The Fate of Fools (1)
This conquest of Georgia was to exact certain retribution for betrayal and ensure that the regions that had come into the Ottoman fold would not entertain foolish ideas.
It was also to show his wrath and force Ismail into a scorched-earth strategy that would make him carve away his own flesh.
Of course, the latter would require several delicate operations, and he could not guarantee it would work completely, but it was still enough to give Ismail a headache.
If those were the external reasons, then the internal ones were to create an outside enemy, unite the interior, and identify various problems through his first personal campaign.
‘Of those, identifying the problems is the most important.’
He had killed every last one of his brothers, and by even playing the role of prophet as he ascended the throne, he held power more firmly than any sultan in history.
That meant there was no reason to worry about faint internal dissatisfaction, and the weight of the matter could only shift toward identifying problems.
“Kyaaak!”
“Uwaaaah! Mama!”
Once the period of plunder ended, those reduced to slaves were dragged off to Ottoman territory along with the spoils.
No matter how common such things were in this age, it was a cruel sight, but Yusuf looked upon it coldly.
Women with disheveled hair were tied to ropes and marched in lines, while children were loaded onto wagons like cargo.
Looking at that sight, the feeling he had to hold in his heart was not pity, but a resolve to ensure that those who entered his embrace would never suffer such a fate.
If the relief of Trabzon had been late, an even worse scene would have unfolded.
“Shemsi Pasha, what is the condition of the Orban cannons?”
“Of the thirteen we brought, the first one fired was completely destroyed, and the others remain intact because they have not been fired.”
“Warn the artillerymen sternly. Tell them not to believe that Allah will smile upon us again as He did this time.”
The fact that the first cannon they fired as a test had pierced the gate was pure luck.
Considering that the ballistics of cannons developed through frequent naval artillery battles in the Age of Discovery, right now they were merely firing by guesswork.
If it were a small cannon, perhaps, but with an Orban cannon that used over a hundred kilograms of gunpowder at once, they could not very well conduct practice shots. They were simply firing it like scratching a lottery ticket.
There was no guarantee that they would be lucky next time just because they had been lucky this time, and even hitting the wall would be fortunate.
‘More importantly, heavy artillery.’
Large and beautiful cannons like Orban’s were certainly attractive.
Their mere appearance crushed the enemy’s spirit and made them tremble in fear, and at the very least, when they hit, one had to acknowledge their destructive power.
‘They’re still useful for now, too.’
The paradigm of war did not change for no reason.
As cannons became widespread, methods were adopted to mitigate impact by building earthen ramparts along with stone walls vulnerable to cannon fire, and defenders also began using cannons.
Naturally, the besieging side came to need greater destructive power and longer range, which was why heavy artillery became widespread.
As heavy artillery shattered gates and walls that had been made with great difficulty, tactics of shutting oneself inside fortresses were abandoned, and the paradigm of war shifted from siege warfare to field battles.
The age of destructive heavy artillery would decline, and the age of mobile, easily operated field guns would open.
‘But for now, this is still an age when siege warfare is more prevalent than field battles.’
He had to use cannons according to the flow of the times, and heavy artillery still had ample potential for use, but…
“Do you not think the Orban cannons are too large?”
“Are they not worth that much?”
“At a glance, they can seem that way.”
Answering thus, Yusuf took in with both eyes the Orban cannon that was visible at a glance even though it had been left outside the castle.
“Speaking coldly, I wonder whether there is any need to operate cannons that large.”
He thought it would be better to melt that down and make several field guns of a suitable size instead.
When Shemsi could not readily answer his words, Yusuf waved a hand.
“Enough. It is something we can confirm slowly through this war. You are not an expert, and I asked a needless question.”
“I am ashamed.”
“It is better than prattling on pointlessly to curry favor when you know nothing.”
Changing a weapons system was not something to be undertaken lightly.
As stated before, this personal campaign had an experimental nature, and there would still be many opportunities to test things.
There was still time before war with the Safavids or Mamluks, so it would not be too late to decide after this war ended.
“Padishah, all preparations are complete.”
“Understood.”
When the Janissary Agha knelt and reported, Yusuf slowly looked over the scenery of Artvin.
It must have been home to many people for long years, but now it was a dreary ruin where only countless corpses remained.
He passed through the castle gate where the heads of the Artvin nobles who had begged for their lives were hung, and before long, flames rose within the castle along with black smoke.
The flames, swelling as they devoured the wooden buildings built inside the castle and the piled-up heaps of straw, swallowed the corpses stacked in mounds.
Feeling the black smoke soaring high enough to be seen from far away and the heat of the flames as if looking at the sun, Yusuf spoke in a low voice.
“Does it not resemble a beacon?”
It was a beacon that seemed to announce the calamity that would befall Georgia.
Along with the news of Artvin reduced to ashes, the Ottoman army began advancing again.
∗ ∗ ∗
The Ottomans, who had seemed to waste time for a while at Artvin, began advancing toward Ardahan, about eighty kilometers to the east.
At this news, the Georgian states clutched their heads, and Samtskhe in particular fell into panic.
“A-a massacre! Not a single person survived at their hands, I tell you!”
A noble shouted, forgetting all dignity, but no one pointed it out.
They themselves wanted nothing more than to scream at any moment.
Even when Artvin was captured, they had not been this afraid. After all, until then, there had still been a part of them that thought surely not.
But that surely not had become reality, and the Ottoman army acted as though it meant to erase Georgia from the map.
Kvarkvare lifted one corner of his mouth at the resentful gazes fixed upon him.
“Are you blaming me now? It was hardly my decision alone.”
