I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

Religious Matters (3)

The hand playing with the paintbrush stained with pigment was cautious.

Colors were being applied one by one on wood that had been treated with glue and white pigment to prevent splitting from steam.

Michelangelo had never formally studied painting and felt it was inferior to sculpture, so he never imagined he would be painting a portrait.

He had been pressured by the Pope to take on the ceiling project, but if he had been told to paint a portrait of the Pope, he would have thrown his brush at the Pope’s face.

However, things were different now. He didn’t want to go back to being a laborer.

“It’s not that I cherish my life.”

His blisters burst, his whole body screamed, and he had to shove disgusting food down his throat.

Labor was a terrible ordeal, but he could endure this much.

He was originally far from luxury and had lived a life avoiding alcohol and women.

But he couldn’t bear the fear of dying as scrap for the sea without creating another masterpiece with his hands.

“So I must get into the Sultan’s good graces.”

Fortunately, having completed about half of the ceiling painting, he had caught some sense of painting.

For now, he had an odd sense of gratitude towards the Pope, whose face he didn’t want to see.

“Wait, if it weren’t for that man, I wouldn’t even have been caught here!”

At that moment, his brush slipped, and a cold voice sounded.

“It seems there was a problem with that brushstroke just now.”

Hearing the interpreter, Michelangelo felt a chill run down his spine.

As the Sultan pointed out a small mistake, his eyes glared as if to say, “Did you dare make a mistake after earning the honor of painting the Sultan’s face?”

Quickly, Michelangelo moved his brush to cover up the mistake.

“Surely not! There’s no problem with the painting.”

Michelangelo felt a slight tension from the bright green eyes that pierced through him, and Yusuf spoke up.

“If that’s what you say, then I’m sure it is.”

Thinking he had passed one hurdle, Michelangelo sped up his painting.

He just needed to finish the face. The granted time was short, and every moment with the Sultan felt like it shortened his lifespan.

Finally finished with Yusuf’s face, Michelangelo set down his brush and said, “I’ve completed the face.”

“Bring it here.”

At Yusuf’s command, the Silahtar Aain Alper Pasha came forward with the panel painting.

A familiar yet unfamiliar handsome young man occupied the portrait.

It wasn’t that it had been beautified; it was simply that without a clear mirror, his own face looked strange compared to others.

“What do you think, Alper Pasha? Does it look the same?”

“I think it falls short compared to the Padishah.”

“Ah, so you mean I painted it correctly.”

Yusuf, cutting through the flattery, looked at the painting with satisfaction.

Gaining favor through one’s face was quite important, and having a face that looked this good without beautification seemed to be a wise investment.

“You will paint a hundred portraits based on this face. And I shall assign you a guard.”

“I will not run away.”

If I could escape, I would, but it was clear that I would be dragged back within a day.

At Michelangelo’s response, Yusuf smirked.

“I said I would assign you a guard, not a watcher. Without a guard, how long do you think your life will remain attached?”

“…What do you mean?”

“About two years. When I embark on a campaign, the likelihood of your death will be high.”

Michelangelo’s eyes shook with fear as Yusuf rose from his chair.

On one wall was an Islamic miniature painting, depicting his enthronement.

To someone more familiar with Western civilization, this Islamic miniature might seem flat and cartoonish, but surely, this art style has its own value.

The reason Michelangelo was made to create a portrait was that the more realistic western style suited the task better.

“But to expect that Islamic miniature painters would understand that would be naïve.”

They would surely perceive him as a threat to their position.

“Painting my portrait is not a simple matter. Among the painters in the palace, you will become a center of change and controversy. Expect jealousy as well.”

“I am not a painter; I am a sculptor.”

“Since you have painted my portrait, you have become a painter. Just go make one hundred sculptures.”

Yusuf chuckled playfully.

Of course, even if he had known this fact beforehand, Michelangelo would have painted the portrait regardless.

He wasn’t the type to mechanically churn out the same sculpture.

He lightly patted Michelangelo’s slightly resentful shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I have sent guards, so there won’t be any reckless persons who would harm you.”

At this point, Yusuf decided to dangle a carrot.

Though he appeared docile now, given his strong countercultural tendencies, he needed to be handled carefully.

“If you paint all the portraits, I will support your desire to sculpt. Of course, if necessary, you will have to do painting again.”

While a caveat was attached, the notion of being able to sculpt again made Michelangelo’s eyes sparkle.

Support for a genius who had no particular lust for wealth didn’t mean it would be something special.

“If you wish, you can go to the quarry and find the stone you like. Surely, you were hoping for that?”

“How is that possible?!”

Michelangelo had a surprised expression, but Yusuf, knowing him well enough, found it easy to predict.

Michelangelo viewed sculpture as freeing shapes trapped in stone.

When creating the David statue, he had mentioned awakening the angel trapped within the rock to a curious girl who had come to visit.

He even had anecdotes about wandering for months in a quarry to find the stone he wanted.

“Of course, all of this is after you complete all the portraits.”

“Leave it to me. I will finish it as quickly as possible!”

With the passionate Michelangelo left behind, Yusuf stepped outside, smiling slightly.

Having the portrait completed quickly and focusing intently on his sculpting wasn’t a bad idea.

After all, the ownership of the sculptures made by a slave belonged to him, the master.

“Alper, summon the Archbishop of Constantinople and the Shaykh al-Islam.”

