I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

The Conclusion and Mischief (1)

Just like in chess or go, where no matter how many pieces you have left, if the king is captured, you lose, the same applies to real war.

No matter how many soldiers you have or how much you can continue the fight, if the Sultan is caught, everything is over.

If Yusuf gets captured, the momentum gained in the campaign against Georgia could easily flip, making it seem risky that only ten thousand soldiers are protecting the Sultan.

After all, they could launch an attack relying on the last hope remaining in Georgia.

However, if most of those remaining ten thousand troops are the central forces, the situation changes.

‘With our current strength, we could win even if the twenty thousand Kizilbash who fled attacked us.’

Considering the armored cavalry equipped with firearms and the cannons being dragged in the back, even the Kizilbash would hesitate to attack.

The weak Georgian army, of course, is not worth mentioning.

Despite it being August, the weather was not too hot, with a cool breeze occasionally making the march pleasant, and the four-day march reached its conclusion.

“Over there seems to be Akhaltsikhe.”

As the vaguely visible Akhaltsikhe drew closer, the scenery became clearer.

Just as Akhaltsikhe means “new fortress” in Georgian, it began as a city built around a fortress and boasted solid defenses.

The high walls surrounding the city and the citadel on the hill stood proudly.

This was the citadel that withstood the attacks from the gigantic Timur Empire a hundred years ago.

“Şemsi Pasha, if we are to conquer this place, how long would it take?”

“With our current forces, it will take more than two weeks.”

Although the number of cannons was significantly reduced due to the small and medium-sized mobile cannons being handed over to the cavalry, the twelve Urban cannons that pack a punch were still intact.

With such a force, this city could not be conquered in a short time.

“The real problem is the citadel, isn’t it?”

“Yes, even with cannons, it is not easy to destroy the citadel located on the hill.”

There’s nothing that can be done about that.

Considering that the cannonballs would only be cute, round stones or spherical chunks of metal at best, there are limits to their destructive power.

Of course, considering the costs and efforts that went into building the fortress, investing just two weeks may not be much at all.

While Yusuf and Şemsi were casually evaluating Akhaltsikhe, the Ottoman army finished their formation, and the band began to play.

Boom! Boom!

As the Ottoman army stomped their feet to the lively music, a slight vibration and tremendous sound reverberated.

The soldiers on the walls looked on in shock.

The infamy of the Ottoman army within Georgia spread since Yusuf annihilated five thousand Kizilbash despite being outnumbered.

Yusuf, who was merely a Sanjakbey, had made Georgia fear him enough to kneel, and now he had returned as the Sultan of the empire, instilling even more terror.

Before the battle even began, morale plummeted, and as the heavy gates opened, just around ten individuals stepped out.

Having finished thorough body checks, they could stand before Yusuf and immediately knelt down in greeting.

“We greet the great Padishah of the Empire. I am Rusudan from Tiflis.”

Facing Rusudan, who lowered himself deeply to introduce himself, Yusuf coldly replied.

“Who cares about your name? Just tell me why you’re here.”

Feeling ominous at Yusuf’s unexpectedly sharp response, Rusudan realized he had been sent because of the news of the death of the main culprit, Kvirkvare.

He had thought they could engage in rational discussions this time, but the atmosphere was strange, and he recalled something he had momentarily overlooked.

“…Padishah, where is the envoy we sent this time?”

With a trembling voice, the corners of Yusuf’s mouth rose slowly.

“His head is hanging in Ardahan, but I don’t know where the body went. He must have known he was going to die when he came, trembling and begging for his life. Isn’t that right?”

“He was a man even kind Allah wouldn’t look at.”

At the response of the Janissary officer, sneers erupted from various corners.

Feeling a chill run down his spine from their reactions, Rusudan gathered himself and spoke as calmly as possible.

“The one who committed the greatest crime, Kvirkvare, is dead.”

“And you lot are still alive.”

“We admit that we have wronged the Padishah. We will repay that sin with loyalty!”

Yusuf spoke firmly to Rusudan, who banged his head hard against the ground and cried out fervently.

“I said the price for the nobles’ sins would be paid in blood. Leave. I will give you until sunset. If you do not surrender by then, the entirety of Akhaltsikhe will pay the price.”

“…Understood.”

Seeing that there was no room for persuasion from Yusuf, Rusudan hurriedly stood up.

Staying here would only risk his life.

As Rusudan tried to take his leave with a light bow, the Janissaries who received Yusuf’s glance drew their swords.

“One of you to deliver the message is enough, right?”

“Lord Rusudan!”

In an instant, all his companions had swords aimed at their necks, and seeing their anxious eyes on him made Rusudan grit his eyes shut and turn away.

He never expected they would abandon him like this, and as they called out in horror, Rusudan didn’t look back.

Nine lives were taken, and the moment of last choice arrived for Akhaltsikhe.

*

“Padishah, time is almost up.”

The sun that soared high had now begun to dip toward the horizon, and the red sunset enveloped the surroundings.

Despite the time provided slowly running out, there had been no significant movement atop the walls, and Yusuf raised his hand.

“Prepare for bombardment.”

“Yes, Padishah!”

With Yusuf’s command, the oxen pulling the twelve Urban cannons that weighed 19 tons started moving.

Accompanied by the bellowing cries of the oxen, the twelve Urban cannons took their positions for the bombardment.

Wood was piled under the cannons to adjust the firing angle, and now it was merely a matter of waiting for the sun to set.

“Şemsi Pasha, does it seem to you that taking the longer path is unnecessary?”

Preparing for a siege to behead the nobles might seem like a waste of time and manpower.

Though the betrayal was contemptible, under normal circumstances, a typical ruler would have forgiven such actions by this point.