Those gathered here were people who had betrayed Mzetchabuk and taken Kvarkvare’s hand for the sake of greater power.
They were people who had agreed to betray the Ottomans, and it was embarrassing for any of them to blame someone else.
No matter how right his words were, they were more than enough to make an already bad atmosphere even worse, and the mood instantly turned vicious.
“Everyone, please calm yourselves! We do not have time for this.”
The atmosphere had been one where someone might forget differences in status and spew harsh curses, but thanks to the person who quickly intervened, it fortunately did not descend into chaos.
Having seized control of the mood for the moment, Rusudan spoke in as calm a voice as possible.
“We of Samtskhe have been abandoned. Is that not so?”
When it became difficult to appease Ottoman wrath, they had sent an envoy to the Safavids, but that too had yielded no gains.
They had promised only help in words, and the other Georgian states had banded together among themselves, excluding Samtskhe, waiting only for Ottoman fury to end with Samtskhe.
At Rusudan’s cold observation, a heavy silence settled.
“Then what are we to do?”
“Would it not be better to attack the Ottoman army instead?”
Since eastern Samtskhe consisted of rugged mountains, someone offered such an opinion, but…
“Do not say foolish things! Do you think an attack is even remotely possible?”
Even fighting with the natural barrier of the mountains between them, they had no confidence in facing the Ottomans.
With that in mind, they had crammed troops into Artvin, but it had fallen in a single day without even buying time, so there was no hope to be had.
“Besides, have we not already received word that they have reached Shavshat, a city at the end of the mountainous terrain?”
“Then how about abandoning the other cities and concentrating on the capital, Akhaltsikhe?”
The capital was only eighty kilometers from Ardahan, which had become their next target, so once Ardahan was conquered, it was obvious that this place, Akhaltsikhe, would be next.
“…Do you think the other cities will obediently give up their troops?”
The authority held by the name Samtskhe had already fallen to the ground long ago, and there was little chance the castle lords would willingly give up soldiers who would protect their own lives.
At the words that struck at the blind spot, a heavy silence fell, and in a situation where no opinion was being properly accepted, one noble burst out shouting.
“Then what are we to do!”
When a heavy silence descended, an urgent voice was heard.
“U-urgent report!”
“…Let him enter!”
There would be no good news among the reports coming in urgently, but that did not mean they could refuse to hear it.
The messenger who entered through the wide-open door dropped roughly to one knee and announced the urgent news.
“A-a popular uprising has broken out in Ardahan!”
It was news they would have been better off not hearing.
∗ ∗ ∗
Yusuf had worked from before the invasion to incite popular uprisings in Georgia.
It was not simply to make occupation easier. Frankly, with the military power of the Ottoman army already on the verge of its golden age, defeating Georgia was far too easy.
‘What matters is that they betray with their own hands the nobles they have served for so long.’
They would not yearn for those they had personally betrayed, and even if escaped nobles returned, it would be difficult for them to receive the support of the Georgian subjects.
With that thought, he had pulled various tricks, but honestly, he had thought it would not be easy.
The Georgian subjects had long been steeped in a feudal system and were passive, and he had believed that no matter how dissatisfied they were, it would be difficult for them to erupt into a popular uprising.
He had thought results might appear only after at least Samtskhe was brought down, but the affairs of the world had a way of flowing in unexpected directions.
Clank, clank.
At the news that the Ottoman army was coming toward this place, Ardahan was placed under strict alert.
Armed soldiers roamed the streets with dark faces, and those who had urgently fled here took up places in every alley, without even a place to shelter from the rain.
“It seems Shavshat has been captured as well!”
Several times, a booming roar had been heard, and at the smoke rising in the distance, the people of Ardahan stared blankly up at the sky.
The distance between the two was only thirty kilometers, and since the land between them was almost entirely plains, they were close enough that one could arrive in a single day by running.
When everyone trembled in fear at the thought that the threat they had only heard about was now right on their doorstep, children who had slipped out of their parents’ arms began to chatter.
“They say there’s something incredible! If it spews fire just once, even thick castle walls come crashing down! Right?”
“Yeah! Some man told me so. He said even the walls over there would collapse in an instant.”
The children, who did not even know what it meant for Ardahan’s walls to fall, said so, and their parents hurriedly tried to cover their mouths.
But before they could, the words reached the ears of someone who should not have heard them.
“Say that again!”
A noble who had been patrolling nearby seized the child by the throat with an enraged face and lifted him into the air, and a woman who appeared to be the child’s mother rushed over in a panic.
“Oh, please forgive us! Please spare my child, at least! He said it without knowing anything!”
“Shut up!”
The noble kicked away the woman clinging to him in anguish as if she were filthy, then snapped the neck of the child whose face had turned bright red from suffocation.
After throwing aside the child, now hanging limp and lifeless, the noble pointed his sword at the woman who blankly cradled the dead child and said,
“I will not forgive anyone who spreads false rumors!”
Having said that, the noble swung his sword at the remaining child, and in an instant, two children had lost their lives.
When everyone was left speechless, someone shouted loudly.
“Kill those devil-like nobles! Why should we die because of them?”
The first to move at the voice that burrowed into their ears like a devil’s whisper were the parents who had lost their child before their very eyes.
Starting with the woman who, even as she was stabbed by a sword, bit into the noble’s face to avenge her child, the people began to move.
“…Spread this news throughout the city.”
When the one who had first raised his voice stepped back and spoke, his companions quickly scattered into the surroundings.
Looking toward one side where smoke was rising, the man said,
“All for the Padishah.”
It was the beginning of a popular uprising.
