pasha, who filled the roles of special forces commander, chief of the guard, and martial arts instructor.
He had already been thinking it was about time to stop.
The breeze cooled his body’s heat, and the waiting servants carefully wiped away his sweat.
“Your skill is superb. With a little more effort, you will likely have no need of me.”
“With all this flattery, I shall go and meet Allah.”
“I beg your pardon.”
He waved his hand at Alper, who hurriedly bowed his head at his own jest.
The previous Silahdar Agha had been ousted for failing to protect Bayezid properly, and from among many candidates, Alper had been chosen.
He could still vividly recall Alper’s muscles rippling with every movement as he swore loyalty in a voice choked with emotion.
‘He would be disappointed if he knew the reason. It was because of his name that he was picked.’
When he looked at the candidate list, they were all names like Ahmed, Mehmet, and Mahmud.
Even now, in crowded areas due to city planning matters, if one shouted “Ahmed,” at least ten would turn around. He did not wish for the man at his side to bear such a name as well.
Since he could not force someone to change their name, he had no choice but to choose someone with a different one.
“I need to tear apart and fix the Devshirme quickly.”
If they were going to take boys from Christian households and even change their names, they ought to give them a bit more variety.
Yusuf exhaled an irritated sigh and surveyed his surroundings.
Faucets were installed throughout Topkapi Palace for the purpose of making water noise to prevent secret conversations from being overheard.
Deaf-mute servants were tasked with turning off these faucets, and whenever conversations must not leak out, these attendants were kept close at hand.
They were distinct even in their attire, and the servants present nearby were precisely such individuals.
“Alper, is Ferhad obeying my orders properly?”
“As far as I am aware, yes.”
Ferhad Pasha had come to Yusuf’s attention five years earlier than in the original historical records, as the successor to the Janissary corps commander who betrayed Bayezid and was cast away like dog feed.
Catching Yusuf’s gaze urging him to continue, Alper spoke.
“Rumors are already rampant among the Janissaries that the Padishah is the prophet who succeeds Muhammad. The Janissary Agha is in contact with the Bektashi to further spread this faith.”
“Hmm, he is carrying out his orders well.”
While the Ottomans professed to be Sunnis, they did not suppress all remaining sects.
The Janissaries especially followed the Bektashi order, considered heretical; they were tolerant of all religions, disregarded the fasting of Ramadan, and even drank alcohol, which was taboo.
They were people who would have no trouble worshipping Yusuf.
‘The snowball is already rolling; it will quickly grow in size.’
Religion can be bent however one wishes.
Just as there were doctrinal differences between the Qizilbash—who deified Ismail I—and the Twelver Ja‘fari, which were suitably compromised to forge the modern identity of Iran.
Just as Turks who practice Islam drink alcohol, change can always come to religion.
Given time and effort, he could bind his subjects by the state called Ottoman rather than by religion.
“For that, there is truly much to be done going forward.”
Binding the people of the Ottoman realm within the framework of the state was more difficult than maintaining colonies in India.
It was an age when most people spent their entire lives bound to a single village, and even conversions occurred by the village.
Expanding the horizons of those whose world was confined to the village they lived in, enough to embrace the state, was no easy task.
‘Still, there is no need to rush.’
It was only the beginning, and he had many days left to live.
He needed only to proceed step by step with the tasks at hand.
“Alper.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Bring the Grand Vizier. I must settle matters regarding the Crimean Khanate first.”
They refused a meeting, yet he was perfectly aware of the Crimean Khanate’s movements.
The Crimean Khanate, despite having thirty thousand taken prisoner, was only intensifying its plundering of neighboring states.
Since no news of harm to Circassia had arrived, their intentions behind the raids were plain to see.
Since the Crimean Khanate was overextending itself, there was no need to draw up a painstaking plan.
‘Before long, great turmoil will arise in the north.’
The neighboring countries’ patience must have already reached its limit, so he too needed to prepare.
“The time to evaluate brotherhood is drawing ever nearer.”
∗ ∗ ∗
Needless to say, life after becoming Sultan had become far more splendid than when he was a prince.
He owned an abundance of jewels and treasures collected by past Sultans, and when banquets were held, all manner of beauties longed to receive his grace.
The woman in his arms was one of them.
Purple dye was difficult to extract and thus extremely valuable from ancient times, and it was a color symbolizing the emperor and authority regardless of East or West.
When the bed shook, the woman who had received the purple handkerchief—signifying selection—the previous night opened her eyes cautiously.