With Michelangelo’s swift hands, the portrait would likely be completed quickly.

There was a need to move things along in accordance with that speed.

*

It was not yet the time when churches under Ottoman control could still be called by their orthodox name.

As the Western Church underwent significant changes through the Reformation, they used the term “Orthodox” to indicate they maintained their legitimacy unchanged.

There were still seven years until Martin Luther would open the door to the Reformation by denouncing the selling of indulgences, so the term “Orthodox” had yet to emerge.

In any case, the Archbishop of Constantinople was in charge of church matters within the Ottoman realm.

“There is also an Armenian Archbishop, but that’s a bit of a hassle.”

Nationalism had not yet appeared, but Armenians were tightly knit around the Armenian Apostolic Church.

Similar to how Jews clustered around Judaism, religion had become a substitute for the state, so he didn’t want to easily expand their influence.

“Both of you have arrived well.”

Yusuf welcomed the two, who knelt and greeted him.

“Archbishop Pachomius, Shaykh al-Islam. Soon, the portraits will be finished one by one. However, there is a problem.”

“What is it?”

“There is no suitable place for the two portraits.”

You couldn’t just put a portrait of the Sultan in any building.

Considering security, it would be best to place it within the city’s citadel, but that would make the effort to create the portraits meaningless due to the poor accessibility for subjects.

“So I wish to place the portraits in the cathedral and mosque.”

Pachomius, the Archbishop, nodded as if it was not difficult, but Shaykh al-Islam Zenvilli expressed his disagreement.

“Are you aware of how sensitive our Islam is to idolatry? There are already murmurs about this portrait.”

“There’s no need to worry. We plan to build new structures in each city. They are only temporary placements.”

The buildings to be constructed weren’t merely places for the portraits.

The immediate plan was to post announcements about imperial news in poster form for the subjects.

‘A kind of state propaganda.’

Of all the means of propaganda that could be attempted in this era, newspapers would be the most useful, but in the currently preparing situation for a grand campaign, they couldn’t afford to worry about that.

Perhaps when they conquered the Mamluks and had a breather.

Just letting the subjects know the propaganda content suitable to them in poster form would be sufficient by now.

Yusuf’s words seemed to alleviate Zenvilli’s worries.

“As long as it’s temporary, I will do my best to smooth things over.”

“Always reliable. And Archbishop, I will also declare the abolition of the Devshirme system after presenting the portraits.”

“Thank you, Padishah! All subjects will extol your mercy.”

The Archbishop bowed deeply.

Though under Ottoman control, the role of the Archbishop was essentially to care for the welfare of the subjects who believed in the church.

What good news it was that the Devshirme system, which had brought cries of lament from the church with each implementation, would be abolished.

“The children currently receiving education will be given a choice to return to their families.”

Abolishing the Devshirme system would indeed bring a period of pain and chaos.

Among the students, there would be those who wished to return to their parents, but there would also be those who had been separated for a long time or were reluctant to give up the education they had received.

Those children could go back, and the vacant positions could be filled with orphans.

‘But the bigger problem is those who have already completed their education, like the Janissaries.’

Those who had become officials were fine. Though they were from the Devshirme, they were no different from regular officials.

However, the Janissaries faced many restrictions due to being slaves of the Sultan, starting with a marriage ban.

‘In the end, these restrictions must be lifted.’

Ultimately, this meant that the modernization of the central army also had to be addressed.

Historically, the Janissaries became a corrupt force because marriage was permitted, and Muslim support allowed their positions to become hereditary.

This problem wasn’t urgent. After all, as firearms spread, the usefulness of conscripted soldiers would increase, and there were many ways to keep the Janissaries in check.

“Archbishop, you know well what your role is, don’t you?”

“I will ensure that all congregants are deeply moved by the Padishah’s grace.”

“You understand well.”

In these times, if good deeds were not made known, few would recognize them.

It was better to broadly spread the word than wait for someone to notice, and if things progressed well, the Orthodox Church could also increase its influence.

‘Ultimately, I must keep the Ottoman family from being tied down to one religion.’

To govern an expansive empire without issues, the necessary flexibility had to be obtained.

“Additionally, soon, discrimination based on birthplace will also disappear.”

In the Ottoman Empire, professions were heavily influenced by one’s religion, as only Muslims were conscripted as mandatory soldiers, leading to a military predominantly occupied by Muslims.

Greek and Orthodox congregants primarily engaged in maritime work and commerce, while Jews and Armenians mostly dealt in trade and industry.

With the promise to eliminate this framework, the Archbishop’s face brightened even further, ready to express his gratitude, but Yusuf raised his hand.

“It’s not something to be overly happy about. From now on, it means that all subjects, not just Muslims, will be included as conscripts.”

Taxes may decrease, but the increase in the number of armed forces to be equipped with firearms was not to be ignored.

Especially when thinking about the need to engage in wars frequently in the future.

“You must handle any backlash that could arise skillfully.”

“…I will do my utmost.”

“Yes, in the long run, this decision will prove better.”

This was good for the empire as well.

When professions were nearly predetermined, wealth could accumulate in specific ethnic groups, which could foster resentment against those ethnic groups.

“That will be all. Now go and execute my commands.”

*

Two months after the Archbishop and Shaykh al-Islam received their heavy orders.

Michelangelo, who had produced a hundred portraits, collapsed from overwork, and Yusuf’s portrait began to be distributed throughout the Ottoman Empire.