∗ ∗ ∗
He was a child. A child still so young that he was more often left to play than called upon to lend a hand with work.
When the mother, enraged at losing her child, lunged at the noble, the people were swept up in fury.
Whether it was because they remembered the countless humiliations they had suffered at the hands of nobles for so long, or because the fear of the Ottomans soon to arrive had been transformed into rage.
Those who had given themselves over to anger did not know exactly why they had acted as they did, but by then, the reason no longer mattered.
“He’s d-dead. He’s dead!”
At that cry, the people came to their senses, and at last, the situation entered their eyes.
The noble who had caused the incident had been beaten into a bloody pulp and had died together with the mother of the child he had stabbed with his sword.
The only fortunate thing was that the five soldiers who had tried to stop the surging crowd had only been wounded and had not died.
Of course, it was already far too late to take comfort in that.
“What is this commotion!”
When soldiers gathered after hearing the disturbance, the people who had clustered together glanced at one another and then scattered in a rush.
Only then did the commander see the situation, and he was horrified.
“It’s the murder of a noble! Seize them! Don’t let a single one escape!”
The face had been smashed beyond recognition, but one could tell the dead man’s status from his clothing alone.
The murder of a noble was a crime punishable by the severest penalty, and if things went wrong, the soldiers who had been nearby could also be caught in the fallout.
At a glance, close to a hundred accomplices could be seen, and since the soldiers present could not bind them all, the commander drew his sword.
“Seize them, even if you have to kill them!”
At the commander’s order, the soldiers drew their swords and mercilessly swung their weapons at the fleeing criminals.
The problem was that the inside of the city was crowded with refugees, and even those who had been startled at the sight of soldiers charging with swords and fled were mistaken for culprits and lost their lives.
To those who did not yet know the circumstances, it could only look as though the soldiers were massacring innocent people.
“The soldiers have gone mad! They’re trying to kill us all!”
“If you don’t want to die, fight back!”
The commander, whose vision had narrowed because of the murder of a noble—something that would normally have been hard to happen—and the Ottoman army soon to come, snapped back to his senses at the resounding voices.
The soldiers who had been driving their swords into the backs of those who looked like criminals were only then able to meet the ominous gazes confronting them.
Things were taking a grave turn.
“No! We are pursuing those who murdered a noble….”
The commander tried to explain the situation, but the people who had already seen acquaintances and family members who had fled with them bleeding at the soldiers’ hands had lost all reason.
“Die, you bastards!”
A man smashed the head of the soldier in front of him with a stone that had been rolling on the ground, and when the soldier collapsed clutching his head, he picked up the sword the soldier had dropped.
Gripping the sword with practiced ease, the man drove it straight into the soldier’s heart.
As the soldier collapsed with a choking sound, the man pulled out the sword, shoved the soldier aside, raised the blade high, and shouted.
“If you don’t want to die, fight back!”
The soldiers, stunned by the sight of their comrade losing his life in an instant, turned to look at their commander as the excited crowd surged toward them.
But what entered the soldiers’ eyes was the sight of their commander being strangled by a man who had rushed him from behind.
When the commander’s body, after struggling, went limp, the soldiers, unable to believe they could possibly survive at the hands of the enraged people, threw down the swords they held.
Quick-footed men picked up the weapons and bound the surrendered soldiers with the clothes they were wearing, and the one who had killed the first soldier shouted.
“Why should we die fighting the Empire! Who was it that betrayed the Empire that stood with us?”
“The nobles! Those nobles who deserve to be torn to pieces!”
At someone’s response, the man shouted even louder.
“The Sultan of the Empire is merciful, so let us kill the nobles and beg for forgiveness! Then we will be able to live!”
At the call to kill the nobles whom they had revered and served all their lives, the people could not readily respond.
For those who had been taught and raised from birth to serve the nobility, it meant twisting the values they had held for their entire lives.
But they had a clear reason to change the thoughts they had held all their lives.
“Look at this sight! There is no way the nobles who think of us as less than livestock will let us live after seeing this!”
Far away lay the corpse of a noble, and the soldiers who had died or had their weapons taken were sprawled across the ground.
The nobles they had seen until now would never let them live, and they could not be certain they would be able to flee inside the cramped city walls.
Realizing that they had to kill in order to survive, they shouted.
“Kill them! Kill the nobles!”
The people, who had never even imagined that they would shout such words, found after saying them once that the words came more easily than expected.
In Ardahan, cries rang out calling for the nobles to be killed.
∗ ∗ ∗
Shadiman, the Tavadi of Ardahan—a title that in another country might be called something like a duke—was left speechless by the sight before his eyes.
Having indirectly confirmed through the smoke that Shavshat, their last bastion, had fallen, Shadiman had been wondering whether he ought to flee even now.
The soldiers under his command numbered only about five thousand, and with such a meager force, he could not imagine holding out at all.
‘I don’t want to die.’
He had been thinking that rather than have his entire family slaughtered like the lord of Artvin, who had died a miserable death, it might be better to flee to the Safavid lands.
Fortunately, Ardahan bordered the Safavids, so it seemed possible to escape.
After instructing his trusted vassals and family to gather their valuables, Shadiman went outside at the sudden commotion, and he saw it.
A tremendous crowd surging toward his fortress like an enraged wave.
“Tavadi!”
“Wh-what is happening!”
An Aznauri, a lower noble appointed by him, rushed over and shouted.
“It is rebellion! The people have risen in rebellion!”
“Why!”
He had eyes of his own, so he could tell it was a rebellion.