“Y-Your Majesty?”
“It is fine. Rest a while longer.”
The woman, exposing her pale body, reclined again at Yusuf’s order.
Nigar, who had met the Padishah along with women recommended by Valide Hatun Fatima and had even been selected, was in a state of utter exhaustion from the previous night’s affairs.
Though no part of her was free of pain, joy surged within Nigar.
‘Finally, I spent the night.’
Though she had only spent a single night after being chosen by the Sultan, that alone was enough to change one’s status within the harem.
As she had become a concubine, she could periodically spend nights with the Sultan; if she were to become pregnant and receive the title of Hatun, she could grasp immense wealth and glory.
Yusuf, reading Nigar’s thoughts clearly through his ability to perceive emotions, spoke as he felt the maidservants’ hands carefully wiping his body.
“Try your best to have it your way.”
“What?!”
“What are you surprised about? The thoughts harbored by a harem woman are all too obvious, are they not?”
Meeting Yusuf’s green eyes, Nigar felt goosebumps prickling across her skin.
His gaze seemed to dissect her very soul, as though it had read her impure heart, and Nigar rolled off the bed and prostrated herself.
“Y-Your Majesty. I…”
Yusuf, shrugging on the clothing the attendants had dressed him in, draped a blanket over Nigar, who trembled, unable to cover her naked body.
“No explanation is needed. With the two Hatuns absent, it is only natural that ambition would take hold.”
Even if Valide Hatun Fatima gripped the harem tightly, she was ultimately the Queen Mother.
She wished for Yusuf to have many children, so to the harem women she was an ally, even a source of hope.
She was a living legend who had borne a youngest son for whom death would have been unsurprising at any moment, and had placed him upon the throne.
Even if the two princes already showed uncommon qualities, it was natural to hold out a “what if.”
“Having ambition is a good thing. Try, if you are able. I will summon you every Thursday.”
“Thank you!”
Nigar, who had feared punishment for harboring such thoughts, bowed her head, overcome with emotion.
If she were summoned every Thursday, the official day of union, she could bear the king’s child.
“Even so, it will not be as easy as you believe.”
His two women had already given birth to princes and become Hatuns, and they were far from ordinary.
Aisha wielded such influence in Circassia that Circassian women in the harem looked to her.
Hatice’s identity as the Grand Vizier’s daughter had been made public, so she could extend her hand at any time to the daughters of high-ranking officials who had entered the harem for political reasons.
Overcoming them and building one’s own faction would be no easy task.
“I shall accomplish it.”
“It will be amusing to watch a woman strive.”
She was already his woman, having spent the night with him, so he would stop short of letting her die, but anything beyond that depended on her own ability.
She was more than enough to serve as a diversion.
Leaving Nigar behind, Yusuf exited and entered his study, where Ali Pasha, the Chamberlain, greeted him.
“I trust you passed a peaceful night.”
“It was not too bad. Next time, it might not be amiss to visit the harem personally.”
The harem was the romanticized fantasy of the European establishment, who harbored all manner of delusions and even went so far as to imitate harems.
Such was the extent that when an 18th-century European noblewoman, having received permission to live in the harem for a year, evaluated it as a place akin to a convent, her words were met with utter disbelief.
Having obtained such a fantasy, would it not be strange not to pay a visit?
“If you give word ahead of time, I will prepare according to your preferences.”
“Very well.”
Thinking it rather absurd to be discussing women first thing in the morning with a eunuch who had lost the very symbol of his manhood, Yusuf opened his mouth.
“Have you looked into what I mentioned?”
“Yes, I have dispatched officials to the places where pitch is mined. A detailed report will be submitted soon.”
“Well done.”
Pitch was a kind of natural asphalt, and saying that pitch came forth was the same as saying oil came forth.
It was not that humanity had burned wood from antiquity until now, only to use coal and oil after the Industrial Revolution.
Coal had been used since before the common era and was already being used in many places. It was merely that its usage had skyrocketed during the Industrial Revolution.
The pitch derived from oil had been regarded as a mystical substance since ancient times; there were even records that it had been used for waterproofing when building Noah’s Ark in the Old Testament.
It was only that petroleum could not be properly extracted and used as in modern times because drilling technology had not developed.
‘But the Ottoman Empire already has regions where oil has been extracted since ancient times.’
The lands that would later become Romania were those very places.
Since ancient times, crude oil had been mined by digging shafts in areas where it sprang forth.
