I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

It’s a barren wasteland.

No need for fancy words, it’s a fitting description of the ground beneath my feet.

The mountains are desolate hills made of dry earth, and every now and then, a rough sandstorm blows by, reminding me of the annoyance of wearing a turban.

Marching through the gusts of dust, I realized just how draining this bleak land could be.

‘It’s no wonder the Caucasus region is considered the tomb of empires.’

The Caucasus, including Circassia, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan, has been notorious since ancient times.

There’s even a saying in Persia that when a king goes mad, he goes to war in the Caucasus, a region that has overwhelmed even the mighty Mongol and Timur empires.

It’s already known for its treacherous terrain, but now a more dreadful scene unfolds before me.

“Well, they’ve tidy enough destroyed everything. Nothing left to salvage.”

The vineyards that should have yielded a harvest now lay as blackened firewood, and the mud-brick village showed no signs of life.

I have seen these empty villages several times already, and Yusuf lifted his head slightly.

There, in the distance, was Gumri, the border city closest to Georgia, once the crossroads of the Silk Road.

The fortress surrounding it, tightly shut, was definitely reduced to ash.

In response to Yusuf’s words, Arda declared, “Those who defy the Padishah will suffer accordingly.”

Many who lost their land to the scorched earth campaign would starve to death, but if they lamented that much, they wouldn’t have started a war in the first place.

Turning away from Gumri, Yusuf spoke of his observations so far.

“This scorched earth tactic will be a misstep for them, but should they truly invade this place, they’ll entangle us next.”

If the Ottomans invade, the Safavid will have no choice but to execute a scorched earth strategy, conversely, to subdue the Safavid, this strategy must be overcome.

In the end, the outcome hinges on how smoothly supplies can be drawn.

“The most stable method is to slowly consume their land.”

“But that means the war will drag on; it’s not a practical approach.”

Maintaining a conquering army for several years would be back-breaking even for Bayezid II, who stabilized the finances of the Ottoman Empire.

Moreover, who knows when other countries might meddle, so one had to tread carefully.

“What’s most concerning is that the Dulqadir principality lies near the supply line.”

“Do you really think they would foolishly obstruct the Padishah’s progress? They have a deep-seated grudge against the Safavid from the last invasion.”

Due to Ismail’s invasion, Elbistan, once the capital, was utterly devastated, and the Dulqadir had to relocate its capital to Maraş.

Common sense suggests they would assist the Ottomans rather than hinder them.

“That remains to be seen. The Bey of Dulqadir, Bozkurt, is unpredictable.”

Even though a nephew threatening the regime is in the Ottoman’s grasp, it was Bozkurt who stabbed Selim in the back when he set out to subdue the Safavid without fear.

Having blocked the supply line and looted food and weapons, he would be executed by Selim the next year along with his four sons.

‘If history plays out the same as before, I must take my revenge.’

Of course, whether or not history repeats, leaving Dulqadir alone was not an option.

If Shamsi were here, we could have shared deeper discussions, but he’s currently struggling in Georgia.

It wasn’t pressing, and once we reached the capital, there would be plenty of talent to think for Shamsi, so Yusuf focused on the situation at hand.

“Is our next destination Yerevan? Let’s check how far we’re burning everything.”

Ignoring the trembling defenses of Gumri, Yusuf’s army continued its march south.

When the Ottoman forces reached nearby, having simply passed by Gumri, Yerevan was trembling in fear.

Refugees, forcibly displaced and set alight from their homes, flooded into Yerevan, with the voices of the despairing echoing all day long.

– Thump, thump, drum!

The faint sound of drums and the sight of the dark mass of Ottoman soldiers struck fear into the hearts of the people of Yerevan.

It seemed there were more of the enemy than the populations within the fortress, and the infamous Ottoman soldiers seemed poised to shatter their sturdy walls at any moment.

They trembled as if faced with a countdown to their demise, making the current situation even more incomprehensible.

“Oh, the Ottoman army is passing by!”

As the Ottoman army seemingly uninterested in Yerevan vanished southward, a heavy silence settled over Yerevan.

A profound sense of emptiness engulfed everyone.

Had they barely survived through fierce struggles, such feelings might not have emerged.

At least they could have rationalized the burning of their living quarters.

At the end of emptiness came fury, aimed squarely at the Safavid who forced this scorched earth.

This strange march triggered turmoil within the Safavid and plunged them into extreme chaos.

*

Yusuf’s army, having bypassed Yerevan, headed towards Khoi near Tabriz.

According to the established plan, they should have already commenced their scorched earth campaign in the Armenian region they had passed, but they hesitated to act.

“Don’t burn it! How are we supposed to live like that?”

The villagers, unable to resist against the pointed blades, poured out cries of despair.

The soldier holding the torch cautiously asked the commander.

“Are we really going to burn it down? Didn’t the Ottoman army say they’d descend without battle?”

“Even if that’s true, if we don’t burn it down, it falls into enemy hands.”

In an era where plundering was a fundamental virtue for expeditionary forces, any leftovers would obviously be subject to looting.

Even with a stern command, the soldier hesitated slightly, prompting the commander to firmly respond.

“It’s all the Shah’s will.”