The people and the soldiers who had sided with them were pointing their swords at the fortress, and he could see with his own two eyes that even the soldiers who had not betrayed him were declaring surrender in the face of that ferocious momentum.
At the question of how things had come to this, the Aznauri became as silent as one with honey in his mouth.
Because the flames of rebellion had spread throughout all of Ardahan before he could even grasp the circumstances.
“Useless wretch!”
The enraged Shadiman struck the face of the subordinate who could not even answer properly, then shouted.
“We must flee! Prepare at once!”
“Y-yes!”
The reason no longer mattered.
The rebellion had already grown too large to suppress in a short time, and with things in this state, they could not stop the Ottoman army, which they could not have stopped even if soldiers and people had combined all their strength.
Just as he thought he had to flee in order to survive, he heard a sound that made his heart drop.
Boom!
—The fortress gate is open! Seize the noble bastards!
It was a sound like a death sentence.
∗ ∗ ∗
Though its brilliance had been obscured by luck during the occupation of Artvin, the occupation of Shavshat made it plainly clear just how strong an army the Ottomans were in this era.
The walls, made more of stone than earth, crumbled easily under the cannonballs that came flying one after another, and the soldiers who pushed through the gaps mercilessly ended the enemy’s lives.
The Ottoman army, which had captured a castle built to function as a fortress as easily as twisting a child’s wrist, followed the same procedures as they had in Artvin.
Yusuf, trampling Shavshat as both avenger and conqueror, smiled with interest at the news that had come from Ardahan.
“Faster than I expected.”
“Yes. I did not think a popular uprising would break out already.”
Like Wat Tyler’s Rebellion in fourteenth-century England, popular uprisings usually occur because of severe economic exploitation.
When people come to feel that they can no longer survive as things are, they are unable to endure any longer and rise up. That is what a popular uprising is.
Put another way, it meant that peasants would only raise their heavy bodies when they felt their lives were threatened, and that was why such uprisings were not considered easy to incite.
No matter how harshly one occupied a place, the people might regret it only too late; still, to turn their blades inward required tremendous courage.
“An interesting course of events in many ways.”
The urgent report described in detail how the popular uprising had broken out.
That was only natural, since the spies he had planted had played a major role in inciting this revolt.
It was one of his planted spies who had agitated the people into rushing forward after the dead child’s mother, and another who had urged them to seize the sword of the soldier killing the commoners and use it to kill the nobles.
“I’ll have to reward them separately. Shemsi Pasha.”
“Yes, Padishah.”
“Inform the entire army. We march for Ardahan.”
They had not even properly filled the traditional three days allotted for plunder, but those under him voiced no complaints.
After all, Yusuf’s reputation and the ability he had proven through two victories were enough to completely captivate the hearts of the soldiers.
Leaving behind only the soldiers needed to put Shavshat in order, they began their advance, and the music of the Janissary military band rang out across the plains leading to Ardahan.
“Th-they’re here.”
“The Ottoman army is here!”
As the black mass of Ottoman troops surged forward along with the faint strains of Turkish-style music, those atop the walls trembled.
Relief washed over them at the thought that they would not have to fight those men, but at the same time, fear surged up—what if their surrender was not accepted?
Yet they had come far too far to turn back now, and all they could do was desperately hope that mercy would be shown as the rumors said.
“It seems certain a popular uprising occurred.”
Those densely gathered atop the walls were not all soldiers. In fact, there seemed to be far more ordinary people without even weapons.
The gates had been flung wide open before they even arrived, and though fear and expectation were present, there was no sense of any will to fight.
“Someone is coming out.”
A group emerged through the open gate.
Dragging along people bound tightly with rope like cattle being led to a slaughterhouse, they approached to within roughly one hundred meters and knelt.
“Padishah?!”
“Enough. There is no need to worry.”
They were startled to see Yusuf move forward before safety had even been secured, but Yusuf merely waved a hand as if it were nothing.
Their emotions were plain to him, and there was no need for concern.
Yusuf rode forward with the gun that had already accompanied him for so long slung over one shoulder, and a resounding voice rang out.
“We greet the great Padishah!”
Seeing the man who shouted in such a booming voice despite his shabby clothes, Yusuf smiled faintly.
“You’ve been through much. What is your name?”
“I am called Aladdin.”
“I will remember it.”
“Thank you, Padishah! May Allah be with you forever! It was an honor to light the Padishah’s path!”
Those listening to the conversation between the man who had led the uprising and the sultan wore expressions of shock.
It was not only the captured nobles. Those who had joined the uprising under the man were no different.
“You resorted to cowardly tricks! Heaven will punish you!”
At the spite-filled shout, Yusuf turned his head and looked at those bound with rope.
Perhaps they had suffered harsh torment in just a few days; pus and severe wounds could be seen through their tattered clothes, and most of them had broken bones somewhere.
No, in a way, the men might have been fortunate.
The women seemed to have endured something even worse, for their hair was disheveled and their eyes were empty.
“Who is that one?”
“He is the tavadi of Ardahan.”
“A fellow who lost through incompetence and still only knows how to flap his mouth.”
With a light sneer, Yusuf trampled on Shadiman’s back.
His face slammed into the ground, and he writhed, but it was difficult to escape the foot pressing him down.
“And I do not much like such people.”
Bang!
Flame burst from the already loaded gun, and Shadiman, a hole opened in his head, became a cold corpse.
Those who had been watching the scene while trembling were left speechless, and Yusuf spoke to Aladdin.
“Go back and tell those who are frightened. My mercy shall descend upon them.”
“Understood, Padishah!”
After watching Aladdin return to the city to carry out his command for a moment, Yusuf turned indifferently toward the dozens of nobles bound with rope.