‘Even if we have oil right now, it is hard to put it to proper use without crude oil refining technology, but still, having it is better than not.’
He would need many ships going forward; he could use pitch for waterproofing, and it could also serve as a cheaper fuel to replace expensive candles.
It could even be used as coke necessary for iron smelting.
The issue of coke, in particular, was something that needed consideration.
Europe already had blast furnace technology, and they were using charcoal for coke in smelting.
The problem was that charcoal was not something that required an ordinary amount, and since a lot of timber was also needed to build ships, the forests were bound to be devastated.
“Still, it is a shame. Oil is oil, but it would have been better if there were proper coal.”
Most of the coal found in Ottoman lands was low-quality brown coal used only for household purposes, and bituminous coal, which could be used as coke, was difficult to obtain.
The best option was to wage wars of conquest while making do with brown coal.
“Ali Pasha, when are the ships of the Crimean Khanate expected to arrive?”
“They are expected to arrive before the day is out.”
Seeing that they were arriving already, not long after permission had been granted, it seemed they were burning with considerable eagerness.
It was a welcome turn of events even for Yusuf, who had no desire to drag matters out needlessly.
“Mengli. I shall finally see his face.”
He wondered what kind of expression the man would wear when they first met.
∗ ∗ ∗
What seemed like roughly a hundred adorned women filled his vision.
The age range was varied, from women who appeared to be adults to children who looked young enough to be elementary school students.
With so many women, Yusuf rather felt no excitement at all, but he did feel a gaze looking at him with murderous intent.
It was a small child who came only up to his waist.
“Little one, what is your name?”
It was a whim.
Because the face of Ayse, whom he had met at the slave market, came to mind.
Though Yusuf had asked, the child glared back defiantly, and a nearby man growled in anger, whereupon the child soon opened her mouth.
“Aleksandra Lisowska.”
Hearing the name, Yusuf’s head began to ache slightly.
…Why is she here already?
Her real name was Aleksandra Lisowska, and in the West she was known as Roxelana.
It was the name Hurrem Sultan would bear, and he felt as though fortune had betrayed him.
∗ ∗ ∗
The act of conquering with difficulty and keeping a territory as a vassal state was similar to a hostile M&A acquisition where one took over a company and maintained the existing management.
It was not a common occurrence, so there was usually a reason it had to be done that way.
Either there was a tremendous foe like the Principality of Wallachia, which had been ruled by Vlad Tepes, the model for Dracula.
Or the Grand Prince Stephen of the Principality of Moldavia, a national hero of Moldova who would become a saint of the Romanian Orthodox Church; or it was a place where rebellion could erupt at any moment.
As with the Crimean Khanate, if one took on the contract for defense and raiding, it became a vassal state; one could consider a vassal state as receiving proper treatment despite being occupied territory.
However, Mengli, who had finally received permission and visited the capital, sensed that the atmosphere was unusual.
“You are limited to three bodyguards who may accompany you in the capital.”
“What nonsense is this!”
Saadet, who had come along, protested at the Janissary’s firm words, but was rendered speechless by what followed.
“It is the Padishah’s strict order. Do you intend to refuse the command?”
With these words, the Janissaries surrounding the bodyguards placed their hands on their sword hilts in unison.
It was an act that conveyed the will to match the numbers even if it meant killing the bodyguards, and an ominous air flowed through the harbor.
“Saadet, enough. Surely the Padishah does not mean us harm.”
“…Understood.”
There was nothing to be gained by bristling needlessly, and in any case, the bodyguards could not cross the gates of Topkapi Palace.
Having entered the capital, it was Mengli, who well knew from his past life as a captive that his life and death lay in the Sultan’s hands.
‘But the atmosphere is worse than I thought.’
When Mengli tensed slightly, a commotion arose from the five galleys they had arrived on.
-Argh! You wench?!
“Do not lay hands on them carelessly! They are gifts for the Padishah!”
Despite his advanced age, Mengli shouted in a booming voice, and soon women tied in lines emerged one after another from the galleys.
As the women, dressed up to the best of their ability, set foot on the harbor, the harbor stirred.
Not only was the number impressive, but the beauty of the women was equally exquisite.
To such an extent that no one paid heed to one little girl being roughly shoved down with her nape grabbed.
“Hmph, it seems you have prepared quite thoroughly.”
Perhaps even the Janissaries, forbidden from starting families, were slightly shaken, for the overbearing atmosphere eased.
