I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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It all started as a rumor. A rumor that a book chronicling the life of the Padishah was being created.

When the rumor first surfaced, gossipmongers scoffed.

It was not just anyone’s story; it was the story of the Padishah. Simply mentioning it could mean sharing a meal with Allah come breakfast.

Translating a tale like that into a book could result in an entire family being wiped out, so disbelief was only natural.

However, this rumor grew bolder, and some curious souls could not hold back from seeking the truth through their connections.

“Is it true, that such a book is being made?!”

“Yes! The Chancellor has confirmed it. It was created by the Padishah’s order, and he has reportedly seen it.”

“What does it contain?”

“It is said to be about the Padishah’s childhood. He advised that seeing it in person would be better than hearing about it.”

For a moment, the disappointed man’s eyes lit up.

The suggestion to see it meant there was an opportunity to read the book, and he spoke urgently.

“Return to the capital! Find a way to acquire the book as soon as possible. I’ll pay any amount!”

It wasn’t merely to see the great Padishah’s story.

In a time when even a distant encounter with the Padishah could stir envy among peers, the interest in the Padishah soared to the skies.

Those granted autonomy and who had turned their backs on central affairs came to see the portrait, showcasing the overwhelming curiosity surrounding the Padishah.

‘If I could hold the Padishah’s book first, I’d put the others in their place.’

The man moved quickly, but unfortunately, many others also had similar thoughts in the empire.

After the previous excitement sparked by a portrait, the response was even swifter this time, and Yusuf picked up on the situation rapidly.

“Suleiman.”

“Yes, Padishah.”

“Do you think these individuals gathering for the book are merely driven by vanity?”

“Isn’t it because they want to learn of the Padishah’s stories quickly? If the stories in the book aren’t of the Padishah, then it’s just an inconsequential book.”

Suleiman assessed the book he toiled over with a frown.

Having only read good and excellent books, seeing the horrendous quality of one that required deciphering was something he had to address.

“They do not seek the book. They crave the power that comes from feeling superior to others.”

How many are there in modern times who cling to the latest trends that won’t last a few months?

The desire to possess something better before others is timeless.

‘Of course, this may lead to actual benefits.’

Acquiring something that is hard to get before others implies having some sort of upper hand.

Whether this will manifest as resourcefulness or immense wealth is uncertain, but it’s an opportunity to prove one’s abilities.

“What I sell to them isn’t a book; it’s power and opportunity. It doesn’t matter how much I profit.”

This was not the peak of the Ottoman Empire flaunting immense wealth after conquering the Mamluks, nor was the funding for war as voracious as a black hole.

Yet, now that funds were available, it was worth celebrating.

‘The Gutenberg printing press can produce around five hundred books a week with two machines deployed.’

That meant they could print a thousand books in just one week.

Of course, this was the maximum output, so it would be wise to estimate around six to seven hundred books a week.

“There are too many books.”

That was an excessive quantity to sell at high prices.

It was necessary to regulate the amount appropriately.

“Suleiman, go and convey that only ten copies will be auctioned off daily.”

“What will happen to the remaining stock?”

“The auction will last for only one month, and after three months, the accumulated stock will be released.”

This granted the last bidder a two-month grace period.

Some consideration was necessary; otherwise, assuming there would be sales for the follow-up editions would be naïve.

Since there was no copyright law in the Ottoman Empire, those who bought first may not hesitate to copy or transcribe.

‘Even without copyright law, the Sultan’s wrath still exists.’

Instead of sending someone to court sneakingly, they could confiscate all his property and hang his head on the gibbeting post.

Though the era had many inconveniences and regrets, it had its perks.

*

Just as expected, the Barbary Pirates intervened, preventing a naval battle between the West and the Ottomans from occurring.

But that didn’t mean everything ended there.

The Ottomans swiftly drew their swords of vengeance.

“We have spotted merchant ships escaping to the left!”

Upon spotting his prey from the watchtower above the sails, Kemal Reis issued commands.

“Pursue them!”