“There is nothing worth salvaging here. Kill them all.”
At the Padishah’s command, the Janissaries standing guard cut the nobles down, and cheers rose from Ardahan as Aladdin arrived.
They were the cries of those whose lives had been spared in exchange for raising a popular uprising.
It was also the moment the wheel called revolt began to roll.
∗ ∗ ∗
The Ottomans had occupied Ardahan. If only that news had arrived, there would have been no reason to be surprised.
Artvin, Shavshat, Ardahan.
Those three cities had fallen without even properly buying time, but no one had expected them to stop the Ottoman advance.
Even the capitals of the three kingdoms and five principalities that made up Georgia could not be guaranteed to hold out against the Ottomans.
There was no way cities whose forces were mostly made up of conscripts who merely filled out the numbers could endure, and everyone had expected their fall.
However, no one had dreamed they would fall in this manner.
“A popular uprising. You mean it was occupied through a popular uprising?”
Alexander, king of Kakheti, the easternmost of Georgia’s states, wore a grave expression.
If the period in which he had been appointed co-ruler was included, he was an old monster who had ruled the kingdom for fifty years, and the wrinkles around his eyes soon twisted.
“The one who has newly become master of the empire is radical. Horrifyingly radical. Is it because he is still full of hot blood?”
“Father, do you believe the uprising was also the empire’s scheme?”
At the question from his second son, Demetre, Alexander answered as though there were nothing to think about.
“Is that not obvious? We should have noticed from the moment strange rumors began to circulate.”
Alexander squeezed his dim eyes shut.
No, perhaps he had predicted it in his head and had merely been averting his eyes from reality.
For some time now, sinister rumors had been circulating within Georgia: “The Ottomans invaded because of the nobles’ wrong choices,” and “If only the nobles die, we will be able to live.”
The rumors spread with uncontrollable speed, and among the anxious people, they became stories openly spoken of.
‘The merciless plunder must have been intended to stoke the people’s fear as well.’
Plunder that reduced a city to ruins was an inefficient act for an occupying army.
It meant one less land to govern, so in the long run it was a loss, and if one considered it closely, slowing the speed of advance was also a loss.
He had thought it insufficient to ignite an uprising to this extent, but whatever the precise reason, what mattered was that it had actually happened.
Now the states within Georgia had to worry not only about the Ottoman army, but about popular uprisings as well.
When a heavy sigh slipped through his white beard, an angry voice rang through the great hall.
“That is why I told you! There was nothing good to be gained by getting involved with those Kartli bastards!”
“George, do not speak nonsense.”
Alexander spoke sternly to his eldest prince, George, who was shouting while bringing up the Kingdom of Kartli, one of Georgia’s three kingdoms.
However, George, who had always held many grievances, spoke forcefully despite his father’s rebuke.
“Was the peace you always spoke of, Father, something that would make the kingdom more dangerous?!”
“Mind your tongue.”
Alexander had worked to maintain peace, and that included even the rival Kingdom of Kartli.
Unlike his peace-loving father, George, who had always advocated war with Kartli, sharply pressed his father.
“Instead of weakly keeping pace with the other kingdoms and principalities, we alone should have sided with the Ottomans.”
“Do not forget that our border is with the Safavids, not the Ottomans.”
That was the reason they could not recklessly provoke the Safavids.
If they had sided with the Ottomans and foiled the Safavids’ ploy, the Safavids would have retaliated.
Considering the regional circumstances, in which receiving Ottoman support would not be easy, it had been an unavoidable decision.
“And what is that glorious Safavid doing now? Is it not cowering with its tail tucked like a dog?”
“That is merely speaking with the benefit of hindsight.”
“In the end, it means you made a grave mistake, Father.”
Having harshly driven his father into a corner, George turned and left the great hall.
Beneath his enraged expression, George formed a cold sneer.
“Father has grown too old.”
George, who was nineteen years younger than his father Alexander, was already approaching fifty himself.
He could not be certain when the throne would be handed over to him, and the way his father looked at his younger brother Demetre was far from ordinary.
George, who had always been full of ambition, had no intention of quietly watching the throne pass into his younger brother’s arms.
‘If you will not step down, then I shall have to drag you down myself. An Ottoman invasion and a popular uprising… This is rather fortunate.’
They would provide the justification to drive out his father.
As in the original history, the man who would kill his own father next year and blind his younger brother.
The one nicknamed George the Devil began to move.
∗ ∗ ∗
When they first raised the uprising and seized the nobles, an uneasy air hung over Ardahan.
Like the mind of a criminal who had committed an impulsive crime, once the deed was done, they worried whether this was truly all right.
They feared that the Ottomans might plunder them despite their surrender.
However, contrary to their worries, peace came to Ardahan.
The Ottoman army that entered Ardahan disarmed the soldiers who had surrendered and first dealt with the refugees crowding the city.
“Those who came seeking refuge, return to your villages!”
“I-is that true?”
At the Ottoman soldiers’ cry, the people asked with brightening faces.
They had fled in the desire to survive, but life as refugees, where even drinking a proper mouthful of water was difficult, had been terribly hard.
“Even if you return to your villages, no harm will befall you!”
“Take the food you need when you go. It is the Padishah’s mercy.”
Those who had been worrying about how to live for some time looked moved at the soldiers’ words.
Until now, there had been no one who had ever taken care of them like this.
The people who left after taking enough food to live on for a while departed while praising the sultan’s grace, and Yusuf looked down at Ardahan, from which most of the refugees had already departed.
“They praise me as they take food from those who were their neighbors just yesterday. Isn’t that amusing?”