Though gold and treasures were one thing, the women required basic instruction and body searches before being presented to the Sultan, so they were handed over separately.
While moving toward Topkapi Palace under Janissary escort, Mengli spoke to Saadet as if in passing.
“The people’s expressions are decent.”
He spoke lightly because the Janissary was glaring, but Saadet caught his underlying meaning.
Even though traces of the recent calamity still remained here and there in the capital, the subjects’ expressions were bright and full of hope.
It was a sight that indirectly revealed how outstanding the newly enthroned Sultan was.
Having entered Topkapi Palace, he underwent an even more rigorous body search by the Silahtars, and was able to enter the audience chamber.
“Wait for the Padishah’s arrival.”
Having spoken thus, the Silahtars stood on strict guard, and time passed.
Unable to sit comfortably and standing ready to pay respects at any moment was a difficult task for an old man’s body, and just when Mengli’s body began to tremble—
-The great Padishah, Yusuf Shah bin Bayezid Khan, enters! All pay your respects!
Along with the chamberlain’s cry, the Silahtars paid their respects in unison, and Mengli and Saadet knelt and bowed their heads.
Only quiet footsteps echoed in the audience chamber, and when the sound of Yusuf sitting down was heard, Mengli cried out as the representative.
“May Allah’s grace be with the great Padishah!”
“Rise.”
With Yusuf’s permission, Mengli rose and groaned inwardly.
No matter how outstanding one was, time was needed to adapt to the position; yet that oppressive gaze suited the seat of an empire’s master all too well.
“Mengli Giray, Saadet Giray. You have traveled far; it must have been arduous.”
“Not at all. It is an honor to meet you thus.”
“But why did Mehmed Giray not come with you?”
It was only natural to leave a successor behind in case of the unexpected, and when Yusuf deliberately pointed this out, Mengli answered calmly.
“The political climate of late has been unusual, so I had to prepare for unfortunate incidents. Please forgive me.”
“I do not mean to reproach you. I merely wished to see what kind of man is to succeed you soon.”
At Yusuf’s words, Mengli’s expression stiffened.
Being an old man, Mengli would have to hand over the position someday, but since Yusuf had said “soon,” the meaning was clear.
“Does this Mengli take it that the Padishah wishes me to step down from my position?”
“Spending the rest of your days in comfort in the capital of the Empire would not be such a bad thing for you. Would it not?”
At words that demanded he not only step down but come as a hostage, Mengli gritted his teeth.
For Mengli, who had styled himself Khagan—a title meaning emperor of the Mongol nomads—it was an enormous humiliation.
“Though passing time in a foreign land with this old body may be lonely, it should be fine to spend your days with your son.”
“…Your greed is excessive.”
At the disrespectful words, the Silahtars glared fiercely at Mengli, but to Mengli, who had ridden across the steppes and led countless battles to victory, they were no threat at all.
At Mengli’s words, Yusuf twisted his lips.
“Excessive greed? Truly, whose greed was excessive? How dare you set foot in the heart of the Empire without permission and still utter such words?!”
“That was King Selim….”
At Yusuf’s roar, Mengli, who had been about to use Selim as an excuse, closed his mouth.
If Selim were merely a defeated man, he could have served as an excuse. However, within the Ottoman Empire, Selim had been branded as the source of the calamity.
It meant he was the very person one should distance oneself from the most.
“I shall give you time, so think on it carefully. It may well be for the good of the Crimean Khanate.”
Realizing Yusuf’s underlying intention for him to cleanly take responsibility and step down, severing his connection with Selim, Mengli bowed his head.
“I shall think on it.”
He knew in his head that it was the best course of action, but voluntarily relinquishing the power he held was no easy matter.
He would need time to agonize over it.
Yusuf slightly lightened the heavy atmosphere.
“Come to think of it, I heard you brought quite a number of women?”
“That is correct. I brought them thinking you might need to replenish the harem.”
It was only right to discard the women who had been with his father Bayezid or Selim.
Women were abundant; there was no need to take his father’s or brother’s women. Nor was it particularly good for public opinion.
Quite a few vacancies had opened up, and they did need filling.
“A hundred is rather excessive.”
“They are women selected with the utmost care, so please dispose of them as the Padishah sees fit.”
As it was an era when gifting women was common, they were useful cards to use for gaining loyalty.
This meant there was nothing bad about having brought many women.
Of course, since the one who brought them had shown sincerity as well, he could not hand them all over as gifts and needed to accept some women into the harem too.