At Kemal Reis’s command, the drums sounded, and the signaling flags waved as the galleys forming the fleet surged forward.

The targeted small sailing ship attempted to flee as quickly as possible, but it was hard to shake off the galleys expertly employing slave-catching tactics in the Mediterranean.

Boom! Bang!

As the five galleys approached a proper distance, cannons fired from their prows, sending sprays of water soaring into the air.

By chance, the first round of cannon fire missed, but Lady Luck did not smile again.

Crunch!

– Aaaaaaah!

The crew member reporting from the stern of the pursuing ship was unfortunate enough to be hit by a cannonball, and the continual bombardment slowed the ship down.

Realizing escape was impossible, the merchant ship attempted to turn around to engage in cannon fire, but the Ottoman navy, having already devoured its fair share of merchant vessels, quickly closed in.

With no room to angle for cannons, the galleys threw out grappling hooks.

Once it came to close combat, the fate of that merchant ship was surely sealed.

“There are nine Venetian merchant ships if we include that one.”

Nine might not seem like much, but considering the value of a single merchant ship, it was an immense blow.

Additionally, this was after engaging in several naval battles against the vessels of the relief knights who occupied Rhodes.

‘This will severely disrupt the trade between Venice and the Mamluks.’

It had been over half a year since the hunt began.

The news that the Ottoman navy was attacking merchant ships in the Mediterranean had surely spread to both sides by now.

“Now, it’s crucial to see how those whose livelihoods have been severed will respond.”

“The Venice scum will pay for their transgressions, won’t they? I assume they certainly made a truce after their defeat.”

“I’m not worried about those.”

I had already heard that the Venetian envoy had visited the capital once and was soundly turned away.

We should be grateful that we weren’t executed, but those shameless fellows wouldn’t just sit idle and would certainly take other actions.

“Without a doubt, those scoundrels will bring the Mamluks into this.”

If trade decreases, the ones suffering losses wouldn’t just be Venice.

With Yusuf’s ideas and the Ottoman’s willingness to take action, the Mamluks struggled financially while getting involved in the monster that is trade.

The Mamluks had no choice but to act.

“The Padishah will surely have a plan.”

At those words, Kemal released his worries. It was indeed true.

Upholding the Padishah’s orders was the only thing to focus on for now.

The merchant ships were seized smoothly, and as Kemal Reis recorded the loot and prisoners, he scratched his head in the captain’s quarters.

“Damn that name!”

The fifth Abdullah had perished, and upon noting the achievements of the seventh Abdullah, who had slain two resisting enemies, the fifth Abdullah appeared.

The one dead was the twenty-ninth.

As Kemal ripped the paper he had to rewrite from scratch, he pulled out a new sheet and took the pen.

– Kemal Reis! You must come out! Two ships are approaching!

Not a retreat, but an approach, and with that, Kemal stepped outside, spotting the approaching ships as his subordinate had mentioned.

Two ships flying white flags were surrounded by the fleet, and they boarded the opposed ship.

After a brief commotion, one galley approached the Karak which Kemal was on, and an officer, instructed by Kemal, crossed over to the galley.

“It’s an envoy from the Mamluks! They say they were on their way to the capital to meet the Padishah!”

When the response returned, Kemal closed his eyes slowly.

Amidst the damp sea breeze, there was a hint of the iron scent of blood.

*

The excitement of the auction was palpable.

Books were sold for the price of expensive slaves, and the treasury minister even requested an extension of the auction due to the accumulating ducats.

Of course, that was promptly dismissed.

Once a plan is laid down as a Sultan, it cannot be reversed merely for monetary gain, and being blinded by extra revenue is folly.

The auction concluded as planned, and piles of books were stacking up, ready to spread throughout the Ottoman Empire.

Though the contents of the books were spreading quietly among those who read them, the impact was still limited due to the upper class communicating amongst themselves.

However, there was one significant change.

“All rejections need to be made. Do you wish to expand my harem to city scale?”

The upper-class women who had read the book began to hope to enter the harem.

