I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

Chapter 116




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Venice is the capital of the Republic of Venice and a vast water city connected by countless bridges across islands.

Fleeing foreign powers, the Romans drove numerous wooden stakes into the marshlands where stone buildings could not be erected and laid slabs on the ground.

That was the moment land for buildings in Venice emerged, and after a millennium, this water city became a capital of one of the wealthiest nations in Europe, home to over a hundred thousand people.

Yet, even this city of glory began to tremble.

“Doge, this situation is dire.”

Leonardo Loredan turned away with a sigh as he gazed at the colorful gondolas passing between the canals.

The dark expression on his eldest son, Lorenzo Loredan, was visible.

“The Contarini family is applying pressure.”

“Tsk, especially in times like these, we must unite as one.”

As one of the founding families of Venice, they held the most seats in the Grand Council that elected the Doge and enacted laws.

Although the Loredan family from which the Doge hailed was powerful enough to have a Doge elected, repeated mistakes were a concern.

“People are complaining about why we are fighting the Infidel Empire when the Republic’s safety is at stake.”

“They agreed to it! What do you want me to say about the terms of the truce with the Papal States?”

“They must know, but that only means the damage is significant, right? Our family’s losses are also considerable.”

Where did it all go wrong?

Though they managed to retreat without damage to their ships in the naval battle against the Ottomans, the situation worsened with the Ottomans attacking merchant ships in the Mediterranean.

With enormous financial costs due to the war, disruptions in trade are drying up the money flow.

The Papal States, which initiated the matters, suffered little since the pirate attacks, yet they are left with the brunt of it all.

The Doge threw his staff to the ground.

“This is all because the envoy sent by the Contarini family hasn’t returned! Had he returned on time, everything would have gone smoothly!”

Had they properly coordinated with the Safavid, they wouldn’t have to be so on edge against the Ottomans.

Destined for failure, the envoy from the family that produced the Sultan’s ambassador disappeared.

A loud voice was heard in the Doge’s ears as he struggled to contain his anger.

– Doge! An Ottoman ship has appeared!

“Is it an attack!”

Startled that they might directly attack after plundering merchant ships in the Mediterranean, the Doge was shocked as a soldier who received permission entered and saluted.

“No! They just left a letter for you and departed!”

“A letter? Bring it to me at once.”

Whatever it contained, the Doge’s expression brightened.

The recent envoys had been turned away repeatedly, so any unilateral letter at this moment was welcomed.

After a brief yet anxious wait, the Doge held a rather thick piece of paper that could hardly be called a letter.

Opening the neatly rolled parchment, the first thing to catch the Doge’s eye was the face of a haggard man.

“Almoro Contarini?”

Unless he was an artist of significant skill, the once fine-featured man now looked ghastly; however, the talent wasn’t unrecognizable.

The moment he realized that the missing envoy was captured by the Ottomans, the Doge’s mind became a whirlwind.

How long had he been captured? Was he toying with the young Sultan from the beginning? Fear crept in.

Bowing his head below the portrait, the Doge discovered a phrase written in bold calligraphy.

– If you want to retrieve him, come to Constantinople with a ransom.

Turning the paper over, the Doge found nothing.

“Is this it?”

He stared blankly at the one-sentence letter.

*

“Your Highness, can we send just this?”

The content was so cheap it was hard to believe it was written beneath Michelangelo’s artwork.

Laughing away his Grand Vizier’s worries, Yusuf waved his hand.

“Isn’t that enough? Why waste ink writing more? Whatever I write, it’ll be the same when it comes here.”

“That’s true, but…”

The area getting hot was not the Ottomans, but Venice.

Once they knew the communication channel was open, it was clear they would come rushing in.

“Considering the dignity of the Padishah, wouldn’t it be better to send something a bit more formal?”

“What’s so pretty about formalities? Sending a portrait instead of the envoy’s head is enough respect already.”

Yusuf replied nonchalantly as he surveyed the lined-up cannons.

“Tahir.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Tahir, who crafted the cannons alongside Suleiman, responded to the Sultan.

“How many cannons can we currently mobilize?”

“About eight hundred, as far as I know.”

“Eight hundred.”

Historically, about five hundred cannons were prepared for the war against the Safavid.

Yusuf stroked the cannons with his hand.

‘No matter how much the Safavid are introducing cannons, we still have a significant advantage.’

He did not know how impressive the cannons used by Venice were, but those shaped with his auger were the finest cannons of this era.

With excellent cannon performance, coupled with the skills of the gunners, and with even more cannons able to be deployed, there was no need to fear Ismail.

“Let’s increase the number of deployable cannons to fifteen hundred.”

“Shall we really have that many?”

“Yes.”

When war broke out, it remained uncertain how the Mamluks would respond, so it might be necessary to split the forces in two.

Thus, the more cannons, the better.

Tahir, surprised by the vast number of cannons, bowed his head.

“I will follow the Padishah’s will.”

“Thank you for your hard work. I’m counting on you.”

The cannon crafter had to be kept strictly confidential, and if there were any issues with the auger, Tahir had no choice but to step in.

Neither would Suleiman be of much help in repairs, so the burden on Tahir was heavy.

After lightly patting Tahir’s shoulder, Yusuf returned to the castle, where Mehmet, who came at his command, bowed his head.