“Then let us have a look.”
Up until then, things had proceeded according to Yusuf’s plans, but.
When he met the women who had exited the audience chamber and finished their body searches and preparations, things turned a little strange.
For the brat glaring up at him with venom-laced eyes was completely unexpected.
‘Hurrem Sultan.’
If the Hurrem of history had possessed the venom to overcome countless dark struggles and the suppleness to hide it deep within, the brat before his eyes was still a child.
The venom she ought to have concealed was oozing from her entire body.
Honestly, his head was spinning at meeting Hurrem Sultan in this manner, but if this too was luck, then it was luck.
‘The Crimean Khanate is weaker than in the original history. Kidnapped as in history and dragged here as a slave to be offered to the Sultan—the chances of her catching my eye should have been exceedingly low.’
But he had no need for fortune of this sort.
He would rather have handed her over to any official without noticing, but since she was who she was, he could not help but be somewhat concerned.
“My Padişah, does this woman please you?”
“$%@&#!”
He did not understand the words, but he could tell from her convulsing screams that they were curses.
The faces of the women listening beside him paled, and the man recoiled in fright with his hands raised high.
Yusuf raised one hand.
“Enough. So she is a wild thing that thrashes about like an unbroken horse. I would only be cursed were I to give her away as a gift needlessly. Would I not?”
Light laughter burst forth at the jest, and Yusuf looked down at Hurrem.
The atmosphere had calmed, but if he simply passed on by, she would obviously suffer every kind of hardship.
For a slave to dare insult the Padişah—she might even be beaten to death.
“Send this child to the harem for now.”
“Yes, my Padişah.”
To be frank, he had yet to decide what to do with Hurrem.
He had briefly considered pairing her with Suleiman as in the original history, but.
‘I might only corrupt him needlessly, and who knows if they would love each other as in the original history.’
She clearly had enough budding potential to become a future beauty worthy of being sent as a gift to the Sultan.
Yet Hurrem had not earned Suleyman’s affection for her looks alone.
‘It was because she was a wise woman who offered much helpful counsel, unlike the other women who were simply submissive.’
One could think of it as the cliché in shoujo manga: “A girl like this is a first!”
In history, he had been entranced by a feeling different from the women he had grown sick of embracing in the harem; but since Suleiman’s circumstances had changed, there was no telling if he would like her.
For now, if he did not know, he could simply keep her nearby and observe.
“It should prove amusing to watch.”
Hurrem, who had entered the harem earlier than in the original history—watching how she grew should be quite entertaining.
Yusuf pressed firmly on Hurrem’s head.
“Your fate from now on shall be in Allah’s hands.”
Whether she gritted her teeth and endured to leave her name in history, or became fish food in the Bosphorus strait.
But before that, he would have to survive Fatima’s hands once she heard of today’s events.
That was his own karma.
∗ ∗ ∗
‘What is going on.’
Dark clouds made it difficult to see ahead, and as he walked through the Topkapi Palace—where a gloomy, murderous aura flowed unlike during the day—Saadet wore an anxious expression.
Having entered the palace at Yusuf’s secret summons late at night, fear and curiosity coexisted within him.
As he entered the audience chamber he had visited during the day, the sound of trickling water reached his ears.
It meant that a story which must not leak outside was unfolding within.
“You have come.”
“M-My Padişah.”
Lamps brightly illuminated the interior, and before the cold green eyes gazing down from the seat of honor, Saadet hurriedly assumed a formal posture.
Toward Saadet, who trembled beneath the suffocating pressure, Yusuf opened his mouth.
“Saadet Giray.”
“Y-Yes!”
“Do not be afraid. I have summoned you merely to sate my curiosity.”
There was no way he had been called out alone in the dead of night merely to satisfy curiosity, so Saadet could not feel reassured by these words.
“Do you remember the conversation I shared with your father today?”
“Of course.”
“Your father seems to regard your elder brother Mehmed as his successor.”
Feeling puzzled by Yusuf’s words, Saadet answered nonetheless.
“That is correct. My brother has already been active as a co-ruler for a long time. He considers him the most suitable.”
“Do you think so as well? Do you consider your brother better than you? Might it not simply be that you have not been given the opportunity?”
At Yusuf’s question, Saadet felt as though his breath had stopped.
The true feelings he had struggled to suppress were stirred up, making his head spin.
The age gap between the two was as much as twenty-seven years, and overcoming this tremendous gap was nearly impossible—that was why he had hidden his heart.