“I apologize, but I cannot disagree.”

“You are always so honest. You still don’t see me as your prince, do you?”

“How could I, when you’ve grown to such heights over me?”

Yusuf jested lightly with Şemsi and reached out to clutch the sun hanging in the sky.

“My empire will grow tremendously. To a point where the sun doesn’t set.”

A land where the sun never sets.

Until now, this had merely been a figurative expression, but with the discovery of the New World, it had become an attainable goal.

If the country were to grow to that extent, the central controlling force would naturally weaken.

“I will not tolerate my possessions trying to forget their value. And this current hassle will aid in that.”

“Everything will be done as the Padishah wishes.”

At Şemsi’s response, Yusuf smiled brightly.

“Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean I intend to waste time unnecessarily. It seems they’ve finally begun to move.”

Yusuf’s gaze turned to Akhaltsikhe.

On the arid wind, faint screams and cries could be heard, and smoke began to rise.

The troops that had covered the walls had vanished, and a louder voice was clearly heard.

-Capture the nobles!

-Let’s capture those noble bastards, following Mzechabuk!

*

No matter how thick and tall the walls are, they cannot stop the enemies inside.

Following the wide-open gates, the Ottoman army completely occupied the castle.

The subjects who welcomed their new ruler prayed that the flames of war would not reach them, while the soldiers that rebelled disarmed themselves obediently.

Once the area was completely secured, Yusuf entered Akhaltsikhe, greeted by an old man with deep wrinkles on his face.

“Mzechabuk, you’ve aged quite a bit in the time we haven’t seen each other.”

It wasn’t merely a comment on his appearance.

The desire that had filled his eyes had scattered like the wind, and the dull eyes resembled someone preparing for their end.

“It has been quite a while since I first met the Padishah. Moreover, there is a foolish man you were looking for here.”

Soldiers, beckoned by Mzechabuk, brought down a coffin and opened the lid.

Perhaps because he was the highest authority in Samtskhe, or perhaps to serve as a sacrifice to quell the Ottoman’s wrath, the body was well preserved.

Having passed nearly ten days, it showed little signs of decay, showcasing clearly how much he suffered until his demise.

“The one who turned all your efforts into nothing seems quite lackluster. It must be a monumental disappointment to you to have fallen to such a person.”

“I have no words to share.”

Rather than making excuses, Mzechabuk simply lowered his head.

Even if he took a chance seeing as he was merely following Yusuf’s orders, it was the fault of complacency.

“What do you wish for me to do with them?”

At Yusuf’s question, Mzechabuk glanced slightly back.

The captured nobles who lost the civil war looked up at him with desperate faces, among whom there were many children and women.

Receiving their urgent gazes, Mzechabuk calmly said.

“Dispose of them as the Padishah wishes.”

“Mzechabuk!”

“Ahhhh! Why!”

Curses and insults hurled at him from those who missed their last chance, and among the weak women, some fainted.

As the commotion grew, Yusuf sharply ordered.

“Anyone who speaks from now on will be killed immediately.”

Only after swords were aimed right at their throats did the nobles quiet down.

“Why do you say that?”

“The Padishah has no one to take. Those who cannot see who the most dangerous are and those who close their eyes knowing full well.”

“That’s right. They are not needed.”

Pleased with that answer, Yusuf issued a command.

“Kill all the men. The women and children will be taken as slaves back to our homeland.”

-Padishah! Please spare us!

The nobles were dragged away by the soldiers, and Mzechabuk quietly closed his eyes.

This was the moment when the name of Samtskhe disappeared from history, and he couldn’t bear to witness that scene.

“Mzechabuk, what do you plan to do?”

“I wish to spend my remaining days in a monastery.”

Mzechabuk was born two years before Bayezid II, and he was of an age where he might die at any moment.

While it seemed he hoped for redemption before death to reach heaven, he made the same request as in the original history, and Yusuf granted it.

“Very well. However, I cannot allow you to go to a monastery within Georgia. Is that acceptable?”

“Thank you for your grace, Padishah.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. No matter how close our connection, had you betrayed me, you would have met the same fate as them.”

As Mzechabuk began preparing to leave quietly, Yusuf gazed down at Akhaltsikhe from the citadel.

The moment marked the end of the Samtskhe campaign.

*

After the conquest of Samtskhe, I expected the Sultan’s anger to cool, but the Ottoman army did not stop planting their flags throughout Georgia.

Following Samtskhe, the principality of Guria, which bordered the Black Sea, was conquered, and the capital of the Imereti Kingdom, Kutaisi, fell into Ottoman hands amidst rebellion.

As nobles across Georgia fled from the Ottomans, rebellions and surrenders continued.

Amidst the tremendous chaos sweeping through Georgia, a rebellion for power erupted in the easternmost kingdom of Kakheti.

“Brother! Why!”

“Why, you ask? An incompetent king who has tilted the country must step down.”

George, who nonchalantly pulled the sword that was lodged in the chest of his father, Alexander I, replied to his brother, Demetre.

Ignoring his trembling brother, George addressed his subordinates holding onto Demetre.

“Stay alert and cut off the roots of danger.”

“Yes!”

“Brother! B-brother!”

Ignoring his brother’s distant screams, George strolled through the blood-stained palace, issuing orders.

“Prepare the army. We are heading to Akhaltsikhe.”

At George’s decision, his subordinates spoke worriedly.

“The Sultan is merciless. He may not accept our surrender.”

“Then is it not a gift to take my father’s life? There’s no need for concern. No matter how much of a Sultan he is, he will need someone to cooperate with for smooth governance.”

The foolish fox peered into the tiger’s den.