There was no need for further explanation in Safavid; the hesitating soldiers ignited the village.

Feeling the searing heat, the commander grimaced slightly.

Even if it was an order, it didn’t sit well with him, and the thought that they were causing meaningless damage lingered.

For a moment, he nearly wavered, but the commander steeled his resolve.

“It’s commanded by the Shah. It must be the right thing to do.”

Words not born from deep-seated faith in Ismail, but rather a subconscious attempt to shift responsibility onto him.

Such reactions occurred across various operations, and it didn’t take long for news to reach Ismail.

Ismail coldly spoke to the one who reported this.

“Is there any other way simply because there are significant complaints?”

When Ismail’s icy glare hit them, his subordinates bowed their heads low.

Though they had achieved near-impossible victories in previous battles, they felt powerless now more than ever.

“We cannot avoid the scorched earth tactics. No matter how blindly Yusuf’s army advances.”

While his words were bold, Ismail hadn’t anticipated Yusuf’s significant advances to this extent.

In wars, even when facing difficulties, there’s a reason for taking cities and fortresses.

Supply lines could be cut off, and one could become isolated in enemy territory.

Currently, the movement of the Ottoman army contradicted common sense.

“Muhammad.”

At the summons, Muhammad Khan Ustajlu stepped forward, and Ismail asked.

“How much food does the enemy supposedly have?”

Not taking cities means not establishing supply lines, and if looting through a scorched earth strategy isn’t possible, they’ll have to survive on their existing rations.

“Given the number of camels leading them, they should last about a month.”

“A month…”

Normally, in war terms, a month’s worth of supplies wouldn’t be nearly adequate, but it was irrelevant to the current Ottoman army.

They merely passed through without fighting.

“That should be enough for them to trample through my kingdom. After all, come that time, it’ll be winter, and they’ll have to retreat.”

“I regret to inform you, but that is the case.”

Ismail ground his teeth.

The grudge against Yusuf was too long, and he never could shake the feeling of dancing in Yusuf’s palm every time.

Struggling to shake off the relentless feeling of powerlessness, Ismail stood up abruptly.

“Summon the Qizilbash. I will take the field myself.”

“Your Shahness, please calm down. Now is not the time to fight.”

Had he not seen the power of artillery in Trabzon, he might not have opposed him.

Though they were outnumbered, they had always overcome numerical disadvantages, so they’d likely believe they could do so again.

However, the imaging of the vast roar and the sight of the Samtskhe fleet sinking pitifully remained clear in the Qizilbash’s minds.

Without comparable weapons, engaging in an outright battle was unthinkable.

“I have no intention of waging a reckless battle. However, one must at least try to drive them out.”

The gates of the fortress in Tabriz opened and 20,000 Qizilbash marched forth.

*

Leading the scorched earth campaign to draw the enemy to destruction was possible only because several conditions aligned.

Typically, if troop mobilization occurs, it must not only inflict damage upon the enemy but yield tangible benefits.

If troops were mobilized to threaten the Safavid and coerce damage as they are now, discontent could arise from all corners.

‘But not this time. We have gained from Georgia.’

Both Yusuf and the soldiers had already filled their pockets, and it wouldn’t be an issue whether they took slightly longer on the necessary retreat.

Besides, no matter how brazenly Yusuf trampled upon Safavid lands, Ismail couldn’t do anything about it.

Having already experienced the firepower of the Ottoman army firsthand, Ismail wouldn’t dare to fight.

For that reason, even with Ismail leading his troops close, he had no reason to be shocked.

“Your Padishah, a message from the enemy.”

“Bring it forth.”

Unfurling the letter tied to an arrow, Yusuf examined its contents.

Just as Latin serves as the cultured language in Europe, Persian plays a similar role in the Middle East, and as a prince educated in it, he had no trouble reading it.

After reading the letter, Yusuf smirked.

“What does it say?”

“It’s a lot of fluff, but the essence is simply to go home.”

True to form, it was embellished, as Ismail was known for his literary prowess, but the conclusion was essentially asking not to make each other suffer unnecessarily and to coexist peacefully.

Upon reading this, Yusuf scoffed.

“Who dares speak such words when they were the first to start this?”

Had Ismail not attacked Trabzon, he wouldn’t have trod upon Safavid soil years ahead of schedule.

Yusuf drew his horse forward, and the soldiers quickly stepped aside and kneeled.

Cutting through the soldiers, Yusuf faced Ismail’s army across from him.

‘Ismail, huh.’

Though he couldn’t see his face, a man who seemed to be Ismail stood slightly further forward.

Even though he had never faced him directly, the strong feeling that this was Ismail prompted Yusuf to command Arda.

“Bring forth the artillery.”

“Yes!”

As per Yusuf’s orders, the cannons mounted on carts rolled to the front, causing Ismail’s forces to flee in panic.

It was a clear demonstration of how fearfully they regarded artillery, and Yusuf grinned.

“Try to stop me if you can, Ismail.”

Yusuf turned back towards his camp, and the Ottoman forces marched forward once more despite the threat of the Qizilbash.

The play of fire stretching from Gumri to Diyarbakır was just beginning, and it was now time to feel the intense powerlessness.