“I can see your thoughts clearly. Defeating a brother born more than twenty years before you is no easy task.”
“…That is so.”
“However, it is not impossible.”
At Yusuf’s words, Saadet looked up at him as though entranced.
The green eyes, reminiscent of the steppe, gleamed ominously, like the cruel life of nomads.
“For I did exactly that. Saadet.”
“Y-Yes! My Padişah.”
“I shall give you an opportunity.”
“What kind…?”
Toward the bewildered Saadet at the word “opportunity,” Yusuf spoke of the prepared chance.
“Soon an attack upon the Crimean Khanate will come. It is because you have run rampant all this time. The weakened Crimean Khanate will find it difficult to repel. Of course, I have no intention of tolerating this.”
At the following words, Saadet started in surprise.
“To aid you, I shall free the soldiers of the Crimean Khanate captured as prisoners, and designate you as their commander.”
“Do you mean me, not my father?”
“Yes, for he is the empire’s hostage.”
Even though many had died or been wounded, they were over twenty thousand elite troops.
Hearing Yusuf’s words, Saadet felt a dark surge of ambition rise instantly.
“If you fail to time things well, your brother will be in great danger. The choice is yours.”
Yusuf turned and disappeared; the faucet closed, and the sound of water ceased.
In the audience chamber where silence settled, Saadet could not rise for a long time.
∗ ∗ ∗
The seed had been sown. Whether it would sprout depended on his own heart.
Standing at the greatest crossroads of his life, Saadet surely harbored greed for the Khan’s seat.
‘After all, a man without ambition would not have killed his nephew to ascend to the Khan’s seat.’
Throughout history, east and west, usurping the throne by killing one’s nephew was common, and Saadet too, after his brother died in 1523, killed a nephew who had reigned for a mere six months and rose to become Khan.
The only variable was that, due to his young age, he might get cold feet prematurely and give up on acting on his ambition.
‘Even if it turns out that way, it does not matter much.’
If one is going to play with fire in another man’s house, one ought to ensure the sparks do not fly onto one’s own house.
If Saadet chose to save his brother, the Crimean Khanate’s military strength would be preserved, so it would not be bad.
Mehmed, who had aided Selim, was displeasing to the heart, but at least he lacked nothing in ability, making him useful.
‘In any case, since we must solidify the occupation of the Donbas, the Crimean Khanate’s strength is absolutely necessary.’
The Donbas was a region bordering the Sea of Azov in the north of the Black Sea, also called the Donets Basin.
It was a region where rapid industrialization had progressed from the late 19th century onward, due to the enormous deposits of coal and iron ore buried within it.
Currently this region was one without so much as a proper village, a place where villages would only be built in the 17th century to mine rock salt.
‘Since there are no people, it is close to ownerless land, but once development begins, the story changes somewhat.’
If it became a land that laid golden eggs, countless eyes would turn toward it, and war could break out from the north as well.
It was not as if iron supply was an urgent issue at the moment, and there was no need to struggle in a state where the technology to produce steel smoothly had not yet been properly developed.
The place where iron was most useful right now was cannons, but the Ottomans did not need to be desperate for iron.
Because the Ottomans were a nation that could cheaply produce bronze—which was considered the finest material for cannon production until the 19th century—thanks to the abundant copper in Anatolia.
‘Just how much surplus bronze must they have had that they loaded cannons so massive onto ships that they would capsize from the recoil alone?’
Anyway, even if it was not an urgent matter, the Donbas was a region that provided peace of mind once occupied, so it would be good if the Crimean Khanate’s forces were intact.
Conversely, even if Mehmed the successor of the Crimean Khanate died and Saadet seized real power, that would be fine too.
Since Saadet would absolutely need Ottoman help to maintain his regime, Ottoman influence within the Crimean Khanate would only grow stronger.
As for the weakened military strength, Circassia, which had become a vassal state through past ties, could fill the gap.
“I wonder what choice Saadet will make. Is it not so?”
“I am not curious. I would appreciate it if you also considered our hardships in having to prepare for both situations, my Padişah.”
Yusuf burst into laughter at Somsi’s words laced with lament.
A normal person would not dare utter such words, but it was an exception if it was Somsi.
There were the years they had spent together, and someone needed to be there to say such things.
“I shall take it into consideration next time.”
“Thank you. I shall relay as much to the others as well. Everyone will be grateful for the Padişah’s consideration.”