“What matters to them is simply that there will be food to eat tomorrow, is it not?”
Yusuf nodded at Semsi’s answer.
“Yes, they are without greed.”
It was an age where the problem was not relative poverty—the desire to live better than others—but absolute poverty, in which the basic necessities of food, clothing, and shelter themselves went unsolved.
Literally, the majority would be satisfied if only they had no worries about their next meal, and their thoughts showed in their demeanor as they went about their business.
‘Problems always arise because of the greed of those in power, like me.’
Yusuf was human too; he was not so devoid of humanity that he could delight in watching the massacre at Artvin.
He had simply acted because he believed it was necessary, even if unpleasant, and he had no intention of deliberately turning away from that responsibility.
Since he had long resolved that if a cruel wheel was destined to roll, he would ride atop it rather than be crushed beneath.
Once he had set his mind to acting on greed, he must not look back.
“The rumors must have spread quickly?”
“Georgia is small compared to the Empire. Soon all of Georgia will know of the Padishah’s mercy.”
The powerful who received news quickly must have already heard of the rebellion in Artvin, but time was needed for word to spread to the common people as well.
The powers would desperately try to block this news, but the spies who had infiltrated all across Georgia while the sipahis were assembling would quickly spread it.
“Just as a wheel that has begun to roll once rolls easily. Everything is difficult at first, is it not?”
“However, precisely because the difficult beginning has been resolved, there is also concern. This experience could become a great danger in the future.”
Yusuf laughed at Semsi’s answer.
Considering that many powerful figures of this age did not fear the countless commoners trampled beneath them, it was quite a surprising thought.
“It is not wrong. None would dare dream idle delusions in my time, but should an incompetent successor follow me someday, they might revolt. Is this the worry you speak of?”
“Yes. The blood of the great Padishah will eventually thin.”
Mehmed and Murad, Yusuf’s children, were both excellent men, but no one knew how far the trait of an excellent bloodline would continue.
Just as all kingdoms had done until now, someday an incompetent man might ascend to the Sultan’s throne.
At Semsi’s worry, Yusuf raised one corner of his mouth.
“If he is so incompetent as to be struck by a peasant’s blade, should he not die as much?”
“Padishah?!”
Semsi’s face showed surprise at those words, and Yusuf tapped the shoulder of the man who had lost his usual expressionless composure to such shock.
“What are you surprised at? If the dynasty declines to the point where it must raise such a fool as master of the Empire, there is no need to continue such a worthless line.”
It was not mere empty words.
If he had been the type to worry about what would become of his dynasty in the future, he would never have even thought to expand public education through the schooling of orphans.
For it is true that the more foolish the people, the easier it is for rulers to maintain power.
‘Based on this experience, after a long time a civil revolution might occur. My descendant might have his head fall beneath a guillotine like Louis XVI.’
If a later generation died that way, Yusuf had no intention of recognizing such a fool as his descendant.
Even Louis XVI had lived several more years after the revolution, and he had ample opportunities to preserve his life, not to mention maintain real power.
Nicholas II, the last emperor of the Russian Empire, had also clearly possessed a last chance to prevent his entire family from being massacred.
If it was a later generation that could not even seize such chances and died, there was no need to trouble oneself over them.
At Yusuf’s firm words, Semsi experienced a dizzying sensation.
“…Padishah.”
“Enough. We do not live forever, and is there truly a need to live the present while worrying about distant future generations?”
Perhaps because of the Ottoman-style succession that deemed it acceptable for an incompetent son to lose his life, Yusuf truly thought this way.
As if to say they should stop this boring talk here, Yusuf waved his hand and spoke to Semsi.
“Anyway, what matters is that the rebellion has broken out, and Georgia is divided.”
Even if another rebellion did not occur, the nobles would no longer be able to trust the commoners and soldiers carelessly.
With a formidable enemy right before them even when they were united in resistance, if their rear was unstable, the outcome was obvious.
“In fact, Georgia is already as good as fallen.”
“I think so as well. From now on, it is truly only a matter of time.”
Yusuf, who had erased the trust within Georgia and made them doubt one another, spoke with an amused smile.
“It is truly pitiful to see them struggling to hold on at the edge of a cliff. I must step on the backs of their hands so they do not continue their futile suffering. Semsi Pasha.”
“Yes, Your Padishah!”
“Inform the sipahis. It is time to run wild.”
He had no desire to drag out time any longer dealing with mere Georgia.
It was time to gradually loosen the reins of the forty thousand sipahis.
Semsi, receiving Yusuf’s order, asked something he needed to confirm.
“Your Padishah, what shall we do with the nobles who surrender?”
If they conquered the land of Georgia at an incredible speed unlike before, there would surely be those who surrendered.
‘Moreover, there will surely be those who emerge trying to seize power using the chaotic situation.’
The existing powers had committed enormous blunders, and the situation was extremely chaotic.
It was a prime situation for a coup to occur, and those who newly seized power would surely emerge.
At Semsi’s question, Yusuf twisted his lips.
“Do we need to pick up and raise mongrels as well?”
Even if they licked his hand and wagged their tails for now, the Georgian nobles were those who could change whom they served at any time, as they had this time.
History that had passed was so, and the original history was so.
“Then what do you wish to be done?”
“There is no change to the plan. Erase every single thing called a noble in Georgia.”
“I shall obey your command.”
Along with Yusuf’s command, the shackles that had been bound were released.
The sipahis divided into groups of ten thousand began to devour Georgia.
∗ ∗ ∗
Had they let their guard down? Or had they been naive?
But to put it that way, the Ottoman movements were unexpected.