Of course, it wasn’t just female slaves entering the harem; noblewomen would also be included for political marriages, but they were only a fraction.

“Should we reject them all without exception?”

“Sorting them out is a task in itself, so just reject them all. Don’t make things uncomfortable unnecessarily.”

“I will convey that to the Valide Hatun.”

Yusuf clicked his tongue lightly.

Maintaining a harem costs money as well. It would be better to acquire a handful more gunpowder than increasing the number of women who might just be hanging around.

Yusuf inquired about the wellbeing of one woman from the eunuch managing the harem.

“How is Nigyar’s health?”

“Since the Valide Hatun confirmed her pregnancy, she has been caring for her closely.”

Nigyar was the first woman the Sultan had taken, and she stood in a special spot alongside Gylfer, regularly sharing a bed with him.

The revelation of her pregnancy had come not too long ago.

‘It’s taking longer than expected to conceive.’

The harem uniquely keeps meticulous records akin to a royal court.

From menstrual cycles to bed-sharing dates, it operated on a planned schedule, and this delay was unusual.

Considering that previous children also took time to conceive, it seemed more likely that some inherent nature or luck was causing the delay.

“As long as the Valide Hatun is watching over her, there shouldn’t be any issues.”

Just as Yusuf was about to continue speaking to the eunuch.

– Padishah, an envoy from the Mamluks has arrived.

“From the Mamluks?”

Realizing that the expected had arrived, Yusuf gestured for the eunuch to step back.

As the door to the audience room opened, an attendant entered to relaying the news of the envoy’s visit.

“An envoy from the Mamluks, is it?”

“Yes, what should we do?”

The relationship between the Mamluks and the Ottomans was far from cordial.

With internal chaos preventing any chance for external expansion, the Mamluks sought to keep the ambitious Ottomans in check.

‘Maybe they’ve realized who’s cutting off their air supply.’

Spring had already passed, and summer was approaching.

With cannons now in production due to the cannon production by Tahir and Suleiman, Hasan, who was dragged to Shomsi, established a foundation for Georgia.

While stockpiles of military rations were being gathered without causing much disturbance, the soldiers were getting armed with rifles that could also be fitted with bayonets.

‘If they’re only planning to deal with the Safavids, half a year is plenty; there’s no need for a year and a half.’

No matter how much the Mamluks and Safavids attempted to conceal it, the subtle exchanges between the two had already been detected.

“If they block our path, we’ll sweep them away. Let’s see what Dilah Hara has to say.”

“Understood, Padishah.”

Upon hearing Yusuf’s order, the attendant went out, and shortly after, the Mamluk envoy arrived.

The meeting was arranged abruptly, yet the Mamluk envoy retained his composure and paid his respects.

“I come to meet the Padishah of the Empire. I am Aziz Yarbay, sent by Sultan Ashraf Khan-Safgaur.”

“You’ve had quite the journey.”

Yusuf leisurely assessed the envoy.

For being an envoy, he appeared to hold a substantial position, with gem-studded rings sparkling, and his gaze was shrewd as a merchant.

“I take it you didn’t encounter any pirates on the way.”

“Thanks to Allah’s protection, I did not.”

“I thought so. If you had met pirates, you would’ve returned with only two fingers.”

All of his ring-wearing fingers would have been cut off, of course.

At that chilling remark, Aziz’s eyes darted around, and Yusuf let out a small chuckle.

“Just joking. I was trying to lighten the mood. Now, what brings you here?”

“Please put an end to the pillaging that disrupts our commerce.”

“Pillaging, you say…”

Yusuf lightly stretched the end of his words and commanded the Silahtar.

“Cut off one of his fingers.”

“P-Padishah?! J-Just a moment… Aaaack!”

The flustered envoy was pressed down as the Silahtar swiftly severed his left index finger.

The sharp scent of blood filled the air, and as the envoy trembled, eyes filled with questions, Yusuf provided the answer.

“Didn’t I warn you? If you met pirates, you’d be left with only two fingers. Now, there are still seven left.”

The pirate chief twisted his lips into a smile.