Yusuf let out a short laugh at Somsi, who was pressuring him not to brush it off as empty words, and took a sip of his beverage.
He slightly furrowed his brow at the sweet taste filling his mouth.
To one who preferred bitter coffee, it was a taste that did not suit him at all, no matter how precious the drink.
“Does the beverage not suit your palate?”
“A bit. I shall have to mention it.”
“Come to think of it, you stopped asking for the drink made from barley at some point, Padişah. That drink which the Valide Hatun forbade so strictly, yet you would secretly have.”
“So I did.”
When had he stopped drinking orzo, the barley coffee he had kept constantly at his lips?
It was not simply because he had grown tired of it.
“I cannot remain tied to the past forever. That is why I stopped.”
The reason he had sought out orzo was because he could not forget his modern life, and once he resolved to become Yusuf of the Ottomans, he no longer sought it.
It was something akin to a resolution, and at Yusuf’s answer, Somsi gave a puzzled look but did not inquire deeply.
Anything beyond that was a line one must not cross as a subject.
“Come to think of it, did you not enjoy drinking it as well?”
“I still enjoy it these days. A few of the other officials have learned how to make it, too.”
“It is a fine beverage, so there is no harm in that. I will introduce you to an even better drink later.”
Once they conquered the Mamluks, he would be able to obtain coffee.
For people of this era, who had never properly encountered caffeine, a single cup would likely keep them wide awake all night.
It would be good to sell as a commodity, and good to use when doping the officials under him.
He had cast aside his lingering attachment to coffee, but it was still one of the things he absolutely had to secure.
They chatted for a short while, but both Yusuf and Shemsi were busy with their duties, and they had not gathered merely to exchange such idle talk.
“So, what do you think of the information that came over from the Safavids?”
“It was expected that the Shah would not seek out Tajlu. He publicly declared that he did not doubt her purity, but the losses caused by her were enormous.”
“There must also be the financial aspect, and the humiliation of having his woman taken from him.”
Even without seeking out Tajlu, Ismail had more than enough women.
His harem was packed full of women who could fill the empty space in his heart, so it was only natural that he would not look for Tajlu.
“Even so, the people we sent are clearly carrying out their roles.”
Whether it was the Ottoman harem or the Safavid harem, both were equally jungles.
It was not rare for a woman who had received the Shah’s favor to be swept away by a political offensive and cast out, or to lose her life in an incident whose culprit was unknown.
Tajlu was a woman who could make good use of the agents she had been provided and the influence she possessed, and even if she no longer received his favor, her influence within the harem was solid.
“So she is still useful for now.”
“That is correct. The Shah will not be able to cast her out recklessly either.”
The Safavids were still close to a patchwork quilt stitched together in haste.
If he cast out Tajlu, it could cause internal unrest.
Most of the information that came from Tabriz concerned Tajlu and the internal situation, but there was one sentence that caught Yusuf’s eye.
“Hmm. A defeated remnant who rebelled alongside Shahkulu spoke with Ismail for a long time, did he?”
“For now, I will send an envoy of protest to the Safavids.”
“The handling of the defeated remnant is not what matters. What matters is that he listened to the words of those who fought a war against me directly.”
If they were not careful, the Safavids might take an interest in gunpowder earlier than they had in history.
Considering that the reason Ismail suffered a crushing defeat at the Battle of Chaldiran was because his nomadic cavalry collapsed miserably before gunpowder weapons, things could become troublesome.
“I will have to prepare quickly.”
Even if Ismail had opened his eyes to gunpowder, he would still be at the toddling stage for several years, so it was necessary to remove Ismail as quickly as possible.
There was no act more foolish than giving that monstrous man ample time.
Just as Yusuf made that decision, a loud voice rang out from outside the audience hall.
—Padishah, Kemal Reis and his forces have returned!
“He has finally come.”
The admiral had returned.
∗ ∗ ∗
“It has been a long time.”
Having arrived after a long voyage, Kemal Reis wore a bitter expression as he reached the Golden Horn.
The lively appearance of the harbor was unchanged, but the empty spaces there made him indirectly feel the nightmare that had passed.
“What are you standing there like an idiot for?”
At the rough voice that sounded like scraping iron, Kemal Reis turned his head and said coldly,
“Barbarossa, do not cross the line carelessly. This is not the sea.”
“Tch! Fine. Can’t even strike up a conversation, can I? Isn’t that right?”