They had thought the Ottoman army’s next destination after occupying Ardahan would be Akhaltsikhe, the capital of Samtskhe.
It was natural to think so, as Kvarkvare—the one responsible for creating this situation—was there, and it was also the closest city.
Amid such expectations, the time they had awaited holding their breath drew near.
—The Ottoman army has begun its advance!
At the news that the Ottoman army, which had occupied Ardahan without bloodshed and had long labored at stabilizing the city, had moved, people began doing the math.
They had believed that even if Akhaltsikhe was occupied, it would buy time.
For the Ottoman army had stayed quite a long time in occupied cities, whether for destruction and plunder, or for city stabilization.
They would waste a long time digesting Akhaltsikhe, which was larger than any city they had occupied until now, and during that time they planned to coordinate with other Georgian kingdoms or flee to the Safavids.
But the Ottoman army began to move as if mocking such thoughts.
“Why, why are you saying the Ottoman army is coming this way?!”
Simon, an Aznauri ruling Aspindza, located a little over a day’s distance from Akhaltsikhe, shouted with a pale, bluish face.
Aspindza was a large village of fifty households with gardens and orchards, but it was not a city.
It would be stranger to keep one’s sanity at the news that a great army dozens of times the village’s population was pressing in, and the messenger who brought the news was equally pale.
“The situation is that four Ottoman armies of ten thousand men each have begun advancing in all directions. The Mtavari instructed me to deliver this news for now.”
“Is that the end of it after delivering this damned news?!”
Mtavari (mtavari) was a term derived from prince, and now referred to Samtskhe, Guria, Svaneti, Abkhazia, and Mingrelia.
It was a word meaning the ruler of these five principalities, and recalling Kvarkvare, who had sent this news, Simon gritted his teeth furiously.
It was no different from being told to survive on his own, and the reason the Ottomans were advancing here was not difficult to figure out.
‘They are trying to advance to Kartli!’
One of the paths leading to Kartli without occupying Akhaltsikhe continued through here, Aspindza.
He knew the reason they were heading here, but knowing the reason did not change the situation.
Simon, trembling and worrying for a moment, sprang up from his seat.
“We must flee. We must flee before the commoners catch on.”
Fifty households might seem few, but it was on the larger side for a village, and being close to the capital, the people were well-informed.
The Ottoman army was approaching, and if he tried to flee, he didn’t know how they would react given the recent atmosphere.
It was then that an angry voice reached the ears of Simon, who was trying to pack his family and valuables to flee.
—Kill all who resist!
Though the voice boomed with authority, it was an unfamiliar language; and precisely because he could not understand a word, he grasped the situation with perfect clarity.
The fact that the Ottoman army had already arrived.
Only then did Simon realize that to occupy a mere village, the main force did not even need to come.
Before the ferocious sipahis, Simon fell to his knees.
“I-I surrender! Please spare my life!”
This was a scene occurring simultaneously across all of Samtskhe.
∗ ∗ ∗
As if to prove that their leisurely movements until now had been a lie, the Ottoman army surged like a typhoon.
The forces divided into four armies operated scouting parties of about two to three hundred men and quickly occupied villages, but did not recklessly occupy cities or fortresses they encountered.
Following standard siege protocol, they first sent messengers calling for surrender.
“We have no intention of surrendering! Turn back at once!”
The soldiers and people who had heard the news of Ardahan wished to surrender and preserve their lives, but the nobles making the decisions could not easily surrender.
Most nobles tasked with defending cities or fortresses had either been complicit with the Ottomans in treachery or had known of it and turned a blind eye.
The Ottomans were moving as if to exterminate the very seed of the nobility; there was no way they would spare those who surrendered.
To the noble's reply, the envoy answered flatly.
"Very well."
He made no effort to persuade them, nor did he even bother to threaten that they would come to regret it.
After simply giving a short reply and turning around to leave, it was the nobles who were left rather stunned and bewildered.
Whether the nobles felt uneasy at his behavior, which defied common sense or not, the envoy returned, and shortly after, the Ottoman army moved.
BOOM!
The soldiers, tense with the news of the refused surrender and the impending battle, felt their hearts drop at the deafening roar.
Among all the dire rumors circulating throughout Georgia were tales of the cannons that had obliterated Artvin and Şavşat, and from the sound alone, they could tell that weapon was the star of those rumors.
They heard the sound of the city walls crumbling down, but the soldiers felt perplexity more than fear.
"Th-the enemy is retreating!"
"I see it too."
Only a single cannon had been fired, and the Ottoman army, which had merely scratched the walls, began to move again as if nothing had happened.
The news of a fearsome enemy passing by of its own accord might be welcome, but when the reason was impossible to know, as it was now, it left nothing but unease rather than joy.
When they could not even muster a cheer of joy, one soldier spoke cautiously.
"But does this mean we've fought the Ottomans?"
They had taken a one-sided beating, and neither side had suffered any significant damage, so it was embarrassing to even call it a fight.
However, depending on one's perspective, it could be seen as a siege having been waged, and once they thought of it that way, a chilling stiffness gripped their entire bodies.
By convention, it was believed that once a siege occurred, the defending side lost all rights to their lives and property.
It wasn't difficult to realize that the single cannon shot just now was an act that placed this place on the death list.
"...Dear God."
The soldier gripped a wooden cross with trembling hands.
Such was the current situation in Georgia: it could not even stop the advance of the Ottoman army, torn asunder into four pieces.
There was no need to recklessly occupy small and medium-sized cities or fortresses right now in order to occupy Georgia. They would wither and die anyway.