“Welcome back, Your Highness?”

“No need to be so formal. If you want, you can jump into my arms like Murad.”

Hesitant at Yusuf’s words, Mehmet carefully embraced him.

It felt awkward enough that it wouldn’t seem strange even if it were his first time in a woman’s embrace.

Blushing, as he awkwardly released the hug and fidgeted his hands, Yusuf placed Mehmet next to him and grinned mischievously.

“If you want to, you can stay in my arms.”

“That’s… it’s fine. That’s enough. But why did you call for me alone?”

Although the two sons moved into the harem with their mother, they did not avoid meeting.

However, usually, Murad was called along, so it would undoubtedly stir curiosity why he was summoned alone this time.

Yusuf slowly scrutinized Mehmet.

Thanks to inheriting their appearances from Yusuf and Aishe, he had a rather cute face but was on the smaller side in stature.

Compared to Murad, who was developing superbly for his age, it was even more noticeable.

While he hadn’t suffered from minor illnesses until now, he often caught mild colds whenever the seasons changed.

“Mehmet, you know that you will someday have to become a Sanjakbey.”

It was a fate that Prince could not escape.

Yusuf was no different from considering changing the education method of appointing princes as Sanjakbey, even if he didn’t know about fratricide laws.

As soon as the topic of Sanjakbey was brought up, Mehmet nodded gravely, unlike his age.

“I understand well.”

“You have two options to choose from. A stable place or a location where success is not guaranteed but with great rewards. If it were you, where would you go?”

“I’d prefer a stable place.”

It might be a disappointing response, but Yusuf, who expected this answer, smirked with one side of his mouth raised.

“Mehmet, look at your father.”

Carefully lifting his face, Mehmet met Yusuf’s gaze as he glared.

“Is your father a fool? Would he choose a life in hiding?”

“How could I?!”

“Do you think I would fear you as I do the others because of your talents?”

At Yusuf’s bellowing shout, Mehmet shrank back.

He was someone whose overwhelming presence was felt among the brightest in the palace school Enderun, where the wise from across the empire gathered.

So much so that those around felt discomfort and fear.

‘He must have worried about the surrounding reactions. Would his father view him that way?’

Yusuf reached out and lifted Mehmet’s chin, looking into his eyes.

“People fear you? That’s natural. Those who cannot inspire fear in others cannot rise to this position.”

What could be funnier than a Sultan who couldn’t inspire fear?

“No matter how outstanding you might be, I am the Padishah. You might fear me, but I have no reason to fear you. I could kill you, but you could never kill me.”

“Father…”

Seeing Yusuf declare that firmly made Mehmet’s eyes tremble.

It was a cruel statement, suggesting he could kill his own son, yet the notion that his worries were meaningless resonated within him even more.

“Go back and reflect. You disrespected your father, the ruler of the empire.”

“…Understood!”

“Tsk, what’s there to feel good about after being scolded?”

Despite Yusuf’s tongue-clicking words, Mehmet smiled faintly as he bowed and left, while Yusuf drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

‘Definitely too intelligent. If it were another Sultan, he might have become terrified.’

He possessed talents that could even devour his father. Murad had similar-level abilities but in a different direction.

Of course, Yusuf, aiming to build a vast empire beyond conquering the Mamluks, had no concerns about his sons’ talents.

On the contrary, he thought it was a good thing since there would be ample opportunities to use their skills in the future.

“Mehmet will have to be sent to Cape. I’ll have him oversee the mining development in the Donets Basin.”

Cape and Circassia were close together, making Mehmet an ideal candidate who could easily receive their assistance.

With the assistance of the now submissive Crimean Khanate, the development could succeed easily.

Given that it’s a region rich in coal used for producing coke, if successfully developed, they could pull out iron by the truckload, propelling the empire to greater heights.

Yusuf got up from his seat and spoke to a court official.

“I must head to the harem.”

He needed more children to command.

The Sultan’s night was long.

*

A single ship departing from Venice arrived at Constantinople.

The envoy who had barely escaped the claws of Ottoman soldiers and bureaucrats was stepping back into the city.

Fortuitously, this time, he would not be chased out like last time, yet a grueling battle lay ahead.

‘I must ensure that the Ottoman fleet does not assault any merchant ships.’

Though termed Almoro Contarini’s ransom, it essentially meant to pay off the debt owed to the Ottomans.

One could hardly gauge how many ducats would be necessary, but it was an absolute must to succeed.

Bearing massive responsibility, the envoy glared at a man who had insisted on following him.

“Aldus Manutius, did you really have to come along?”

Venice could easily be called the printing capital of Europe.

With over four hundred printers residing there, vast amounts of books were sold throughout the continent annually.

Among them, one of the most famous publishing houses was Aldus Manutius’s Aldine Press, known for printing Aristotle’s works.

Though a somewhat influential figure in Venice, the envoy spoke with irritation.

“Didn’t you hear about the Sultan cutting off the fingers of the envoy arriving from the Mamluks? If you offend him, you might lose your head, you know!”

In response to the envoy’s warning, Aldus replied with a mischievous grin.

“You need not worry. I am merely here to buy a book.”

It was a book that had begun to be distributed after the promised three months had passed.

He came to witness the miracle where one book multiplied to tens of thousands.


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