As Baba Oruç, infamous as Barbarossa—the Red Beard—grumbled while stroking his protruding belly, the pirates who followed him burst into laughter.
“Father Oruç is just in good spirits because it has been so long since he came to the empire, so let’s not speak too harshly.”
“Shouldn’t men of the sea help one another and live together?”
“More importantly, isn’t there anywhere to loosen my trouser ties? My lower half is feeling lonely.”
As the men, laughing roguishly and reeking strongly of blood, joked among themselves, the soldiers around Kemal opened their eyes fiercely.
At the atmosphere that suggested they would start cutting them down the moment an order was given, Kemal waved his hand.
“Enough. Their words are crude, but he is a man worthy of respect.”
In Spain, the Reconquista—the reconquest—had taken place over 781 years, referring to the efforts by the Catholic kingdoms on the Iberian Peninsula, where Spain was located, to expel Islamic forces.
With the conquest of the Kingdom of Granada in 1492, the Reconquista came to an end, and Spain drove Muslims and Jews out of its lands.
Those who were expelled in this way crossed over to Morocco and Algeria, regions close to the Ottomans, and Baba Oruç had earned the name Father Oruç by transporting them to North Africa.
“Even so, this is the capital of the empire. It is a different place from your lands, so mind your conduct.”
“Don’t worry. I brought men who at least know the difference between front and back. Isn’t that right?!”
“Of course! We don’t want holes in our heads, so we’ll be careful on our own!”
“You hear that?”
“Yes, I heard.”
It was an insolent way of speaking, but Kemal simply let it pass lightly.
He respected Baba Oruç, and the Padishah must have had a reason for summoning him.
“More importantly, is that your younger brother behind you?”
“That’s right! Hızır!”
“Yes, brother.”
The man with the same red beard as his elder brother strode forward and greeted Kemal Reis politely.
Seeing him, Kemal’s eyes gleamed faintly.
“He looks rather useful.”
“Ahem! Don’t set your sights on him. He’s the one who’ll have to succeed me if need be.”
“Hearing you say that only makes him more tempting.”
No matter how much sailors lived with half their bodies entrusted to Allah, if he openly called him his successor, it meant he had that much ability.
Just as Baba Oruç was about to flare up at Kemal’s covetous words, soldiers with sharp auras approached.
“Lord Kemal Reis, it is the Padishah’s command that you enter the palace.”
“Understood.”
When a Silahdar who guarded the Sultan came in person to receive him, Kemal, slightly surprised, nodded.
The Silahdar withdrew his gaze from Kemal and spoke to the red-bearded man.
“And are you Baba Oruç?”
“That’s right!”
“The Padishah has commanded that you and your younger brother enter the palace together.”
“Both of us?”
“Yes.”
When he asked back as if puzzled, the Silahdar replied firmly and turned away.
As he moved as though he had no intention of answering further, Oruç looked at his younger brother and nodded.
Once the Padishah’s order had been given, they had no choice but to go.
∗ ∗ ∗
To meet the Padishah, they had not only been searched but even forced to bathe, yet they could not voice any complaint.
No matter how famous they might be, for pirates to meet the Padishah was, in itself, an immense honor.
Only after hearing simple etiquette and warnings were the three able to enter the audience hall, and upon seeing Yusuf seated at the place of honor, they immediately paid their respects.
“We greet the Padishah!”
“Welcome. You may rise.”
Yusuf spoke to the three, who had their heads bowed, not daring to look directly at him.
“Raise your faces.”
Only then did Yusuf see their faces, and though he had never met them before, it was not difficult to tell who was who.
Unlike Kemal, whose beard had turned white, the two brothers boasted red beards.
“Kemal Reis. You have suffered much on your mission until now. Stay in the capital for a while and reorganize your forces.”
“I obey your command.”
Kemal answered Yusuf’s order with a military salute, and Yusuf turned his head to the two brothers.
“Baba Oruç, Hızır.”
“Y-yes! Padishah!”
Baba Oruç, overwhelmed by the atmosphere, answered hurriedly, and Yusuf waved his hand.
“There is no need to be so startled. There is no one here who will harm you.”
After saying that to Oruç, Yusuf examined his younger brother, Hızır.
In this era, Barbarossa was Baba Oruç, but the one who would later earn even greater fame as Barbarossa was Hızır beside him.
“The reason I have summoned you is that I have work for you to do.”
“Work to do, you say…?”
“What work would one give to pirates?”
Plunder, of course.
Yusuf curved his green eyes gently.