Yet the Ottomans' actions, as if to settle today's debt, brought extreme terror, and a grim atmosphere hung over the cities the Ottoman army passed through.
"R-rebellion! A rebellion has broken out!"
After that, it was hardly a strange thing for rebellions to break out regardless of fortress or city.
Georgia was quickly withering away.
∗ ∗ ∗
The army, divided into four, advanced toward the Kingdom of Kartli, the Kingdom of Imereti, and the Principality of Guria, which bordered Samtskhe.
The three nations, which had not expected an attack before Samtskhe was even finished off, began to have their lands helplessly occupied.
Of course, it was not that there had been no resistance at all.
"They engaged in battle with the army led by King David X of the Kingdom of Kartli."
Perhaps they had seen it as an opportunity to defeat them in detail before they could regroup.
Even excluding the ten thousand troops guarding Yusuf in Ardahan, forty thousand troops were rampaging through Georgia.
It was a difference in military strength that Georgia could not overcome even if they united as one again, and perhaps they had thought it was an opportunity to weaken their enemy's forces.
Shemsi, who received the report together with him, sneered.
"For a mere Kartli to try to clash with the Empire was a foolish thought indeed."
"Courage that does not succeed is nothing more than recklessness."
David X, having suffered a crushing defeat, had shown himself to be reckless.
Kartli, facing the Ottoman army composed of cavalry and artillery, suffered tremendous damage.
Of fifteen thousand troops, five thousand died, and many had deserted due to the defeat.
The troops that returned to the capital, Tbilisi, numbered fewer than five thousand, and the king's brothers, George and Bagrat, lost their lives.
'If he had been planning to purge his brothers, I wonder if he succeeded.'
That is, if he were not in a position where he soon had to worry about his own life.
The Ottoman army that had fought the battle also could not escape unscathed, suffering nearly a thousand casualties, but this was more than enough to be called a great victory.
"Since the largest, Kartli, has suffered tremendous damage, there is virtually no force left to resist now."
"Those who hear of the results of this battle will not even dare to think of opposing the Empire."
"They won't even have the spirit to resist."
Already, news of rebellions and surrenders was coming in continuously from various cities and fortresses.
It was because those who had failed to realize that Georgia's destruction was imminent had awoken to reality after receiving a single cannon shot.
Even the large cities that were barely holding out were being isolated, so there was no telling how long they could endure.
"The nobles who surrendered are being disposed of according to the Padishah's orders."
The disposition of the surrendered nobles was carried out mercilessly according to Yusuf's will.
Those who had colluded in the betrayal against the Ottomans were all executed, even if they had surrendered, and those who had known yet condoned it all fell into slavery.
But it was not that the nobles who had known nothing passed through without any trouble.
Most of their property was confiscated, and they were all scheduled to be forcibly relocated to the Balkan Peninsula.
'Having lost their roots, they can no longer be called nobles.'
Moreover, it would not be easy to survive even after relocating.
Since external contact did not occur frequently, each community was closed off, and due to local prejudice, the lives of migrants were far from easy.
It was a movement to completely uproot those who had long been rooted in Georgia, and it could be seen as ample revenge for the betrayal.
It was as he was casually discussing future matters with Shemsi.
-Your Majesty the Padishah, the people of Circassia have arrived.
"Show them in."
He had already received word that they were coming, and as the door opened, a familiar face entered.
"I greet the great Padishah."
"You have worked hard coming a long way, Ivan. You may raise your head."
At his command, Ivan raised his head, and Yusuf smiled broadly.
"Seeing your wrinkles, you have aged much since I first saw you."
"Is it not because so many years have passed? Just as the Padishah, who was but a boy when we first met, has now become a giant."
"As the years have passed, your words have become smoother as well."
He was so fluent that one could not imagine he was once the Ivan who had stammered out Ottoman Turkish.
It was an appearance that indirectly showed how much effort he had made for the connection between Circassia and the Ottomans.
Since this meeting was not merely for the sake of formalities, Yusuf immediately got to the point.
"I have not forgotten that Circassia threw itself into this. So, is there something you desire?"
No matter how much Circassia had come into the Ottoman fold, if merit had been established, proper reward had to be given.
For reward and punishment must be properly carried out.
Ivan, who had already received orders through an envoy to think about what reward he desired, spoke with a slightly stiffened expression.
"Rather, it was our movements that put Trabzon in danger. How could we ask for a reward?"
"You are not wrong."
By cutting off supplies, Ismail had attempted the siege more fiercely, and as a result, Trabzon had reached the brink of falling.
However, Yusuf had no intention of blaming them for that.
"Who would have thought Ismail would make such a judgment? You made the best choice you could. And it was not entirely unhelpful."
At the very least, the supply of siege engines had not been properly carried out.
At Yusuf's words, Ivan swallowed hard and spoke.
"Then I shall speak without modesty. I hope you will accept Circassian women into your harem."
"An interesting thought you have put forward."
It was a different story from being kidnapped by the Crimean Khanate and entering the harem as a slave.
For it would open a formal route for them to enter as commoners and be married off to high-ranking officials.
"I shall consider it."
"Thank you, Your Majesty the Padishah."
Ivan, unable to receive immediate permission, stepped back in regret and asked something else.
"I have heard the news. Since the matter of Georgia is nearly finished, is only the Safavid left now?"
"That is correct. And I have already sent the right man for the job. A very capable talent indeed."
Yusuf smiled mischievously.
∗ ∗ ∗
"To think I've come to this damned place again!"
Hasan shrieked on this land he did not miss in the least.
<'I Became the Ottoman Sultan' continues in Volume 5>